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Authors: M K Hobson
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cracking. The earth was opening up before her, adeep wide fissured gap, cobblestones churning like peas in a stew. The ground fell from beneath her feet, and Emily jumped, landing hard on a ragged jutting outcropping. She scrambled to keep from sliding down into the stinking darkness as Black Exunge flowed up from deep within the earth, covering everything.
Emily screeched and drew up her legs to keep from coming in contact with the foul goo. If any part of her flesh touched the Black Exunge, she would be transmogrified into an Aberrancy—just like the vermin that were blossoming up around her from deep underground. Beetles and centipedes were inflating and expanding with hissing shrieks. As the Exunge deformed them, they expanded to hundreds of times their normal size, otherworldly jaws clattering menacingly.
Of particular and immediate concern were the cockroaches.
They clambered up over the lip of the torn sidewalk, mucus-dripping antennae waving like hairy carriage whips.
Dear Mrs. Stanton
, Emily thought, as she looked around herself in a panic for something she could use in her defense,
Miss Edwards deeply regrets missing the lunch you arranged in her honor, but her absence was unavoidable, as she was being eaten by giant cockroaches
.
She seized a cobblestone and heaved it. She was grabbing another one, but thought better of it when she saw that the first cobblestone did little more than attract the attention of the giant cockroach she’d thrown it at. The thing was heading straight for her.
Boom
.
A shotgun blast, close enough that she could smell the powder. A man was beside her, a blur of motion. He leveled a short-barreled shotgun at the huge slimy cockroach bearing down on her and pulled the trigger of the second barrel; the creature exploded in a rain of chitinous black parts and slimy mustard-yellow guts. Thrusting the spent shotgun into Emily’s good hand, he unslung a rifle from his back and aimed it at another cockroach that was waving greedy grasping mouth parts at them. He blasted a load of silver into what would have been the thing’s face, if it had a face, rather than aclattering maw. It collapsed, whistling and keening, hairy black legs twitching.
The man wrapped a hand around Emily’s arm, dragged her down the side of the crumbling mound of earth and rock, then pulled her back behind an overturned wagon. He crouched by her side, putting the wood of the wagon bed at his back. Taking the shotgun from her, he reached coolly into his pocket and pulled out two more shells. He chambered these and clacked the weapon shut, thrusting the gun into her hand.
And at that moment, Emily got a good look at his face. She realized suddenly that it was the brown man, the Russian who’d given her the ticket to Lost Pine. Despite the fact that death was approaching them rapidly, she stared at him for a moment.
“Do you just hang around San Francisco waiting for me?” Emily said.
He tipped his hat to her.
“I have been sent to protect you,” he said. He dropped a handful of silver-packed shells into her lap. He nodded toward a rat that was sniffing curiously at the edge of a flood of Black Exunge. “Keep your eye on that one. He will go at any moment.”
And indeed, the rat did; the moment its pink quivering nose touched the Exunge, the little creature stiffened and began to grow. Steadying the shotgun against her prosthetic forearm, Emily unloaded the first barrel. Silver shot tore the beast’s head into a cloud of black and blood.
“You’re one of the Russians that was up bothering my pap!” Emily yelled at him.
“Sini Mira.”
“We did not harm him,” the brown man said. He lifted the rifle, his bullet somehow finding the eye of an ant the size of a greyhound as it scurried over the top of the wagon. Emily winced as sticky bits spattered her clothing and her face. “We had only a few questions.”
“He doesn’t have any answers for you,” Emily said. “And neither do I.”
“As I
Emily screeched and drew up her legs to keep from coming in contact with the foul goo. If any part of her flesh touched the Black Exunge, she would be transmogrified into an Aberrancy—just like the vermin that were blossoming up around her from deep underground. Beetles and centipedes were inflating and expanding with hissing shrieks. As the Exunge deformed them, they expanded to hundreds of times their normal size, otherworldly jaws clattering menacingly.
Of particular and immediate concern were the cockroaches.
They clambered up over the lip of the torn sidewalk, mucus-dripping antennae waving like hairy carriage whips.
Dear Mrs. Stanton
, Emily thought, as she looked around herself in a panic for something she could use in her defense,
Miss Edwards deeply regrets missing the lunch you arranged in her honor, but her absence was unavoidable, as she was being eaten by giant cockroaches
.
She seized a cobblestone and heaved it. She was grabbing another one, but thought better of it when she saw that the first cobblestone did little more than attract the attention of the giant cockroach she’d thrown it at. The thing was heading straight for her.
Boom
.
A shotgun blast, close enough that she could smell the powder. A man was beside her, a blur of motion. He leveled a short-barreled shotgun at the huge slimy cockroach bearing down on her and pulled the trigger of the second barrel; the creature exploded in a rain of chitinous black parts and slimy mustard-yellow guts. Thrusting the spent shotgun into Emily’s good hand, he unslung a rifle from his back and aimed it at another cockroach that was waving greedy grasping mouth parts at them. He blasted a load of silver into what would have been the thing’s face, if it had a face, rather than aclattering maw. It collapsed, whistling and keening, hairy black legs twitching.
The man wrapped a hand around Emily’s arm, dragged her down the side of the crumbling mound of earth and rock, then pulled her back behind an overturned wagon. He crouched by her side, putting the wood of the wagon bed at his back. Taking the shotgun from her, he reached coolly into his pocket and pulled out two more shells. He chambered these and clacked the weapon shut, thrusting the gun into her hand.
And at that moment, Emily got a good look at his face. She realized suddenly that it was the brown man, the Russian who’d given her the ticket to Lost Pine. Despite the fact that death was approaching them rapidly, she stared at him for a moment.
“Do you just hang around San Francisco waiting for me?” Emily said.
He tipped his hat to her.
“I have been sent to protect you,” he said. He dropped a handful of silver-packed shells into her lap. He nodded toward a rat that was sniffing curiously at the edge of a flood of Black Exunge. “Keep your eye on that one. He will go at any moment.”
And indeed, the rat did; the moment its pink quivering nose touched the Exunge, the little creature stiffened and began to grow. Steadying the shotgun against her prosthetic forearm, Emily unloaded the first barrel. Silver shot tore the beast’s head into a cloud of black and blood.
“You’re one of the Russians that was up bothering my pap!” Emily yelled at him.
“Sini Mira.”
“We did not harm him,” the brown man said. He lifted the rifle, his bullet somehow finding the eye of an ant the size of a greyhound as it scurried over the top of the wagon. Emily winced as sticky bits spattered her clothing and her face. “We had only a few questions.”
“He doesn’t have any answers for you,” Emily said. “And neither do I.”
“As I
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