Ashes and Dust (7 page)

14

Dozens of fires burned throughout the town. Numerous trails of thick black smoke rolled through the air like an oily fog. For the most part, the town was devoid—of people. The only signs of human inhabitants were the nearly constant popping of gunfire up ahead.

They’d taken a beating, speeding over the rough dirt road leading back to town, but they’d completed the trip in record time. But now, the town’s new residents—massive, bulky, fire-breathing lizards—slowed their progress. Luckily, so far the monsters had shown no interest in the vehicle. They seemed fixated on attacking more flammable objects, including store fronts, shrubs, trees...and people.

“Oh my God. They’re eating him,” Lisa said, as they slowly passed a corpse that had been reduced to jet black ash. Three of the creatures were scooping up heaps of greasy ash, lifting their heads and then swallowing it down, their necks shaking with each gulp.

Griffin winced. These were the kinds of things that ruined well-trained soldiers for life. He’d seen this kind of horror before, sans the lizards, and it had taken years and hundreds of dark, therapeutic paintings for him to work through the post-traumatic stress.
The kids shouldn’t have to see this
, he thought, finding yet another reason to beat the shit out of whoever was ultimately responsible for this situation.

Griffin had to stop the car in front of the Brick House. The way ahead was blocked by creatures. There were too many to drive through. Hundreds of them. Probably too many too kill. The town was outnumbered. Outmatched.
This could be the end
, he thought, glancing back at Avalon. Part of him wished she’d stayed in California. Alive and addicted would be better than burnt and eaten in this hellhole.

But she wasn’t in California. And she was fighting to be free from her addiction. So he’d fight for her. Until the very end.

The area in front of the Brick House was clear of living lizards, though five had found themselves on the receiving end of a shotgun. The front door opened and Walter Harrison peeked out, shotgun in hand.

Griffin rolled down his window. Since leaving Ellison’s mansion, no one had answered his calls, not even Frost. “Where is everyone?”

Walter motioned behind him. “I got eight in here, but I’m the only one with a gun. Rest of ‘em are holed up at the sheriff’s station.”

“With Frost?” Griffin asked, hopeful.

“She ain’t back yet,” the bartender said.

Walter glanced around the cruiser, his eyes lingering on Jennifer for a moment. “You’re welcome to hole up in here. Sure wouldn’t mind all those guns.”

Griffin had already considered it for the kids, but he didn’t think they’d agree, and he didn’t want to waste time arguing. The only way to defeat a larger force was through a very organized assault, and he didn’t see that happening without him. He needed to get to the station.

He opened his door.

“Are you sure you want to go out there?” Winslow asked.

“It’s what we came here for. If you all survive, maybe next time you’ll do as I ask and stay behind.” He hated using ‘I told you so’ logic on them, especially in the face of their potential deaths, but if they did survive, he wanted them to remember that they could have avoided all of this by letting him go alone. “Winslow, you’re behind me. Avalon and Lisa, you stay in the middle. Radar and Jennifer, you two cover the rear.”

Jennifer nodded, and the group walked cautiously out into the street. Griffin led the way, assault rifle in hand. Rather than strolling straight up Main Street, where they’d be easily spotted, he headed for the rear of the bar. While the other side of town was surrounded by residential neighborhoods, fifty acres of forest to the west separated town from Northwoods Orchard. Moving among the trees, they might be able to make it to the station unnoticed.
And that
, he thought,
will be the key to our survival.

Twenty feet into the woods, one of the creatures exploded out of a patch of smoldering brush. Reacting on instinct, he raised his rifle, squeezed off a three round burst and dropped the thing. It fell at his feet, dead.

At least they can be killed,
he thought.

Cracking twigs and shaking branches announced the arrival of more lizards, likely drawn by the sound of gunfire. Before seeing them, Griffin shouted, “Run!” He led the way, charging through the woods with his rifle up and ready, propped against his shoulder.

Behind him, Winslow opened fire, but with far less success. Griffin counted seven shots from Winslow, before he actually hit the creature charging toward them from Main Street. A high-pitched squeal, like compressed air, came from the hole punched in the thing’s neck. Then, it exploded. Globs of flesh rained about, attracting more of the things, several of which stopped to charbroil their now dead comrade.

Whatever chemicals are used to create those flames
, Griffin thought,
are kept in their necks
. “Try not to hit their necks at close range.” He fired two more rounds, dropping another lizard, this one still fifty feet away.

“Dad!” Avalon shouted. Her voice was followed by the rumble of gunfire.

Griffin flinched and spun, his rifle raised at a now dead lizard. He glanced at Avalon, holding the proverbial smoking gun. Gave her a nod. She smiled briefly, and then they were off, running and shooting. Even Radar and Lisa were firing away, as was Jennifer, whose aim made her the deadliest nurse Griffin had ever seen. But for the moment, she was helping keep him, and the kids, alive. And for that, he was grateful. But if he found out she was involved with whatever caused their trip through the universe’s most hellish worlds...

“Griffin,” Winslow said. The old man was sweating profusely, but he looked capable and alert. He held out a hand. “Give me the keys. I have an idea.”

Griffin was about to argue, but the old man didn’t give him a chance. “Now, damnit!”

Griffin handed over the keys. “What—”

“If I’m not back in ten minutes, you’ll know I didn’t make it.” With that, Winslow was off, heading back the way they’d come.

Griffin was torn. He didn’t want to leave Winslow, who wasn’t the best shot or the fastest runner, on his own, but he also couldn’t turn around now. The town needed an organized defense.

“I’ll go with him,” Jennifer said.

Griffin gave a nod of thanks, but added, “If you make it back alive, he better be with you.”

Then she was gone, chasing after Winslow, leaving Griffin to storm the police station with two kids and his drug-craving daughter. “The odds just keep getting better and better,” he whispered.

“Never tell me the odds,” Radar replied with lopsided grin.

When Griffin shot him a look like he had lost his mind, Radar explained. “Han Solo. In the asteroid field.”

Griffin sighed. “C’mon 3PO, let’s go.”

“3PO?”

“Yeah,” Griffin said, offering a smile of his own. “I’m obviously Han.” He pushed deeper into the woods unseen, thanks to a momentary reprieve in the attack. If they could get behind the station, they might be able to get through the back door. The sound of gunfire grew louder with every step. As he rounded the back of Soucey’s Market, he got his first glimpse of the station.

So much for the back door...

15

Turned out that Loomis’s death was just the beginning.

While Dodge and Frost led the charge back to the edge of town, the four men accompanying them had the misfortune of being a few steps behind. And that was all the difference. Frost had heard a joke, about how the best defense against an attacking bear was being faster than your friends. Turns out the punchline worked with giant, fire-breathing reptiles, too.

The man named Jarvis Brent walked into a wall of flame, as a lizard climbed out from a crevice beneath him. He emerged alit, stumbled over a rock and fell into the waiting jaws of a second lizard, which unleashed a torrent of flame as it shook him about.

Matthew Silver simply lost his footing, fell forward and slammed his head on a jagged rock. The sickening crunch and limpness of his body confirmed his death before the lizards fell upon him.

Anthony Grimm turned out to be the fastest of them, jack-rabbiting over and around the field of jagged stones, deadly gorges and writhing lizards. His substantial lead might be why he was targeted. Just fifty feet from where the earth fell away back to the border of Refuge, a spear fell from the sky, impaling the back of his neck, slipping four feet through his flesh. He fell forward, but the weapon lodged in the ground, holding him up at a forty-five degree angle. His body slowly slid down the long, smooth spear.

Frost’s heart ached with each man’s death, some deep dark part of her thankful that she wouldn’t have to face their families afterwards. It was the same part of her that felt a surge of hope each time the horde of lizards slowed to fight over the most recently killed prey.

She fired several rounds into a group of lizards closing in from the left. She’d lost her rifle when she struck her head, and now—
click, click, click
—the handgun ran dry. She holstered the weapon, focusing on running instead.

“Oh my God,” Meeks shouted. “He’s coming! He’s coming!”

She turned, knowing exactly who the ‘he’ was. She wished she’d never seen him. Those eyes. Familiar but not. The man closed in, slipping past the lizards barbequing Silver. Another spear was in the man’s hand.

And then it wasn’t.

Meeks turned around to fire, got off one wild shot and then clutched his gut as the spear pierced it.

He twisted and fell to his knees, then glanced back at Frost, desperation in his eyes. “If you get home...all the way home...”

He never got to finish. Another spear punched through his back. A mortal wound. The impact knocked him onto his side, his lifeless eyes staring up at the sky. But this time, Frost couldn’t continue on. She had no idea whether the man hunting them would be satiated with the kill or if he was set on murdering them all. So she decided to stand her ground.

Her hand went for her gun, when she remembered it had no ammunition.

The man leapt over a boulder, twenty feet away and closing. She watched as a fresh spear appeared in his hand. But it wasn’t magic. A bag hung from his waist, full of foot-long white rods. When he lifted one, it quickly extended in both directions, forming a double-pointed javelin.

She lunged for Meeks’s weapon, an M-16, but it was strapped around his shoulders and clutched in a death grip.

The man leapt at her, thrusting out his spear.

Moving quickly, Frost reacted without thinking, clutching the spear buried in Meeks’s gut, pulling it out and parrying the blow. She jumped back, holding the weapon in front of her.

The man stopped, momentarily surprised. But then he grinned.

His teeth were a rotted mess. Up close, she could smell his rank perfume of feces, blood and ash. The muscles beneath his deeply tanned skin twitched with energy. But he just waited.

For what?

Then it happened. The spear in Frost’s hands shrank down to a foot-long staff. It had the weight of a police baton, which she could wield with some skill, but it was no match for the spear now being raised over the man’s head.

Out of options, Frost did the only thing she could think of, shouting, “Griffin Butler, don’t you dare!”

16

Crouched in the woods behind Memorial Park, Griffin took in the scene. The park was full of the creatures, more than they could ever possibly hope to get past, sneaking, shooting or otherwise.

“We’re screwed,” Radar said.

Griffin’s instinct was to offer a positive comeback. Some glimmer of hope. That’s what heroes did. But he had nothing. They were seriously fucked.

“What should we do?” Avalon asked.

Griffin ran through a hundred possible scenarios and strategies, but he was at a loss, in part because they were so outnumbered, but also because he knew nothing about these creatures—what kind of distraction would capture their attention, what they were afraid of, nothing. And it wouldn’t be long before they were discovered again. A lull in the attack had let them go deeper into the woods and circle around the park, but the things were everywhere. Many were content to simply set fire to random objects, munching on the ash, but some had a definite taste for the oilier ash that came from cooking living things. As a result, the thickest number of creatures was around the sheriff’s station, from which a near continuous boom of gunfire erupted. The building was brick, and solid, standing up to the creatures’ assaults, but portions of it were smoldering.

“We wait,” he said.

“For what?” Radar asked.

“For Winslow.”

“What if they didn’t make it?” Lisa asked. “The could be dead already.”

“We don’t have a choice,” Griffin said. “Just keep your eyes open for trouble, but only shoot if you have to. The moment those things know we’re here...” He didn’t need to finish. The result of them being discovered was apparent.

Griffin tried his radio again. “Cash, can you hear me? Cash?”

Nothing.

Damnit
.

Griffin had long ago learned how to be patient. As a Ranger, he would sometimes have to wait for weeks for a target to present itself. But he was out of practice, and with people’s lives in the balance, many of them his friends, he found himself fighting to remain still. If not for Avalon, Radar and Lisa being under his care, he’d have already acted.

And probably died
, he thought.

“Cash,” he spoke into the radio again. “Cash!”

A gunshot rang out, but this one didn’t come from the station. It was Lisa. She fired again and again. Griffin stood quickly and found a dead lizard, easily twelve feet long, just a few feet behind Lisa. Radar put his hand on the gun and Lisa held her fire.

She turned to Griffin, tears in her eyes. “Sorry. It just snuck up and—”

He shook his head. “You did the right thing.”

But they were still in trouble. The gunfire had drawn the attention of the nearest lizards, all thirty of them. Griffin was about to order them all into the woods. They might stand a chance there. But the growl of some new monster made him—and the attacking lizards—pause.

“What the hell is—”

With a throaty rumble that shook Griffin’s chest, Quentin Miller’s lime green monster truck exploded into the park, bounding up and over the curb from Soucey’s parking lot. It came down hard, bouncing atop and crushing the nearest lizard. But it didn’t just crush the lizard. The large, spinning wheels shredded the beast, flinging a rainbow of meat. When the tire reached the creature’s head, it burst, mixing whatever chemicals it contained in its neck. Flames burst out and ignited the driver’s side tire.

The truck sped into the middle of the park, tearing into the reptilian throng. Jennifer sat behind the wheel, a wicked smile on her face. Winslow sat in the passenger’s seat, mortified. While this was no doubt Winslow’s big idea, Griffin was glad Jennifer had gone along. Winslow was the town’s most notorious Sunday driver, forming lines behind him whenever he drove. Jennifer, on the other hand, drove with the confident assurance of someone trained to do so.

Despite the truck’s size and volume, the lizards didn’t flee. Instead, they charged, responding to the vehicle like it was wounded prey. Some leapt at it. Some attempted to scorch the tires. The result of every attack was the same—a spray of red guts and a burst of fiery death. As more of the creatures joined the assault and all four tires were set aflame, Jennifer cranked the wheels and hit the gas. The giant truck began spinning in circles, doing donuts in the slick, burning flesh of an ever-growing number of dead.

When Griffin finally managed to tear his eyes away from the gruesome scene, he looked at the kids and saw three smiles. He realized that he was smiling, too. Radar noted Griffin’s attention and said, “So awesome.”

Griffin agreed. It was awesome. “But it’s time for us to move.”

The smiles disappeared. “Stay close. Stay quiet.” With that, Griffin started out across the park, heading for the police station.