Free Bigfoot War 3: Food Chain by Eric S Brown Page B

automatic fire at the monsters. As he popped it loose to shove a fresh magazine home, the beasts broke through. One monster charged into the men around him. It lifted a soldier from his feet and ripped him in half like a poorly-made doll. The man’s innards flopped from the bottom of his upper half as the beast tossed his two pieces in different directions. Another beast came running at Meagan. She backpedaled, trying to escape its fury. Greg moved to intercept the beast as Meagan put a good twenty rounds into its stomach. Gutted and dying, the monster swatted her into the grass as it closed in.
    “Meagan!” Greg shouted helplessly as the thing’s large foot squashed her head into a stain of red goo with jagged bits of white bone, spurting out across the grass. Greg put a burst into the beast as it collapsed onto Meagan’s corpse.
    Nearby, a beast yanked a .50 caliber from the rear of a jeep, taking the gunner’s arms with the weapon in the process. Greg’s eyes went wide as he looked up to see the jeep itself flying towards him. Cursing and screaming, he rolled from its path as it smacked into the earth where he’d stood moments before, then bounced on, rolling over and over, before erupting into a mass of flames and shrapnel. Covered in blood, sweat and dirt, Greg hauled himself to his feet as two of the beasts came barreling towards him. He leveled his rifle at them, pulling its trigger tight. He sprayed them both until the faster of the two shoved a fist into his ribs. The beast’s hand emerged from his back as it lifted him up several feet. His rifle dropped from his hands as he struggled to stay conscious. Blood leaked from his mouth in long, wet strands. The sound of gunfire had fallen silent, leaving only the rage-filled cries of the beasts as they continued on in the direction of The Bunker. Greg’s last thoughts were of Anna as his body spasmed and wriggled in its death throes on the beast’s arm.

    * * *

    Bree flipped off the last monitor. The war room was silent. Wally, Dr. Morrison, and Brad, who had stayed behind to command The Bunker’s remaining soldiers and militiamen, watched her as she took a seat at the table with them.
    “How long?” she asked.
    “Best guess? They’ll be here in less than an hour.” Brad shook his head and whistled at his own words. “I’d wager the Wolves and the boys cut the size of their forces by more than half, but . . .”
    “It’s nowhere near enough,” Wally finished for him.
    “The complex is safe,” Dr. Morrison told them. “They’ll never find a way inside these walls.”
    “Uh . . .” Brad rubbed at his beard. “Under normal circumstances, you would likely be right, Doc, but . . .”
    “But what?” Bree snapped, instantly cursing herself for letting the pressure of the situation get to her.
    “The garage bay is still open,” Brad confessed. “There’s a malfunction with the servos that control it. It hadn’t been used in so long opening the doors caused them to burn out. We’re working on fixing it, but it won’t be nearly in time to have it shut before those things out there arrive.”
    “Of all the—” Bree spat, slamming a fist into the top of the table.
    “I don’t understand, Major,” Dr. Morrison said. “How could this happen?”
    “Those doors haven’t been fully opened since The Bunker was sealed. They are not exactly high on the priority list when it comes to maintenance.”
    “You’re telling me we’re all about to die because of simple neglect?” The doctor looked to be on the verge of leaving his seat and pummeling the major into a bleeding pulp.
    “Calm down,” Bree told the doctor. “We need to be focusing on the danger at hand not laying blame.”
    Wally spoke up. “This is a fight we can’t win, Bree . It’s time to go.”
    “Go to where? There’s nowhere left up there to run to, Wally. You should know that better than anyone. The Bunker is the best hope the human race has left. It’s likely the only