10-30 Chap 1 redux Moose42's MHI Fan Fiction *Spoiler Alert*

[moose42]

Thanks for reading. Enjoy.

I was working late a couple nights ago when I had an epiphany. I have a plot idea for a new story. Mr. Miller will be the protagonist, but it will be in no way connected to MHI. I am not sure if I will do 1st or 3rd person. I might write one chapter and play around in it but I REALLY want to finish MH:MB first. I'll keep you guys posted, maybe.

[JKosprey]

Moose, do you do any sort of wordgames and whatnot to keep the story flowing?

I have a bad habit of writing great starts to things-then never managing to keep the energy up to finish them.

[moose42]

Moose, do you do any sort of wordgames and whatnot to keep the story flowing?

I have a bad habit of writing great starts to things-then never managing to keep the energy up to finish them.

I have boredom at work to keep the story flowing.

What sort of word games? Please enlighten me.

[JKosprey]

It was once suggested that I play scrabble, or boggle, or facebook's "Scramble"...supposidly it helps the mind be more flexible and can stop writers block. Didn't do a whole lot for me, I guess I'm just a slow writer, every few months I get the inspiration for another few chapters.

[moose42]

Here is the remainder of Chapter 24 enjoy.

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Sometime later I awoke with the sun smacking me in the eye. I felt awful. The lightly wounded were put in barracks while the seriously ill had been taken to the base’s medical facility. The barracks was mostly empty now; a few other hunters were still asleep on their beds. I couldn’t find Sarge though. Kat had disappeared to some female barracks last night, or was it early this morning? I got up looked around for my boots when I realized that I hadn’t taken them off. The road crew under my scalp had moved further back and was in the middle of paving an eight lane expressway. My only mission in life right now was to score some painkillers. This must be how junkies felt.

I looked down at my hand some yellowish fluids were seeping through the bandage. That was going to be fun to change. I wandered through the barracks and found the showers. I washed off a few pounds of desert salt and sand, some of it no doubt from another dimension. Oh man did it feel good to be clean. I didn’t even take off my bandages. The medics would probably give me hell for that but I didn’t really care.

I struggled into some street clothes. My t-shirt had a picture of a B-52 bomber on it with the words, peace through superior firepower emblazoned in a circle. At first glance it looked like a hippy peace symbol. It was fun to wear around hippies; they would usually do a double take and scowl.

As I left the barracks I was greeted by a young sentry, who looked like he took off more skin than whiskers with his razor. “Morning sir!” he said crisply.

“Umm hi, I have a massive headache, could you tell me where I can get something to knock this down with?” He directed me to the medical center and asked me if I wanted him to order up a ride. I declined, I figured the walk and some fresh air would do me good.

I walked across the base toward the medical center; by the time I got over to it I was seriously reconsidering the sentry’s offer. I entered the facility and was greeted by a beleaguered nurse. She looked like she had been up all night.

“Name.”

“Martin Lee Miller.”

“Rank.”

“Monster Hunter.”

“Oh you’re one of those Mercs, I should have guessed. Take a seat and I will let them know you’re here.” She gestured to a row of uncomfortable plastic chairs.

“Can I ask about the status of a patient here?”

“Is he or she a relative of yours?”

“No he isn’t.”

“I’m sorry sir but I can’t just be giving information out to anyone.”

“Look ma’am, I pulled this guys ass out of the infernal portal, his legs had been severed by some God forsaken trans-dimensional monster. All I want to know is if he survived the night! OK?”

A DAMNED officer rounded the corner and whispered something in the nurse’s ear.

“Hello son, I’m Lieutenant Commander Peterson. Since you risked your life on the other side of that blasted portal I’m sure the Nurse here will be more than happy to tell you about anyone here.” He looked at the nurse, “Isn’t that right.”

“I’m looking for PFC Stephenson, I’m sure he’s an eleven mike.”

The nurse with her demeanor darkened by the officer showed me to the recovery room. I stood in the doorway and knocked on the open door. He stirred and looked up at me. “Who are you?” the heavily medicated patient asked.

“Miller, Martin Miller, Monster Hunter.” I said as I stepped into the room.

He looked puzzled for a moment and blinked the sleep out of his eyes. “You’re the one who dragged me outta that hell hole aren’t you?”

I nodded, “Yes, I didn’t think you were going to make it.”

He rubbed his forehead “I didn’t either.”

We shared an awkward moment as we listened to the EKG beep in time to Stephenson’s heartbeat. “Well I umm hope you get better.”

The private closed his eyes and grimaced, “I don’t have legs anymore! How am I going to get better?”

I took a step back, “I’m sorry…” I turned to leave the room.

“Thanks.” He said.

“For what?” I asked.

“Saving my ass back there, if it weren’t for you I would be a dead man.”

“You’re welcome.”


***


We hitched a ride to Nellis Air Force Base on an unmarked 727 and from there caught a flight flew back to Alabama on the government’s dime, which in a roundabout way was actually our dime since our taxes paid for it.

On the drive from Montgomery to Cazador we stopped in at a gas station and I popped in to buy some munchies while Stan pumped gas. At the checkout stand with a bottle of root beer and a bag of chips I happened to glance at a copy of a trashy tabloid.

“Vampires Attack Tour Bus: Terror in New Mexico.” The ridiculous headline jumped out at me. A badly photo shopped picture of a vampire climbing up the steps of a tour bus was plastered on the front page next to a claim, on how to lose weight without dieting, or exercise. I snatched the tabloid and made my purchases.

Kat was waiting in the car and I took a seat next to her. “Wait, you’re kidding me? Mr. I don’t trust the news buys tabloids?”

“Look here!” I showed her the front page with the vampire headline.

“No, no, no you’re nuts Moose! You really think we can take tips from that load of malarkey?”

“Hey it worked for the Men in Black…”

Stan cut me off, “Actually kids sometimes those crazy stories have more truth to them then you would think. Show that to the archive workers when we get back to HQ and let’s see if there is any truth behind the headlines.”

Kat sighed, “Stan, are you telling me that you’ve actually taken leads from those trashy rags?”

“Yup.” He said as he fired up the suburban.

[moose42]

Ok here is a short update... I am going to reconnect to the previous storyline. But have no fear I will be updating and expanding THE FINAL BATTLE! Enjoy!

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Chapter 25
Information

When we finally arrived back at headquarters I dropped off my gear at the barracks and headed straight for the archives. I sat rereading the supermarket tabloid article. A section jumped out at me that I must have missed in the car.

Lorena Josefina Sanchez survived the attack by jumping out of a side window of the tour bus and rolling down a steep embankment into a cactus patch. “I screamed and kicked out the emergency window and fell. I rolled down a hill and must have hit my head, when I woke up it hurt so bad I could hardly move. It was dark but the moon was full, and I could see someone standing over me, a pale woman, with red hair. Her mouth was dripping with blood she had sharp fangs and I prayed to the Lord that he would deliver me. I grabbed my Rosary and prayed harder than I had ever before in my life.”

It’s unknown how long she laid there in the cactus patch, but what happened next puzzles even the staff here at The Great Beyond. “The evil vampire lady just started laughing and she said something I’ll never forget for the rest of my life. ‘You’re lucky Lorena that you have faith. Please tell Martin I’m waiting for him.’ Then she disappeared. I don’t know any Martin. I passed out and woke up in the back of an Ambulance.”

There you have it dear readers a first person account of a survivor of a vicious vampire attack. For The Great Beyond, I’m Fast Frederick.

I read the article through three more times. Yes that was my name. Whoever the red haired vampire was she had just sent me a message. The article claimed the attack happened over Thanksgiving weekend.

I sat there for a while trying to take it all in. First the attack in broad daylight, then the attack on my brother, and I touched the scar on my throat. Whoever this redhead vampire was she had to die. If it was the last thing I did I would find her, stake her and saw off her head!

The only problem was finding her hideout. I fired up a search engine and punched in “The Great Beyond” I had to wade through hits about song lyrics until I added tabloid to the search. Finally I found their cheesy website. After a bit of digging through a poorly designed navigation system I found a contact us link. Pay dirt! I hastily wrote an email.

Dear Fast Frederick,

I read one of your recent articles in a supermarket tabloid and found it quite compelling. Please give me a call as I would like to discuss the possibility of having you on as a regular columnist.

Martin Miller,
MHI Publishing.
[Phone number redacted]

While I was waiting for a response I started looking for Kat. She was probably still in the female barracks. Definitely a place I didn’t want to go poking around in. So I hit the cafeteria instead for something to eat.

I pressed rotate button on the refrigerated vending machine. The items rolled around in a hypnotic march of barely edible food: microwave burritos, stale sandwiches, apples, blueberry muffins, a cup of noodles, and pudding!

I wasn’t that desperate yet. I fought with the sugar water machine for a few minutes, trying to get it to eat my wrinkled dollar. Finally success, it sucked in my dollar! I pounded the Rootbeer button but nothing happened! Then I noticed the faint orange light in the corner of the button. It was out of… everything. No Rootbeer, no Orange Soda, no Alpine Mist, nothing!

“Fine consider it a donation then!” I yelled at the aging machine.

“Woah! Marty calm down.” Kat had somehow snuck up behind me. I had no idea how long she had been standing there.

I turned around and shrugged. “Umm… yeah sorry, I just hate it when vending machines rip me off.”

She rolled her eyes, “So did you find anything out about vampires from the puppy trainer?”

I smirked, “Actually I did.” Just then my cell phone vibrated. I pulled it out, and glanced at the screen. Right on time.

“Hey Kat can you answer my phone like a secretary, and say ‘MHI Publishing.’ Please?” I said as I handed her the phone.

“What? I don’t get it?”

“Please, it might help me find out where they took my brother.”

“Fine but you owe me big time.” She said as she hit the send button on the phone. “MHI Publishing how may I direct your call?” Kat said in an all too perky voice.

The caller on the other end squawked something that I couldn’t make out. “Mr. Miller is a busy man, just a moment please.” She was hamming this up. I shot her thumbs up.

After a lengthy pause she came back on, “Thank you for waiting. Mr. Miller just came out of a meeting, and has just a moment to talk. Hold please while I transfer your call.” She mashed a few buttons on the keypad and gave the phone to me.

I waited for a moment and then held the phone up to my ear. I only hoped Fred didn’t catch on to our ruse. “Mr. Frederick, this is Martin Miller, I see you received my email.” I tried to speak as pompous as possible, without overdoing it.

“Yes, yes I called as soon as I saw your email!” The man on the other end of the phone had a scratchy voice and was talking extremely fast, he sounded nervous.

“Let’s get down to business. Mr. Frederick, I read your work of fiction about the Hispanic gal getting attacked by vampires on the tour bus and…”

He rudely interrupted, “No it’s a true story! I didn’t make it up.”

I took a deep breath and exhaled loudly into the phone. “Mr. Frederick, do you always interrupt people who might be offering you a contract job? Hmm?”

“No, I ahhh… sorry.”

“Don’t be. Frankly I don’t normally read supermarket tabloid trash, but I was on a long flight and the passenger next to me had it so I took a look.” I had him hook line and sinker.

“Listen Fred, I like your writing but since you are adamant that your story is true, even though any SANE person would know that Dracula was make believe and not really…”

He interrupted again, “Mr. Miller, monsters are real.”

I cleared my throat. Kat was covering her mouth to keep from laughing. “Oh really, is that so? Well if they really were real then where do they hide when they aren’t attacking tour busses?”

“Umm it uhh, happened on the way back from Carlsbad Cavers.”

I gasped, that was where Grandpa had been killed. I coughed to cover up my outburst. “So why didn’t this show up in all the news media then? It sounds like the kind of story journalists eat up.”

“It’s all a government conspiracy man! Just like the cattle mutilations!” He said.

“Well thank you Mister Fast Fred. I don’t think we have a place for you after all. Goodbye.” I said as I hung up the phone.

I sat there thinking about Roy Miller fighting in some dark cavern losing his life to the very vampire scum who hunted me, and had turned Michael into one of them. A deep rage that had been smoldering inside me since his capture began to burn. It spread like a forest fire destroying everything in its path.

“Marty, what’s wrong? Did you find out where they took your brother?”

“Yes, were going to New Mexico, Carlsbad Caverns. There will be no survivors.”

“Well I plan on surviving.” Kat said and we both started laughing.

[moose42]

Ok guys I just redid chapter one.

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Chapter 1 Redux
The Crawlspace

I always hated pulling cables in crawlspaces. They were all horrible: dark, choked with dust, cobwebs and a hint of mold. This one was the absolute worst I had ever been in. My flashlight illuminated clouds of dust with every move I made. Thankfully I had sprung for a good dust mask that kept most of the crap out of my lungs; unfortunately it began to fill with sweat. I moved forward the network cable in one hand, my LED flashlight in the other. The crawlspace was so cramped I could only crawl on my hands and knees, thick powdery dust immediately sought out every bit of exposed skin and stabbed at my eyes.

My two-way radio crackled, startling me. “Moose, hey what’s taking so stinking long?” It was Jeff. He had the difficult job of grabbing the wire I stuffed up the hole in the floor. Annoyed I set down my flashlight and grabbed the radio that was clipped to my shirt pocket.

“Dude, if you wanted this job to go faster you should have picked the gopher position! I have to crawl on my hands and knees!” Jeff was the bosses’ kid so he usually got the easy jobs and a big Christmas bonus every year. I could hardly stand the idiot.

“Fine, but I am gonna’ go have a smoke while I wait for you to get over here.” I figured he would be setting down his radio and hitting the back patio of this rundown building. I didn’t even have the desire to fight him over leaving his post. Company policy required the gopher to be monitored at all times in case he ran into trouble. Crawlspaces could be dangerous places.

The building I was currently under was built in 1919. It started out as a small-town bank, then back in the 50’s it was turned into a public library. Two years ago the library moved out, and last year some real-estate genius decided to subdivide it into “trendy” office spaces. Major renovations were required to get this old building fit to run business. My employer won the contract to run the network.

Thirteen bucks an hour didn’t seem to be worth it as I brushed aside a massive curtain of cobwebs with a gloved hand. My flashlight was now lying in the dirt. It illuminated a mess of pipes and cast strange shadows onto the aging concrete walls. I thought I saw something move as I reached for my light. Shadows danced as my flashlight moved. Bah, it was just my imagination, I told myself as I resumed my journey to the other side of this rundown old building.

I stopped crawling for a bit to adjust my mask and I heard a faint rustling noise behind me. Jeff was probably trying to scare me by shaking the cable at the crawlspace entry. The cable I was working so hard at dragging underneath this hellish building was yanked out of my hand.

“Jeff!” I yelled. I so did not want to crawl all the way back to the entrance. I rolled onto my back and sat up to see what was messing with the spool of wire sitting near the entrance. Golden evening light spilled down from the open trapdoor.

About twenty feet behind me I saw a lizard like creature with a long neck and shiny green eyes. I raised my flashlight and illuminated the little beast for a split second before it charged me. All I saw were rough brown scales and filthy feathers.

I scooped up a handful of gravel from the floor of the crawlspace and hurled it at the bugger. Rocks pelted it and it hissed but didn’t slow down. In an instant it was upon me. I scrambled backward kicking with my legs. The beast pounced on my leg its beak tore through my blue jeans like paper. I tried to scream as it slashed my calf but the pain was so great that my voice was stuck in the back of my throat. I kicked the beasts’ body with good leg, my heavy work boot connected solidly and it flew off into the darkness. I started to crawl to the exit as fast as I could; As I crawled realized I couldn’t feel my leg. The fiendish beast let out a blood curdling screech. It would be on me again in an instant. I reached for the scabbard on my belt; pulled out my large pocket knife, and somehow managed to get it open with gloved hands.

With four inches of steel in one hand, and my flashlight in the other I turned to face the crawlspace demon. It charged going for my good leg. It struck, slicing through my right thigh above the knee. It felt as though a white hot poker had been shoved through my skin. Despite the pain I managed to keep a grip on my knife. I held it like an ice pick and stabbed down at the body of the beast. The blade struck home piercing through a bat like wing, pinning it to its body. What was this thing? It let out a deafening scream as it tried to remove the knife with its beak, wings flapped; claws flailed wildly tearing through my shirt.

I grabbed the beast by the neck, up near the head and squeezed as hard as I could. I dropped my flashlight in the chaos and fought the beast in darkness. I managed to grab the knife with my other hand and twisted it. Blood shot out with each beat of its black heart. I yanked my knife free and wildly stabbed again; the blade glanced off the scales on its legs as it continued to thrash around furiously. I tried in wring its neck but it fought furiously my gloved hands straining to keep a hold of it.

In the moments that followed I wished I had brought my .40 caliber pistol, unfortunately it was locked up in my truck in the parking lot. I hadn’t wanted to get it scratched up as I crawled beneath this old building. It might as well have been a million miles away now that I needed it.

Even though the pain was excruciating I knew I had to hold on to this demonic chicken-bat thing until it bled out. It clawed at my chest with its sharp talons, ripping my heavy flannel shirt to shreds.

My radio crackled “Hey Marty, what the hell are you doing down there?” Had Jeff heard the muffled screams? I couldn’t respond since there was no way I was going to let go of the monsters neck. I slashed out again with my knife the blade gouging deep in one of the beasts legs, it thrashed around even more fiercely. Its long tail flailed catching and me in the face. I lost hold of my knife and it disappeared in the powdery dirt.

With my free hand I grabbed the monsters tail close to its body and smashed it into an old cast iron drain pipe. Again and again I swung the beast with both hands trying to crush its spine on the old rusty hunk of steel. Eventually it stopped moving, warm blood covered my gloves and ran down my arms, feathers, scales, and blood was scattered everywhere.

It let out one last chirp and fell limp in my arms. Had I killed it? The beast from the shadows was dead, or was it? For what seemed like eternity I held the limp beast as far away from me as possible. I wondered if it was playing dead and would strike as soon as I let go. I sat in the darkness, I became acutely aware of the lack of feeling in my legs. I tried to move my feet but they wouldn’t respond. Damn it, did the hell chicken-bat thing paralyze me?

My radio crackled again, “Marty are you ok man? You better not be screwing around!” He sounded annoyed. I decided it was ok to let go of the evil beast and dropped it on a pile of dirt, even more dust was kicked up. In the struggle my mask was ripped open and I was breathing in the stale fetid air.

I found my radio and tried to push the talk button but it slipped out of my grasp. I shucked off my gloves and weakly cried out. “I… I, killed it! Bl… blood.” Was that my voice? I sounded terrible; I needed to pull myself together.

I dragged myself over to where my flashlight lay in the dirt and examined my wounds. This wasn’t good, the bite on my right thigh was steadily gushing blood, I began to feel lightheaded, I tried to shake it off but I knew I needed to get to an emergency room. Jeff blathered something again on the radio but I was too busy with my bleeding leg to understand him. I pulled the bandanna off my neck that I used to keep spiders from going down my shirt and made a hasty pressure bandage on the wound on my thigh, the wound on my calf would have to wait. Damn, I didn’t feel good. I started to drag myself toward the trapdoor, but it seemed hopelessly far away.

I army crawled to the golden light, dragging my limp legs behind me. As I approached the spool of wire I heard more hissing behind me. I dared not take the time to look. I grabbed the spool of wire and yelled up out of the hole. “Jeff! Help me!”

He walked over to the trap door and looked down dubiously, “Dude are you trying to scare me?”

He must have seen the panic on my face as his eyes widened, “Help me up!”

He grabbed my hands as the hissing grew louder. They were running now. Jeff grunted the veins popping on his arm under his fish tattoo. Somehow the smaller man was able to haul my butt out of the hole.

“Shut the trapdoor! NOW!” I managed to yell.

Jeff scrambled swinging the door down right as another beast climbed out of the hole. The heavy trapdoor slammed pinning its neck. It squaked and squirmed wildly.

“What the hell is that thing?” Jeff asked.

I pulled a hammer out of the nearby tool bucket and tossed it to Jeff. “Hit it!”

He snatched the tool and crushed the beasts head, but it still squirmed struggling to get free. He swung again and again till finally it lay still.

“Jeff, get something heavy to keep that door shut!”

He stood there stunned, “What?”

I looked around the room, all the other workers had gone home for the day, but the mason had left a wheelbarrow full of bricks in the other room. “Grab the mason’s wheelbarrow!”

The trapdoor jumped up as another beast slammed into it. I swung my body over the top of it, hoping to keep it down. Jeff just stood there stunned, he was totally frozen. “Jeff! Wheelbarrow! Now!” I said as the trapdoor shuddered again. He finally snapped out of it and ran to get it. Full of bricks it had to be enough; its nearly flat tire struggled to keep the load moving forward.

Jeff had the wheelbarrow a couple feet away when I was nearly launched off of the door. Somehow I managed to stay on it as the dead beast fell back down the hole. The hissing grew incredibly loud as the beasts slammed into the trapdoor. Finally my co worker was able to plant the heavy wheelbarrow on top of the hatch; I rolled away gasping for air. My blood began staining the plywood.

Now that the trapdoor was secure for now I looked at my legs. The one bandage was still on but blood had soaked through it. I needed something relatively clean; with the amount of dust from removing drywall nothing was clean.

I looked at Jeff who stood leaning on the wheelbarrow. “Jeff, give me your shirt.” I said. He was wearing a Cabbage Point Killing Machine t-shirt. They were a popular metal band that he was always listening to on his MP3 player.

“What? Eh, no you’ll get blood on it.” He said.

I scowled at him. “I’m bleeding to death here!”

He must have finally realized that as he shrugged off his shirt. “Fine, but you owe me a new one.”

I couldn’t believe he thought his shirt was more important than my life. “Cut it in half.” I ordered.

He grimaced but did as he was told. I fumbled and bandaged both of my leg wounds. I put the second makeshift bandage over the first one.

“Should I call 911?” he asked.

I shook my head. Ohh that was a big mistake, “No, they will take forever getting here, and who knows if those things have another exit.”

Jeff turned white, “Oh s___! You mean they might get out…” he was interrupted as a shriek filled the air.

“Grab the spool cart!” I said. The cart carried six giant spools of wire. He brought it over and tossed off the spools on the top deck. I scrambled aboard and he pushed us toward the exit. “Hurry!” The shrieks grew louder.
The cart rolled down the newly finished wheelchair ramp, and into the parking lot. I fished my keys out of my pocket “Unlock the shell. ” I said as I handed him the keys.

He did and lowered the tailgate; I climbed over into the back of my truck and reached for the black plastic case hidden underneath a packing blanket.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“I was planning on going to the range after work today.” I said as I quickly opened the gun case. Inside were my Remington 870 and Russian SKS. I quickly loaded up the shotgun with some #4 lead shot. With the magazine extension it held seven rounds total. I slammed the bolt back on the SKS and grabbed a ten round stripper clip full of soft point ammo. I jammed it home, my hands still slick with blood.

“Ever fired a weapon before?” I asked Jeff, but he was gone, I looked up as his dad’s diesel truck fired up and peeled out of the parking lot. He hadn’t even closed the door on the trailer, tools spilled out onto the pavement as he careened wildly down the street. “Thanks you stupid coward!” I yelled after him.

With my pickups manual transmission I knew I couldn’t escape. Traffic was sparse thanks to the road construction blocking off most of the through traffic. So I was alone with the beasts.

I looked back at the former library entrance across the parking lot. The little beasts stood in the doorway, their shiny green eyes flashed in the darkness. The sun had almost set. They seemed to fear the light as they huddled in the relative darkness of the brick building. A larger pair of eyes shined my direction, I felt weak as it hit me with its gaze, I looked away and felt better. What the hell?

How was I going to shoot them if I couldn’t look at their eyes? I began to panic, my cell phone was in the cab of the truck there was no way I could reach it without the beasts jumping me. The sun dipped down below the skyline and the winged beasts shrieked. They would charge at any moment.

I flipped the safety off and pointed the rifle at the doorway, careful to not look at the large ones eyes. I hoped the brick building would contain my shots and not hit anyone on the other side, but what choice did I have?

I squeezed the trigger, the hammer fell, the firing pin flew forward striking the primer, igniting the powder charge and propelling the projectile out of the barrel into the doorway. The beasts shrieked and charged. I rapidly squeezed the trigger nine more times until the bolt locked back. I dropped the rifle on the tailgate and switched to the shotgun. The first beast was closing the gap fast. I jerked the trigger sending a load of buckshot into the chicken bat from hell it collapsed in a puff of feathers.

I pumped the weapon and fired almost as fast as I could cycle the action. In less than two seconds the weapon was empty, all the little beasts lay dying but the ‘mother’ beast was still up I had only winged it. It jumped and flapped its bat like wings. I kicked the wire cart and it smacked into the monster. It fell back squawking on the pavement. I grabbed the SKS and struggled to get ten more rounds into the weapon. I tossed the empty stripper clip aside and slammed the bolt forward.

The beast was up; it was about the size of a wild turkey, but lean and wicked looking. I caught a glimpse of its green gaze, and an icy hand gripped my heart. I struggled to raise the rifle but my arms were sluggish.

The creature locked its gaze with mine, and I froze completely. I could feel its rage and animalistic hunger. It slowly climbed up onto the tailgate next to me. It seemed to be enjoying this. I tried to close my eyes but even that simple movement was denied to me.

It was at that moment I almost gave up. I figured I was about to find out what really awaited me after death. Its beak moved forward reaching for my throat. I tried to flinch but couldn’t. Time slowed to a crawl, I could hear my heartbeat and smell the stench of blood, dirt, and feathers.

I had a glimmer of home somehow the barrel of my rifle was pointed at the beast’s body, if only I could squeeze the trigger. With all my fear, anger, and adrenaline I willed myself to pull the trigger. It seemed to weigh a hundred pounds. I screamed silently, my finger twitched ever so slightly. Yes! I redoubled my efforts to squeeze the trigger.

Finally somehow my finger moved back enough to drop the hammer. The rifle barked and the beast fell off the side of the truck. With its gaze gone feeling returned to my body. Thousands of pins and needles were shoved through my once frozen flesh. After a few moments of intense pain I couldn’t feel my legs but I managed to get my arms to obey. I slid over to the side of the tailgate and fired the remaining rounds into the blasted beast that lay writhing on the dirt.

I pulled down on the bayonet and locked it into position. “Tergum Ut Abyssus!” I yelled as I thrust the bayonet home skewering the monster. I let go of the rifle and collapsed into the back of the truck.

I heard sirens in the distance as darkness enveloped me.