Monsterland (21 page)

Howard yelled, “Look, there are more of them!” He was pointing to the west.

Wyatt picked up the gun, but the remaining soldiers broke rank, disappearing into the rubble.

Vincent turned, his voice panicked. “Stop, you bastards. You’re supposed to protect me! I’m the leader of your world.”

Conrad jumped into his cart, turning abruptly to make his escape. Wyatt held up the rifle, and all things around him turned soft—the only thing he could focus on was the round shape of Vincent’s dark head. He felt a tug against his leg. Carter looked up, his face blanched white but his voice strong. “Close one eye, and aim for the biggest part of him, Son.”

Wyatt nodded, relief filling his chest. “You okay?”

“Flesh wound. Just shoot the son of a bitch.”

The gun fit against his shoulder as if he had held it a hundred times. He didn’t think about the sound. His world shrunk to his father’s corpse, the reassuring weight of Carter against his leg, and the outline of Vincent’s head. Closing one eye, he squeezed the trigger. Nothing happened. He clicked it open—the chambers were empty.

He heard Carter’s soft curse as he hauled himself to his feet.

The wolf spun, leaping over a cluster of dead bodies, its long body stretching over the road, almost airborne. The five of them watched the cart roll over from the impact of the wolf hitting it. Vincent rolled down the soft side of the road and then scrambled to his feet to run down the path. The wolf easily ran after him, leaping on his back so that he fell clumsily. He reached into his pocket to aim a small gun, but the wolf stretched out with his snout, clamping his jaw on Vincent’s wrist, pulling. Vincent watched in revolted fascination as his hand detached. He screamed, high and long, the sound echoing in the empty park. The wolf jumped on his chest—the sound was cut short. Vincent rolled, sobbing for the wolf to leave him be. The animal allowed him to crawl. Vincent looked back, his eyes wild, thinking it was letting him go. “Thank you,” he cried. “Thank you. I will take care of you. I will reward you.” He rambled on, his voice frantic with relief. The wolf raised its head to give a long howl. Everything stopped, even Vincent, who turned to look back. He must have seen something the others didn’t, because he raised his bloody stump, screaming, “Nooooooooooooo…” The wolf raced to him, the scream cut short as the wolf tore Vincent’s head off in a single yank.

They watched it trot, its prize between its long fangs, the lifeless eyes staring back at them, the mouth caught in a soundless scream.

“I guess Melvin was right all along,” Howard said, walking up to them.

“Who would’ve thunk it,” Keisha responded.

“Let’s get out of here,” Wyatt said, taking Jade’s hand in his own.

Carter nodded as he limped over to the dead guard to pick up a gun. He searched the sky, noticing the sun painting the ridge of the eastern mountains.

“First we have to lock the rest of them in.” They followed him to the barricade. They all worked together to shove the iron gate closed. There was a muted fumble on the other side followed by the soft thud of the zombies impacting the hard surface.

The iron clanked loudly as the lock slid into place.

Overhead, a trio of air force jets zoomed low, made a wide curving arc, and flew over again. In the distance, a sea of black helicopters flooded the sky, heading with determination toward the park.

“I guess the joint chief of staff has decided to reassert himself.”

“What?” Wyatt asked.

Howard walked next to him, placing his fingers over his eyes to shade them from the slowly rising sun.

“It means our government has gone back to work.”

“Josh?” Carter questioned, turning to Wyatt.

Wyatt looked at his phone, reading messages, his eyes tearing up. “Home, safe with Mom. She’s freaking out. I have forty-five messages from her. Should I tell her we’re okay?’

Carter hooked his arm around Wyatt’s neck, ruffling his hair.

“Yep. We’re okay.”

In the rusty-orange-colored hills, the sun rose, coating them with warmth, and a lone wolf howled.

A
BOUT THE
A
UTHOR

Michael Phillip Cash is an award-winning screenwriter and novelist. He has written twelve novels including the bestselling Brood X, Stillwell, The Flip, The After House, The Hanging Tree, Battle for Darracia series, Witches Protection Program and Pokergeist. They have won numerous awards, including the NABE Pinnacle Book Achievement Award and Honorable Mention to ForeWord’s Book of the Year IndieFab Awards.

His screenplay for ‘Pokergeist’ won the Grand Jury Prize in Comedy in the 2015 New York Screenwriting Contest out of 5500 screenplays, and was an Official Finalist in the Hollywood Screenplay Awards.

‘Witches Protection Program’ was an Official Finalist in the 2015 New York Screenwriting Contest & Hollywood Screenwriting Contest in Fantasy.

‘Stillwell’ was named as an Official Finalist in the 2015 Los Angeles Movie Awards. ‘Brood X’ won 4thplace out of
4500 scripts on Script Pipeline, was an Official Finalist in the 2015 New York Screenwriting Contest Horror/Sci Fi and the book version won Best Horror 2014 from Reader’s Views and Rebecca’s Reads.

Michael currently resides on the north shore of Long Island with his wife and two screaming monsters. He writes full time and is working on many more novels and screenplays.