The Fury and the Terror by John Farris

Author:John Farris [Farris, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Horror, (¯`'•.¸//(*_*)\\¸.•'´¯)
Publisher: Crossroad Press
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Nearly everyone in Valleyheart was at the bridge, or outside the ice cream shop half a block from the bridge, their attention focused on the comings and goings of law enforcement officers. Kids were scampering around. Another unit from the sheriff's department was now blocking access for inbound traffic on the west side of Valleyheart, which, except for some raft and canoe traffic on the river, had been effectively sealed off from the rest of the world.

The dpg's idea was to borrow something sturdy, a big pickup truck or a full-sized SUV, one with extra lights mounted over the windshield, and drive through the roadblock on the other side of town, lights flashing and horn blowing. Attract a lot of pursuit, draw them all away from Geoff's precarious hiding place. Then he would have to get to Moby Bay on his own. She was calling it quits for the day. Eden had become impatient, the dpg could feel her impatience although they had no direct line of communication. It was sort of an etheric wake-up call.

Valleyheart was a small place, the few side streets ending abruptly after a couple of blocks, or continuing as unpaved residential lanes with A-frames or log homes set on deep lots.

Beside a frame church in need of a fresh coat of white paint there was a parking lot where asphalt turned to gravel, and in the lot stood a lone Toyota Land Cruiser, shocked-up for hard mountain terrain. The LC probably hadn't been washed in six months; side windows were streaky with dried mud. It had an abandoned look. Just what she wanted, if the owner had left the Toyota unlocked and the keys handy. Valleyheart seemed to be the sort of place where people didn't bother to lock up their homes or vehicles.

The door on the driver's side wasn't tightly closed. The tinted dirty window was halfway down. Eden's dpg stepped up on the running board and looked in. A handful of keys lay on the driver's seat. She opened the door and scooped up the keys, settled herself.

The pit bull that had been left behind made only a grunting sound as it lunged toward her between the seats. She smelled it before she saw it, and with a yelp of terror she threw herself against the door and tumbled to the graveled ground outside. The pit bull, wearing a choke collar, leaped on top of her as she rolled over, clamping jaws with the grip of a bear trap on her right forearm below the elbow. Terrified, hurting so horribly she couldn't scream, the doppelganger was pinned flat on her back by the dog's paws. His ugly blunt head, jaws apart, jerked side to side as his teeth sank deeper into her paralyzed arm.

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