RAWR! Pew! Pew! Pew!

(Work in Process title!)

Final editing just isn’t fun… But it’s going well.  Like shooting, where trigger time equates to increased skill and accuracy, time on a keyboard equates to increased writing skill. So we are getting there, slowly, painfully… word by word…edit by edit…

Anywho – here’s the intro to ‘The Greatest Magnificent Seven/Planet of the Apes/Jurassic Park Combo you will ever read’.

Enjoy the violence.

And give feedback. I don’t give a hoot about my feelings, what’s more important is to churn out a solid, good quality, and entertaining product.

PS – WordPress has a new blog editor, and it stinks. So there may be some funny spacing and whatnot. (But any grammar errors are mine unfortunately.)

EDIT – Part TWO – Click HERE.

***

June 1885.

 

Circling buzzards made the killing field easy enough to find.

Soldier’s bodies lay scattered for a half mile across open prairie. Mangled, crushed, gnawed on. They’d made a running fight of it, but were slaughtered anyway.

A dozen men. Armed with the finest weapons and equipment since the War Between the States. Trained and experienced in fighting Indians, rustlers, and outlaws.

For all the good that did them.

All I could find were a couple of dead apes and a single wounded triceratops.

Sending the squad out had been the Lieutenants decision. I didn’t blame him. He didn’t have a choice. But with the loss of these men, our low chances of survival dropped even further.

Turning my horse around, I touched heels to his flanks, leaving the weapons for the Indians to find. They were going to need them.

As for me?

My name is Jedidiah Huckleberry Smith.

And I’m probably going to die as well.

 

***

Two weeks earlier.

Smith Ranch, Wyoming Territory

 

The edge on the heavy axe burst through the wood with a satisfying thunk, sending splinters flying as the log split apart. Twin chunks toppled off the large stump. Picking one of the pieces, I set it to be split again, then rested on the axe handle.

With a gloved hand, I pushed a soaked mop of unruly black hair out of my eyes and blinked rapidly as a drop of sweat trickled into an eye. My shoulders ached, and my stomach growled.

My horse Carbine, a beautiful dun, stomped his hooves, impatient that he had to stay harnessed to the wagon while waiting for me to finish my work. Ignoring him, I stretched. As my back arched, I felt the familiar tugging from the large mass of decades old scar tissue.

The scars were a constant reminder of the singular day that changed the course of my life, and ultimately led me to where I am now. Living in isolation on a small cattle ranch, a fugitive from justice, a former outlaw… a damaged man. And somewhere out there, someone owed me a debt of blood for the scars. Someone who’d eluded me almost my entire life. Someone who may very well already be dead, but not by my hand. I wasn’t sure which was worse, him still breathing, or someone else stealing the pleasure of taking his life.

Angry thoughts shifted my mood darker, and I quickly swung the axe over my shoulders and slammed the angular blade down with far more force than necessary. The explosion of splinters as the fractioned log burst apart did nothing to ease the hot anger that boiled up from within.

It was the sort of rage that made me want to stop this foolish charade of being a law-abiding citizen and go back to hunting him down. But that was pointless, there were no trails left to follow. They’d all gone cold years ago. Just like the bodies I’d left in my vengeful wake.

I swallowed hard and forced myself to take deep breaths. That wasn’t me anymore. For two years now, I’d begun to put down roots, even if I wasn’t much of a cattleman. And for once in my life, I was invested in something good and solid. Something that wouldn’t shoot back at me.

Putting hands on my hips, I looked around the pasture, pleased with the amount of work I’d accomplished today. It was hard work, but rewarding. Felling trees, then sawing and chopping them into firewood was the hard part, the rewarding part was blowing the stumps up with dynamite. My ears still rang.

In the distance, storm clouds were gathering above the Granite Mountains and making their way towards me. It looked like a real doozy, but I was done for the day anyways. Tossing the axe and saws into the wagon, I threw a few more pieces of split wood into the back to top the load off.

Taking the gun belt down that rested on the seat of the wagon, I buckled it around my waist and climbed aboard. Call it a natural impulse, but I had a very rational fear of being unarmed. Without my Colt Peacemaker on one side, balanced by a nine-and-a-half-inch Bowie on the other, I may as well have been naked.

Carbine looked over his shoulder, and I could tell he was displeased. He’d been pulling double duty today as my mare, Misty, rested lame in the barn. Slapping the reins on his back, the tan horse leaned into his harness and the heavily laden wagon began to roll forward.

Relaxing as much as possible on the bumpy ride, I watched nearby cattle move into the trees to avoid the coming storm. My spread wasn’t that big, but if my small herd kept growing, I’d need to hire some ranch hands on. That’d be a hassle all on its own. In the meantime, being alone suited me just fine.

Once we reached the house, I stopped my horse and lashed a canvas sheet over the firewood, before turning him loose in the fenced corral beside the barn.

As I bent over to lock the gate behind him, Carbine snatched the hat off my head and trotted off, the black battered Stetson dangling from between his lips. He dropped it a dozen yards away and pranced in a circle around it, flipping black mane and tail happily.

Swearing, I crawled through the creaking rails of the corral and picked the hat up. I considered smacking him with it, but he kept his distance, as if knowing my intentions. Instead, I slapped it against my leg a few times to knock the fresh dirt and slobber off.

It figures. I’ve two horses, one lame and the other an asshole.

I watched him happily trot into the pole shed built against the barn. He preferred that spot to stand in the shade and spend the night. Even with the big storm coming in, I wasn’t concerned, the walled sides and thatched roof would protect him from the worst of it.

As a light rain began to fall and the distant rumble of thunder grew louder, I pulled the axe, saw, and leftover dynamite from the wagon and hauled them to the barn. The doors were closed, and as usual, stuck shut. I kicked, swore, jerked, and tugged on them before I finally got one open. They were wretched things, big and stout, as all things in the west needed to be. But they were a constant aggravation and would certainly be the death of me. One of these days, I’d split a gut forcing them open, and die writhing in the dirt as they towered over me, locked shut in their mockery.

But the barn itself was a great big thing. A story and a half tall, with a wide opening down the center and several stalls along the side. Big enough to hold over a dozen cattle or horses with room to spare. Hay was kept in the loft, gradually added to during the short summer in preparation for keeping my critters alive in case of a long, hard winter.

Dropping the tools at the end of the barn by the small back door, I stopped by Misty’s stall to feed her an apple. It’d only been two days since I noticed her favoring her right front leg. The swelling had gone down, but she still favored it and needed more rest.

Unlike Carbine, she was a good horse.

I gave her a good scratch on her withers before jogging through the rain and onto the porch of my one room ranch house. Once under cover, I turned and watched the swirling gray clouds grow nearer. It looked like we were in for a big one. The toe of my boot hit something as I opened the door. My saddle sat next to the rocking chair where I’d mended some stitching this morning. It needed to be put away still, but I wasn’t about to lug it back through the rain to the barn now. It’d be fine here for the night.

Lightning split the distant sky, and I counted the seconds before the boom reached me. Five seconds. That meant it was about five miles out and appeared to be just getting warmed up. Knocking mud clumps from my boots, I stepped inside to settle in for a stormy night.

***

The terrified scream of a horse jerked me awake and out of bed.

Two long strides and I peeked through the cross shaped firing port in the closed shutter.

With the storm blocking most of the moonlight, visibility was limited. I couldn’t see much of anything, and heard nothing else except the drumming of rain and wind against the roof.

It was times like this when I was thankful that I didn’t sleep naked.

I jerked boots on over bare feet and slung the thick leather gun belt around my cotton threaded drawers. From above the door, I took down a well-worn Winchester 1873 rifle and worked the lever, jacking a cartridge into the chamber. With weapon in hand, I felt the reassuring comfort that only ample amounts of firepower can give a man when he faces unknown things that go bump in the night.

I waited, standing still, listening for any noises past the sounds of the rain and wind. Nothing.

Lighting a lantern, I stepped into the storm.

The rain was falling at a slant, cutting underneath the roof on the porch and soaking me to the bone. I regretted not grabbing my slicker.

Rain plastered my hair to my scalp and I shuddered as cold water ran down my bare chest and back before soaking into my underwear. The lantern gave off a low glow, fighting to penetrate through the rain and darkness.

The open barn door squeaked on its hinges as I moved across the yard. Lightning flashed and moments later the rumbling thunder washed over me.

Holding the lantern out, I saw the top two rails of the corral lay splintered and broken on the ground.

I inspected the damage and area around it. No sign of blood or struggle, just a single set of hoof tracks leading away towards the forest at a run. Obviously, Carbine broke through the fence, but why? It wasn’t like him to leave shelter and run into a storm.

Lightning flashed again, illuminating the empty corral and splitting a tree at the edge of the forest in a flash of sparks. The boom of thunder hit me a split second later followed by the heavy barn door thumping as it bounced against the board siding.

A couple of soft thuds came from inside the building and I took a few hesitant steps towards the barn, uncertain of what I’d heard. Another thud, followed by a crunching, like branches being stepped on. Then a snort and a tearing noise. More crunching.

I wasn’t sure what I was hearing. It was hard to make out. Rain pounded my body, trees groaned and cracked in the heavy wind, and the rumble of thunder rolled over me again. Now I heard nothing but the noises of the storm and repeated thumping of the lone swinging door.

Puzzled, I figured I may as well check on Misty.

Rain poured heavily down from the angled roof, putting a sheet of falling water between myself and the inside of the barn. A hard wind gust hit me, and I staggered before leaning into it.

Frustrated with the pounding wind and cold rain, I raised the lantern and ducked through the sheet of water and into the barn. It covered me, soaking whatever tiny bits of my body that had remained dry so far.

I took two steps inside, blinking rapidly to clear the water from my eyes, and then I skidded to a sudden stop.

There was a monster in the barn.

Facing away from me, the giant beast swung its head over a shoulder and glared.

The creature had a thick, heavy head, almost reptilian in appearance. Something dangled from clenched teeth. Dark liquid dripped from jaws and onto the dirt floor. Black eyes reflected lantern light, giving off a sinister appearance. Two bony ridges started above the slanted nostrils, growing larger as they ran along its head and flared out above the eyes before ending at the top of its skull. Small bumps and ridges ran down the back of its neck along its spine, ending above the beasts shoulder blades.

A large, thick tail rose slightly into the air, tapering to a point, close enough I could have reached out and touched it. Muscular and powerful hind legs held the rear end up, while the front arms dug claws into Misty’s body.

My sweet, injured horse lay ripped open, entrails and ribbons of torn flesh strewn among the shattered boards of her stall.

Shocked, I realized a hind leg dangled from the beast’s mouth. Broken shards of bone glistened palely from the lantern light against the darkened flesh.

I couldn’t move. I couldn’t think. My mind couldn’t comprehend what was in front of me.

The barn door thumped behind me in the wind.

The severed limb dropped with a sickly wet thud and the monster snorted softly, tilting its head to the side. It sniffed, as though trying to figure out what small creature would dare approach so boldly.

We stared at each other in the glow of the lantern, the moments stretching, then a strong gust of wind slammed the door shut behind me with a boom that shook the building.

That broke the magical moment.

I flinched as the monster roared, the noise assaulting my ears and revealing rows of large curved teeth coated with blood and bits of flesh. The stench was overpowering and nauseating. Droplets of blood and pieces of Misty flew from its mouth, splattering against my chest and face.

Forgetting the rifle in my hands, I turned and ran face first into the door.

It didn’t budge. It was stuck. It was always stuck.

I shoved with a shoulder, throwing all my weight against the rough boards.

Nothing.

Screaming in rage, I stepped back and kicked in a last-ditch attempt to force it open.

It failed.

The creature turned in the confines of the hallway to face me, its tail slamming into the center beam with an audible crack.

The second-floor joists creaked and groaned as the heavy weight of hay shifted on the broken post.

I quickly looked for a way out. The large double doors were jammed shut. The windows in the stalls were too narrow to fit through. That left only the small door at the far end of the barn. But the beast stood between myself and escape.

The creature lunged, mouth agape and teeth bared.

Diving to the side, I dropped the lantern and it burst, spewing flaming oil as I rolled away.

The monster’s mouth snapped shut where I’d been a moment before, then the creature jerked back, hissing, as it recoiled from the explosion of flames.

Kneeling, I gripped the rifle tighter.

It was time to fight back.

Jerking the smooth wood stock against my shoulder, I squeezed the trigger, sending a 200-grain bullet into the beast’s chest.

Instinctively, I shucked the lever and fired again without waiting to see its reaction. Because I had ten rounds and I intended to use them all to send this creature back to the hell it came from. I worked the rifle quickly, peppering the beast with bullet after bullet.

Roaring in pain and anger, the creature lunged.

I flung myself aside, stumbling to avoid the spreading flames and slamming my face into the roughhewn boards of a stall.

Pain shot through my skull and tears welled as the rifle flew from my grasp.

Blinking, I rolled desperately as a clawed arm swiped at me. A sharp line of pain flashed hot across my chest. But the stall saved me by taking the brunt of the blow, sending shards of wood showering down on me.

I scrambled backwards, trying to put more distance between us. Blood trickled down my chest, but I ignored the wound. If I didn’t die in the immediate future, I’d worry about it later.

The beast turned after me, its tail slashing through the smoke and slamming the stuck door open. Storm winds blew inside, fanning the flames higher.

The interior of the barn became a flickering smoke-filled haze as the fire spread, licking the sides of the stalls and along the door jam.

Smoke wafted around the monster, illuminating it with dancing shadows. Dark fluid oozed from puckered holes where my bullets had found their target.

I stood carefully, bracing myself to move for another sudden attack.

The monster watched, eyes following my movements. It slowly rose on hind legs, the thick tail dropping to the floor, front arms spread with black claws extended. The gaping maw of bloodied jagged teeth opened.

I could taste its rotten breath in the air.

The beast reared back slightly, mouth opening impossibly wide as it prepared to strike.

This time, I was ready.

Drawing my pistol, I fired from the hip.

I emptied the Peacemaker. Each bullet hit a little higher than the last as I rode the recoil and worked my shots up its large body. The final bullet skimmed along the beast’s snout, slicing open a flap of skin, exposing bone, and blowing out one of the creature’s eye sockets.

The monster roared and thrashed its arms, pawing the wound that partially blinded it.

Damn thing just wouldn’t die.

Turning to run, I tripped over Misty’s remains. Blood, organs, and rendered flesh squished under my weight. My hand went into her stomach. Gagging, I slipped off her corpse into a stall.

The boards gave me a moment of concealment, but I had no illusion about their usefulness as protection. If I was found, the beast would make short work of my hiding spot.

Flipping the barrel of the revolver upwards, I rotated the cylinder and quickly dumped the empty shells. With gore covered fingers, I began to reload, carefully feeding cartridges into the chambers, one by one. Each turn of the cylinder made a quiet snick that I prayed the monster didn’t hear.

Lightning struck nearby, temporarily overwhelming my senses with the painful crack of electricity.

I froze.

The barn was silent except for the crackle of growing flames and a low rhythmic hissing.

Smoke drifted into the stall, burning my eyes and lungs. I fought to stifle a cough.

Suddenly, black claws gripped the wood rail above me and I cringed lower as splinters trickled down. The beast leaned forward, searching the barn with its good eye. Blood dripped off the creatures pebbled hide and splattered onto my bare shoulders.

I only had two cartridges loaded. Fearful of making a noise, I eased the loading gate on the pistol shut over the cylinder, wincing at the tiny click it gave. Tilting the barrel upwards, I pointed it under the monster’s jaw and began taking up the slack on the trigger.

The beast jerked back out of sight.

I gave a small sigh of relief.

Violently, I was catapulted forward onto my face as the damaged reptilian head slammed through the wall of the stall I’d been leaning against.

Teeth snapped shut as I scrambled away and rolled onto my back. The beasts head jutted through shattered boards, snarling and snapping as it strained to get through. Nails shrieked as the wall threatened to tear away from the posts at any moment.

Firmly gripping the pistol tightly with both hands, I raised my head and fired between my knees.

The bullet hit and skimmed along the thick skull like the last, gashing open another flap of thick skin and exposing bone. The monster jerked at the pain and my remaining shot missed.

Screaming in rage, I resisted the temptation to hurl my empty pistol at its bloodied face.

The beast wrenched its head back and forth, struggling to pull back through the jagged broken wall. Boards, bent inward from the creature’s intrusion, pushed against the back of the monster’s skull. They tightened and dug into flesh as it fought to free itself. The foul creature hissed and snapped.

I shoved my pistol into its holster and crawled into the open room and around Misty’s mutilated remains.

The smoke was harsh and filling the barn. I coughed and hacked as it threatened to suffocate me. Looking past the thrashing beast’s tail, I spied my rifle near the entrance with flames licking the barrel. Desperate for a loaded weapon, I slid across the packed dirt floor and scooped up the gun. The barrel was hot, the stock singed in places, but thankfully the rounds hadn’t cooked off from the heat yet.

The beast roared, grabbing and ripping at the broken boards trapping its head with claws. Splayed feet dug into the ground as it leveraged its thick hind quarters to break through the wood. The tail thrashed back and forth, flinging tools and equipment across the floor and into the flames.

Bits of burning hay from the rafters fell between us as flames licked the ceiling.

The large front door was still open, but a raging inferno stood between me and my escape.

The only option was still the small door in the far end. And in my desperation for a loaded weapon, I foolishly made the horrible mistake of putting the monster back between me and my exit.

With a mighty jerk, the creature pulled itself free and backed into the cracked center post.

It broke.

The center of the barn crashed down, dropping burning debris, and stopping a mere handful of feet above the beast. Barely supported by broken and creaking joists, the barn threatened to collapse on us at any moment. Flames whooshed higher from air entering through the shattered roof, fanning them to towering heights as rain poured in and fought to quench them. The air cleared slightly as smoke billowed out above us.

Amidst the flames and smoke, I looked at the bloodied harbinger of death and terror before me.

Blood oozed from the monster’s wounds, bits of splintered wood were embedded in its flesh, and one eye was a gaping ruin seeping blood from the mangled socket. A front arm hung low, damaged from one of my bullets.

I racked the lever and savored the snick of the action closing on a fresh round. I didn’t know how many bullets were left in the tube. Four? Five?

Didn’t matter. If I was going to be eaten, the beast would have to gnaw through my empty guns first.

The creature charged with a roar.

Adrenaline and fear gave speed to my hands. Jerking the barrel up, I stroked the action, firing faster than I ever had before.

My aim was true.

The monstrosity twitched and shuddered as it absorbed the rounds, slowing down as massive tissue damage and blood loss weakened the beast. But it still didn’t stop coming with mouth and claws spread wide.

In desperation, I shoved the rifle in front of me and wedged it horizontally into the creatures open mouth. Large teeth clamped down, narrowly missing my hands. A gnarled, wet tongue slapped against the weapon as the stock splintered and broke beneath the pressure of its jaws. Even in a weakened state, its strength far surpassed my own.

Hot, rotten breath bathed me as the beast pushed me backwards towards the raging fire.

I screamed as the heat became unbearable and let go of the broken gun, diving aside before I was pushed into the blazing hot inferno.

The beast’s head thrust into the flames. It sizzled and popped as skin and raw wounds burned. The creature roared in pain around the rifle jutting out from each side of its mouth. A flailing arm backhanded me and flung me like a rag doll.

I hit the ground with a heavy thud and slid against a shattered stall.

Forcing myself up, I ran around the struggling creature to the rear of the barn, dodging bundles of flaming hay raining down.

The monster thrashed, slamming into broken walls and beams as it tried dislodging the jammed rifle from its mouth.

The front of the barn shuddered under the impacts. It was a miracle the flaming structure still stood.

The barn had become a hellfire with a demon trapped inside, roaring in pain and anger. Smoke swirled around the beast, while rain dripped through the broken roof and fought spreading flames.

Reaching the back door, I paused as I noticed my tools from earlier. Next to the wedged head of the axe sat a small marked wooden chest with rope handles. Jerking the lid off, I saw the leftover paper wrapped sticks of dynamite from earlier.

This was more like it.

I grabbed a blast cap and jammed it onto the explosive. Twisting the fuse around my fingers, I snapped it off short.

The partially blinded monster knocked the rifle out of its mouth and began stalking down the aisle. Blood and saliva dripped onto the floor, sizzling in the flames. It jerked its head aside as a bundle of burning hay fell in front of it. The wounded arm dangled lower now, and a hind leg dragged, giving it an uneven gait as it approached.

Rage seemed to be keeping the wretched thing alive.

Using a nearby flame, I ignited the fuse in a shower of sparks and burned quickly towards the blasting cap. Tossing the stick back in the crate, I kicked the box towards the beast before running out the back door into the rain.

Fire rose high into the air behind me as the barn was consumed in flames.

Slipping in the wet grass, I stumbling to my knees. Pushing up from the rain-soaked ground, I ran for the house. Shelter seemed so far away.

Behind me came a bestial roar followed by heavy thuds.

I dared a backwards look.

The monster ripped the small door off its hinges. Claws grabbed the frame and ripped pieces away as the creature fought to get through the narrow opening. The wall screeched and shuddered as siding snapped and broke.

Shoving its mangled head and shoulders through the opening, the monster roared at me.

The dynamite blew.

A chunk of flaming debris hit me like a train, driving air from my lungs and slamming me backwards against the ground.

For a moment, everything went dark.

Then I became acutely aware of pain. I blinked rapidly. Everything hurt. The gash across my chest stung. My lungs and throat felt like they were on fire. Dozens of small scrapes and cuts covered my singed body. My long underwear was in tatters.

I coughed.

Pain from the movement almost consumed me.

Bits of smoking debris were scattered throughout the yard. A pitchfork was embedded nearby, its broken handle on fire.

What remained of the barn shuddered and collapsed in a shower of sparks and flame.

The beast lay near me. Blood ran from its many wounds and mingled with the rain. The rear legs and tail were shredded and mangled from the explosion.

But still, it lived.

The hellish beasts single remaining dark orb glared. Snarling, it weakly stretched a forelimb towards me, sharp claws open and reaching.

My battered body responded sluggishly as I drew my Colt. I pointed the trembling barrel at the beast’s face, and pulled the trigger.

Click.

The pistol was empty.

I dropped the useless gun and with thick, fumbling fingers grasped the handle of my Bowie.

The claws that reached for me suddenly clutched at the wet soil and with a violent spasm, the beast shuddered, before giving a final rattling breath and laying still.

Lighting danced across the sky as the storm raged on and closing my eyes, I embraced the pain and darkness.

***

I woke hacking and coughing, with a pounding headache and soaked to the bone as a light rain continued to fall. My empty pistol lay beside me, wet and gleaming in the early rays of the morning sun that peeked through retreating storm clouds.

The monster still stared at me, bloodied lips parted in a snarl, the single eye dulled and milky in death.

Beyond the creature, all that remained of my barn was a tumbled mass of burnt timbers and rubble amongst small residual flames that hissed in the rain. A thick gray smoke drifted across the yard.

Bits of smoldering wreckage and charred debris lay scattered around me.

Pushing myself up, I grabbed the gun and stumbled across the yard to the house. Slamming the door shut, I lowered the door bar and dropped to the floor with my back against the wall. If more monsters lurked outside, I didn’t know if a barred door would stop them. But it was comforting, and right now, I felt like a kitten could finish me off with a single blow.

I dumped the spent brass from my pistol onto the floor. Pulling fresh cartridges from my belt, I reloaded. The gun, while smeared with the same sticky blood that coated me, would still function and that’s all that mattered.

Stripping out of my boots and tattered underwear, I left them in a heap in the middle of the room and crawled naked into bed. My pistol I laid within reach on a small table.

Lying there, I stared at the exposed rafters in disbelief.

Misty was ripped apart, Carbine missing, and my barn burnt to the ground because of an ungodly creature. My mind tried to convince itself this wasn’t happening, but the pain proved it was all too real.

I closed my eyes again.

***

When I woke hours later, I felt like I had been shot at, missed, shit at, and hit all over.

My joints were stiff. The cut across my chest was a congealed mass of blood and ash. Small nicks, cuts, and burns covered me. The stench of singed hair and blood filled my nostrils. Moving gingerly, I opened the shutters, squinting at the bright light as my eyes adjusted. The yard was just how I remembered it from last night. Full of burnt debris with a giant mangled corpse near the ruination that’d been my barn.

As for the inside of the house, it looked like someone had been murdered. Ash mingled with blood smeared along where I’d fumbled my way inside. The trail led inside the door, against the wall, and across the floor to the scattered pile of bloodied and shredded clothing.

Sighing, I pulled pants and boots on before stepping outside.

Carbine trotted around the side of the house, head and tail held high, as if proud that he’d survived. He snorted and pranced, keeping his distance from the smoldering remains of the barn and the monster’s carcass.

Leaving him to wander around, I cleaned myself up in the creek.

The filthy and crusted scab over my chest was inspected and carefully washed first. The single claw that caught me ripped the flesh deep enough to warrant a few stitches. I’d gotten lucky, if all three claws had hit me with their full force, I’d be inside the creature’s belly by now.

Then swallowing a couple slugs of whiskey, I bit down on a piece of folded leather before drizzling some of the harsh liquid across the wound. Tears rolled from my eyes at the burst of fresh pain. Then I stitched the gash shut, screaming through clenched teeth as the thread pulled torn flesh back together.

Once finished, the stitches looked horrible, but they’d hold.

Taking up the scrap of cloth again, I wiped away the rest of the grime, and looked in a small shaving mirror, I realized just how beat up I was. In addition to all my other ailments, I had two black eyes and a nice goose egg bump on my head from slamming into the stall.

I looked like hammered crap.

After cleaning myself up the best I could, I rocked back and forth on the porch, staring at the remains of the beast.

Even dead, it was frightening to behold.

Large and powerful, corded with muscle under pebbled tan hide. The undamaged eye that’d been so menacing last night was glazed over, but the teeth and claws still showed the creature’s lethality. I’d never seen or even heard of anything like it.

Then there was the barn, which was destroyed.

Luckily my saddle survived. Leaving it on the porch last night had been a blessing. But the cost to replace the rest of my gear and tools lost in the fire would be staggering.

Not to mention Misty. She’d been a good horse.

And somewhere in the ashes were the remains of my rifle.

At least I had a spare, an old Spencer Repeater. Twenty years past its prime and fed by loading cartridges into a tube through the buttstock. It was something of an outdated oddity now. But it fired a hard-hitting round that could kill a buffalo.

It’d do if more beasts came calling, and right now, it lay fully loaded within arm’s reach.

I whistled for Carbine and managed to harness and saddle him without too much swearing at the pain or his need to constantly side step away from me.

The Sheriff needed to know about this. More of these monsters might be lurking around and while I got lucky, anyone else caught in the open, unprepared, would be creature food. The hard part would be convincing him.

Luckily, I had a big corpse.

Taking a small axe that I used for splitting kindling from the house, I collected my proof.

Afterward, I slid the Spencer into the leather saddle scabbard. My vest pockets jingled with loose rounds for the rifle and the loops in my belt were filled with .45 cartridges for the Peacemaker. I wanted to be ready for anything. If I had more dynamite, I would’ve stuffed it into the saddlebags as well.

Easing myself up in the saddle, we rode the trail towards town.

I was edgy the entire way, watching for anything that might want to eat me. It was an uncomfortable ride. The pain from constantly shifting in the saddle coupled with my high level of alertness was exhausting.

But after several hours, we reached Granite Falls.

***

 

The saga continues with RAWR! Pew! Pew! Pew-Part Tew!

Published by 'Tracer' Testerman

"Witty. Humorous. Slightly obnoxious."

6 thoughts on “RAWR! Pew! Pew! Pew!

  1. You know, having others read your work is critical. As you write, you develop a sort of ‘blinders’ to your work and miss some obvious stuff that others catch on easily.

    First guy who read this (my co-worker that I red shirted in the final battle) told me the intro chapter was lacking in character development. So – I scrapped it and rewrote it in about fifteen minutes, and I like it much better now.

    Like

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