Rushed (15 page)

Chapter Sixteen

His eyes fixed on the shape at the far side of the pasture, Eric began to move again. 

It wasn’t fair.  He was still in Wisconsin.  (Or at least on
Earth
.)  The corn was tall and healthy, not at all stunted, the shadows beneath them still soft and shallow.  Nothing should be here. 

But of course, he knew no such thing.  He was likely only a short distance from the fissure, as he’d been since he first arrived at Annette’s house.  And those curious coyote-deer creatures had followed him right up to the abandoned cabins of Gold Sunshine Resort, where a clear signal allowed him to send their picture to Karen. 

The shadowy thing moved along the far fence, keeping pace with him. 

It was difficult to make out.  It was a solid shape against the corn, but was the same shades of green.  It walked on two feet, upright like a man, but was at least seven feet tall.  It dwarfed the fence posts in front of it and stood an entire head above the tops of the corn stalks behind it.

Eric swore under his breath.  He was tired.  He didn’t want to keep running.  He needed a break. 

But he wasn’t going to get one. 

Something moved behind him.  He turned, startled, and glimpsed a green head ducking back down into the corn. 

Another one.

He swore again.  Glancing forward quickly, he saw that the pasture came to an end a short distance ahead and he would soon have the blinding corn on both sides, his vision further reduced. 

Across the field, the first figure was now moving faster toward the corner of the pasture. 

He heard the one on his right moving through the corn, creeping closer.

He decided to run for it. 

Immediately, the shape across the field broke into a run as well and the corn rustled violently as another rushed between the stalks somewhere behind it. 

Scanning the fields around him, he saw several more green shapes rise up and peer over the corn at him, some of them already moving to track him. 

From every direction, crows took frenzied flight as the corn came alive with predators.  He was surrounded. 

Stringing together a few of his favorite obscenities, Eric ran as fast as his legs would carry him, which, it seemed, was not all that fast in comparison to the things that would happily chase him down and devour him.

The creature on the other side of the pasture reached the end of the fence and passed into the corn.  Its head and shoulders remained visible over the stalks for only a moment before it lowered itself out of sight, vanishing like a diving submarine. 

A few seconds later the pasture was behind him.  Tall corn obscured his view on both sides.  He could hear large things moving among the leaves. 

He recalled passing through here in his dream.  He also recalled hearing things in the corn.  He recalled being afraid.  But he did not remember seeing the creature across the pasture.  He did not remember being surrounded and chased. 

He tried to recall what was different between then and now.  The conversation with his brother…  He’d raised his voice a little, angered and afraid to hear that Paul had wandered into this mess against his wishes.  Had that extra noise drawn them? 

Ahead of him, a tall shape streaked with shades of green to match the colors of the summer corn darted into his path and he came to an abrupt halt only a few paces away.

Feet apart, long, sinewy arms held tensely out at its sides, its body lean, but powerful, it was at least as terrifying as the resort monster.  It had no neck, only a muscular bulge attaching the lower half of the head directly to the torso.  An insect-like mass of glistening eyes took up most of its face and a huge, gaping maw extended almost to its swollen belly.  He saw no teeth.  Instead, it seemed to have row after row of fine, bony ridges, as if this thing did not tear and chew its food, but rather shaved meaty morsels from its victims, all the better to leave its prey alive and squirming while it feasted. 

Eric didn’t know for certain that this was true, but it came easily enough to his maddeningly vivid imagination in the split second before he cried out in a shrill and embarrassingly un-masculine voice and bolted into the field. 

This seemed like a stupid move, even as he shoved blindly through the first of the leafy stalks.  Clearly, the cornfield was their domain.  They used its cover for stealth, careful to keep their heads down whenever they moved.  It was a dangerous gamble, but he was sure he couldn’t outrun these things on the road.  His only chance was to hope that the corn would allow him the same cover it lent them, evening the playing field a little. 

Of course, these creatures probably had a much better sense of direction than he did.  After only a few seconds of pushing through the stiff cornstalks, he was already uncertain which way was which. 

Leaves rustled all around him.  He could hear heavy footfalls on the dry soil.  Once, he even saw something green and black streak by in a nearby row.  But for now, he seemed to have bought himself another moment of life, though he had absolutely no idea how he was going to make the most of it.

He came to a stop between two rows of corn and crouched there silently, listening. 

They were all around him, moving through the corn, searching for him. 

There must be a way out of this.  He remembered the lake.  That second boat.  And before that, the scaffolding that bought him the extra few seconds to escape the resort monster.  The universe had so far appeared to be stacked in his favor. 

So what was he supposed to do now? 

He tried to remember his dream.  He was walking down the road between the corn, frightened by the strange movement in the field and a cold certainty that something was watching him.  But he didn’t recall seeing one.  They remained out of sight. 

One came too close.  A darkling shape in the shifting stalks spooked him.  He ran.  Around him, things ran with him. 

But he couldn’t yet remember what happened next. 

Far to his left, one of the creatures emerged from the corn and stood with its back to him, searching.  Stretching its body to its full height, it peered out over the corn, likely searching for the telltale movement of cornstalks. 

As quietly as possible, Eric slipped between the stalks and into the next row before it could turn and see him. 

His gamble seemed to have paid off.  The very same thing that gave them their stealth was now hiding him from them.  If he hadn’t still been utterly terrified, he might have smiled at the justice of it all. 

But it was far too early to celebrate. 

At that moment, his cell phone rang.  Its eager buzzing sounded at least as loud as a chainsaw motor to his startled ears, and it was more than loud enough to draw the attention of the gruesome pack of creatures he was hoping to escape.  He could see the one he’d just avoided turn and look right at him. 

Shit. 

Eric shot to his feet and ran. 

A huge, groping hand snatched at him.  He cried out and leaped out of the way, changing directions, only to catch sight of something tearing through the corn directly toward him. 

He changed directions again, crying out as the heavy leaves battered his face. 

Something uttered a gut-wrenching roar directly behind him. 

The goddamn cell phone kept buzzing at him. 

“This is
not
a good time!” he growled.

As he ran, the corn suddenly began to shrink around him, withering away, and a chill cut through the August heat. 

The remains of a very old tractor appeared, covered in rust and half buried in the parched soil.  He veered toward it, seized the wheel and vaulted over the metal seat, hoping to slow down his pursuers. 

He risked a quick look back over his shoulder and saw three of the grotesque creatures converging on him, undeterred by the pitiful obstacle. 

He turned forward again, running even harder, and barely avoided colliding with the broad trunk of a tree. 

He didn’t even have time to wonder what the hell a tree was doing in the middle of a cornfield before the ground abruptly dropped from under his feet and he went sprawling down the side of a steep hill, cursing all the way to the bottom.

He landed hard in a dry creek bed, the gravel digging into his palms and elbows as he skidded to a halt, his injured shoulder flaring with pain. 

But he had no time for pain.  He had to keep moving. 

Sitting up, he found himself bathed in deep shadows.  Huge trees towered over him, surrounding him. 

There was not an ear of corn in sight.  He now seemed to be in a dense forest.

Looking back up the hill he’d just maneuvered with even less grace than he might have handled an advanced ski slope, he saw a half-dozen tall shadows peering down at him, several of them already making their way down the hill after him. 

Scrambling to his feet, Eric took off again, following the dry streambed along the ridge as fast as his feet would navigate the rough terrain. 

He didn’t recognize any of this.  As with his ill-conceived venture into the Altrusk house, he was way off the map. 

He tore through a thicket of brush, spooking a small flock of birds and catching a cluster of painful thorns in his right forearm. 

For several minutes he ran, occasionally glancing back over his shoulder and always finding the yawning visage of one or more of the creatures close behind him.

He recalled now that he had continued to run along the road in his dream, past an area where the corn had grown stunted and small, to an old wooden bridge with planks that creaked underfoot as he raced across it. 

By the time he reached the other side of the bridge, the things in the corn were gone and he never even saw what they looked like. 

On-Time Dream Eric was a lucky son of a bitch. 

A path crossed the streambed, offering surer footing, and Eric swerved to follow it even as the snarling and grunting behind him grew unnervingly close.

He crested a hill and raced down the other side.  Around him the trees grew larger and taller.  They were the biggest trees he’d ever seen in his life, at least as big as the giant California redwoods that he’d only seen in magazines and on television. 

The blue sky seemed to pull away above him and the shadows deepened until the gloom began to envelop him.  It seemed to be growing dark out, though it was still hours before sunset. 

In his dream, the corn gave way to more pastures filled with cows.  The sun shone brightly above.  He’d begun to sweat.  In one field, a young and playful palomino mare trotted up near the fence to investigate him.

The horror had ended as quickly as it had begun, leaving him shaken, but still unharmed. 

Here in the waking world, Eric glanced behind him, but he could no longer tell the monsters from the shadows.  Even their snarls had mingled together until he could no longer discern how close they were getting or from what angle they might pounce.

He rounded a curve in the path and glimpsed a light between the massive tree trunks ahead of him. 

Hopeful for a miracle, he willed himself to run even faster, though he was rapidly losing strength. 

The light turned out to be shining from the windows of a small church.  But the sight that greeted him did not appear even remotely holy.  The windows were glowing blood-red, casting a crimson light across the rocky ground, as if the entire area were bathed in gore.  The building itself was badly in need of repair.  The paint was almost entirely peeled away, the shingles warped and buckled.  Even the steeple seemed to be askew, as if some great and unholy force had shaken the whole structure, nearly toppling it to the ground. 

It was easily the last place on earth he would have chosen to stop for a quick Sunday school lesson, but the horde of flesh-crazed predators at his back made it difficult to be snobby. 

He bounded up the steps onto the small, concrete landing in front of the door and yanked on the handle. 

Naturally, it was tightly locked. 

Glancing back, he saw the shadowy shapes stalking across the blood-tinted clearing, closing in on him. 

He beat on the door.  He shouted, pleaded for someone to open it.  There had to be someone home.  Why else would there be lights?

The creatures were right behind him. 

He darted right, toward the corner of the building, intending to run around behind the church, but another creature appeared in his path, blocking his way and bringing him to a halt before he had even reached the end of the landing.  They were everywhere. 

He turned and pressed his back to the wall, his fists doubled, his jaw clenched, his eyes fixed on the nearest of the creatures, resigned to stand his ground as long as possible, though he was sure that wouldn’t be long.  They were so big.  He certainly didn’t stand a chance. 

Maybe he should have answered the phone when it rang.  It might have been his last chance to say goodbye to Karen. 

As the first of the monsters reached out with its long, green hands, the church door slammed open.  A thunderous boom assaulted Eric’s ears and imploded the top half of the nearest monster’s head.