Crabs Omnibus by Guy N Smith

Author:Guy N Smith [Smith, Guy N]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781907846793
Publisher: Black Hill Books
Published: 2020-04-26T00:00:00+00:00

The Vigil

Nowhere is safe when the crabs are on the rampage

“They can’t get us in here … can they?” the youth asked.

“I dunno,” Billington replied, letting his gaze rove around the interior of the blockhouse, wrinkled his nose at the stench of urine and excreta, the soil floor a carpet of litter, empty ring cans and broken bottles. He noticed a used French letter lying almost apologetically across a crisp packet like a slug that had crawled on it in search of scraps and been killed by the salt. Christ, you had to be pretty desperate to fuck in a place like this; you had to be desperate to come in here at all. They were, all four of them. He switched his gaze to the girl with the young child. She was damnably attractive in spite of the pallor of her features and her dirt-stained bikini. He could have fucked her in here all right, given the chance. Who knows, he might get that chance. There was no way of knowing how long they were going to be cooped up in here.

“It’s awful,” the girl felt that she had to say something. “This place stinks, it’s no place to bring a child. You could catch some awful disease amongst all this filth.”

“You could catch a lot worse out there,” Billington tried to make a joke out of it but it did not sound funny. Nothing was funny anymore. “We’re lucky. There’s an awful lot of folks less lucky than us out there.” Because they’re dead, ripped to pieces and eaten by crabs as big as cows that nobody believed existed until they came up out of the sea.

Silence. Billington’s thoughts went back a few hours, to just around midday. A crowded holiday beach on the Welsh coast, a heatwave that the experts forecast was going to break by tomorrow. Crowds, kids laughing and yelling, building castles and paddling, doing all the things that children did on a holiday beach. He had been stretched out on the soft sand, eyeing up that bird a few yards away, considering chatting her up. She had a kid but there was no sign of a husband. Perhaps her marriage had broken up. He was trying to figure out a way of approaching her when all hell had broken loose.

People were screaming, fleeing out of the tide in blind panic. And the giant crabs were coming in their hundreds, behemoths that moved fast in their lust for human flesh and blood. A half-moon attack, planned with uncanny military precision so that scores of holidaymakers had their retreat cut off, herded into a circle and slaughtered by those vicious pincers. Their bodies ripped apart, the monsters fighting amongst themselves over severed limbs, masticating with a revolting squelching noise.

Some made it to the headland. If Billington had chosen to sunbathe nearer to the Marine Parade he would probably have made it too. But the crustaceans had blocked that escape route from further down the wide golden sands.

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