Page 37 - TheRedSon_PrintInterior_430pp_5.5x8.5_9-22-2019_v1

Mr. Grimes, and the headlamps of multiple vehicles pushed
through the darkness of the bus, a long snaking grin slithered
across his face. A once-banished confidence returned to his
tiny eyes. “Looks like you might not be goin’ to New Vic
after all, big guy.”
His speed greatly belied his size, as he nearly disappeared
from the driver’s seat of the bus only to reappear amid the
brutish crowd lumbering out from behind the obnoxiously
bright headlights. Clearly, Mr. Grimes wasn’t the only
predator using the back roads for hunting grounds, and it
appeared that he had cultivated alliances among his fellow
monsters.
As they milled around my former driver, I heard the
signature sound of firearms—the small metallic clicking that
spoke of tiny steel gun parts moving against one another,
like the chitinous mandibles of a hungry insect. Eventually,
the unsavory group surrounded the bus, hurling threats and
challenges from behind the storm of wind, rain, and electric
light. One of them fired a round into the air, and I almost
laughed when a clap of thunder annihilated the weapon’s
report.
With the grace of a blind crowd, a detachment of gun-
wielders entered the bus. Of course, I was no longer in it.
I heard Mr. Grimes instructing them to take care, as I was
a “big fucker, with some huge weapon on his back.” One
of the intruders started up the engine, hoping the internal
lights might reveal my hiding place. I was glad that Mr.
Grimes had chosen to stay outside while his allies invaded
the vehicle, otherwise I might not have done what I did.
I could hear the high-pitched whine of Mr. Grimes’s secret
machinery coming to life as I reconnected certain wires.
The noise was soon replaced by the sounds of flesh tearing,
bones snapping, screams being chopped into small bits of
groans and gasps, and finally the wet sounds of inanimate
flesh being worked by busy, mindless steel. I wasn’t sure
what to think when I saw all the whirring blades and strange
40 | Mark Anzalone