Ferocious

by Jeff Strand

  Rusty hurriedly stepped back as the bear took a vicious swipe at him. He couldn't feel the air swish in front of him but he certainly got a good look at the bear's claws. If they'd hit their target, his entire face would've landed on the ground with a splat.

  The chainsaw remained embedded in the bear's chest, slowly working its way down like a zipper.

  The bear backhanded him with the same paw that had just missed. Rusty stumbled backwards, dazed, then fell to the ground. He put a hand to his face—it was still intact.

  Guts spilled from the bear's belly. It dropped to all fours, but the chainsaw didn't fall out. The blade must've been wedged against a rib or something.

  Rusty tried to stand up but couldn't get his legs to move properly.

  Mia slammed the axe into the bear's shoulder. She wrenched it out and struck it again. Then, in a move that Rusty could not believe he was actually seeing performed by his niece, she grabbed a thick handful of fur with her left hand, slammed the axe blade deep into the bear's back to give her leverage with her right, and pulled herself up onto its back like she was mounting a very large, hairy, psychotic horse.

  Rusty blinked. He couldn't have really seen that. Clearly the bear had knocked his brain out of whack.

  No...Mia was indeed on the bear's back, like she'd transformed into a nimble elf in a fantasy novel.

  Rusty's inclination was to just lay on the ground and gape at the sight before him, but he should probably try to help her, or at least put himself in a spot where he wouldn't get trampled.

  Mia whacked the axe blade into the bear's back, over and over and over.

  When the bear stood up, she kept a tight grip on it with her left hand and tried to get in another chop of the axe, but that was too much even during this jaw-dropping display of agility, and she fell to the ground.

  The chainsaw still hadn't fallen out of the bear, though many of its internal organs had.

  Rusty shakily got to his feet while he removed the rifle strap from over his shoulder. Without Mia in the way, he could open fire. It wouldn't do much good without incredible precision, but he might luck out and blind the beast.

  Mia scooted away from the bear. She still held the axe.

  Rusty fired several times in rapid succession. Pieces of the bear's head came off, but none of the shots hit either of its eyes. All this did was make it slightly angrier than it had already been, and the bear dropped to all fours and gave Rusty its full attention.

  He fired a couple more times. The first shot struck the bear right above its eye, and the second shot struck the bear right below its eye, a feat he could not have accomplished on purpose even if the bear was a stationary target. If he kept this up, its eyeball might just roll out of its head.

  His next two shots also missed the bear's eyes. The last one missed its head altogether. He squeezed the trigger again—nothing, the rifle was out of ammunition. There was more in his backpack, but since the bear was walking toward him in an extremely menacing manner he didn't think there'd be time to dig it out and reload the gun.

  Mia slammed the axe into the bear's head. Clearly the adrenaline was flowing, because the axe went in deep.

  Got it in the eye.

  The bear jerked its head away, taking the axe with it. Now both of their most useful weapons were embedded in the bear.

  Mia's axe hit was cause for celebration, but there was a big difference between a one-eyed bear and a zero-eyed bear. The situation was still dire. Rusty wondered if Mia and the bear might bond over their shared optical trauma.

  The chainsaw dropped out of the bear's belly.

  However, the weapon was not currently accessible, considering that it was underneath an angry zombie grizzly bear. Rusty spun the rifle around in his hands, in case he needed to use it to bash the bear across the face.

  The bear swatted at the axe handle but couldn't get it free. Rusty frantically scooted backwards, right to the edge of the dirt road. The bear followed. The axe in its face should have made it look less threatening, but it actually made it look even scarier.

  Though Rusty wasn't very happy that the bear was coming toward him, it did mean that Mia was able to snatch up the chainsaw. She hoisted it above her head like Leatherface, ran into the right position, and slammed the blade into the bear's face, chewing up its remaining eye.

  The bear shifted directions, roaring in fury.

  It still had their axe. They needed their axe.

  Rusty tossed the rifle aside and forced himself to stand up. He was grateful that his grunts of pain were drowned out by the sound of the chainsaw. He and Mia both tried to grab the axe handle while avoiding contact with the thrashing bear, which seemed like it should be easier than everything else they'd done the past couple of minutes yet turned out to be a nightmare. Mia shut off the chainsaw, presumably so that the bear wouldn't go after the sound, but the bear just wouldn't stop moving.

  The axe handle smashed into Rusty's hand so hard that he thought he might have broken some fingers.

  Finally, Mia (of course) got a hold of the handle and pulled it out of the bear's skull. Rusty and Mia hurriedly moved away from the creature, which walked off the road and bashed into a tree. The sight was not as comedic as it should have been.

  They both stood there, exhausted and gasping for breath. But as long as they didn't stupidly stumble right into the bear's path, it was no longer going to pose a problem for them.

  Mia wiped some blood from her face. "I don't think we're going to make it to the truck."

  "Of course we are," said Rusty. "We just defeated another fuckin' bear!"

  "I can't keep doing this."

  "If we can beat a bear, we can beat anything. We can do this, Mia."

  "I got my eye poked out, Uncle Rusty. I just want to go to sleep."

  "No, no, no, it's going to be fine," said Rusty, who knew this wasn't the time to be a pedantic asshole who pointed out that her eye got stabbed but not poked out. "Bears are the biggest things out here. If we can fight them, we can fight anything. We're in good shape. We're..."

  Rusty trailed off. Yes, they'd done battle with the largest animal out here, but there was another pack of wolves emerging from the forest. Three...four...five...six...oh, yeah, they were in bad shape.

  Mia gave Rusty the chainsaw. It didn't fall right out of his hand, so he assumed that his fingers weren't actually broken.

  He pulled on the starter cord a few times. It didn't even sputter. Three more wolves joined the others.

  "Okay, I lied," Rusty admitted. "We're not in good shape."

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Rusty couldn't deny that he sort of agreed with Mia. The idea of lying on the comfy ground, going to sleep, and not worrying about how things turned out did have some appeal.

  No. No, it didn't.

  They were going to survive this, even though they didn't have a working chainsaw or a burning cabin to protect them from the wolves. They might be up against an entire forest of zombie animals, but he and Mia were humans, and humans kicked ass. Yes, it would help if the wolves approached them slowly, one at a time, and perhaps lowered their heads to make it convenient for Mia to slam her axe into their necks. Wolves were known for being considerate, right? Everything was going to turn out just fine.

  Mia dropped her axe.

  "Don't give up," Rusty told her.

  "I didn't," she said. "There was blood on my hand and it slipped." She bent down and retrieved the axe.

  All of the wolves began to growl.

  "You take the four on the left," said Rusty. "I'll take the five on the right."

  "Uh-huh."

  "Unless you want five and I'll take four."

  "I can't tell if you're joking or not."

  "I don't know if I'm joking or not," Rusty admitted.

  He suspected that it was less "joking" than "complete self-delusion." They couldn't fight nine wolves. It simply wasn't going to happen. One wolf each? Maybe. Maybe. But the only way they were going to win a battle against n
ine wolves was if the wolves were from outer space and it was suddenly revealed that they weren't immune to the common cold. That was it—extreme susceptibility to human germs was their only hope. And the fact that these animals already seemed to be rotting on the inside implied that bacteria was not going to be their downfall.

  Rusty felt surprisingly calm considering that he was likely to be dead a minute from now. Perhaps he was getting used to the sensation of impending doom. He tugged on the chainsaw cord and nothing happened. Hopefully he could at least bonk one of the wolves on the head with it before they shredded him.

  Some bushes rustled behind them.

  Rusty and Mia glanced back over their shoulders as a deer stepped out of the woods.

  Wonderful. Zombie deer. Was that more or less humiliating than death by zombie squirrel? Squirrels were much smaller, but deer were known for their passive, gentle nature. After a split-second of thought, Rusty decided that the deer killing him would be preferable to a squirrel doing it, so he had that ray of sunshine left.

  The deer looked fine, though. Healthy. Rusty couldn't see its eyes, but this particular deer might not be part of the cursed army of the undead.

  The deer turned and ran.

  The wolves charged.

  Mia raised the axe as if she might be able to decapitate all nine of them with one swing.

  "Don't do anything," Rusty told her.

  Though making the choice not to defend themselves was risky, Rusty had an odd feeling about the way the wolves were running. They were veering to the side of the road, all nine of them, as if their chosen prey was the deer and not the humans. It was a pretty narrow road and Rusty couldn't be certain of his theory, but "stand there calmly and hope not to be noticed" seemed to be their best bet at living through this.

  He started to doubt himself as the wolves got closer.

  But it didn't matter. Trying to fight off nine wolves with an axe and a non-working chainsaw would have the exact same result as just standing there. Might as well test his theory and hope for the best.

  The wolves ran past them into the forest.

  Rusty couldn't believe it. He supposed that they preferred succulent venison to stringy human flesh. He hoped that the deer would escape after taking them on a nice long run far from here, and that it wouldn't end up like the massacred deer they'd found by the creek ages ago, back when he thought things in the forest were merely a bit quaint. That deer hadn't been eaten, so the "succulent" theory probably wasn't right, but it didn't matter. The wolves had selected a different target.

  They were saved. All they needed was for a deer to conveniently show up whenever a pack of wolves was nearby, and they could just stroll right to the truck with nary a care in the world.

  "Let's get moving," Rusty told Mia, even though she'd started moving the moment the last wolf sped past them.

  More goddamn rustling behind them.

  One of the wolves ran back onto the road, as if deciding that there wasn't going to be much deer meat left after the others were finished tearing it apart. It rushed straight at Mia, who slammed the axe into its head just as the wolf bashed into her, knocking her to the ground.

  Rusty dropped the chainsaw and kicked the wolf in the head as hard as he could. There was a loud snap, presumably from its neck breaking. It continued to try to bite Mia, but its lopsided head was making that difficult. Rusty snatched the axe from Mia, then chopped at the back of the wolf's head, over and over, striking it with as much power and speed as possible while staying aware that his niece was directly underneath it and that missing the wolf could have disastrous consequences.

  Mia scooted out from underneath the wolf as Rusty got in the last hit. Its head fell to the ground. The wolf rolled onto its back and frantically clawed at the air with all four legs.

  Rusty returned the axe to Mia and picked up his chainsaw. Mia gathered the two boards and they resumed the process of getting the hell out of there.

  "Are you okay?" Rusty asked.

  "I'm missing an eye."

  "I mean, did the wolf hurt you more than you were already hurt?"

  Mia shrugged. "Scratched the shit out of me. But it didn't touch my other eye."

  They picked up the pace. Every stride had hurt before, but kicking the wolf in the head had done Rusty no favors in that regard. Still, with Mia slowly bleeding from the eyeball, Rusty made a strong effort not to grunt in pain with every step. Things were much worse for her.

  They walked without speaking for a few minutes, the only sound coming from their footsteps and heavy breathing. A few minutes without an animal attack. This was nice.

  Mia wiped more blood from her face. Rusty wished they had something to cover her wound, but he didn't want to tear off a strip of his germ-laden clothing. Anything they had available to put over her eye would almost certainly lead to infection, and Rusty couldn't imagine anything worse than a swollen, infected, pus-filled eye socket.

  It was going to be awful when they finally put antiseptic on it. When he held her hand during the process, he'd be prepared for her to crush every bone in it.

  They walked for a few more minutes. The pain was bothering him quite a bit less now that Rusty's legs were almost completely numb. He wasn't wearing a watch, but he estimated that they'd been walking about ten minutes without a vicious attempt on their lives. They hadn't gone a mile yet, but they were making good time for a couple of exhausted and injured people. What if they were walking away from danger instead of toward it? He and Mia might have escaped and simply didn't realize it yet.

  As they went around the next curve, Rusty frowned.

  "What's that?" Mia asked.

  "I'm not sure."

  Up ahead, the road was covered with small animals. Lots of them. They filled the entire path. They seemed too small to be problematic, although considering the amount of trouble they'd had with a single squirrel and a single woodpecker, Rusty wasn't going to get overly confident quite yet.

  They kept walking. A few steps later it became clear what they were dealing with.

  "Oh, fuck," said Mia.

  Porcupines. Zombie porcupines.

  It wasn't like a wall of porcupines. They were spaced out enough that, conceivably, it was possible to quickly and carefully make their way past them. But one quill jabbed deep into their ankle would pretty much be the end of their journey and thus their lives. And Rusty had no trouble envisioning a scenario in which a porcupine brushed against him, causing him to fall forward and land on several more. It wasn't as if the other fates that had potentially awaited him were pleasant, but death by hundreds of porcupine quills seemed like a particularly horrific way to go.

  Mia shoved the axe into her backpack. "Put away the chainsaw," she told Rusty. "We'll just clear a path with the boards."

  "What if they swarm us?"

  "Do you have a better idea?"

  "Go around them. Go through the woods for a bit."

  "We can't see what's on the ground in the woods. I'd feel safer just knocking porcupines out of the way."

  Rusty wasn't sure he agreed with that, but he was willing to acquiesce to the person with one eye. He put the chainsaw in the backpack—it would be nice to not have to carry it around, but it might start again and he didn't want to leave it behind—and took a board from Mia. He considered starting a conversation about possible nicknames for zombie porcupines to distract them from the possibility of agonizing stinging pain, but decided against it.

  They walked at a normal pace. The porcupines, at least a hundred of them, were moving toward them. Rusty knew very little about the species, but he was almost positive that porcupines lived in much smaller groups, and he'd definitely never heard of a whole wave of them moving forward like this. Even in his self-imposed isolation, a deadly porcupine caravan seemed like an anecdote he would've heard.

  They'd almost reached each other. Rusty was ready with the board. Time for these zombupines to learn that you didn't mess with humans who were carrying large pieces of wood.


  He smacked the closest one out of the way. It didn't roll as far as he would've hoped. Mia smacked one and got a little more distance.

  Rusty was almost positive that the things he'd heard about porcupines being able to shoot their quills at predators was incorrect. Almost.

  The first porcupine hurried toward him, presumably very angry about being struck with the board. In fact, all of the porcupines seemed to be more pissed off now than they had been before Rusty and Mia went on the offensive.

  Mia picked up her pace, swinging the board back and forth, hitting a porcupine each time. Rusty tried the same tactic. This was doing a decent job of clearing a path in front of them, but none of the porcupines they hit were calling it quits, so they had spiky creatures coming at them from all directions.

  Rusty smacked one really, really hard, actually getting some aerial distance. He felt no pride or sense of accomplishment for this.

  The porcupines were swarming them.

  The boards taped to Rusty's legs would provide some protection, but they were meant to keep out teeth and claws. There was plenty of room for a very thin quill to penetrate.

  They were still making forward progress; just not anywhere near as quickly as they'd like. Right now they were directly in the center of the mass of porcupines, but as long as there wasn't a disaster...

  Rusty noticed that one of them was right behind Mia's foot.

  He wasn't able to get the entirety of "Watch out!" shouted before the porcupine ran into her. Mia cried out and stumbled forward, which caused her to step on a different porcupine. She dropped the board and her arms flailed as she desperately struggled to keep her balance.

  She toppled forward.

  Rusty lunged toward her, hoping to break her fall. He missed.

  Mia dropped to the porcupine-covered ground.

  Her landing was not exactly an Olympic-level feat of dexterity. But it was impressive nevertheless, because the board had landed on a couple of porcupines, and her hands landed on the board, leaving her in kind of a yoga position and sparing her the experience of having dozens of quills stabbing into her belly.