Tooth & Claw Part 4
"Did you hear that?" asked Nick.
"Sounds like shots," said Beaumont as he stepped out onto the flooded street, muddy water flowing around his ankles.
"It's coming from Bert Ogilvy's place," added Uncle Lee from the door of the saloon. "But Bert's in Reno this weekend."
"We don't have time to investigate," added Griffin, pointing to the sky. "Those things are getting closer. I want everyone in the Saloon. It's the only brick building in town and the most defendable position."
"That's not a problem," said Lee, "two thirds of the town are already in there. Just you boys and the folks from the hotel out on the street like damn fools."
"Then tell everybody to get their guns and ammunition," said Griffin.
"Why are you giving everyone orders?" asked Uncle Lee.
"He's Thaddeus Griffin of the FBI," said Nick, "and he's got a really big gun, that puts him in charge in my book."
#
"What the hell is going on here?" asked a big bruiser Smiler called Duffy. He had a deep voice that sounded like the gravel under the car's tires once it found dry land. Betty Lansing still hadn't seen his face yet. Smiler had locked her hands behind her back with a pair of handcuffs and tossed her into the back seat of a black tin lizzie. Her face was wedged against the backseat, and she could only see the pale brown upholstery, but she could hear. She heard Smiler and some other voices talking, sounded like four men in total. Then she heard a second car, sloshing through the muddy water behind them, and then it shifted to riding on hard rock, as Duffy must have found a route to Preacher Hill that wasn't under water.
"That funny looking bird is circling a little close," she heard Smiler say, his voice hissing. Then she heard him pumping a round into the chamber of a shotgun, then the window rolling down, then a shot outside the car. The boom made her think about her brother lying dead in the muddy water.
"I think I hit the damn thing," hissed Smiler, "look, he shit on the ground." Then he laughed like a child hearing their first dirty joke.
"I don't know why we're driving into the middle of this shit," asked Duffy.
"The middle of the shit is always the best part," said Smiler. "And I'll bet dollars to donuts that Griffin and West will be there too. It's all a matter of time."
#
"What the hell is that?" said a man Lee called Otis Bunker. He was a short man, carrying a Springfield rifle and a bag slung over his shoulder.
"It looks like a chicken," said Beaumont.
Whatever it was, it was standing at the end of the street, just looking around. It did look kind of like a chicken, it had feathers, their red colour visible in the occasional flashes of light from the distant hill, but it had stubby arms instead of wings, and a long snout instead of a beak. Griffin figured that the snout had to hold teeth.
"Get into the saloon," ordered Griffin, aiming his BAR at the thing, "now!"
Otis obeyed, and scurried into the saloon. The creature, whatever it was, started loping toward them. Griffin started backing to the door of the saloon.
"Get that door blocked," ordered Griffin.
"Yes sir," said Nick West as he, Willy, and Willy's Uncle Lee pushed the pool table against the front door.
"Why didn't you shoot the chicken-thing?" asked Beaumont.
"Right now I want to save our ammunition," said Griffin. "We don't know how many of those things are out there, or how long we're going to have to hold them off. I say we shoot only when necessary."
"Sounds sensible," said Nick West. "I got some extra guns in my room upstairs. They could do some good."
"Why are you being so agreeable?"
"Because I'm not the man you think I am," said Nick. "In fact, I think you don't know what's really going on."
"Nobody knows what's really going on," said Griffin.
"Well," said Nick, dusting off his hands, and putting his jacket back on. "Maybe when we get a quiet moment I'll fill you in on what I can."
"You do that," said Griffin, before turning to Lee. "Did you do a head count?"
"Yeah," said Lee, gesturing to the dozen or so people sitting around the saloon, "everyone that's still in town is here, loaded for bear..."
"But?" asked Griffin.
"But the Lansings," said Lee, "the folks who ran the store next door, they're not here, and they weren't in their house, their truck's gone."
"Maybe they went out of town?" asked Otis.
"I think Ned said something about seeing the guy on Preacher Hill," said a man shaking the water of an overturned bar stool. The floor was still wet, but at least it wasn't a flowing river anymore, thanks to all the barriers they put in the back door.
"What would they want with that lunatic?" asked Lee.
"What lunatic?" asked Griffin.
"Help," croaked a weak voice from outside. "Help us..."
"That lunatic," said Lee. "He's outside."
"Sounds like shots," said Beaumont as he stepped out onto the flooded street, muddy water flowing around his ankles.
"It's coming from Bert Ogilvy's place," added Uncle Lee from the door of the saloon. "But Bert's in Reno this weekend."
"We don't have time to investigate," added Griffin, pointing to the sky. "Those things are getting closer. I want everyone in the Saloon. It's the only brick building in town and the most defendable position."
"That's not a problem," said Lee, "two thirds of the town are already in there. Just you boys and the folks from the hotel out on the street like damn fools."
"Then tell everybody to get their guns and ammunition," said Griffin.
"Why are you giving everyone orders?" asked Uncle Lee.
"He's Thaddeus Griffin of the FBI," said Nick, "and he's got a really big gun, that puts him in charge in my book."
#
"What the hell is going on here?" asked a big bruiser Smiler called Duffy. He had a deep voice that sounded like the gravel under the car's tires once it found dry land. Betty Lansing still hadn't seen his face yet. Smiler had locked her hands behind her back with a pair of handcuffs and tossed her into the back seat of a black tin lizzie. Her face was wedged against the backseat, and she could only see the pale brown upholstery, but she could hear. She heard Smiler and some other voices talking, sounded like four men in total. Then she heard a second car, sloshing through the muddy water behind them, and then it shifted to riding on hard rock, as Duffy must have found a route to Preacher Hill that wasn't under water.
"That funny looking bird is circling a little close," she heard Smiler say, his voice hissing. Then she heard him pumping a round into the chamber of a shotgun, then the window rolling down, then a shot outside the car. The boom made her think about her brother lying dead in the muddy water.
"I think I hit the damn thing," hissed Smiler, "look, he shit on the ground." Then he laughed like a child hearing their first dirty joke.
"I don't know why we're driving into the middle of this shit," asked Duffy.
"The middle of the shit is always the best part," said Smiler. "And I'll bet dollars to donuts that Griffin and West will be there too. It's all a matter of time."
#
"What the hell is that?" said a man Lee called Otis Bunker. He was a short man, carrying a Springfield rifle and a bag slung over his shoulder.
"It looks like a chicken," said Beaumont.
Whatever it was, it was standing at the end of the street, just looking around. It did look kind of like a chicken, it had feathers, their red colour visible in the occasional flashes of light from the distant hill, but it had stubby arms instead of wings, and a long snout instead of a beak. Griffin figured that the snout had to hold teeth.
"Get into the saloon," ordered Griffin, aiming his BAR at the thing, "now!"
Otis obeyed, and scurried into the saloon. The creature, whatever it was, started loping toward them. Griffin started backing to the door of the saloon.
"Get that door blocked," ordered Griffin.
"Yes sir," said Nick West as he, Willy, and Willy's Uncle Lee pushed the pool table against the front door.
"Why didn't you shoot the chicken-thing?" asked Beaumont.
"Right now I want to save our ammunition," said Griffin. "We don't know how many of those things are out there, or how long we're going to have to hold them off. I say we shoot only when necessary."
"Sounds sensible," said Nick West. "I got some extra guns in my room upstairs. They could do some good."
"Why are you being so agreeable?"
"Because I'm not the man you think I am," said Nick. "In fact, I think you don't know what's really going on."
"Nobody knows what's really going on," said Griffin.
"Well," said Nick, dusting off his hands, and putting his jacket back on. "Maybe when we get a quiet moment I'll fill you in on what I can."
"You do that," said Griffin, before turning to Lee. "Did you do a head count?"
"Yeah," said Lee, gesturing to the dozen or so people sitting around the saloon, "everyone that's still in town is here, loaded for bear..."
"But?" asked Griffin.
"But the Lansings," said Lee, "the folks who ran the store next door, they're not here, and they weren't in their house, their truck's gone."
"Maybe they went out of town?" asked Otis.
"I think Ned said something about seeing the guy on Preacher Hill," said a man shaking the water of an overturned bar stool. The floor was still wet, but at least it wasn't a flowing river anymore, thanks to all the barriers they put in the back door.
"What would they want with that lunatic?" asked Lee.
"What lunatic?" asked Griffin.
"Help," croaked a weak voice from outside. "Help us..."
"That lunatic," said Lee. "He's outside."
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