Bestial by Carl William D

Author:Carl, William D. [Carl, William D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gallery Books
Published: 2011-12-27T05:00:00+00:00

24

SEPTEMBER 17, 11:45 P.M.

The Brink’s truck rocked under the attack of dozens of the creatures, but it seemed to be holding up against the assailment. No matter how much the beast-men tore and slashed at it, they couldn’t create any access to the interior, where Rick held Chesya in his arms. Claws snapped off from the beasts’ fingers as they ripped at the metal flanks of the truck; teeth shattered when they tried to bite their way in. The noise was deafening, full of snarling, growling, and scratching. In their frustration, many of them pounded relentlessly against the sides of the truck. Some of them tried to gain entrance through the bottom, tearing off the pipes and carburetor from the exposed belly of the vehicle.

Tucked in a corner, Rick could feel Chesya shaking as he held her in his arms. She had held up so valiantly for such a long time, it was difficult to see her so terrified. He moved aside a strand of hair that covered her eye, and he tried to calm her, drawing her closer and whispering things he hoped would console her.

They both kept their eyes on the two windows, which she assured him were made of bulletproof glass. Neither of them could see much, as the windows seemed to be full of rotating variations on a theme—one monster after another peering into the back of the truck, sizing them up, rubbing its snout on the glass, and licking it. They gnashed their teeth, tried to bite their way through the windows.

After what seemed like an eternity, the beasts went in search of new, less-restricted prey. Still, they were around the truck, going about their business. Rick and Chesya kept their voices in low, quiet whispers.

“‘We have met the enemy, and it is us.’ I remember reading that in a comic strip when I was a kid. You ever read Pogo?” she asked.

“I was more of a Hagar the Horrible type of guy.”

“The most horrible monstrosity we could think up, and it was dormant inside of us all this time. It’s like looking at the world’s soul,” she whispered. He felt her breath on his shoulder when she continued. “And it ain’t a pretty sight.”

“You think that’s what the world’s soul looks like?” He motioned toward the unseen monsters outside the truck.

“Pretty much. Watch them. They’re all looking out for number one, which is probably a good thing. If they started cooperating, learning to work together, we’d be screwed. But that’s pretty much the way I see the world—everyone looking out for themselves, stepping on as many people as they can. You get in my way, I’m going to knock you aside.”

“It’s a pretty bleak outlook, if you ask me.”

“Well, it’s a pretty bleak world. People fly airplanes into skyscrapers to prove absurd religious points. Politicians lie and cheat, helping all their fat-cat friends in order to get money for re-election time. ‘You scratch my back, and I’ll scratch yours.’ You always hear that. You never hear someone say they’ll just scratch your back.

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