Timothy Long - The Apocalypse and Satan's Glory Hole

She jumps out of the truck and walks around the front to check for damage. She has on her no-shit-taking blue jeans and a big flannel shirt opened over a sheer white tank top. Her one perfect tit is displayed through the soft cloth.

“I don’t see any damage.” Edwina stands behind her and stares down the long road, but there is no sign of whatever they just hit. All she can see is black asphalt.

Darla looks over the grill for damage, but the metal is just as clean and silver as the minute they left the compound, with the exception of a few splattered bugs. The big bulldog over the grill grins down at her, and for a second she thinks he turns into a squirming little dick. She does a double take, and the dog is back. She shakes her head but can’t get the picture out of her mind.

The ground jumps underneath them. Marcel falls on her ass, spitting curses like a viper as she smacks into the ground. Darla falls against the side of the truck and grabs hold of a hand rung to keep from being flung to the ground. Edwina rides the quake, shifting from foot to foot in her sensible sneakers. Then the ground thumps one more time and everyone goes down.

“What in the gin-soaked fuck was that?” Darla yells.

A couple of the girls squirrel out of the side of the semi, guns cocked and ready for action. They are prepared to shoot the face off the first man who looks at them in the wrong tone of voice. Edwina isn’t sure what they plan to do against an earthquake.

Maggie and Linda are an odd pair—short Asian women who argue all the time except when they hold weapons. Then they are more wicked than a pair of buddy cops with rocket launchers. Their shoulder-length hair flies around their faces as they exit the vehicle. With tight military precision they assemble, followed by two other girls, one with a giant chain-gun in hand and the other with a shotgun.

“What’s going on?” Maggie asks no one in particular. Edwina always imagines her in one of those movies about the Vietnam War. She would be one of the young women who are sick of being whores and take up weapons. Maggie is just a badass from the word ‘Ho Chi Motherfucking Min’. She can strip, clean, and put together a 9mm so fast it is a Guinness world record waiting to happen.

Explosions erupt in the distance. Really big explosions. Like the world is on fire explosions. Chunks of earth rise into the air and fall with thunks so loud that the sound waves engulf them a half minute later, bringing them to their knees again.

The sound waves wash over the hillside and shake the ground and the trees that line the side of the road. They rattle the rocks on the ground, blast some weeds around like they got hit by a big blower. Dust flies and Darla gets a nose full, which makes her want to sneeze.

They dust themselves off before dashing for the truck. They crouch down by the side and hold on for dear life. Marcel has a dangerous look on her face, but when the world is shaking around you, there isn’t much sense in getting mad at it—or so Edwina reckons. Edwina clings to the ladder on the side of the truck. Darla hangs on behind her, a cocktail of sweat and fear permeating the air. They all reek of it, and she can’t remember ever smelling this particular mixture before.

There is a fresh rumbling, something that seems intent on making their already fucked-up day worse. The sky darkens, and balls of fire streak across the cloud layer and land in the distance. Usually Edwina feels safe with Darla by her side, but now all she wants to do is find a closet to hide in. Or a bunker about five hundred feet underground.

One of the fireballs breaks off from the pack headed into the distance and tears a path of destruction through the ocean of trees. It falls short of the women and their semi and smashes into the ground with a shudder Edwina can feel in her teeth.

Edwina cowers behind her wall of woman flesh, but most of the debris flies overhead. When the ground stops moving, the women turn, dazed, to face the massive hole that has been smashed into the ground about a hundred yards away. From within it comes a shape. A thing of beauty that shimmers and shifts like a dancing tissue. As it emerges, it takes on the form of a dreadful apparition with four legs.

Tattered clothing hangs around its body. Shifts and glows first bright, then dull like it isn’t even there. The air around it shimmers and grows cold. It’s like a freezer door opened and the thing stepped through.

Edwina shakes her head because the thing can’t be real. It’s got a head, sure. One encased in a big hood. She expects it to lower the cowl and look around as if lost. It doesn’t so much as flinch as it breaks into a gallop. That is a horse underneath its body, and the creature looks worse than the thing riding it.

Edwina steps back toward the truck. She doesn’t trust her eyes, but she does trust the handgun at her side. It’s a lovely dull black and when she draws and shoots, hunks of lead fly out in the general shape of the 9mm variety. The thing kicks up, but she is so used to the recoil that she can fire and steady in a split second.

Other shapes rise around the horrendous thing as it trots over the scorched field. Forms resembling humans extract themselves from the earth. Puffs of the ash that is all that’s left of the fallen swath of trees shimmer in the air as hundreds of the creatures pull themselves free of the ground. Edwina checks her second pistol even though she already knows it is loaded with one in the chamber and the safety on. She comforts herself with the thought that she has another clip at her side and one tucked in a tiny holster around her ankle.

The girls back up as one. The air is alive with something Edwina can’t put her finger on. Pain and suffering should hang over this place, but there is only the vibration of excitement. Edwina looks around for Marcel, who appears to have retreated into the semi. For a split second, Edwina wonders if she is hiding. Then she giggles at the silly thought.

The rear door opens, and out pours an army. They have guns, assault rifles, hunting rifles—one even has a sniper rifle. That would be Sue, who trained in the military to take out targets from a distance. She was never allowed in the field; she was told she had been simply a ‘pet project.’ The man who delivered the news said it was because she was a girl and would crack under pressure. She punched him right in the nose, which shut him the fuck up. She loves to tell that story. Loves to talk about the expression on his face as he fell on his ass.

Sue climbs up the side of the semi and takes up position. A pair of girls with modified AK-47s join her. It’s not legal to own an automatic, but they were able to make the change for about ten bucks a gun.

Darla is at her girl’s side, just sidles right up and runs her hand over Edwina’s ass. Edwina looks at her lover and smiles. Darla smirks and raises the big Remington shotgun. She checks the load and then jacks a shell in. Others move behind what cover there is. Larger rocks on the other side of the road provide some protection for those with longer-range guns.

Then the big shape is on the move with the things creeping out of the ground just behind him.

Where the horse steps, things wither and turn to dust. There is an aura around the monster. It hangs dark and ominous. Edwina doesn’t really want to die, but if she is going to bite it today, at least it will be with her family.

Marcel is dressed in her full leathers. Black boots that lick up her thighs and leave a tiny amount of bronzed flesh exposed beneath a skintight black leather skirt. Her tits pop out of her equally tight top, displaying enough cleavage to be just as hot as hell.

She carries an assault rifle over her shoulder in place of a purse. It’s a pretty little AR-15 with a short barrel and a place to slide her arm into the stock. She keeps it slung over her back and walks to the edge of the road. The creature grows close, the massive steed puffing dark steam as it gallops toward them.