Screaming Planet

Where old bloggers come to die.

A Temporary Respite

Posted on | November 8, 2011 | No Comments

[flickr]photo:6325021775[/flickr]

B’day reflexively reached for his gun, and was almost surprised to find it still dangling on his shoulder, after all the tumbling and turning. He drew the rifle up to aim, but then remembered the shot.

“No bullet,” he shouted to the Major.

“Bullets won’t help,” groaned the Major, pushing against the oars. “Get down! Everybody!”

“What?” asked B’day, but then fell to his hands and knees as a hollow thump rang off the back of the boat. Hervick stood up, bracing his legs wide for balance, twisted around lifting one of his oars like a spear, and poked at something in the water, once, twice, hard. Then, seemingly satisfied, he sat back on his bench and reset the oar in its lock. The two soldiers fell back into rhythm, and as B’day managed to get upright again, he saw the animals were slowly falling behind.

However, a loud squeal drew his attention to four more of the beasts, running along the riverbank, tracking their progress.

“Why they hunt us?” asked B’day.

No one volunteered a response, until the girl, prone in the front of the boat, spoke in a hoarse voice.

“Whatever their motives were before… I’m pretty sure now they’re just out to eat us.”

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    Written in minutes and fact-checked in seconds via Google. May contain unsafe levels of self-righteousness. Past cleverness is no guarantee of future results.
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