Free Hissers II: Death March by Ryan C. Thomas Page B

for the back side of it.
    “Fuck,” Olive said. “Get away from the window.” She yanked Connor back to the bales of hay and made him squat down. “I think it can smell us or something.”
    With that many noses and that many ears, Connor thought, it was bound to have some sort of sensory augmentation.
    They remained silent, guns at the ready. Outside, the ground rumbled ever so slightly as it drew closer. Then, the hairs on Connor’s arms stood up as the creature touched the side of the barn. With the sound of groaning metal, it hugged the outside walls and began walking the perimeter of the building. Its shadow soon passed the sliding front doors, stopped for a second, then continued on. Sweat broke out on Connor’s body. Olive again put a finger to her lips to tell him to be quiet, a useless gesture at this point since Connor could not even find his voice to scream. Now it passed by underneath the window they’d been at just moments ago, returning to the back of the barn.
    What the hell is it doing, Connor thought. Does it know we’re in here?
    Then, with the obnoxious sound of twisting metal, it began to climb up the side of the barn.
    Connor raised his gun , tracing its movement, following it toward the skylight above them. Olive did the same.
    So much for having the high ground, Connor thought.
    They needed to get out of here now. With a stabbing finger, Olive relayed the same understanding, motioning Connor to get down the ladder to the barn floor and into the car. But before he could even move, the beast was over the sky light, and four yellow-eyed dead faces were staring down at them. Those eyes went wide and the accompanying mouths opened in snarls. Then immediately arms came down on the Plexiglass and broke it into chunks that rained down on Connor and Olive.
    “Shit! Move!” O live shouted.
    Connor leapt up from behind the hay and slid to the ladder, turning himself as he hit the hand rail and getting his feet over the edge.
    Above him, dozens of arms reached inside and began tearing back the corrugated metal roof. The metal cut into the creature’s hands, slicing them open and spraying blood down onto the bales of hay. Connor was halfway down the ladder when he heard Olive fire her gun. The sound was deafening in the enclosed space. Above him, the beast hissed louder and tore more frantically at the roof.
    “Olive!” he yelled.
    “Move it, Connor! Go!” she fired again.
    Connor judged the jump down from the midpoint of the ladder to the car. It was a long way, lo ng enough to twist an ankle or even break his foot. But what choice did he have. He turned and let go just as the monster came through the roof, bounced off the edge of the loft, and landed on top of the car. It all happened so fast in Connor’s mind: seeing the beast land before him, feeling himself let go of the ladder, knowing he was falling right next to it, knowing he wouldn’t have enough time to right himself before it grabbed him.
    But he never hit the ground, and almost didn’t notice he was defying gravity against his will.
    He looked up and saw Olive holding him by the waist of his pants.  She’d caught him before he could fall.
    “Grab the fucking ladder!” she yelled.
    His hand snatched out for the rung, and he he hauled himself back up to the loft just as the creature on the car made for the lowest rung.
    Ol ive’s rifle came down past his ear and exploded in another shot. The noise set Connor’s brain ringing, but he didn’t dwell on it. He turned around and fired down as well, hitting the young girl with pigtails right between the eyes. The head flopped down and didn’t move again. But the others were still snarling and hissing. Olive’s next shot took out the old African American man. Connor’s second round caved in the nose of some teenage boy, killing the head.
    “ Keep shooting!” Olive yelled over the sound of the gunfire and the smell of thick cordite.
    “I am! I am!”
    The creature was halfway up the