The Midnight Tour

“Oh, shit,” Tuck murmured.

Dana glanced over at Vein and Darke. “Get the hell out of here, gals. Carry Owen with you. Or drag him. Just get out of here. Now!”

“Go with ‘em,” Tuck said.

“Me?” Dana asked. “No way.”

“I’ll keep the thing busy.”

“Bullshit. You go.”

“Not me.”

“Not me, either,” Vein said. “Three of us, one of it.”

“Four of us,” Darke said. She patted Owen’s rump, picked up the folding knife, then stood up.

Roaring, the beast suddenly launched itself at Tuck. She held her ground and drew back a fist.

Dana lurched in from the side, swinging her flashlight like a small club. The head of the flashlight bounced off the creature’s brow.

Snarling, the beast whirled toward Dana. A paw swept by, knocking the flashlight from her hand. As she backstepped to get away, the thing came at her.

Tuck leaped at it.

A powerful arm bashed Tuck across the chest. She seemed to explode off her feet.

As she soared across the cellar, the beast clutched Dana’s shoulders. Claws digging in, it thrust her backward and down. She slammed against the cellar floor. Straddling her, it ripped at her clothes. She punched at it, but her blows seemed to have no effect. Quick claws scratched and furrowed her skin as they tore off her shirt and bra and stripped off her shorts in a matter of seconds.

She glimpsed a blur of motion from her left as someone dived onto the beast.

The running dive snagged it off her.

She rolled onto her side and saw Darke on the floor under the back of the beast, right arm across its throat, left arm across its chest. In her left hand was the pocket knife. She raised the knife and brought it down hard.

Striking the chest of the beast, the short blade folded in and clamped shut on Darke’s hand. She squealed in pain, but kept her left arm across the throat of the beast and wrapped her leather-clad legs around its thighs.

It thrashed on top of her, its erection thrusting at the air, mouth snapping.

As Dana struggled to get up, Vein rushed in and dropped to her knees at the heads of Darke and the beast. She raised her knife high, clutching it with both hands. No little pocket knife that might fold on her, this was a dagger with a rigid, eight inch blade. She plunged it down toward the chest of the beast.

The creature slapped it from her hands.

The knife flew at Dana. Before she could move, an inch of its blade entered her just above her left breast.

The creature’s next blow ripped off half of Vein’s face and knocked her head sideways. Face flapping like a bloody rag, she was suddenly looking behind her back. She tumbled toward the cellar floor.

Dana grabbed the knife and pulled it out of herself.

She stumbled to her feet.

“Hurry!” Darke gasped from beneath the beast.

Knife raised overhead, Dana dived between its legs. She expected to land on its penis, but she’d thought it would give way under her weight.

It didn’t.

Rigid as a tent pole, it pounded her in the belly and punched her breath out. Folding over it, she tried to drive her knife down into the beast’s chest.

Both her wrists were suddenly grabbed.

Instead of mauling her, the beast pulled her arms straight out past its head, stretching her as all of her weight bore down on the stiff, upright shaft.

Though Darke still had an arm across the beast’s throat, the thing started to make a hissing sound that seemed like laughter.

The mouth that was shoved so hard against Dana’s belly suddenly bit her.

Crying out with pain and horror, she bucked fiercely and flung herself aside.

She fell to the cellar floor, but the beast stayed with her, gripping her wrists. They rolled, and suddenly it was on top of her, Darke somehow still clinging to its back. Seemingly unconcerned by Darke, the beast planted its mouth on Dana’s mouth, forced her lips open and thrust its tongue in.

The other mouth no longer bit her belly.

It had moved lower.

Now, she felt it between her legs.

Licking, nibbling.

NO! she cried out inside her head.

She chomped down hard on the beast’s tongue, but her teeth wouldn’t sink in. The tongue was too solid.

Dana suddenly heard a crashing sound—like someone smashing through a door.

The beast jerked its tongue from her mouth and turned its head.

Footfalls began thudding down the wooden stairs.

“what’s going on?”

It was a man’s voice.

Warren’s voice.

“Help us!” Darke yelled.

“Oh, my God!” Warren blurted.

With a roar, the beast sprang off Dana. As it scurried over her body, she reached up with her left hand and caught hold. The shaft was slippery, but she held on tight.

The beast didn’t stop, didn’t seem to care.

Darke on its back, Dana dragging beneath it, the creature scampered across the cellar floor, roaring, apparently eager to pounce on Warren.

As Dana was dragged between its legs, she pulled at the slippery rod with all the strength in the left arm, raising her head and back out of the cellar dirt, pulling herself higher, higher.

Then she plunged the knife into the creature’s belly and ripped downward.

His front opened like a shiny white bag, spilling blood and intestines onto Dana’s face.

A woman cried out “NO!”

The beast bellowed in agony.

As it fell headlong, Dana let go and dropped against the cool dirt.

“Oh, God, no!”

Eve?

Rolling onto her side, Dana wiped some of the mess away from her face and saw Eve rushing forward, naked, a tommy-gun in her hands.

Ignoring all else, Eve ran toward the beast.

It was sprawled on the floor, head against the bottom stair.

Darke was climbing off its back while Warren stood on the fourth stair, his mouth hanging open as he gaped at the carnage.

Eve, sobbing, squatted next to the creature. She set her tommy-gun aside, then reached down with both hands, clutched the beast by one shoulder and turned it over.

It flopped onto its back.

Eve hunched over it, weeping as she caressed its hideous face.

“Eve?” Dana said. “What’s wrong?”

One of the sobs suddenly sounded like, “Huh?”

Eve’s back straightened.

“What’s wrong?” Dana asked again.

“Nothing.” Eve looked at her with wet red eyes, wiped tears away, and gave her a trembling smile. “Nothing’s