P R E Y

A TALON BRAVE GAME

Shareware version short story by

Paul C. Schuytema

One.

Look back along your path, my Brave Sun. It is not as you expected, is it? Now turn your heart to the future… what do you see? Ah, like all who have come before, you too see nothing but the unknown. But for you, this path will be an even greater unknown…

In the darkness beyond the reservation, the dark outline of the Mongollon Rim recalled the arched back of a puma, waiting to strike. Sparks danced towards the sky, painting the rim in a weave of yellow gold. The central fire, freshly piled with aged pine, crackled and popped. But none of this interested Talon Brave. He preferred instead to keep to the shadows, away from the disapproving glances of the clan elders. Once again, the moon had vanished from the sky, signaling the time for a fire dance. The Gans, masked dancers representing the mountain spirits, danced in a quadrangle between the seated elders and the fire.

Talon took a final drag from a dwindling cigarette and flicked it to the ground—the ember blazed for an instant as it ignited a patch of dried grass, but soon there was nothing. Another pull from his bottle of Soda Jack bourbon, the final sip really, and he let the bottle fall from his fingers as he turned his back on the ceremony and walked back through the shadows of the motor pool.

The elders did not notice Talon’s departure—they never even saw him there in the shadows. Instead, they focused, as they had every 30^th day for a long as their clan had memories, on the Fire Dance and the rhythmic chants that served to temp the Gans. Tradition demanded a precise intonation to the chants, and the masked dancers, who represented the four mountain spirits, would react to the chant, moving into the fire as the spirits were said to have moved in from the mountains and touched the clans, so very long ago.

Heads bent, none noticed the crackling blue latticework that appeared across the clouds over the reservation—only moments ago, the sky had been a clear dusting of stars. The chanting continued as the electrical blue glow widened, and the newly formed cloud seemed to part in the middle, to pull apart like a vapor dissipating.

The light illuminated the clan circle, and the elders turned their heads skyward, and for a moment, the chanting and the dancing stopped. But then an elder began his chant again, louder now as he pushed himself to his feet. The others joined in, careful to keep to the sacred rhythm, as they too stood. All raised their arms to they sky, as the true mountain spirits converged upon their circle.

In a hissing of rapidly ionized atmosphere, a column of bluish-white energy burst from the cloud and engulfed the clan circle. For an instant, the circle of tribal elders could be seen in silhouette, first in human form, and then only their bones visible as their flesh vaporized. In a flash, there was nothing but a settling cloud of desert dust. Seconds counted off in silence, and then the alien ship began its final descent.

Talon slammed his door shut and flopped down in his old vinyl recliner. “Spirit totems… my ass!” he grumbled as he tugged the rubber band out from his long, black hair. He picked up his crescent wrench and absently wiped the day’s grease off of it. Leaning forward, he drew a gentle curve in the dust of the floor with the handle of the wrench. Above the curve, he drew a more drastic curve, almost like a claw, and then drew a circle to surround it all. He looked up at the old medallion hanging on his wall, a gift from long ago, and shook his head slowly. As he began to wipe away his design with his boot, an explosion rocked his small cabin.

“What the fuck?” Talon was up and out the door in an instant. From behind the motor pool, a column of flame erupted, then another by the school. Screams began to fill the air, and Talon ran across the dry ground towards the school. He saw two people running towards him, followed by something dark, hulking and incredibly fast.

“Talon!!! Run! Run!” Talon recognized Mary’s voice, even in its hysterical pitch. Old Buckeye was racing behind, and before Talon could catch his breath, the shadowy form leaped upon the old janitor. Talon never heard a scream, but he saw the white of exposed bone, heard a loud popping sound, and the old man exploded into geyser of blood.

Talon raced to get to Mary—he could see the terror in her eyes as she reached out, then suddenly, as if they grew from the shadows, two of those things reached out and grabbed her around the waist. She screamed and Talon raised his fist, still clutching his wrench. Before he could swing, two more beasts rushed in and grabbed for Talon. He swung wildly and Mary, carried by only one now, was dragged into the shadows. The three beasts converged on Talon.

Talon stepped backward, swinging at their red, pocked arms and their grasping hands. Two more appeared from behind and began to circle. Talon took one last swing, both hands on the wrench, and knocked one back. He turned and ran. He could hear them close behind as he sprinted towards his shack. He slammed the door, stuffed the wrench into his boot and grabbed his bolt action rifle. In a single motion, he pulled back the worn rug and small table, exposing a hinged door in the floor. He threw it open—an old ladder led into the darkness.

The beasts clawed at his door now, and the old wood was beginning to splinter. He took a deep breath and got ready to jump, but he stopped short… he turned back and grabbed the medallion on the wall just as his door exploded into splinters. He jumped down, keeping both boots out, smashing the rungs of the ladder as he fell…

Two.

The cacophony was unbearable—the shrieks and growls, at some unearthly pitch, seemed to engulf Talon as he stumbled through the dark, earthy tunnel. Two of the beasts were right behind him, close enough that Talon couldn’t spare the time for even a glimpse back. His whole focus was on speed, balance, and attempting to pull the bolt back on his rifle. With a few frantic tugs, his old hunting rifle snapped tight. Only a few more feet, then a left turn, don’t lose your balance, he thought, there’s always water around here. He splashed through the mud, slipped for a second, but lowered his shoulder and bounced off the tunnel to keep his balance. A sliver of light ahead, water splashing behind. Two steps, then he jumped for the thin rungs of the steel ladder.

Without a thought, he pulled himself up, using his head to smash open the sheet metal trap. One arm around the rifle, he used his other hand to pull himself up. Then he felt it—the cool-hot flash of pain as one of the creatures grabbed his ankle. For a split-second, his mind played back the picture of Buckeye sprayed in a geyser of blood. Not today, he growled, as he snapped his leg free, spun around on his other foot and fired off a round into the darkness. A shriek erupted, and he heard a beast falling down from the ladder. He ejected the shell, set the bolt, and took an instant to look around. No lights here, down in the oil change pit of the motor pool. The sound was one long muffled explosion outside. A roar from down in the pit, and Talon snapped back to action. He pulled himself out of the oil change pit and sprinted over to his tall tool dolly.

Putting his shoulder to it, he shoved the dolly close to the change pit, and with a kick, toppled the massive tool dolly into the pit, just as the first creature was reemerging from the ladder. The red metal dolly landed with a crash of wrenches and chrome, trapping the two creatures below. He could hear their claws scraping against the painted metal. He began to turn away, but something caught his eye: his crowbar had fallen out of one of the drawers. Sliding down onto his stomach, he grabbed the iron crow and pulled himself back up. He fell against the old reservation school bus.

For the first time in the last few minutes, Talon allowed himself the luxury of a deep breath. What were those things? What the hell was happening? The last thing he remembered were the elders doing their costumed dance ceremony, the same empty traditional chanting he had seen them do time and again over the last nine months—certainly that couldn’t have anything to do with this. There had to be a rational explanation, there had to be a…

Before Talon could finish his thought, the horrible sound of corrugated steel ripping apart broke through the momentary stillness. Another one of the beasts was ripping through the wall to get into the garage. Talon could see the reservation village in flames through the opening. For the first time, Talon caught a good look at the beast as he stood there, frozen with disbelief. He couldn’t be sure if it looked like some kind of reptile, or horribly disfigured, furless cougar. Four legs, powerful claws, a huge, misshapen head with sunken, membrane covered sockets where the eyes should have been. And teeth! Curved, ravenous teeth lined the impossibly huge mouth as the beast reared up on its muscular hind legs and leapt through the opening.

Talon snapped out of his shock and spun away from the charging beast. He swung himself into the bus, and in a single motion, yanked the lever to close the door and flung himself into the driver’s seat. He reached for the steering column… no keys! The beast leapt at the door, smashing the lower glass and showering Talon with the shards. Talon sat still for an instant, but strangely, the creature backed away. It turned towards the oil change pit, and circled it, the large, wet nostrils flaring. It must smell the other two, thought Talon.

Talon pushed himself up from the seat slowly—from out the windshield, he could see the keys, laying on an old rag on the work bench. Looking to his right, the creature was still circling.

Slowly, Talon stood, set the bolt on his rifle, and headed for the back of the bus. He unlatched the emergency exit, and then kicked it open with his boot. Instantly, the beast turned towards the sound and bounded for the rear of the bus. Talon leaned out, raised the gun to his shoulder, waited until the beast was nearly on him and he squeezed the trigger. The bullet pierced straight through the creature’s skull. Greenish red blood spurted everywhere as the beast crumpled to the ground.

Talon turned and sprinted through the bus, throwing open the door and leaping out. In three steps, he reached the keys. Spinning around, he saw the wounded beast scrambling towards him, the sharp talons slipping on the concrete floor now soaked with its own blood.

Talon nearly reached the door as the creature leapt towards him. He swung the but of his rifle and caught it square under the jaw and spun it away far enough for Talon to leap into the bus and slam the door again.

This time, the creature lunged straight through the door, shattering the remaining glass and catching Talon’s leg with a swipe of its claw. Talon grabbed the crowbar from the dashboard and brought the hook down with all of his might into the creature’s skull. The crowbar sunk deep, and Talon ripped it away, tearing open the creature’s skull and spewing reddish brains across the black rubber flooring of the bust. The creature let out a final hiss and then fell motionless.

Quickly, Talon jammed the key into the steering column and twisted. The motor caught, and began belching out black smoke. Talon threw it into reverse and stepped on the accelerator, but all he heard was a spinning of wheels as the smell of burnt rubber filled the bus. Damn, he thought. He’d anchored the rear wheels from behind!

As he fumbled with the gears, an explosion of metal sounds nearly threw him from his seat. The two beasts had burst through his tool dolly and were scrambling out of the oil change pit. Talon found first gear and stomped the accelerator to the floor as the first beast leapt towards the open door, its sharp claws digging into the flesh of its slain kin.

The bus lurched forward, plowing through the workbench and tearing through the thin sheet metal of the garage wall. Talon kept his foot pressed to the floor as the bus barreled out into the night. Talon looked up, at the flame-swept silhouette that only minutes ago was his home, and he could scarcely believe what he saw…

Three.

The entire reservation seemed to glow, as if it were all part of the same single fire. Shadows licked the sandstone bluffs to the east, and for all that Talon could see, not a single building of the reservation village remained standing. He hesitated for a moment on the accelerator, leaning forward in his seat, scanning the scene in front of him for some sign of survivors. Here and there, beasts darted through the shadows. For an instant, he caught the glimpse of reflection off of some otherworldly machine, but black smoke soon eclipsed his view.

No one. Not another human in sight. Talon grabbed and pulled hard on his long hair, pulling his head back. He released and rubbed his forehead with his thumb, as if trying to wake himself from a bad dream.

As if on cue, the glass in the rear exit of the bus shattered. A beast from the garage was trying to pull itself in. Talon slammed down on the accelerator, and the old school bus lurched forward. Both hands on the wheel, Talon steered away from the smoldering wreckage that had once been the council house, and headed up the narrow dirt path on which the reservation children had walked to school only this morning. Growling from over his shoulder told him that the beast was still clinging to the bus. Talon jerked the wheel back and forth and the bus lurched left then right, and soon, Talon heard a surprised yelp as the creature fell from the back of the bus.

Talon swerved the bus hard onto the asphalt road and shifted into fourth, working the accelerator back down to the floorboard. Talon turned to look back—the reservation seemed like a blurred ghost, smearing the dark night in an unnatural orange. Eyes back on the road, Talon drove on, keeping his eyes fixed on the yellow center line dotting the newly repaved road. Talon forced himself to contemplate nothing more than the flashing of yellow streaks below the hood of the bus—he fought hard to keep his mind from turning back to the horrors of the last hour.

Several miles of senseless acceleration and the blue glow of halogens illuminated the side of the road. Rico’s service center was just ahead—a phone and a friendly face. As Talon slowed the bus below sixty, he speed past the wreckage of a half-ton pickup in the ditch.

“Christ! Not here!”

Talon slowed, craning his neck to see the truck, when a metallic screech jerked his attention away. Climbing up on the hood of the bus was a bloody, torn and frenzied beast. In a blur, one of its claws swung forward, digging into the hood of the bus. Talon swerved left. The creature lost its rip for an instant, but swung its other claw forward, crashing it through the windshield. Talon swerved right and the wheel of the bus caught the ditch. Talon pulled left, but it was too late… the bus pitched to the right and started to roll. Talon held the wheel with both hands, eyes riveted on the senseless, alien eyes of the beast. The bus rolled once, the roof crumbling like foil and pitching Talon from his seat. In a blur, he saw the creature thrown from the hood, and then the blur of chrome as a broken bus seat pitched towards him. He tried to raise his hand, but not in time…

He felt the impact like a crimson punch. And all snapped to black.

Four.

Talon shook the blackness from his vision. His head throbbed where the bench had hit him. He pushed the bench off to the side and pushed himself to sitting. Nothing seemed broken… sore, but not broken. It seemed quiet for the moment. Almost too quite—no crickets, no wind. Nothing. Talon immediately snatched up his crowbar and held it at the ready, but nothing seemed to be moving. He fumbled through the broken glass for his bolt action rifle, pulling it close, checking the load and cocking the gun.

Holding it out in front of him, he pushed himself out of the bent and twisted door. Something gleamed to the left of him and he spun to look. The mangled body of the creature lay trapped beneath the bus, green entrails spilling from the foot long gash in its neck. The hairless jaws worked back and forth rhythmically, but the eyes stared vacantly. Talon scrambled to his feet and leaned against the overturned bus.

Rico’s station stood silent, bathed in blue halogen light. Talon held the rifle at the ready and approached slowly. No one moved inside as he walked clear of the pumps. He stepped closer. The door stood open, and Talon could see chaotic spatters of blood dotting the tile floor of the station. Talon raised the gun to his shoulder, took in a deep breath through clenched teeth, and stepped to the door.

He stepped in and up to the green counter. Raising his gun, he leaned to look behind. Nothing was there but a pile of unopened cigarette packs and a single, nearly round pool of blood. Talon reached forward, paused for a moment as if to reconsider, then grabbed a pack and some matches. He stuffed them into his jacket pocket.

Talon moved cautiously, gun still at the ready as he looked into the bathroom. Dirty, trashed, but nothing out of the ordinary. As he stepped back into the hall, he heard the unmistakable scrape of metal against metal. Talon quickly snapped the gun back to his shoulder and aimed up that the old suspended ceiling, but all was quiet again.

He stepped into the garage, looked left, then right. Immediately, the bile surged in his throat. There, against the cinderblock wall, sat what was left of Rico. Mostly just a slab of meat, Talon could tell it was once his torso—he could see several ribs poking through the pool of gore. The head was gone, or nearly so. The stump of neck vertebrae remained, and so did a loosely connected jawbone, hanging by a few tendons. The skull was gone utterly, but nearly half of Rico’s face, like a wet rag, hung over what was left of the shoulder. Talon took one step and emptied what was left in his stomach, the thin vomit splashing on the oiled concrete floor.

Talon wiped his mouth with his forearm and looked out across the garage. A thick path of blood lead towards the dual oil change pits. Talon approached, each step as silent as he could mange. Approaching the edge, he peered in. He could make out, in the dim red light of the pit, what looked like one of Rico’s legs. He stepped closer and leaned in. There was the other leg, hidden in shadows… but the shadow moved. In a flash, Talon recognized the feral eyes of one of the beasts, and before he could suck in a breath, the beast leapt. Talon stepped back, attempting to raise his gun, but his boot caught the smear of Rico’s blood and he lost his balance and pitched forward into the pit just as the creature sprang out towards him. As he hit the rack of oil filters, he saw the flashing of another pair of eyes. Two beasts!

Talon yanked the trigger on his rifle and a shot illuminated the dark pit. He couldn’t be sure if he hit anything, but Talon pushed forward, leaping for the thin ladder on the opposite side of the second pit. As he passed, his shoulder bumped into the bulk of one of the beasts, but Talon ignored the revulsion sweeping through him. He grabbed for the top rung and nearly threw himself from the pit. He felt the swoosh of wind as the beast still in the pit swiped for him.

Talon rolled immediately on the concrete floor, cocking his bolt action as he rolled, and he fired twice into the blurred specter that was the other creature rushing towards him.

…not yet complete…