***
Junior and Ollie ran blindly through backyards, terror and adrenaline driving them on. Neither dared to look behind for fear that they’d see that black-clad behemoth hot on their heels. If it was going to get them, they damned sure didn’t want to see it coming.
They jumped a chain-link fence, ran past a surprised homeowner planting flowers, through an open gate, and were suddenly on the street. Bent over and gasping for breath, Junior heard a familiar sound. Looking up, he saw his father’s pickup barreling down on them.
“Pa!” He waved his arms, flagging the truck down. At first, he thought the old man wasn’t going to stop, that he was just going to run right over them. He grabbed Ollie’s arm and pushed him out of the street, but at the last second, Gideon slammed on the brakes and skidded to a halt.
“Pa!” Junior ran up to the window, “Damn! We’re glad to see y—” his voice trailed off as he saw his uncle in the passenger seat, writhing in pain, a massive wound in his chest.
“Uncle Josie!” he cried out. Goddamn! The old bastard is gonna kill us all!
“If’n you’re goin’ with me, ya best load yore asses up in the bed of this truck!” Gideon snapped at his son. “Now!”
“Ollie! Let’s go!” Junior was already climbing in. He was reaching down to help the older man up when suddenly, the monster crashed through a faux wooden fence about a half a block away. Spotting his quarry, Sherman began jogging toward them.
“Jesus! It’s found us!” Ollie screamed out.
“Go! Go!” Junior yelled frantically to his father; his eyes huge with fear.
“Christ Almighty!” Gideon stomped the gas, as he watched Sherman gaining in the side mirror. “The Devil’s been freed from the pit! Just like John the Revelatin’ said he’d be!”
“He’s gainin’ on us!” Junior yelled out. He was firing his rifle at the lumbering beast, who moved way faster than something that size should’ve been able to, but it was hard to hit a moving target, especially when you were moving, too. When he got lucky enough to hit the creature, his rounds merely bounced off the armor, staggering it only slightly. Unfortunately, this only seemed to enrage it. Its anger only served to make it faster.
“Hang on!” Gideon called out, as he spun the wheel, taking a turn far too fast and almost slinging the occupants of the truck’s bed out of it. Luckily, they managed to stay aboard, although they ended up in a tangle of arms and legs. Righting himself, Junior looked up to see the black nightmare take the same turn … and his heart sank.
Sherman was no longer running on two legs. He had eschewed his humanity in exchange for the advantage of the animal. He now galloped toward them on all fours. And gaining fast!
“Pawww!” Junior beat on the back window, “Faster! It’s catchin’ us!”
Gideon glanced back in the mirror and felt his heart flutter. That black devil was close and getting closer every second. He was driving through the narrow byways of a subdivision at almost fifty and it was going to catch them!
“Shoot it!” he screamed out the window. “Kill it!”
“I am shooting it!” Junior shot back at him. “What the fuck you think I’ve been doing back here? Beatin’ off?”
Sherman was twenty yards back and closing fast when Junior spotted Josie’s rocket gun. His uncle had dropped it in the bed when he’d made the ill-advised decision to duel Cutter. Now, Junior grabbed it and checked his remaining ammo.
Good! He had one rocket left!
At ten yards, Sherman made his move. In a dead run, he suddenly leaped through the air. Ollie and Junior watched in terror and awe. It seemed the thing was almost flying toward them. They braced themselves for impact, expecting it to land atop them, just like it had Papa Doo and then commence to mutilating and mauling.
But Sherman had mistimed his jump ever so slightly. He landed short of the bed, almost missing the truck entirely. Somehow, he was able to catch hold of the tailgate with both hands and hang on, as Gideon dragged him down the street.
With a grip as secure as a vise, he pulled himself up, hooking an elbow over the gate. Raising his head, he looked into the bed just in time to see Junior aiming the rocket gun.
“We don’t pick up hitchhikers, bitch!” Junior said calmly and fired.
The small rocket hit the tailgate square, blowing it completely off the truck. The explosion threw both gate and hybrid backward into the street as the pickup sped away. Having watched it all in his mirror, Gideon cackled exultantly from the cab.
“Damn, boy! There’s hope for you yet!”
Junior’s jaw twitched with the disdain and disgust he felt for the old bastard, but he said nothing. He just sat in silence, the rocket gun in his lap.
It was probably the closest thing to a compliment he’d had in months.
***
In the street behind them, Sherman lay in a smoking heap, the tailgate across his chest. Slowly, his eyes fluttered open, and his fingers twitched silently. After a few moments, he sat up and undid his helmet strap.
Looking down at himself, he did a quick appraisal. The tailgate and his armor had taken the brunt of the blast. He would be sore in the morning, but for the most part, he was in one piece.
He tapped a button on his left wrist and felt his suit vibrate, doing a thorough body scan. A hologram appeared in front of him, reporting no major fractures or internal damage. He had, however, suffered a possible concussion, but he would live to kill another day.
Still, one doesn’t go through a rocket blast without feeling some effect. He struggled to his feet, grunting in pain at the soreness. As he stood, dizziness and nausea washed over him. Tapping another button on his wrist, he felt his suit inject him with Lunarol. Instantly, that
