Free Monsters by Peter Cawdron

in all directions. She paused behind the rusted hulk of various cars and buses, darting over the debris in the road, her hearing finely attuned to the slightest rustle in the trees lining the streets. Bruce kept pace with her, focusing more on her than where they were heading, trusting her judgment.
    As they approached one of the taller buildings in the downtown region, Jane held her hand out, signaling for him to stop. Without saying a word, she pointed at the ground and then upwards. Bruce knew what she was pointing out. He'd seen this before, but normally only around cliffs and at the entrance to natural caves.
    Guano covered the ground.
    The rancid smell stung his nostrils. Bat droppings extended out away from the building, scattered liberally across the ground on a scale he'd never known. There must have been thousands of giant bats inside the crumbling remains of the skyscraper. Bruce was terrified by the faint squeaks and the rustle of thick leather wings flexing in the darkness. These monsters were waiting for dusk to fall. His heart pounded in his chest. Jane continued on.
    At the next intersection, Bruce came up quietly beside her as she peered around the corner into a side street.
    “Bear,” she whispered.
    Bruce peaked around the corner. A black bear lumbered down the road. It was late in the season for bears, most of them had hibernated by late autumn.
    “This is good,” she said. “He'll keep the mountain lions away.”
    The bear raised its head, sniffing at the wind, catching the subtle scent of their sweat on the breeze.
    “If he doesn't kill us first,” Bruce replied in a whisper.
    Jane crept across the intersection, moving behind the crushed remains of a truck and semi-trailer. Rust had eaten through the thin, sheet-metal panels of the crumpled hood and cabin, leaving only the hollow frame. The engine block and axle were exposed to the weather. The rear trailer was little more than a broken shell, with gaping holes exposing the frame. The tires were flat. Their vulcanized rubber was frayed, exposing the reinforced nylon/steel belt to the elements. Bruce came up behind one of the wheels, using it for cover.
    The bear roared, bellowing into the darkened sky, its head reached up toward the gray clouds.
    “Quick,” Jane said, darting across to the other side of the road and into a doorway.
    Bruce went to move, but the bear had reared around facing him, barely a hundred yards away.
    “Run,” Jane cried, trying to keep her voice low. She was beckoning with her hand, urging him on.
    Bruce froze. The bear was lumbering toward the shattered remains of the semi-trailer.
    In the bitter cold, his hands felt sweaty. Perspiration broke out on his forehead. Bruce tried to move, rocking forward on his legs, but his instinct got the better of him, crying out for him to stay put, to hunker down and let the danger pass. He looked up, Jane was gone. Panic seized his mind. She'd abandoned him.
    Bruce looked around. The brick building she'd been standing beside had once reached up at least ten stories in height, but the upper half had fallen into decay, collapsing into the alleyway behind the main street. Only one of the four walls stood over three stories high. The other walls had crumbled in a heap. Bruce tried to think rationally. Shooting arrows at the bear would be suicide. If he could get up high, perhaps by doubling back to the crumbling ruins behind him he might stand a chance, but the bear would see him and bolt after him. The monster would be on him before he made it more than twenty yards.
    The bear roared again, rising up on its hindquarters, its massive paws stretched out wide. Bruce pulled out an arrow, thinking he could strike at its stomach, but his hands were shaking. The bear dropped back on all fours. It had seen him. It ran in hard toward him, its paws pounding on the crumbling pavement.
    Bruce dropped to the ground and rolled under the rusting remains of the semi-trailer, shimmying under the engine