Weston Ochse - Reign of Evil

He gestured for Ian to follow. After a moment’s hesitation he did. Good thing too, because the little creatures were already up to the counter and trying to climb. So it was with some well-placed kicks and quick-fired shots that Ian and Walker were holding their own. Enough dead homunculi littered the ground that the others had to walk on them.

Jerry and Trev weren’t faring as well. Jerry was down on his knees and trying to get back to his feet. Beside him rolled several bowling balls, which had evidently been thrown at him. By the stunned look on his face, at least one had found its mark. Meanwhile, Trev was firing madly into the crowd of creatures rushing toward him.

Walker did the math. Even if the Section 9 guy hit every target with a kill shot he didn’t have the ammo to get them all without switching out magazines. Even if it only took a few seconds, those precious few would be enough for the homunculi to bring them down.

Walker leaped off the counter into a clear area and began running, heading for the wall Trev and Jerry had at their backs. Walker leaped on a mezzanine above the lanes as he began to fire into the herd of homunculi. Firing until his weapon was empty, he dropped the rifle and let the sling catch it, then in one smooth move pulled the Glock from its quick-draw holster and began to fire. He slowed to a walk, keeping his aim steady as he pulled the trigger with metronomic regularity. The words slow is smooth; smooth is fast ran through his mind as he found a stair down to lane level and moved into lane seventeen.

Jerry suddenly found his senses and lifted his rifle. He was still on his knees, but he fired from the hip. At last, the combined firepower of Walker, Jerry, and Trev was enough to stop the onslaught. Surviving homunculi turned and fled, flinging themselves into the chandeliers and swinging swiftly across the lanes back to where the warlock was now engaged with Sassy Moore in what appeared to be nothing more than a staring contest.

Ian came up behind Walker and the two of them ran to Trev and Jerry.

“Reload!” Walker shouted. He changed the mag in his Glock, reholstered it, then dropped the mag to his SA80 and replaced it. He chambered a round and brought his weapon around just in time to nail a homunculus square in the head coming down the stairs.

Walker kept his voice steady. “Everyone ready? With me, move steady. Slow is smooth; smooth is fast.”

The four moved shoulder to shoulder across the lanes, sweeping everything in front. While Ian and Trev had the flanks, Walker and Jerry had the center. Each of them fired as needed, knowing to preserve his ammunition and aim at only targets that presented danger.

Walker kept his eye to the chandeliers in case any were hiding there, but with their bright orange coloring he doubted they’d be able to disguise themselves.

Meanwhile he kept track of the warlock and witch out of the corner of his eye. They still stood quietly. If there was a battle occurring, it wasn’t something Walker was able to see. Just as well.

He was beginning to feel confident when something immense began to crawl out of the far end of lane five. Jerry and Ian began to fire at it, but the rounds had no visible effect.

They’d come to an immediate halt in lane eight.

Walker and Ian fired at other homunculi arrayed across the lanes while the creature emerged and stood to its full height.

Jerry’s eyes shot wide. “Bleeding Barney!”

“Crumbs!” exclaimed Trev.

Walker stared at the most terrifying aspect he’d never envisioned. It looked like Krampus but was too huge, its face too void of features to be the same as its namesake. It stood fifteen feet tall with four-foot horns curled like a ram’s. With a triangular head, where its eyes, nose, and mouth should be were blank, as if its creator hadn’t finished. Mottled-gray skin tightly covered a body with broad shoulders, long arms, and legs with the reversed knees of a goat. Its talon-tipped hands reached toward them.

The remaining homunculi gathered at its feet. Several clambered up its body and rested on its shoulders or clung to its legs.

“What in the holy hells,” Walker said, each word coming with shotgun force. “Back,” he said. “We gotta get back.”

The moment they began backing up, the giant horned being began moving forward. It had no eyes, but it had ears and could discern their location by the noise they made. The smaller creatures arrayed themselves in front of and beside it. No longer were they rushing pell-mell to their deaths. Now they were in a tactical formation meant to keep their god nearby.

The giant creature came to a chandelier and swept it down from the ceiling with one swipe of the arm, pieces shattering and skittering across the lanes.

Walker knew then that he had to stay out of its reach.

Jerry and Trev still fired at it but with absolutely no effect.

“Save your ammo!” Walker shouted. “Kill the small ones first.”

They backed away keeping the three-lane distance between them and the oncoming creatures. Their shift of fire had great effect as the smaller, more susceptible creatures fell beneath their well-aimed 5.56mm rounds.

The giant horned Krampus-like creature came to the next chandelier. Instead of sweeping this one aside, it wrenched it from the ceiling, then hurled it at them. It crashed against the lane in front of them as they dove out of the way.

Trev ended up in the pinsetter of lane thirteen.

The others dove the other way.

Walker climbed back to his feet and continued to fire.

Ian was slower to get up.

Jerry didn’t even try to untangle his limbs from the pinsetter. He continued to fire from the prone position.

Two homunculi attacked Trev, who was forced to drop his rifle. He pulled his Glock with his right hand and his knife with the other. The knife was long and thin, unlike the K-bar. It was a Fairbairn-Sykes fighting knife, used exclusively by the British Special Air Service, and had more of a stiletto appearance.

Walker watched while Trev shot one of the creatures in the head, then stabbed the other several times and finally, in a rush of screams and adrenaline, sawed off the thing’s arm.

That’s when Walker had an idea.

Now that all the smaller versions were dead or dying, he had more freedom of movement. He ripped his rifle free and tossed it aside as he ran to a rack of bowling balls. He picked one up but couldn’t get his fingers in the holes. He ripped off his balaclava and, using his teeth, pulled his glove free. Then he stuck his fingers in the ball and turned.

The giant Krampus tore yet another chandelier from the ceiling.

Walker windmilled his arm and let the bowling ball fly free. It soared in the air, missing the giant but striking a chandelier, shattering the glass.

“What the bloody hell are you doing?” Ian yelled.

Walker grabbed another ball. “We’ve got to bring it down.” He threw again. This time the ball hit it in the midsection, knocking it back a step.

Ian and Jerry ran up beside him.

“Then what?” Jerry asked.

Walker turned with another ball in his hand. He shouted loud enough for Trev to hear, from where he was crouched in the pinsetter recess, “Then we cut off its fucking head!”

Walker let loose with a ball, catching it in the chest.

Jerry and Ian did the same, both missing.

“Come on.” Walker unleashed another missile. This one hit the creature in the head and it reeled.

Both Ian’s and Jerry’s balls hit the creature too. Bullets couldn’t hurt it, but blunt-force trauma was doing something.

It came at them, but they were protected by the giant score screens above the ball racks.

They spread out. Now that it was closer, it was an easier target. That said, Walker was tiring quickly and his shoulder felt wretched from not only breaking through the plywood but also hurling ten- to fifteen-pound balls at a giant monster.