Cruel World(150)

Two giant hands latched onto the roof and pulled, a snarling face appearing behind them. Quinn shot the stilt through the head, bringing down four more before turning and running as fast as he could toward the front of the building. He vaulted the wall, hoping that he’d estimated correctly, and fell over the side.

The awning was there, slamming beneath his feet. He nearly lost his grip on the gun but realigned himself with the truck before leaping toward it. Denver was lying on his side in the truck’s bed. Quinn dropped like a stone beside him, his feet hitting the back of the truck with an impact that buckled his legs and rattled his brain. His knees impacted the steel bed and he cried out, but his voice was lost in the revving engine and the peel of rubber on the wet asphalt.

The truck rocketed forward as the first stilt rounded the building. It swiped a hand out and caught hold of the tailgate. Quinn rolled to his side, as the monster began to climb into the truck, and fired, the bullet tearing into the stilt’s chest. It barked in agony, sending spittle onto Quinn’s shirt before losing its grip and sliding away to the road. Quinn sat up in time to see the entire herd, their numbers past the thousands, pursuing them on spindly legs. Alice accelerated, and their forms began to shrink.

Quinn sagged against the steel and slumped lower, coming even with Denver’s snout. The Shepherd snuffled wetly against his ear.

“You’re a good boy, Denver, good boy.” He petted the dog’s thick fur and noticed the ugly angle of his left hind leg. “Shit,” Quinn said, sitting up to examine the injury. He placed his hand on the leg, and Denver whined with pain, drool lining his dark lips. “It’s okay, boy; it’s okay. We’ll get you better; we’re safe now.”

He scooted forward until he could peer into the cab of the truck. Alice rolled down the left rear window, and he stood up, legs throbbing, rain stinging like wasps.

“You guys okay?” he called.

“We’re fine. Ty scraped up his knees and elbows.”

“I’m okay!” Ty called. “Denver’s hurt. I heard him yelp when he landed.”

“He’s going to be fine,” Quinn said.

“Are you alright?” Alice asked.

“I’m okay. You remember how to get back to the marina?”

“I’ve heard of a backseat driver, but you’re not even in the cab.”

He grinned and sat down.

A sallow arm flew inches over his head and blasted through the back window.

Everything was movement and sound.

The truck swerved. Ty screamed. Alice yelled something, and Denver growled as he launched himself up onto his feet.

The tallest stilt Quinn had ever seen ran behind the truck, its height soaring over thirty feet. Its limbs were like white ropes, bending and flexing as it kept pace with the vehicle. Quinn raised the gun and fired, the shot going wide over the monster’s shoulder. He pulled the trigger again.

Empty.

Denver latched onto the stilt’s wrist as it withdrew its arm, its hand clutching Ty around the chest. The big dog bit down, bone cracking in its jaws. Ty screamed again, his cries brimming with pain and intermingling with the stilt’s roars. The truck jerked again, and Quinn’s head connected with a wheel well. His vision swung, and he put out a hand as Ty was dragged from the backseat, his legs kicking broken glass in glittering pieces. There was blood on his small face, his unseeing eyes stretched with terror.

The stilt dragged Denver along with Ty to the back of the truck.

“Quinn!” Alice screamed.

He found his feet, the world still pin-wheeling. The stilt roared and tried to bat him from the truck, but he crouched, feeling the passage of air over his head. Quinn took a step and brought his foot down as hard as he could on the slender arm holding Ty just before the point where it rested on the tailgate.

There was a loud snap of bone.

The stilt screeched, the sound making his eardrums ripple.

Denver shook his massive head.

Blood spurted across the truck bed, and the stilt tripped and toppled. It fell in a tangled heap on the highway, rolling, as skin and flesh were peeled away against the blacktop. Quinn pulled his eyes from the sight and dropped to his knees beside Ty who lay on his back, soaked in crimson. The stilt’s hand still gripped him around the chest, and Denver yanked on the shredded meat where the wrist ended. Quinn pried the spasming fingers from around Ty’s torso and jerked it out of Denver’s clutching jaws. He tossed the splayed hand over the side of the truck like an enormous spider before pulling Ty into his lap.