Night of the Sasquatch Page 2

  He had been in Whitmire when the city fell. Its leader, Mayor Hershey, had been in contact with Cedarmark. That was how he knew about the place. His journey had taken over a month, even using vehicles when things had permitted it. The journey hadn’t been in vain. Along the way, he had slain dozens of beasts. Open combat with the creatures was never a good idea but it had been forced upon him more than once during his journey and Joe had survived it.

  Joe didn’t really know what he was hoping to find in Cedarmark but there was simply nowhere else to go. Not even he could survive forever alone. Not in a world dominated by Sasquatch who sought to break his bones and feed upon his flesh. There was no safety at night outside of a city’s walls. It didn’t matter where you took shelter; there was always a chance the beasts would find you. And even the best of structures couldn’t hold them out if you found yourself up against a determined pack of the things.

  Stopping, Joe paused. A twig had snapped somewhere close by. It’s popping had rung out like a gunshot in the otherwise quiet woods. He sniffed the air. The heavy musk of one or more Sasquatch was carried to him on the light breeze that blew through the trees. Fight or flight? That was always the question. He knew as close to Cedarmark as he was, the number of beasts in these woods could swing either way. There might be a horde of them preparing for an attack on the city when night fell or the woods might be mostly clear of them if the colonel and his men had the firepower to go on the offense and drive the things back. Joe doubted the latter very much. Other than his own raids against the beasts when he could make them, he hadn’t heard of any organized human offensive before the city of Whitmire had fallen. The odds were in favor that he had just stumbled onto the outermost scouts of a horde on its way to Cedarmark just as he was. Still, if it were only a few scouts, Joe knew he could handle them.

  Taking a deep breath, Joe placed the pack he carried on the ground as something moved in the distant trees. He knew it was one of the beasts. The leaves of other tree limbs behind him and to his right ruffled and shook. Joe exhaled and popped his neck with a twist of his head.

  The first of the beasts to show itself was the one up ahead of him. It emerged from the trees there, lips snarling as it charged at him. Joe jerked up the barrel of the M82 Barrett he carried level with the Sasquatch’s chest. The powerful rifle thundered as he squeezed its trigger. The round it fired entered the Sasquatch through its sternum and exploded out of its back in a shower of gore. The Sasquatch tumbled forward, collapsing into the grass. Joe knew he had to finish this fast. His shot would have tipped all the beasts in the area to where he was. A wry grin formed on Joe’s face as he discarded his rifle and drew the katana sheathed on his back. With the blade in his hands, he spun to his right as the next of the three Sasquatch came at him. One of the monster’s over-sized hands shot out, reaching for him. He severed the hand at its wrist with a quick stroke of his katana’s blade. The Sasquatch howled in pain, staggering backward, the stump of its wrist spraying blood. Joe took advantage of the beast’s pain and confusion. Most of the monsters weren’t used to a human being able to fight back. The Sasquatch’s eyes went wide as Joe swung his katana, slashing open its neck before it could anything more than start to growl at him. Its growl became a sickening whistling noise as his blade sliced through the soft flesh of its throat. Blood flew as the Sasquatch’s nearly severed head rolled back atop its shoulders, barely held there by a few strands of red sinew. One of Joe’s boots shot up and outward, slamming into the dying Sasquatch, knocking the monster from its feet.

  The last of the Sasquatch came roaring at him from behind. As fast as he was, the monster still managed to grab him. Joe grunted against the pain as the thing’s thick arms closed about his upper body, knocking his katana from his hands and pinning one of his arms to his side. Joe thrust his head backward into the monster’s face. He heard the crunch of bone as his helmet met the Sasquatch’s nose. The beast released him. Joe hit the ground hard at its feet, rolling away from the monster. As he came up into a crouch, his shotguns slid free of their sheaths on his back. Both of them were double-barreled and thundered in chorus. Their blasts opened up the Sasquatch’s guts. It reeled backward, guts leaking out of its ravaged stomach. Joe dropped his empty shotguns. There was no time to reload them and besides, they had done the heavy work of stopping the Sasquatch anyway. Joe rose the rest of the way to his feet, yanking one of his pistols from its holster. The wounded Sasquatch was staggering about, trying to shove the red-smeared strands of its own intestines back into its body. Joe aimed quickly, firing a single shot that tore through the Sasquatch’s skull. Brain matter, bone fragments, and blood exploded outward with the bullet he had fired as it exited the other side of the monster’s head.

  The battle was over as fast as it had begun. Joe hurriedly collected his weapons. Any second, more of the beasts could come out of the woods at him. He needed to be gone and onward toward Cedarmark as quickly as he could. Joe’s legs pumped beneath him as he ran, his breath coming in ragged but controlled gasps. He didn’t have far to go, Joe reminded himself, pushing his exhausted body on to its very limits.

  ****

  Chris kept his promise to Marcus. He had gone straight to the lieutenant in charge of the city’s volunteers and joined up. There hadn’t been any training beyond the basics of being shown how to use the rifle he was given. His first shift on the wall started only hours later. Chris hadn’t even had time to go home and let his mother know where he was. She would be okay he hoped. He knew Marcus was on the day shift now so his brother should be headed to their small apartment to collapse in a deep slumber like he always did. Still, his mother would worry but there was nothing he could do about that. He was part of the city’s militia now.

  Thankfully, he wasn’t alone the wall. The military folks weren’t that desperate and crazy … yet He shared his spot on the wall with an older man named Roger. It was easy to see that Roger was a real soldier from how he moved and carried himself, even if he hadn’t been wearing the green combat fatigues that were standard issue for the colonel’s men.

  Darkness had fallen. Roger stood next to him puffing on a cigarette. Chris didn’t care for the smell of the second-hand smoke but wasn’t about to ask Roger to put the thing out.

  “You’re a total newbie, aren’t you?” Roger asked.

  “Is it that obvious?” Chris asked, trying to make a joke of the veteran’s question.

  “Only if you’ve got eyes and half a brain,” Roger snorted.

  Chris frowned. “I just joined up today.”

  “No kidding.” Roger smiled. He took a drag from his cigarette and slowly blew out the smoke from his lungs before asking, “You’re Marcus’ brother, aren’t you? The one that runs the comic shop for the kids.”

  “Guilty as charged,” Chris admitted. “Guess I’ve got a lot to live up to, huh?”

  “What the frag does that mean?” Roger eyed him.

  “My brother … isn’t he one of your best?” Chris asked.

  Roger snorted. “Your brother is a punk kid. Sure, he’s seen some action, but he ain’t no soldier.”

  Chris stared at Roger, his mouth hanging open.

  “Brags a lot, huh?” Roger grinned. “Most like him do.”

  “But he said…” Chris stammered.

  “Look, Chris, is it? We got a long night ahead of us. You might as well settle in and ride it out,” Roger said and then glanced at the M4 he was holding.

  “You do know how to use that thing, right?” Roger asked.

  “They showed me the basics before they gave it to me.” Chris nodded.

  “Right.” Roger sighed. “Just remember, you don’t ever, ever point the barrel of that rifle my way and we’re good, kid. Got it?”

  “Got it,” Chris said.

  Looking out over the top of the wall at the barren, cleared fields between the woods and the city, Chris shivered in the cool night air. It was more than just the chill though. Seeing the woods, actually seeing them, was creepy as Ha
des. Death prowled among the trees. Chris wasn’t able to see any Sasquatch out there but he knew that they were … somewhere. It was just a matter of time until they came at the city again. The attacks happened almost every night these days.

  Chris watched the woods with Roger in silence. He dreaded what was coming. In the distance, the knocking of the beasts could be heard. They pounded upon the trees with broken limbs like war drums as they gathered.

  “Oh yeah,” Roger said, “it’s gonna be on tonight. Bad luck for you, kid. Hope you’re ready to get a taste of Hell.”

  Chris wasn’t. In that moment, he hated his brother. It was Marcus’ threats that had driven him here. If not for Marcus, he would be warm and safe in his bed, sleeping from the terror that was quickly approaching.

  “Look.” Roger pointed at the trees on the other side of the clearing. “You see them?”

  Chris squinted into the darkness. He could just barely make out the forms of the beasts in the shadows. He had never really seen one of the creatures other than on the web or TV. Chris knew he had been fortunate in that. It was about to change though, no matter how much he wished it wasn’t.

  At the tree line, the beasts gathered. Chris counted over two dozen of the Sasquatch. Their yellow eyes glowed hot, full of hatred and hunger. Then, without warning, the battle began.

  The Sasquatch came bounding toward the wall surrounding the city. Gunfire erupted from numerous positions from the eastern side of the wall where he and Roger were.

  “What ya waiting for, kid?” Roger urged him. “It’s time to get some blood on our hands.”

  Roger’s M4 carbine came up to his shoulder as the veteran soldier braced it there and took aim at the charging monsters. The weapon bucked, kicking against him as he squeezed its trigger. He shots were carefully chosen. Chris watched as the veteran put a round into a Sasquatch’s face. The monster didn’t see the bullet coming. It slammed into the monster’s snarling mouth, sending teeth and blood flying. The Sasquatch stumbled as Roger fired again. His second shot crunched through the bone of the beast’s skull.

  “Come on, kid!” Roger screamed.

  More of the Sasquatch had emerged from the trees to take the place of those that had already fallen. The creatures moved with lightning speed. Chris hadn’t believed the stories about how fast the things were supposed to be. They were so big and muscle-bound, it just didn’t make sense for them to be so fast, yet they were. They were closing on the wall despite all the fire being poured down on them. The first Sasquatch reached the wall and leaped up onto it. The beast caught hold of the wall near its top. Its thick, clawed fingers sunk into it, holding there. Then it began to climb the rest of the way up. Chris watched as the thing went unnoticed by the men on the wall above it. They were continuing to fire at the other approaching monsters. He was too far away to shout a warning at them. Roger’s attention was held by the other monsters crossing the clearing too. If the veteran saw the beast on the wall, he gave no indication of it. Chris finally snapped out of the sheer shock and awe that was holding him back. He jerked up his M4 and started shooting at the beast on the wall. It was too late though. His shots hammered into the wall below the Sasquatch as the beast hurled itself the rest of the way up and over the top of the wall. The two guards there screamed, swinging their rifles around toward the beast. It was already on them though. One of its haired-covered fists plunged through the older of the two men. The fist entered his chest and came out of his back in an explosion of gore. The Sasquatch shook the man’s body from its arm as his companion opened up on it. M4 rounds peppered the beast with wounds but lacked the power to bring it down even at close range without either a head shot or the luck of hitting something vital. And the other guard was out of luck. The Sasquatch grabbed hold of the man’s head, one hand on each side of it, and ripped it upward away from his body. The man’s corpse fell at the Sasquatch’s feet.

  Chris heard the thunk of a Sasquatch leaping onto the wall below their own position. He moved closer to the top of the wall and fired down over it at the beast. Rounds of him M4 pounded into the thing’s shoulders and the arm that the beast brought up to protect its head. Even so, his attack on the thing was just enough to make the Sasquatch lose its hold on the wall. It toppled, roaring as it fell to the earth below. It slammed down on its back and lay there for the briefest of moments before rolling over and scrambling to its feet. Chris started firing at it again, kicking his M4 up to full auto. He emptied half his magazine into the thing’s back, knocking it to the ground again. This time, the Sasquatch didn’t get up. Chris realized with a start that he had killed the monster. He had actually slain a Sasquatch. A wave of pride and giddiness washed over him. It was taken away just as quickly as it had come through. Another Sasquatch came climbing up the wall toward their position.

  “Just hold in there, kid!” Roger yelled. “They won’t keep this up much longer!”

  Twenty or more Sasquatch bodies littered the clearing between the city’s wall and the woods. That was almost the entire first wave of the monsters in terms of numbers but that wave had bought time for the one behind it to reach the wall. And that’s where all the Sasquatch that were still alive were. They had either come up over the wall, engaged in melee range with its defenders, or were in the process of climbing it.

  ****

  Joe heard the sounds of the battle up ahead of him as he ran toward the city of Cedarmark. He had picked one hell of a bad time to show up at the place. There were no Sasquatch waiting for him in the trees. He could see why. All of the monsters had charged the city’s eastern wall. Gunfire flashed and rang out in the night. Monsters raged, roaring their fury, and men screamed as they died. Joe reached the edge of the trees and stood there looking out across the field that lay between them and the city. He had two choices: join the fight against the monsters from their rear flank or simply wait for the battle to be over.

  “Frag it,” Joe muttered to himself, raising his M82 Barrett. The powerful rifle boomed in rapid succession as he fired at one beast, then another. He emptied the remaining shots in his magazine and when he was done, eight Sasquatch were dead. It was just enough to change the course of the battle for the hard-pressed defenders on the wall. The Sasquatch began to withdraw and fall back toward the trees. The wall’s defenders were determined not to let any of the monsters escape. Fire rained down on the creatures as they fled. Of course, that meant the few left alive were coming directly at him.

  Joe didn’t want to leave his M82 Barrett behind but the weapon was empty and he couldn’t hold onto it if he was going to face the Sasquatch as he intended. Reluctantly tossing the powerful rifle away, Joe drew his katana and rushed forward. The Sasquatch were taken completely off guard by the lone human coming at them from the trees as they neared the woods. The fire of the city’s defenders had all but stopped now and Joe hoped that none of the defenders would put a round in him.

  A Sasquatch barreled toward him as he ran toward the city. He moved sideways, dodging its slashing claws, as the blade of his sword sliced open the monster’s leg. It went rolling by him, carried on by its own momentum. Joe didn’t pause to finish the monster. That wasn’t his goal. Another Sasquatch blocked his path. One of its hair-covered fists lashed out at him. Joe ducked the monster’s blow and came up, his katana sinking into the softer tissue beneath its shoulder joint. The Sasquatch squealed in pain as he tugged his sword free and slashed at the beast again. The tip of his katana opened up the monster’s cheek from front to back, exposing its teeth in a splash of hot blood. The monster reeled away from him. Joe was really moving now. He could hear the confused shouts from the men and women atop the wall. At least they weren’t shooting at him. He was thankful for that.

  Joe was almost clear of the retreating Sasquatch. The last of the monsters between him and the wall of the city came at him as it loosed a deafening roar of anger and hate. Joe sheathed his katana as he spun to avoid the beast. The thing had been in the process of running for its life but came about
after him. Joe hadn’t reloaded his shotguns so he went for his pistols. They cleared their holsters as he drew them with the speed of an old west gunfighter. He fired the one in his right hand first. The shot thunked in the Sasquatch’s chest, forcing it to halt its charge if only for the briefest of seconds. His other pistol rang out as Joe fired again with his left hand. The bullet blew apart the Sasquatch’s right kneecap, dropping the heavy monster. It was down but very much still in the fight. The Sasquatch threw its body forward, trying to grab at him. Joe knew that if the thing got its hands on him, he was dead. Both of his pistols boomed together in unison as they spat powerful rounds into the Sasquatch’s face. One tore out the monster’s left eye, reducing it to pulp inside its socket. The other shattered the monster’s nose with the sickening sound of crunching bone. The Sasquatch slumped where it lay, bleeding out into the grass. Again, Joe didn’t hang around to make sure the thing was dead. He sprinted on toward the city.

  “Open the gates!” Joe heard someone shouting from atop the wall. He knew how dangerous that was even if the Sasquatch appeared to have been driven back for the night. Joe wasn’t about to start shouting in protest at whatever idiot had given the order though. He needed inside and needed there fast. He was running on his legs and near the point of keeling over from exhaustion.

  The giant, heavy gates of the city’s wall swung open before him and Joe charged right between them. As soon as he was inside, he collapsed onto his knees, gasping for breath. The gates clanged closed behind him. When he caught his breath enough to look up, Joe saw that he was surrounded by men in green combat fatigues and a few others in civilian clothing. All of them had the barrels of their weapons pointed at him.

  A man with the marking of a lieutenant on his sleeve approached him.

  “And just who the hell are you, mister?” the lieutenant asked.

  The only answer Joe was able to give was manic laughter.