Avenging Autumn: Seasons Change Book 1 of 4 by Derek A Schneider Page A

Jack’s gaze and he could
make out the dark shapes of five more werewolves closing in on
them.
    “ C’mon,” Frank said, “back the way
I came.”
    But as the two men turned, they found more
monstr-ous figures moving through the stalks toward them. Frank
grabbed his oldest son by the arm and turned back toward the
graveyard, but again their path was blocked. They were com-pletely
surrounded by the beasts.
    “ What…What do we do now, Dad?” Jack
whispered. “What do we do?”
    Frank could tell he was on the verge of losing
his composure. The Old Man quickly stowed his sword back in its
sheath. “Guns!” he exclaimed, trying hard to put some meas-ure of
confidence in his voice. “Put your back against mine and start
firing. Don’t stop until we’re the only motherfuckers standing in
this cornfield. Do you understand?”
    Jack swallowed hard, “Yes,” was all he
said.
    “ And whatever you do, don’t let one
of them bite you.”
    “ Right,” Jack said, replacing his
sword on his back and pulling two 9mm semi-automatic pistols from
their hol-sters. Frank thought his oldest boy sounded a little
surer of himself.
    The Old Man pulled an Uzi that was strapped to
his back and began to fire, holding the grip of the weapon with his
left hand in an effort to control the kick.
    The Uzi spoke in short barks, tearing through
cornstalks and werewolves alike. Frank could hear the rapid fire of
the two 9’s Jack held as well as the satisfying cries of pain from
the creatures moving in on them. They may just make it out of this
one.
    Just then, Frank noticed something that turned
his blood ice cold. The werewolves they shot were falling dead, but
there were more moving in behind them, only these were not
creeping, but running at full speed.
    The clip on Frank’s Uzi went empty and he
dropped the gun and pulled two .45’s from his belt. The werewolves
were getting closer and there seemed to be an endless stream of
them hiding in the giant cornfield.
    Frank turned to his right in time to see a
large were-wolf leaping toward him. He raised the .45 in his right
hand and the cannon like blast sent the creature reeling back the
direction it had come with the top of it’s head torn
off.
    Jack kept his pistols blazing until they were
both empty. He then tossed the guns aside and pulled two more 9’s
from shoulder holsters. The werewolves were unlike anything he had
ever imagined. Oh, how TV and movies had lied to him. These things
walked on their hind legs and at full height were nearly ten feet
tall. Now that they were on full attack they weren’t bothering to
lay low and hide in the stalks. Be-sides, there weren’t a lot of
stalks left to hide behind, especial-ly where Frank had used the
Uzi.
    As the werewolves drew closer, they began to
swipe at them with long, hideous claws. They didn’t seem to be
mindless killers at all, but organized, intelligent
beings.
    Suddenly the werewolves were coming at them in
waves, and Frank and Jack both knew the next time they ran out of
bullets, they were dead.
    One of Frank’s .45’s blew a gaping hole in a
were-wolf’s chest, while another’s eye exploded from Jack’s 9mm
slug. This one’s throat erupted in a volcanic shower of blood. That
one’s crotch caught a searing round and it let out a high pitched
squeal as it fell. This one got the 45 point blank in the mouth,
covering the monster behind it with brain and shattered teeth. That
one got the 9mm point blank and it’s heart disintegrated in it’s
chest. On and on it went until finally, Frank and Jack’s guns were
clicking on empty chambers.
    This was it.
    Both men knew they were about to
die.
    Jack closed his eyes, while Frank only stared
up de-fiantly at the werewolf in front of him, it’s claw raised in
preparation of tearing the old man’s face off.
    With the suddenness of a lightning crash,
there was an eruption of automatic gunfire and the werewolf that
was about to strike Frank was being riddled with bullet