Spurs jingled and the clop-clop of horseshoes clattered on the drive as the train started off from the isolated estate toward the unknown wilderness of the new and deadly world.
18. Torment
The rescue party traveled in a southeasterly direction. The plan looked easy enough on the map: cut across the fields, forests, and hills of the "Back Mountain" and then cross the river. Eventually they would meet the Northeast Extension of the Pennsylvania Turnpike. That would be their navigation point for the rest of the trip to Allentown.
It had looked easy enough…on the map.
Jon soon found himself surprised at the challenge in keeping the small group together. Horses threw riders, false alarms proved distracting, and the piss breaks never ended.
After crossing Follies Road in Jackson Township, the K9s onboard Jon's wagon broke into a fit of barking just as a putrid smell of acidic rot fell over the travelers. A moment later-as the horses and wagons moved across an open field-a fifteen-foot tall crawling mass of tendrils and squirming appendages spilling from a conical carapace slithered from an abandoned barn with the apparent aim of snatching a late breakfast.
Jon directed riders to circle the beast; one tendril slapped Shepherd off his mount. Woody "Bear" Ross intervened with a well-lobbed Molotov cocktail that splattered on the creature’s exposed feelers and burned.
Reverend Johnny fell the final blows in 12-gauge blasts from a Street Sweeper shotgun.
Jon's posse cheered as the dead monster burned. Their first victory.
Progress slowed as they climbed the mountains of the valley's southwestern perimeter via the Lackawanna State Forest. As they descended the eastern side around noontime, Jon and his team arrived at the Route 29 bridge spanning the Susquehanna River south of Plymouth.
They were half way across when beetles the size of cats crawled from beneath the span. Rifle fire and shotgun shells killed more than twenty of the oversized insects but they managed to injure two horses, one seriously enough for Shepherd to put down.
With the bridge and the bugs behind them, the convoy followed the elevated freeway east. They saw many different alien animals roaming the streets and fields to either side, most seemingly docile herbivores or scavengers.
In a case of serendipity, a group of six thin but alive survivors picking through a jack-knifed Sysco Foods trailer flagged down the convoy. Jon provided the extended family with directions to the estate but could not help them more; he had a mission to accomplish.
They turned onto Interstate 81 and climbed the eastern mountain wall of the valley, passing Lake Nuangola then cutting southeast through Wright Township on Route 437.
Late that afternoon, the convoy slowed for a break northwest of White Haven. Jon stopped his wagon along the berm and stared at creatures gathered in a field. Shepherd and Stonewall maneuvered their horses to his side.
There grazed a quartet of beasts each the size of a small elephant with big seal-like faces, soft fuzzy hides, and jagged backbones. They scooped dying grass into their round mouths and sifted through the bites, perhaps extracting nutrients or insects.
"It boggles the mind what has happened to our world," Stonewall remarked. "If a man were to pause and reflect on these events he would have to question the rhyme or reason."
Shepherd said, "Seems to me that whatever caused all this wasn’t lookin’ to just take the planet like Martians in those 50’s sci-fi flicks. No, someone was aimin’ to do a right bit more."
Jon thought aloud, "To erase our world."
The oversized fuzzy seal-beasts hurriedly closed ranks. A flock of Earthly birds fluttered away from the barren trees and bushes at the far end of the field.
Shep recognized the nervous state of prey animals and urged, "We need to get goin’."
Too late.
A pack of three predators pushed through the tree line to the east and sent a wave of sheer terror through the ranks. At first, Jon saw only teeth: a massive circular array of teeth dominating the entire front of the creatures; jaws easily the size of a tractor-trailer grill on bodies bigger than a full-size van. Patches of brown fur sprouted between plates of dull-gray armor covering their bodies and they walked on four muscular legs. Jon saw two black eyes set just above the monstrous maw completing the image of some warped cartoon wolf from a nightmarish Little Red Riding Hood myth.
The hunters circled the prey huddled in the field. As the attackers closed, one of the herd lost its nerve and bolted from formation.
One of the jaw-wolf things pursued, closed to a few yards, and opened its massive teeth like spreading fingers on an unclenching fist, revealing a matching set of smaller-but equally sharp-teeth within.
Jon watched it happen-they all saw-but it took him several seconds to comprehend.
The smaller set shot from the hunter's mouth on a red tendon, clamped into the escaping seal-beast, and bit it in two. As the tendon retracted, it hauled a chunk of meat and gore into the predator's mouth and the larger teeth folded in to help chew. The monster stood over the kill, its attention fully focused on dinner.
Predators, yes, but predators straight from the depths of Hell.
Stonewall prodded, "Mr. Brewer…?"
"Jesus Christ," Jon regained his senses. "Let’s get out of here before-"
The remaining two hungry jaw-wolves spotted the human contingent. They left behind the seal-beasts and approached slowly, splitting to flank as they closed.
Stonewall cried, "To arms I say!"
Reverend Johnny-riding in the other wagon- retrieved a weapon from the cargo area. Most of those on horseback dismounted along the road with rifles ready, a few remained in their saddles, perhaps contemplating flight.
"Fire at will!" Jon ordered.
A sheet of bullets rained upon the predators. The jaw-wolves cringed but did not retreat as the shots ricocheted off their armor plating and massive teeth.
Then they attacked from either side.
Reverend Johnny-a World War II era flamethrower strapped to his back-intercepted the one on the southern flank.
"Son of man, give the people this message from the LORD: A sword is being sharpened and polished. It is being prepared for terrible slaughter; it will FLASH LIKE LIGHTNING!"
The creature stopped as the flames licked at its front. A rich chemical smell of burning fuel spewed across the impromptu battlefield.
Nothing halted the creature on the northern flank as it aimed for Tucker, who spurred his mount and whipped the reigns
The monster’s inner jaws extended, pinching together the rider and much of the horse. The jaws retracted to the wolf’s mouth where the outer layer of teeth folded over the ensnared man and what remained of his steed. Tucker-alive for a few more moments-cried out from behind the curtain of ivory as the satisfied hunter spirited away its prize.
Johnny’s flamethrower held the remaining jaw-wolf at bay. Woody Ross produced one of the ping-pong ball grenades taken from the platypus aliens. He activated it with a squeeze and rolled the device beneath the monster's belly.
The explosion ripped the creature from below where its armor provided no protection. Gore poured to the ground and it collapsed.
Jon wasted no time. "Quick, saddle up. Hurry. Let's move!"
Horses spurred to action and whips sent the wagons rolling as fast as they could move to the south, counting one less in their number.
– Two robed disciples of The Order carried Trevor into a new chamber, this one smaller but no less vile than the lair of the torture-spider. They dropped him, naked and unconscious. Two tendrils slithered over, clasped his wrists, and dragged him against the wall.
"We will hold him here for a spell," the Bishop said as he brought a companion to view the captive. "Until modifications to the Purification Center are complete."