Free Bigfoot War by Eric S Brown Page B

the store windows were smashed in and shards of glass littered the sidewalks. Worse, it wasn’t from looters. The sasquatches stalking the street would often grab the people in their path and fling them aside as they closed in on whatever unlucky person struck their fancy as a target. Brent saw one of the creatures close in on an elderly woman out of the corner of his eye as the patrol car flew by. She swatted at it with a folded up umbrella before it pulled her close and bit into the top of her skull while its giant hands crushed her shoulders. Old Hank’s bar was on fire. The dancing orange hues of the blaze mingled with the bright starlight and the full moon above. Brent watched in disbelief as a sasquatch bounded from an alleyway straight into the middle of the road in front of him.
    “ Hold on!” he told Rita.
    The beast left him with only a couple choices: try to swerve and risk losing control of the car or hitting it head on. Brent jerked the wheel hard to the right and felt the bump of the wheels of the car bounce up as he went onto the sidewalk. He kept the gas floored and said a prayer as the car flew past the monster. It reached for the car with an impossibly long arm and managed to rip the siren from its top with a shower of sparks before Brent was clear of it and speeding down the road. Rita incoherently yelled at him as the thing tossed the siren aside. It chased after them.
    “ It’s coming!” she said.
    Brent saw the monster gaining ground in the rearview. Worse, he knew he couldn’t punch it all the way because someone might dart out in front of him thanks to the chaos in the streets.
    What to do . . . what to do . . . what to —
    “ Screw it,” he said, slamming on the brakes and kicking the car in reverse. The patrol car lurched backwards. Almost immediately, metal met flesh and bone as him and Rita slammed into their seats from the impact. Their bodies jerked forward as one and Brent’s face smashed into the steering wheel; when he sat up he spat teeth and blood. He glanced over at Rita to see that her seatbelt had spared her from injury. The sasquatch was on the asphalt clutching its right leg. The white of bone stood out from underneath its fur and the thick muscles of its leg. It howled a deep, pain-filled cry.
    “ I have to finish this,” Brent said as he got out of the car, shotgun in hand.
    “ No!” she yelled as he pumped a round into the weapon’s chamber and started toward the beast. “I can’t lose you!”
    Brent ignored her plea and hefted his shotgun as he walked toward the beast.
    It saw him and tried to stand. A fresh howl cut the night as it toppled back to the ground. Brent shouldered the shotgun and fired it like a rifle. The blast nicked the monster’s forehead and cut its cry short. It was dazed as Brent walked closer to it, firing round after round into it with every step he took until the shotgun was empty and he stood next to the hulking mass of muscle and hair. He dropped the useless weapon and drew his Glock 40 as the beast slapped at him with its left arm. He barely avoided the blow as he took careful aim with his Glock and put a trio of rounds into the thing’s face. One round broke the monster’s nose, hitting it at just the right angle. Another thudded into its cheek, ricocheting off the bone. The last one struck Brent’s intended target and entered the monster’s brain as it reduced its left eye to pulp. The wounded creature finally slumped over, twitching. Brent emptied the Glock into it for good measure and popped out the clip, replacing it with a fresh one as he raced back to the patrol car where Rita stood waiting, apparently having gotten out to watch the battle.
    As they hopped into the car together, she hugged him close. He gently pushed her away, knowing they had to get moving before another of the things made a run at them. Brent hoped the vehicle would still run. He knew there was nothing he could do to help the other people on the streets. The