Yellow Eyes

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic

Chapter 2 (v.1)

Submitted: April 17, 2008

Reads: 233

Comments: 4

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Submitted: April 17, 2008

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All I could see was the side of the house next door, the blinds down over the two bedroom windows that faced my garage.Edging along the side of the garage, I looked toward the street.The young couple across the street were outside, staring down the street where a woman was mauling some man, probably her husband, and a few cars were slowing to investigate the recently wrecked car that was up over the curb with its nose against a couple tipped over garbage cans.I started to yell across the street to my young neighbors when the door to the house next to theirs banged open.They turned to face the wide mouthed, sharp-toothed devil that stepped out onto the porch.He stood still for a moment, blood on his face and shirt, and then turned his head toward the couple.They reached for each other’s hands and backed away from him as he came off the porch at a sprint.
I ran out into the street and brought the Mosberg to my shoulder and squeezed a shot off at him.He staggered but kept going for them.Pumping the action, I jacked the spent shell and fired again.This time he went down, a spray of red erupting from his chest before he went cartwheeling sideways against his house.The young couple turned around and looked at me.
“Get back in your house and lock the doors!”I screamed.They nodded, stuck to the lawn by shock and disbelief.I stared at them hard for a moment, then turned away and went for my truck.When I was pulling the door open, it flashed through my mind that the streets were going to be an awful mess.With the way people were wrecking this morning, there were going to be cars piled everywhere and on top of that, anyone with any good sense was going to be trying to get out of the city.The streets would be locked down with traffic at a standstill.I stood with the door open for a moment, trying to decide what to do.I heard somebody screaming for help up the block and turned around to head for the voice.
When I had sprinted past about five or seven houses, I found the person that was screaming.It was a teenage boy climbing into the higher branches of an old Maple in front of a two story Victorian.Behind him and struggling, was a chubby dude with a bald head and claws for hands.I snapped the shotgun to my shoulder and was going to fire when I realized the shot spread would probably hit the boy too.I let the shotgun drop to the ground and pulled the 9mm from its holster and ran up closer and took time to aim.
When I shot, the man climbing after the youth jerked sideways and came crashing down through the branches, striking a larger limb toward the bottom, before hitting the ground.He growled with rage and pain, a low animal sound, and struggled to his feet.I could see by the blood on his shirt that I had hit him high up in the side, but not anywhere vital.He made it to his feet and staggered toward me, animal fury animating his face.I aimed again, this time from about seven yards away, and put one in his throat.He went down clawing where the bullet struck.
Fast steps behind me took my attention away from the man I had just shot and I swung around and started backpedaling.It was a kid, maybe about ten by her size, and she had those damn yellow eyes.I squeezed off a shot and missed and then she was in the air, taking a leap for me.I dropped the gun when she caught me by the shirtfront and sunk her teeth into my chest.I toppled over backwards and screamed with pain as she jerked her head to the side, tearing tissue loose.Her claws were raking for my face and I held up an arm to block her clawing, catching some nasty gouges on my forearm.With my free hand, I snatched her hair and jerked back hard, paying for it by having a chunk of flesh torn free as she held on with her mouth.She screeched and scrambled for my face but I jerked again, throwing her off me.She rolled over a few times before coming to a stop and getting to her feet, but I was up already and raised my foot and booted her in the head.When she fell down, I stomped on her head and felt her skull collapse under the force of it.
Across the street some woman was yelling that I had killed her baby.The kid in the tree was bawling and babbling.I picked up the pistol and went back to get my shotgun and the woman from across the street was running for me.She ran into me, her fists flying, and caught me under the eye.I shoved her off and kicked her in the stomach.When she doubled over I hit her with the butt of the pistol alongside her head and she fell down unconscious.Thinking back on it, the act was probably tantamount to murder because at that time, the change had just occurred and the ones who had changed were having a free for all, killing anyone they could find.But I didn’t think of it then, I just whacked her a good one and ran off down the street.
People were screaming all over the place.A few cars were winding through the street going slow, the drivers gawking at the people running around in terror, the killing that was taking place.I flicked a glance toward one car, saw the driver putting it in park and opening the door, obviously concerned with the carnage he was witnessing.There was one of those yellow-eyed shark mouthed demons tearing for hell toward the car from the passenger side that the driver didn’t see.I looked away, turned my head to check the other side of the street and kept running.My chest hurt like a son of a bitch where the little girl thing had bit me and the scratches across my forearm burned like a mother.I pushed the pain aside and slowed a little turning in a circle to make sure nothing was running up on me.
I made the end of the street in just a few minutes.Stopping where my street dead-ended into Main St., I bent over a little, catching my breath.Keeping my ears open for footsteps, I turned my head to look around and saw the bedlam was here as well.I had expected as much.Right across the street was a parking lot to a veterinarian’s office and
Out there in its parking lot were two bodies.Down the street to the north were a few cars off the side of the road.I could hear screaming coming from the convenience store that direction, sirens sounded nearby and in the distance.On my right was an empty lot, overgrown with tall grass and large clumps of multiflora rose.Turning toward it, I ran into the lot and when I was pretty well where I thought I would be out of sight, I hunkered down in the tall grass, my back to one of the thick thorn bushes.
Unstrapping my pack and unslinging the rifle I placed the back-pack between my knees and unzipped it. Digging out a box of shells for the shotgun, I thumbed them in shells to replace the ones I had fired.I stood and crammed some into my pocket before replacing the shells in the 9mm.Thinking it over, I also pocketed some loads for the pistols in the holsters.When I was done, I put the backpack back on, slung the 30.06 and with the shotgun held in front of me, made my way across the lot to Cook Road, which ran parallel to my street.
Cook Road was one of the main thoroughfares through town and where I was, it was a four laner with a suicide lane for turning.I watched the cars creeping around the wreckage and carnage.A police cruiser went by, sirens flashing, and across the street at a restaurant, people were packing into their cars and bending each other’s fenders in an attempt to escape the parking lot.There were about twenty of the yellow eyes, as I started calling them then, going from car to car, searching out and attacking those who had failed to get locked in their cars.
Some of the people over there were fighting back all right.I saw one man standing in the bed of a truck dealing out heavy blows with a short handled sledge hammer as five or so yellow eyes tried to get at him.As I watched, he caught one with a low arcing swing that made its head seem to explode.I cheered for the guy silently, then crossed the street at a dead sprint, ran between a couple houses that backed up against the restaurant, and then slipped past them into a housing development in the early stages of construction.
There were dirt piles everywhere, large coils of plastic tile for drainage and heavy machinery.The site would have normally been alive and bustling with activity by this time, but given the circumstances of the insanity the world was undergoing that day, nobody had showed up for work.I went from dirt pile to dirt pile, from those big coils of drain tile, and to the machines, keeping to cover and taking the time to survey my surroundings before sprinting from one place to the other.
In the construction site, the sounds of the bedlam rocking the city around it were muffled and seemed distant, as if the troubles would be kept to where the populace was.I ran from behind a backhoe and headed for a coil of tile, noticed movement near a big trencher off to my left and dove for the tile.I hit the dirt and gravel on my elbows and slid a few feet before stopping.Scrambling to my feet, I peered around the side of the coil to where I had seen the movement and froze.

One of the yellow eyes was standing with his clawed hand on the trencher, his back arched and his face snapping from side to side.I squinted toward him, watched as his face crinkled and uncrinkled continuously and then felt my blood run cold.He was sniffing the air.I shrank back a little, pulled my body closer to the tile and watched as he stepped away from the trencher, his arms held out in front of him, bent up at the elbows, wrists dangling loose in a rodent’s posture.He continued sniffing the air and following whatever scent he had caught.I backed up a step and brought my shotgun to bear because every step he was taking was bringing him closer to me.


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