Around fifty people were in the gym. Quite a few of them were families. She counted over a dozen children. Most of the people busied themselves setting up cots, handing out food, and talking in worried tones of shock and disbelief about the horror that had come into their town. All of these folks were counting on her to get them through tonight alive. Her heart sank as she realized just how few were actually present in the gym. It should be overflowing and she should be having a headache from trying to conjure up more room. She didn't allow herself to give in to despair though.

She spotted Justin in the crowd. She flagged him down.

He made his way to her. "Sheriff May, any word on our backup?"

Becca shook her head. While Powell and Justin had gone off on their tasks, she'd stayed at the station and tried to expedite the arrival of the help coming from the department over in Macon. Luck failed her. The best she had been able to get in terms of info on an ETA was they were in transit and would arrive as soon as they could.

Justin must have noticed how hopeless things seemed to her because he said, "Kind of feels like the Alamo, doesn't it?"

She didn't know if he was joking or not. Ignoring the question, she went to the business at hand. "How are things shaping up?"

"As well as can be expected. When you give the word, we're ready to seal the doors. They'll be chained and barricaded," he said. "We both know those creatures are ultra strong, but our efforts might buy us a minute or two tops. Our main line of defense is going to be the snipers on the roof. All the high-powered rifles we have will be up there and we were able to scrounge up some night scopes for most of them. So that and the distance of the building from any real cover should give us an advantage. We just need to make sure every shot counts. In the meantime, everybody in here who knows anything about how to shoot a guna"and even some that I trust enough to give a weapon to, anywaya"are armed with what you let me take from your department's storage. That's better than nothing." Justin suddenly looked guilty.

"What?"

"I feel bad saying this but . . . well, we could station some folks outside the doors, too. They'd be cut off with no real place to retreat to if things go south, but several of the men here made me promise to ask if they could volunteer to stand watch outside."

Becca wasn't ignorant enough to believe she could stop them in this situation if they were determined to, and Justin's tone told her they were ready to get out there and start a Bigfoot Holocaust. Besides, it wasn't a bad idea in terms of the gym's overall defense. Becca nodded. "That's fine, but if they're real marksmen, I want them on the roof. They could do a lot more good for everyone from up there. Make sure they realize that, Justin."

"So that just leaves one question, ma'am," he said. "When do we lock up and seal this place tight? Every minute we wait is a risk."

"I know." She frowned. "Let's wait another ten minutes or so for Powell, Brent, and any other stragglers that might be coming. If they're not here by then, go ahead and chain the doors."

Brent Brent and Rita heard Becca's plan on the radio for everyone to head to the high school. Getting there was the hard part. When they had arrived at the department, Becca was gone. The department was empty and its a.r.s.enal picked clean. The patrol car was low on fuel and driving it through Babble Creek was getting close to suicide. On their drive to the department, Brent counted over a dozen beasts and it was impossible to know how many more were lurking around. The roads were too cluttered with wrecks, overturned cars, and were too confining to permit the speed needed to outrun the sasquatches if they came after you. Trying for the school on foot wasn't a better option either. The upper hand belonged to the monsters and he and Rita had no weapons except for his Glock and its only remaining clip. Rita's safety was the most important thing to him and he knew Becca needed him at the school, but there was no guarantee it would be safe there either. His options went from limited to one as he weighed them carefully. It was a difficult choice to make, but ultimately he decided taking refuge here in the station and waiting for help. It was all they could realistically do at this point.

He led Rita into the rear of the building where the detention cells were located and locked themselves in one. The thick, heavy metal bars might be enough to save their lives if they were discovered by the creatures.

Rita took a seat on the cell's lone bunk. Brent sat down next to her and took her in his arms.

"I tried radioing Becca," he said, "but couldn't get a response. She must have her hands full."

"I imagine so," she said and Brent saw the fear in her eyes.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into her ear.

"Don't be," she replied. "We're still alive and that's what matters. I'm sure Becca can handle things without you."

"I hope so," he said, "I truly do."

From outside of the cell area came the sound of a terrible crash as something tore its way into the station. Brent was on his feet instantly. He stood, staring as the creature burst through the wall. It lunged at them and smashed itself against their cell. Brent opened fire on it as the monster grabbed the bars and strained to bend them open. The whole cell shook as the thing's monstrous strength rattled the bars and sent a snow of dust and ceiling fragments onto them. Brent's shots seemed to only make the thing angrier, the bullets unable to penetrate its thick muscle tissue enough to do any real damage.

"Brent!" Rita wailed as she pressed herself against the back wall of the cell.

Brent's heart sank as he realized there was no way out. "I love you, Rita," he said as he raised his 9 mm at her and put a single round into her forehead. Her body slumped to the floor below the blood splatter on the wall behind her.

He prayed the Lord would forgive him, but he couldn't stand to see her suffer at the hands of the creature and have a slow and painful death.

With a mighty heave, the beast almost ripped the cell door from its hinges. Brent grabbed hold of its arm and moved as close to the bars as he could. He fought to get his pistol into position for a direct shot into one of its eyes. His only hope of taking the thing down was finding a spot where his shots wouldn't have to go through its layers of muscle. A ma.s.sive, hair-covered hand took hold of his head and struggled to pull him through the bars. Brent's face hit the steel with an impact that left him so dazed he didn't even scream or struggle as the monster continued to pull on him. As the deputy's head was crushed against the metal, the last thing he saw in his mind was an image of Rita's corpse leaking blood onto the dirty floor of the cell.

Powell Powell scurried over the wire fence and leaped to the asphalt on the other side. He stood in the parking area of the Department of Transportation. He was alone except for the bright yellow trucks and road machines of the construction crews that sat around him like monuments to a long dead civilization. He quickly chided himself for being so melodramatic. The world wasn't ending. The horrors of this night were solely Babble Creek's.

He sprinted across the lot to the work sheds. The town of Babble Creek was gearing up to expand the road leading into it from the outside world. Too many people had rallied about the nature of the road and were sick of being stuck in town when a storm knocked trees over and they had to wait for them to be cleared before they could get out of town at all. This meant not only cutting trees but also leveling the ground. Somewhere at the back of his mind, Powell found himself wondering if the road's expansion helped spark the creatures' attack as much as the death of their "shaman" or whatever. He knew he wouldn't want the new road as a neighbor in case it had.

Powell'd signed off himself on the memo for the explosives and knew the blasting would have started within the next week. He also knew the Department of Transportation was currently sitting on a healthy amount of dynamite and explosive charges because of it. All he had to do was get them and make it back to the high school. The odds of everyone's survival would shoot up dramatically if he could. The explosives could be rigged into traps or, in the case of the dynamite, be used like grenades if they were careful after they lit the fuses.

The shed was locked. Leery of shooting the lock off a building containing explosives and not wanting to draw any unwanted attention with the noise of such a shot, Powell headed to the main building to fetch the keys. A howl rang out in the night, one that was too close for comfort. He hit the dirt, falling flat on his stomach. If the thing hadn't seen him yet he wanted to minimize the chances that it would.

The wire fence that stretched around the D.O.T. was nowhere near strong enough to keep out one of those things, so Powell lay still, listening. Tree limbs snapped in the woods to the east accompanied by the thunderous pounding of heavy feet drawing closer. If it was only one, he could take it, he thought, glancing at the rifle he held in his hands. But he wasn't willing to take the chance unless he had to. It was better to just hope it would pa.s.s him by unnoticed.

The fence rattled and he imagined the wire bending under the grip of a giant, hair-covered hand. Powell couldn't see the creature and didn't dare raise his head for a better look. Wherever it was in relation to him, the thing grunted loudly and the fence shook again. Then the pounding of ma.s.sive feet fading into the distance.

Relief washed over him and he said a prayer of thanks.

Maybe he'd gotten blessed after all.

Zack "Do you believe this c.r.a.p?" Ben said into his helmet's radio over the roar of the copter's blades. He was taking the bird into Haywood County.

"Not our job to question orders," Zack replied, shouting, as he gazed downward at the thick forest below. "If the sheriff says go, we go." Zack was the ranking deputy of the Macon County department and he'd logged more air time in their new copter than anyone except for Ben, the department's pilot.

It bothered him, though, that he was up here when the sheriff and every other officer that could be spared were hauling b.u.t.t in a convoy of patrol cars through the winding, piece-of-c.r.a.p road that was the only way into Babble Creek. He wanted to be with them.

"I mean, really, Bigfoot?" Ben laughed. "And we're taking this seriously?"

"Sheriff May isn't exactly known for her sense of humor, Ben." Zack turned around in his seat and gave him a hard stare. "This is an official request for aid and we're going to take it very seriously. Understood?"

Ben didn't answer him. He knew the pilot was new to the region. He was a rookie, too, when it came to how law enforcement worked and wasn't even issued a sidearm. The man's job was merely to get officers like himself where they needed to go in a hurry and occasionally fly over farms and such looking for "weed." Zack didn't believe May's story either, but he did believe she was in trouble. Something was for sure happening in Babble Creek tonight and whatever it was certainly wasn't good.

"What's our ETA?" Zack asked.

Ben checked his instruments. "I'd say less than ten minutes, a.s.suming I can find the town." He was only half-joking though. "I don't see anything but darkness and trees so far."

"Wait!" Zack spotted a patch of lights off to the right below them. "What's that?"

"Don't know. The road in should be over there and we should be overtaking the sheriff and his ground pounders about now. Want me to do a flyby and find out?"

"Do it," Zack said not taking his eyes off the lights below. "If that is the boss and the rest of the crew, they aren't moving."

The helicopter swerved and came around, lowering its alt.i.tude. Getting a good look at the road was nearly impossible through the tree cover, but Zack could see enough to know what happened. "Please no . . ."

Stretched out along the road was a line of Macon County police cars and the vehicles from his own department. The entire seven-car group that left Macon before they had was parked on the road. The first two cars looked as if the lead car had come to a quick halt, and the second had plowed into its rear, forcing the others to stop behind them. All of them still had their lights and sirens on. Many had open doors. The surplus light around the cars made it possible to see the bodies scattered about the road. That is, if you could still call them bodies. Most of the shapes looked more like pieces and piles of mangled meat with patches of clothing than the remains of human beings. Some kind of battle had taken place and his department had been on the losing side. For once, even Ben had nothing to say and Zack was thankful for the silence.

They hovered above the carnage for a few seconds before either of them spoke. Finally, Ben broke the silence, his voice somber. "Do some of those guys look partially eaten to you?"

Zack didn't answer.

"So, uh, what do we do, sir?"

Zack tried to pull himself together and shake off the shock. "We call for backup."

"Who?" Ben asked. "That was pretty much everybody."

"The National Guard," Zack said. "The Asheville department. I don't care. Anybody we can get."

"They won't believe this until they see it."

"Doesn't matter. They'll come just like we did."

"And then what?"

"We go on. There may be folks left alive in Babble Creek who need our help."

Zack could tell Ben wanted to turn them around and hightail it back to Macon.

"What good are the two of us going to be against something that could kill all of them?"

Zack didn't answer. "You said our ETA was ten minutes, right?"

"Yeah."

"Make it five," Zack said firmly.

"Roger that," Ben said though his heart was far from in it.

Lauren Lauren sat on the gym floor still wearing her lab coat. Becca had whisked her away from the morgue too quickly for her to shrug it off and grab her real jacket. The state of refugees and gym's defenders was one of barely organized chaos despite Becca's best efforts. Lauren wanted to wake up at home in bed only to find out this was all some kind of feverish nightmare, but she knew that wasn't going to happen. Sasquatch was real and his family was about to come knocking at their door.

Blaming Becca for murdering the specimen that rested on the makeshift table back at the morgue would've been easy. In times like this, it was human nature to point fingers and place blame, but Lauren realized Becca was their sole hope of survival until help arrived, and she prayed help was coming soon. She'd seen one of the monsters up close and studied it intently during the small amount of time it allowed her to do so. No matter what Becca and the others did, the things were going to make it inside. She was sure of that. They were too strong, too smart, and too fast to be held at bay by the sad, pathetic forces gathered against them.

Lauren nervously and methodically picked at her fingernails as she thought about how many people the things had already claimed. Babble Creek's population was close to eight hundred yet there were less than sixty peoplea"maybe only fiftya"in the gym. Her a.n.a.lytical nature took over and she began to think about the variables, replacing hard numbers and facts with her best guesses. Lauren figured the creatures must number somewhere in the dozens. A whole tribe was on its way here.

"Lauren?" a voice said, interrupting her thoughts.

Becca stood over her.

"Becca," she said without bothering to get to her feet.

"I need you. There are some injured people. Mostly just bruises and minor cuts. You're the closest thing we have to a real doctor."

Lauren looked into Becca's haggard eyes and scrambled to her feet. "I'm sorry," she said. "Point me at them and I'm on it."

The smile that lit Becca's face made her feel better. She was led across the gym to where the refugees had set up most of the cots.

Justin Justin stood on the roof of the gym and scanned the tree line through a pair of night vision binoculars. Fred and two other mena"who were the best marksmen left alive in Babble Creeka"stood with him. They each were a.s.signed their own side of the roof to try to keep an eye out for anything approaching the building below.

Justin knew Fred was pretty much close to useless. Fred seemed sober now, but was on the verge of a breakdown.

"They should have been here by now," Fred mumbled to himself.

Justin didn't ask who he meant: the monsters or their rescuers. He doubted he really wanted to know the answer.

"Hey, Justin," a man he thought was named Wade yelled at him from the south side of the roof. "You better come and take a gander at this."

Justin walked over to him.

"Look down there." The man pointed to the trees.

Justin lifted his binoculars and saw a hulking monster half concealed by the shadows of the night.

"Would have been impossible to see him without the night scope on my rifle. Thing's been there like that for a couple of minutes. I think he's checking us out. Actually, wanted to see if he was really loitering or just pa.s.sing through before I told ya."

"You should have told me the second you saw him."

"Sorry."

"You should be. If anything happens because of that particular monstera""

"Point taken."

"From now on, okay?"

"Got it. Again, sorry."

Justin gave him a hard glare then turned his attention back to the Bigfoot in the bushes. The monster stood at least nine feet tall. He was tempted to un-sling his rifle and put a bullet into its brain. It would be an easy shot. The creature would never know what hit it. He resisted the urge though. Unless the smaller beast was a scout, there were certainly others close by. Killing it and the crack of the rifle would reveal his position. Worse, it could stir the monsters up and have them tearing at the gym's barricaded doors sooner than they might if he left the thing alone.

The three men who volunteered to stay outside as exterior guards at the main entrance were oblivious to the thing's presence. They appeared to be nervously talking amongst themselves as one of them puffed on a cigarette.

They won't know it's there until it's on top of them, Justin thought.

"Want me to take it down?" the man next to him asked.

"No, not yet. Let's wait for them to make the first move. When it does, feel free to fill it full of lead."

The man smiled. "No worries there, mate."

Justin returned to his own spot on the roof's perimeter and resumed trying to keep an eye on his side of the gym as well as what he could of Fred's.

He wished Powell and Brent were here. Their training and experience as real officers was sorely missed. Justin wasn't comfortable with the whole thing of being in charge up here. Powell was a cunning and clever little man. It was hard to believe that those things could've caught him. Brent, Justin admitted, was likely dead and decaying somewhere on the streets like so many others.

A loud whoop-whoop-whoop came from the west. Justin recognized what it was at once and turned his binoculars in that direction. Hope filled his heart when he saw it. The helicopter was pouring on the speed and coming straight toward the school. There was no time to fetch Becca. He had to act now if he wanted to make sure the people in it saw them.

In a wild moment of desperation, he tossed his binoculars aside and un-slung his rifle, taking careful aim at the furthest car from the school. His rifle boomed and a bullet ruptured the car's gas tank. The explosion lit the night as fire leapt skyward in the darkness.

If the pilot of the helicopter doesn't notice that, he thought, the man is blind.

He heard a roar off in the bushes. The Bigfoot noticed it, too.

Zack Not long before, the flight over Babble Creek proper made Zack's stomach churn with disgust. He had looked on with disbelief as Ben flew them above the streets littered with wrecked cars, broken bodies, and out-of-control fires. Ben refused to set them down. There was no way. Zack felt the fear radiating from the man like a tangible wave of emotion and didn't dare press him to do so without cause. The worst of their flight over the town, though, wasn't the carnage, but the beasts that roamed through it. They were like a sick cross between an oversized ape and a man. He'd counted three dozen distinct creatures by the time they'd made their second pa.s.s over Main Street and the town's Sheriff Department. He radioed in all they saw, but knew no one would in their right mind be able to believe it without seeing it with their own eyes. Things like this simply didn't happen in the real world.

As they reached the end of Main Street the second time, Ben brought them to a halt, hovering above the main road while Zack awkwardly unfolded a map of the town in his lap. As he fought with the map, he heard a sharp squeak of terror from Ben's lips.