Free Encounters by Stewart Felkel Page B

bikers around him. He swung the woman around to place her behind him again and trained his weapon on the thing in front of them. It crouched down spreading its arms wide showing that it had grown thick, black claws on the tips of its fingers. It opened its mouth and its throat expanded, almost like a frog, before yelling out an earsplitting scream. It leaped in the air in an arc designed to land in the middle of its targets. The drifter followed it with the shotgun and as it passed over head pulled the trigger putting a round of 12 gauge buckshot in the center of its torso. It landed in a crouch and hissed in pain, but that didn’t slow it down from tearing into the nearest unlucky biker. He screamed as it tore at his flesh. To their credit the others tried to come to his rescue, but they weren’t any more effective than the shotgun had been.
    The drifter yelled at the woman, “Get outside now. “
    “What about the bartender?”  She cried.
    He glanced to where the bartender was still laying on the floor. He was beginning to move his head weakly, but it was clear that it would be awhile before he could stand on his own, much less run for his life. The screams of the bikers were growing more frantic as they were being torn apart. He snapped the shotgun open and removed the spent cartridges as quickly as he could. In their place went another slug and the Dragon’s Breath. He doubted that either would kill this creature, whatever it was, but it might slow it down enough for them to escape. He ran to the downed man with the woman right behind him. He jerked him up roughly by the arm. Turning to the woman he said “You have to help him walk. He’s still out of it and I need my hands free.”
    She nodded and sniffed once, but her tears were mostly dried up. He could tell that she was in shock, but she was following orders and still moving. That gave them a chance of making it out alive.
    The screams of the embattled bikers were growing louder as were the growls of the thing that was killing them. They moved as quickly as they could towards the exit. They were almost there when the abused, bloody corpse of the lanky haired biker flew by them to crash into the door. It made a wet splat and slid to the floor in a heap leaving a wide red streak down the door. He turned around to cover their escape and was confronted by a scene from Hell. The thing, be it demon or ghoul, was crouched in front of him. Its mouth was spread wide showing wicked rows of teeth and its forked tongue was moving lazily side to side. Its hair was matted with dark blood making it stick out in erratic angles. It hissed and began creeping towards them on all fours. He promptly fired a slug unto its open mouth jacking its head back and bowling it over. It landed on its back, but kicked its way to its feet like someone out of an 80’s martial arts movie. Meanwhile the trio of survivors was still backing towards the door.
    The drifter was looking for an opportunity to clear the doorway before a now enraged monster could pounce on him, when out of nowhere the last surviving biker came crashing into the fiend that had killed his companions. He must have been 6’3” and looked to me made of solid muscle. He brought a full bottle of Jack Daniels crashing down on its head. The glass shattered drenching them both in whiskey and broken shards. The creature slashed at him causing him to jump backwards. Then the creature really did pounce.
    Miraculously the biker caught both of its wrists in his hands and held them away. They struggled back and forth across the room. The drifter took one appraising look at the liquor soaked monster before raising his shotgun back to his shoulder. There was a boom from the gun and twenty feet of burning magnesium pellets leaped out striking both combatants as they fought. The whiskey they were covered in caught fire instantly causing them to shriek in pain. As they burned they fell into the bar, which was itself soaked in alcohol. The