Monsters (8 page)

As they approached one of the taller buildings in the downtown region, Jane held her hand out, signaling for him to stop. Without saying a word, she pointed at the ground and then upwards. Bruce knew what she was pointing out. He'd seen this before, but normally only around cliffs and at the entrance to natural caves.

Guano covered the ground.

The rancid smell stung his nostrils. Bat droppings extended out away from the building, scattered liberally across the ground on a scale he'd never known. There must have been thousands of giant bats inside the crumbling remains of the skyscraper. Bruce was terrified by the faint squeaks and the rustle of thick leather wings flexing in the darkness. These monsters were waiting for dusk to fall. His heart pounded in his chest. Jane continued on.

At the next intersection, Bruce came up quietly beside her as she peered around the corner into a side street.

“Bear,” she whispered.

Bruce peaked around the corner. A black bear lumbered down the road. It was late in the season for bears, most of them had hibernated by late autumn.

“This is good,” she said. “He'll keep the mountain lions away.”

The bear raised its head, sniffing at the wind, catching the subtle scent of their sweat on the breeze.

“If he doesn't kill us first,” Bruce replied in a whisper.

Jane crept across the intersection, moving behind the crushed remains of a truck and semi-trailer. Rust had eaten through the thin, sheet-metal panels of the crumpled hood and cabin, leaving only the hollow frame. The engine block and axle were exposed to the weather. The rear trailer was little more than a broken shell, with gaping holes exposing the frame. The tires were flat. Their vulcanized rubber was frayed, exposing the reinforced nylon/steel belt to the elements. Bruce came up behind one of the wheels, using it for cover.

The bear roared, bellowing into the darkened sky, its head reached up toward the gray clouds.

“Quick,” Jane said, darting across to the other side of the road and into a doorway.

Bruce went to move, but the bear had reared around facing him, barely a hundred yards away.

“Run,” Jane cried, trying to keep her voice low. She was beckoning with her hand, urging him on.

Bruce froze. The bear was lumbering toward the shattered remains of the semi-trailer.

In the bitter cold, his hands felt sweaty. Perspiration broke out on his forehead. Bruce tried to move, rocking forward on his legs, but his instinct got the better of him, crying out for him to stay put, to hunker down and let the danger pass. He looked up, Jane was gone. Panic seized his mind. She'd abandoned him.

Bruce looked around. The brick building she'd been standing beside had once reached up at least ten stories in height, but the upper half had fallen into decay, collapsing into the alleyway behind the main street. Only one of the four walls stood over three stories high. The other walls had crumbled in a heap. Bruce tried to think rationally. Shooting arrows at the bear would be suicide. If he could get up high, perhaps by doubling back to the crumbling ruins behind him he might stand a chance, but the bear would see him and bolt after him. The monster would be on him before he made it more than twenty yards.

The bear roared again, rising up on its hindquarters, its massive paws stretched out wide. Bruce pulled out an arrow, thinking he could strike at its stomach, but his hands were shaking. The bear dropped back on all fours. It had seen him. It ran in hard toward him, its paws pounding on the crumbling pavement.

Bruce dropped to the ground and rolled under the rusting remains of the semi-trailer, shimmying under the engine block. Behind him, he could hear the bear growling as it came bounding up to him.

The bear roared, its claws tearing at the concrete under the truck, trying to dig him out. Bruce reacted, pulling his legs up, wanting to stay out of reach.

The rusting hulk shifted with the weight of the bear, groaning as the bear climbed up on the shell of the cabin, trying to reach its prey from above.

Bruce rolled on his back, looking up as the bear struck out, tearing the radiator away with a single swipe of its claws.

The chassis groaned, collapsing under the massive bear as one of the wheels broke off. Bruce turned to one side as the axle dug into the concrete, missing his leg by inches.

“Hey,” came a voice crying out from above him. “Pick on someone your own size.”

It was Jane.

The bear turned to face her. Rising up on its hind legs as it straddled the crushed cab of the semi-trailer, the black bear roared, baring its teeth as it bellowed.

Jane was standing in the third floor window of the adjacent, collapsed building, throwing bricks at the bear. Blood seeped from her bandaged arm as she hurled bricks, catching the bear on the side of its head. The monstrous animal roared in defiance as a brick caught it on its snout, breaking a tooth.

The bear charged the building, rearing up on its hindquarters and thumping the wall, shaking the bricks. The monstrous beast was trying to knock Jane out of the window, but that made the bear an easy target. With both hands, she threw a clump of three bricks at the bear and caught it on the bridge of its nose, catching the corner of its eye. The bear dropped to the ground with a thud.

Wounded, the bear loped away down the street. Jane managed to get one last brick to land on its back. It wouldn't have hurt the animal but it was enough of a reminder that this meal was too difficult and the bear roared, somewhat annoyed at resigning in defeat.

Bruce scrambled out from under the semi-trailer and over to the building. Jane came downstairs and picked up her bag, throwing it over her shoulder without saying a word.

“You saved my life,” Bruce said.

“And you almost cost me mine,” Jane replied rather passionately. “Next time, I'm leaving you to the bear. Have you got that?”

Bruce wasn't used to a woman speaking to him with such authority. He didn't know quite what to think. On one hand, he was excited. The adrenaline flowing through his veins filled him with energy. They'd just taken on a bear, just the two of them, and they'd won. That was unheard of, but Jane clearly wasn't impressed.

“When I say run, you run,” she said sternly. “If I say fly, you flap your goddamn wings. Are we clear?”

“Yes,” Bruce replied, feeling scolded. He looked at her bloodied arm as she cradled it in front of her. She was grimacing in pain.

“Thank you,” he said, and he meant it. The parallel to her apology the day before was accidental, but Jane seemed to pick up on that and her demeanor changed. He could see she wasn't annoyed at him so much as annoyed at herself for taking a risk with the bear, one he wasn't ready to take. She pursed her lips, getting ready to say something and Bruce wondered about the options running through her mind.

“There,” she said, cracking a slight smile. “Saying thank you wasn't so hard, now was it?”

He laughed.

“Come on,” she added. “Let's get out of here.”

They continued on, weaving their way toward the town center, staying to the broad streets as much as possible. It was a couple of miles before Jane stopped silently and pointed at a building in the next block.

“There it is,” she said, pointing at a broad stone building, one that had fared better than most.

Somewhere in the distance, a dog howled. The sun was sitting low on the horizon, casting long shadows down the street. The wind picked up, causing shadows to dance within the thicket of weeds and shrubs breaking through the aging concrete road.

As they approached the intersection before the library, Jane said, “Stay here. Don't move. I'll be right back.”

“What? Why?” he asked, but she was already creeping forward through the long grass growing out of the cracks in the road. She was heading toward the ruins of a fast food restaurant on the opposite corner of the intersection, with the library looming large beyond. The cracked remains of a giant yellow M sat high on a rusting pole.

Jane turned to him, mouthing the word, “Stay.” With her hands out, she gestured for him to stay put, reinforcing the notion.

Bruce waited impatiently as she disappeared through the tangle of weeds and bushes, catching only a brief glimpse of her from time to time as she moved through a thicket of young saplings, already denuded of leaves, ready for the winter.

Bruce kept his back against a low brick wall. Every couple of minutes, he peered around the corner, nervous, afraid some wild beast would sneak up on them. Jane was nowhere to be seen. It had probably only been ten minutes, but he felt like she'd been gone for the best part of an hour. As the cold shadows grew longer, Bruce grew uneasy.

A wild dog trotted down the road. The animal was moving toward the intersection, its tail wagging casually as its tongue panted. His heart raced. Had Jane seen this monster? He looked for her, but she'd squeezed through an overgrown hedge near the library and had disappeared from sight. Any thought for his own safety vanished. He couldn't stand the thought of seeing her attacked by another dog, and this time without the aid of the villagers to fend it off.

The mongrel had long, scruffy hair, much like the one that had attacked Jane in the village, only its coloration was motley. The dog paused no more than fifty yards away, sniffing the ground, looking around, but Bruce was downwind. For the moment, at least, he was safe. Silently, he willed the brute to change direction, to wander off along one of the alleys, but the dog kept coming.

The building across the street to his left must have collapsed recently, perhaps not more than a few months ago, because the weeds hadn't yet worked their way through the long pile of broken bricks stretching out across the street.

Bruce pulled back and crossed over behind the bricks, using them for cover before the wild dog rounded the corner. Crouching, he peered back toward the intersection, watching, waiting. Nothing happened. Could it be that the dog had wandered off in some other direction? He'd like to think so, but he doubted that.

Quietly, Bruce rummaged through his pack, laying four arrows out on the broken bricks. He tore strips of cloth from an oily rag and wrapped them around the arrow shafts, using a fine twine to tie them tight behind the arrowhead. With a flint, he lit the cloth and a thin trail of black smoke wafted into the air. He wasn't worried about the dog smelling the smoke, as that might give it cause to change direction, thinking there was a fire somewhere ahead. If it came to it, a flaming arrow into its thick, oily hide should cause some panic and buy them some time.

The dog padded into view and crossed over toward the crumbling remains of the restaurant.

Bruce weighed his options based on the animal's movement. To shoot early would give him the opportunity to get off at least two or three of his arrows. With burning heads, they'd set patches of fur alight and give the beast a nasty surprise, hopefully a fright that would see the monster turn tail and run.

If he waited though, allowing the mongrel to pass by on the far side of the road, he could line up for a heart and lung shot, striking at the animal from behind, catching it up under the ribs. A good shot would be fatal. Even a poor shot would cause significant blood loss and the animal would flee. At least he hoped so.

If the beast turned to face him, he'd have to use his sword, so he laid it on the ground beside him, readying himself for battle.

Not seeing where Jane had gone, Bruce settled on the second option as even a poor shot should see the animal react by running away from him, not towards him, and that would give him the opportunity to take more shots if needed.

Peering over the chaotic pile of bricks, he watched as the mongrel moved through the far side of the intersection, its head down, its ears pricked. It was surprisingly quiet for such a large animal, sniffing at the ground as it sought to pick up Jane's trail.

As the beast turned away from him, Bruce pulled back silently on the bow string, feeling the tension build under his fingers. Mentally, he equated that to the rate of fall over what he figured was roughly forty yards to give him an offset of about three feet.

He breathed in as he brought his aim down on the animal, sitting slightly above its shoulder blade, allowing for the natural fall of the arrow to guide it down, under the rib cage. He was shooting into the wind and needed to account for more fall than usual. Exhaling, Bruce prepared to release, steadying his body, allowing his aim to drop naturally into position, timing the shot, going for accuracy over power. The release had to be smooth, barely a conscious thought, just a natural outflow at the bottom of his breath.

A low growl, deep and resonant, caused his blood to run cold.

Bruce froze.

Bricks shifted under the weight of another wild dog approaching from behind, and from the crisp sound Bruce realized the beast was almost on top of him.

In that moment, Bruce flinched, his muscles clenched. If he fired now, he'd miss the dog tracking Jane. Just the slightest twitch at this distance would send the arrow several feet off target.

His mind raced.

Should he fire on the beast stalking her, or turn and try to fend off the brute bearing down on him?

In his heart, he wanted to be valiant, to protect Jane, but his head told him the moment was gone, to fire now would be to waste the opportunity and miss.

The muscles in his arm quivered. He had neither the time nor the nerve to fire with precision at the dog stalking Jane before the monster behind him was upon him.

Bruce spun around, the burning oil on the end of his arrow flared as he turned. There, barely five feet away, was another wild dog, its teeth bared. Bruce fired. He missed. The arrow sailed off over the shoulder of the massive beast, soaring high and clipping a tree. How could he miss? The wild dog was so close, and yet his trembling arms had failed him.

The dog crouched low, the muscles on its broad shoulders twitching, ready to pounce. Saliva dripped from its white canine teeth. With dark eyes locked on Bruce it swayed with him, reacting to his slightest move.

Bruce stepped back slowly, his feet catching on the loose bricks. The dog growled, shifting its weight. Shattered bricks crunched beneath its paws. His heart raced. With his arms out in front of him, Bruce crept backwards, bending down slowly and reaching for his sword.