Threnody (040).

(This is a 500-word-a-day novel project.)

Ryan drove on through, picking up speed now, running them down two and three at a time. One such monster that was keeping pace with them – a cross between a centipede and an anaconda they would agree later – elected to amble off away from all the noise, and disappeared. Christ! Ryan slammed on the brakes, sending Jesse and the boy rolling forward on the floor. Jesse turned her body to keep the boy safe, taking the cuts on her side. And then they hit something hard. The rear of the bus lifted into the air, sending the three of them briefly into a freefall. Ryan’s head hit the steering wheel, striking him over his right eye hard enough to slash it open. They came down hard, bruising themselves on the metal bars at the front of the bus, which was now slanted sideways. The engine died.

Ryan? She struggled to get to her feet, bleeding. Through the broken front window, she saw what they had hit: the demons had knocked down a couple of trees to block the road, and they had rammed the blockade full on. The front engine of the bus was a wrecked mess, the grill torn into two, impaled on the wood. It was never going to move again.

And here they came. She had dropped the gun on the floor, and searched in the dark for it, her fingers pricked by dozens of glass shards. The boy was at her side, holding on to her shirt hard enough to choke her, whimpering, whispering bad things bad things over and over. The ground vibrated with the sound of the approaching numbers as they ran, thunder coming upon them. Ryan! He was pressed up against the side window, the seat come loose off of its bolts. She slapped at his leg, still looking for the gun, and then kicked him very hard in the thigh, but eliciting only a small groan from him. He moved slightly, his eyelids fluttering. Maddy? He looked around him. Where are you, Maddy?

A little green head poked into one of the windows, the elongated snout sniffing. It was pushed aside by what almost seemed like a dog, but with the hands of a man, that slid forward and fell to the aisle, righting itself and coming forward, standing on its haunches. Other faces filled the windows now, and she could see out of the corner of her eyes other shapes coming around the sides of bus, hunched forward, claws flexing. Her fingers felt the slightly oiled metal of the gun. She grabbed it and shot the dog-thing point blank in the chest. It howled, but did not fall; instead, it bent down and grabbed her by the throat, pulling her face close to its own. The smell was abominable. It pulled back the corners of its lips, revealing teeth so ivory and shining that she could actually see the faint outline of her face in them as they began to part.