by Brad 'Simon' Smith
The pavement was cold against my cheek when I woke up. I immediately regretted my state of consciousness, as my entire body ached, and there was a sharp pain in my side when I inhaled. I was pretty sure that I had at least cracked a few ribs when I landed. I wasn’t sure I was glad to be alive or not.
She rolled me over on my back, and the pain was so intense for a moment I almost passed back out. She was saying something, but the ringing in my ears from the explosion, and the fact that I couldn’t lip read meant she was engaged in a futile attempt. Her golden hair had come out from underneath her headband, and the chill wind whipped it around her head like some sort of halo. The clouds were darkening the sky, and just my luck, it was probably going to rain.
She propped me up, and gave me some pills. I got to see the damage I had done with just some explosives I had scratch built from what I found in the ruined shell of what had once been a house, before the Migou had tore up the Midwest. The behemoth was all but disintegrated, with a single leg ending in shredded ribbons and a blackened twist of bone being the only discernible piece of a creature which had probably been about four stories high. The rest of the creature had been scattered over a large area, coating the ground and several houses with viscous orange fluid and bits of pulpy tissue.
I looked around, hoping to see the rest of our crew, but we appeared to be the only survivors. Our jeep lay on its side, where the behemoth had tossed it after we bailed. From the looks of it, the vehicle would never be drivable again.
This was going to be a long walk. I checked the magazine on my rifle, and saw it only had four rounds left. I hoped the explosion wouldn’t attract any more abominations.