Chapter 1
Luke clutched his machine gun firmly and slowly raised it, aiming at the compound's outer gate. The four others on guard duty all did the same. They were all lined up on the gate's left from the perspective of someone coming in, to cut the risk of friendly fire if they had to shoot. Their commander waited at the end of the line, similarly armed. The overcast morning was chill, and Luke wished he'd put on something thicker.
Tom, who was standing nearest the wall, looked around and said, “At least they're early this time.”
Mike, standing beside him, grunted without saying anything.
“Yeah,” said Karen. “Maybe we'll get off early. But let's get this done first.”
The other two guards, guns held by their sides, went up to the great gate and pulled back the latches holding it shut.
The gate was a nine-foot high mass of salvaged parts – sheet metal, scaffolding, other smaller gates from before they fall, all welded or tied together. It was set in the equally high and hodgepodge outer wall. It squealed on its rollers as it opened. A second later came the sound of a revving engine, and the delivery van rolled into view.
Before the fall, it wouldn't have been something you'd look twice at. Now it was transformed into something vicious: Metal grating over all the windows; more armour of sheet metal covering the bonnet and bodywork and wheels; old rotary lawnmower blades affixed to the doors to cut up anything that tried to hold on without being invited.
As soon as it was through, the guards pushed the gates closed again. Luke kept his gun trained on the gap – closing, closing, closed. The guards slammed the great latched into place, and he felt a wave of relief and lowered his gun.
“Good job, guys,” the commander said.
Then something scuttled out from beneath the truck. It was halfway towards them before anyone even registered what was going on.
It had been human once. Parts of it still were: The legs, despite their speed and the weird way they moved, were covered in old, tattered jeans, stained with dirt and dry blood. The feet at the ends, though, were too big and meaty, with claws for toes. Its bare torso was about the right shape, but covered in so many lesions and red-grey growths like rotting raw meat it was impossible to tell if the original person had been male or female. Its arms were tipped with sharp blades of bone poking through the flesh. And its head – it had no head, just a gaping mouth surrounded by irregular teeth and insect-like mouthparts.
Shouting: “Fucking runner!”
“Get it!”
By the time the guards had managed to raise their guns and aim, the demon was almost on top of its intended victim: Tom. It bounded into him with its bone spikes outstretched. He screamed as the spikes went into his shoulders – and stopped a second later when a proboscis shot out the creatures mouth and embedded itself in his neck.
Luke was the one who saved them. He held a steady enough aim on the demon's left knee. As it moved away from Tom's body, its leg bent sideways, and it toppled to the floor.
It kept moving, crawling on its spikes. But by now, the guards were able to surround it, all firing. In the end, Karen came in with an axe. She brought it down first on the creature's shoulder, biting into the flesh, which oozed something more grey than red. A second blow took of the arm.
Again, she hit it, and again. All the limbs off.
The remaining pieces lay on the ground, twitching.
Tom, laying in the ground in a pool of his own blood, began to shudder. An infectious demon, then.
The commander ordered them to shoot him in the head. They did so.
He stopped moving.
Luke lowered his gun, and stared at the mess. Two piles of stinking meat meat. The truck, still waiting, with a line of bullet holes down its side. The drivers had been smart enough to wait in the cab until the runner was
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