to catch a glimpse of the lord’s handiwork, though the grotesque scene that greets me has nothing to do with him. The werewolves have seized the advantage and are making mincemeat out of the zombies. They’re tearing through them as savagely as a wood chipper does a tree. Dead body parts fly around like confetti at a parade. The bright side is, I’m glad to see the surviving townsfolk fighting side by side with them, guns blazing’, doing their best to help out. I don’t spot my pa or Silver Joe in the chaos—not good—but Rebel’s out there working out his aggression, doing just fine.
Two more vibrating blasts come from inside the church as two more RIM’s break through the roof. Father Miguel isn’t taking any chances. I scan the skies looking for the big red bastard. I don’t see him at first but the path the missiles take tell me where to look. I see Balzuzu ascending into the sky about a half mile to the west. From this distance, the way his wings are spread along with the long angular shape of his face, he resembles a dragon, one that’s out for revenge and coming to burn our village to the ground.
The second missile appr oaches him from above. The devil dives downward then makes a ninety degree turn a few feet above ground. The missile turns with him, but can’t match the abrupt change in direction and explodes against the ground. Balzuzu’s coming back this way fast and hard, low and angry. Two more missiles bear down on him from up high. Balzuzu zig-zags, but he’s still heading right for us. If these missiles don’t hit him, if he somehow avoids them, then every one of us is dead. I head out into the street, ready my gun, just in case. Not that it’s going to stop him, but I’d rather go out shooting a gun than standing around waiting to be slaughtered.
Balzuzu avoids the next missile by darting quickly to his left. It too explodes upon impact with the earth, throwing balls of flame into the background. Balzuzu veers back on course, narrowly avoiding the last missile as well. The plume of fire that shoots up feels symbolic, a final candle burning before our lives get snuffed out.
I kneel and ready my weapon, hoping that somehow I manage a lucky shot. I try to get one of his eyes lined up in my scope. I figure I have about ten seconds to lock in on it and take the shot. I catch his face in the scope. A portion of his long mouth is missing. Black blood drips from his chest. At least there’s comfort in knowing we put a dent in him before we died. I put an ounce of pressure on the trigger, trying to lineup his eye in the crosshairs.
Then the church explodes from the inside out.
Three missiles burst forth, shot at ground level, all in a straight line on a direct collision course with our devil. Balzuzu sees me. He sees them. His eyes narrow. He wants me more than he wants to dodge them, so he doesn’t change course until it’s too late. He darts upward but there’s no way in hell he can avoid the missiles. They arc up with him, matching and surpassing his speed. The first one blasts into his midsection, exploding into an all-consuming ball of flame. A micro second later, the next two hit him just as hard. The explosion blows me back off my feet. The weapon I was holding slides down the street. My ears ring. Still, I get a good glimpse and the results are epic.
Balzuzu took the full brunt of the triple blast and got thrown a good distance before plunging to the ground like a flaming meteor. When he hit, he created a smoldering impact crater ten yards wide. If he were truly born in the pits of hell, I’m guessing right about now he feels at home. With a little luck we sent him out the same way he came in.
A hand clasps my shoulder before I’m on my feet. It’s Miguel.
“I’m okay.” I nod.
“Let us pray the devil is not,” he responds.
Miguel helps me to my feet. I pick up my fully automatic; make sure the locking mechanism is in place. “Let’s go over there and find out.”
We
Two more vibrating blasts come from inside the church as two more RIM’s break through the roof. Father Miguel isn’t taking any chances. I scan the skies looking for the big red bastard. I don’t see him at first but the path the missiles take tell me where to look. I see Balzuzu ascending into the sky about a half mile to the west. From this distance, the way his wings are spread along with the long angular shape of his face, he resembles a dragon, one that’s out for revenge and coming to burn our village to the ground.
The second missile appr oaches him from above. The devil dives downward then makes a ninety degree turn a few feet above ground. The missile turns with him, but can’t match the abrupt change in direction and explodes against the ground. Balzuzu’s coming back this way fast and hard, low and angry. Two more missiles bear down on him from up high. Balzuzu zig-zags, but he’s still heading right for us. If these missiles don’t hit him, if he somehow avoids them, then every one of us is dead. I head out into the street, ready my gun, just in case. Not that it’s going to stop him, but I’d rather go out shooting a gun than standing around waiting to be slaughtered.
Balzuzu avoids the next missile by darting quickly to his left. It too explodes upon impact with the earth, throwing balls of flame into the background. Balzuzu veers back on course, narrowly avoiding the last missile as well. The plume of fire that shoots up feels symbolic, a final candle burning before our lives get snuffed out.
I kneel and ready my weapon, hoping that somehow I manage a lucky shot. I try to get one of his eyes lined up in my scope. I figure I have about ten seconds to lock in on it and take the shot. I catch his face in the scope. A portion of his long mouth is missing. Black blood drips from his chest. At least there’s comfort in knowing we put a dent in him before we died. I put an ounce of pressure on the trigger, trying to lineup his eye in the crosshairs.
Then the church explodes from the inside out.
Three missiles burst forth, shot at ground level, all in a straight line on a direct collision course with our devil. Balzuzu sees me. He sees them. His eyes narrow. He wants me more than he wants to dodge them, so he doesn’t change course until it’s too late. He darts upward but there’s no way in hell he can avoid the missiles. They arc up with him, matching and surpassing his speed. The first one blasts into his midsection, exploding into an all-consuming ball of flame. A micro second later, the next two hit him just as hard. The explosion blows me back off my feet. The weapon I was holding slides down the street. My ears ring. Still, I get a good glimpse and the results are epic.
Balzuzu took the full brunt of the triple blast and got thrown a good distance before plunging to the ground like a flaming meteor. When he hit, he created a smoldering impact crater ten yards wide. If he were truly born in the pits of hell, I’m guessing right about now he feels at home. With a little luck we sent him out the same way he came in.
A hand clasps my shoulder before I’m on my feet. It’s Miguel.
“I’m okay.” I nod.
“Let us pray the devil is not,” he responds.
Miguel helps me to my feet. I pick up my fully automatic; make sure the locking mechanism is in place. “Let’s go over there and find out.”
We
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