Eaters

And nothing. May as well have been shooting a side of beef. Rick threw the rest of the clip at the guy. He watched as the shots hit and skin rippled, muscle clenched. They were landing, but they weren’t doing a damn thing.

“Jesus, Rick! Get this guy off of me!”

“I’m out! Get away from him!”

Rick was dropping the dead clip and using his free hand to reload. Jan’s face was slick white, sunglasses like bug’s eyes. He slunk back into the cruiser as quickly as he could. Scrub guy was right there, moving deliberately, like he had to think over every step.

Rick put the clip home, but it wasn’t going to do much good. The target was between him and Jan now. No way to take a shot, too much risk involved. Stupid goddamn Jan pulling right into the cruiser. He wasn’t helping anything.

“Hey! Back here you dumbshit!” Rick yelled, hoping to pull the guy away. At least he could out-manuver the guy.
Jan pulled on the door to close it, but he wasn’t fast enough. The guy’s arms snaked out, one on the door frame and one on the cruiser door. Looked like he was going to lose his fingers for a second, but Jan couldn’t seal the deal.

“Rick! Holy shit! Get this guy outta my face!”

Jan’s hysterical words escaped from the cruiser as the guy wrenched on the doors, trying to force them open. The car rocked erratically and Jan tried to worm across the fake leather.

Rick pointed the sidearm down, safety flicked on. He was about to get into a physical situation. No need to get himself shot in the process. With his free hand, he reached around to try and grab one of the guy’s hands, or at the very least get him interested in something other than Jan.

Jan’s voice stopped making sense. The scrub guy leaned in, hand around Jan’s ankle. His jaws opened wide, teeth foul with discolored mucus. Jan’s free foot landed on the jaw, but the guy just took it like nothing. Rick grabbed hold of the guy’s shoulder, but not in time to stop him from biting Jan. Shrieking incomprehensibly, Jan kicked and kicked again.

Rick wrenched at the guy, unable to get a good grip. And there was something wrong about him, a little cool, a little fevered, his skin neither hot nor cold.

“Sonuvabitch! He bit me! Oh God he bit me!” Jan spat in a seemingly single breath.

“Get offa him!”

Rick gave up on grappling with him and instead snapped up his nightstick and let him have it across the ear. There was a sick melon-thud and the guy’s head bounced loosely. Rick was making ready to drop another one when he heard the click of the shotgun being pulled out of its harness.

“Blow you in two you bastard.” Ratchet snap of the pump and Jan had it up and ready.

Rick knew better than to call Jan off. He’d lost it. Discharging a weapon from the inside of the cruiser wasn’t something you did in your right mind. Rick leaped back as best he could, without taking his eyes off the guy.

Scrub guy was watching Rick, eyes slack and jaw fresh with bloody drool. It was like Jan wasn’t there anymore when ten seconds ago, every bit of his strength was going into trying to grab him.

Then the guy turned, wind rippling his clothes and short, unkempt hair. A rope of drool whirled in the breeze before Jan pulled the trigger.

Rick flinched in spite of himself. You see enough cold ones face up and you begin to lose your curiosity about that sort of thing. More so when you drop the hammer on your own. He didn’t need to see the result.

Jan watched the shot tear through skin and meat. At that range, force splintered bone and anything that drove the guy wouldn’t be left standing. Scrub guy slumped into the open door of the cruiser, arm jutting through the shattered safety glass of the passenger window. He hung there for a moment and then fell, face first to the driveway.

There was no motion, not even a twitch.

Rick came to his feet slowly, pistol still drawn on the afternoon’s second body. He spat reflexively, though his mouth was coming up dry. Adrenalin shook his fingers and made him feel like he was made of wet paper.

“Jan? You okay?”

“I’m good. The fucker good and down?”

Rick took a couple steps, still covering the guy. He was full of the big empty.

“Yeah, what’s left of him ain’t getting up. Nobody’s gonna believe this. Hey, how’s the bite?”

Jan pulled himself up in the front seat, looking more than a little lost. “Bite? What are you talking about?”

Rick forced himself to step over the body, noting silently that there was a lot less blood than gunpowder. He tried to reconcile that with the first body they’d found.

“Geez, don’t you remember? That freak was biting your leg and you were screaming like a little bitch.”

Rick got a look at Jan finally. The bite had gone through Jan’s sock, right into the leg, not far above the ankle. There was a bit of blood, but not a lot. Maybe things weren’t that bad, though mark was clearly there, chunk ripped out of the fabric and everything, ridges of the guy’s teeth clearly visible in the skin. Jan himself looked pretty good, unworried, unafraid. Rick had seen the face of shock before, and this was a new one on him.

“I’m good. I’m good.” Jan repeated, just to make sure he was heard the first time. “It’s nothing. We can wrap this one up, right?”

“I think so, partner. Here, why don’t you pass me that shotgun. You’re probably tired of hefting that bad boy, right?”

“Oh, yeah.” Jan handed it across like it was a sandwich he wasn’t going to finish.

There was a snap of metal, which caused Rick to whirl around as soon as he’d taken hold of the Remington. He was in a bad spot, wounded partner and not able to cover either of them from this position.

“Get inside! Come with me!” came a voice from the front of the AM/PM. The Mexican stood there with a chain in one hand, looking around anxiously.

Rick fumbled around, bringing the shotgun up. His eyes narrowed on the clerk. What was up now?

The Mexican pointed over, past the cruiser.

Coming up from behind was a handful of shuffling figures. The sun was over and behind them, but Rick could clearly make out the rings of blood around their mouths. They all moved slow, but they’d be to the cruiser soon enough.

“Come on, Jan. We better move.”

“I’m good,” Jan intoned.