A Friend You Haven't Met: Part Ten

 

It was already a lot bigger than it had been when it came out of the fountain in the morning daylight. Whether it was spreading out in the cloaking shadows or swollen with feeding off the latent evils of our world, it was bigger than a horse now and moving with the smooth machine-like grace of a spider. I stood there, stunned, as it turned and fell springing on its legs, hideous face towards us, jaws splayed and hissing.

Before I could recover Roth had sprung forward charging like a bull, with a roar that sent his futile mask flying off his muzzle and fluttering through the dusty twilight like a falling flag.  In a heartbeat the burly Morg closed the space between himself and the beast, bringing his sword swinging down like the arc of a butcher’s cleaver.

The Tekkel recoiled under the power of the onslaught, but the blade simply went sliding along the armored hide, unable to penetrate its chitinous protection. The sword went ringing off into the shadows. The next instant the creature had clamped half-a-dozen limbs around the struggling Roth and was drawing the pinned, roaring Morg in toward its chittering fangs.

I uncorked the flask and jumped forward, but I felt like my old bones were moving like molasses. I couldn’t possibly reach the pair in time. Then I was suddenly pushed out of the way. I fell to my knees with a searing jolt of pain. There were two explosions right by my ear and I saw the beast stagger back and loosen its hold on the Morg. With two crunching punches to the Tekkel’s throat Roth broke free and went rolling to the side. I twisted my head and saw Kassie had run forward and was standing with the little gun smoking in her hand, a look of grim but satisfied horror on her face. I knew that look. It was the look of someone who has finally found the worthy and proper target of their wrath and had let it go without any holds.

That look switched to fear, though, as the Tekkel rallied and turned its attention straight onto the girl and snaked forward with barely a pause. She seemed to realize that whatever this freak was, bullets weren’t going to stop it, and that thought was robbing her of the strength to pull the trigger again. She stood there in front of the approaching monster like a deer frozen in headlights. I fought to rise up on my crackling knees but was having trouble. Korm bent down to help me, but it was hard for me to grip his paw and still hold onto the slippery flask, my only weapon. The flashlight beam swung wildly as he tried to pull me to my feet, and I could see alternately Kassie’s shocked face and the grotesque monstrosity that was bearing down on her.

Then with a bellow of “The Father Son and Holy Spirit!” that was quivering with fright and rage, Father Timothy came barreling down the lane. He had snatched up one of the flimsy plastiform chairs and was holding it in front of him like a lion tamer as he ran. He collided with the charging Tekkel and for a few seconds he bore it back, just enough time for Kassie to snap out of her trance. The priest’s face went beet red under his snowy hair with the strain of holding the monster back.

The cheap metal and plastic split apart with a crack and Timmy went tumbling thunderously to the floor. Kassie raised her gun to shoot again, but it had jammed; she fought furiously to get it to fire. The Tekkel reared up, vicious foreclaws poised to come splitting down on the old man’s head. I hobbled forward, desperately trying to fling sprays of the sanctified water at the beast, but my feeble swings didn’t reach it. Korm drew his arm back, as if he was going to throw the flashlight in a futile act of last desperation.

And then suddenly Maggie was there, interposing herself between the monster and the priest, flying and buzzing like a furious wasp, tendrils of grass and vines shooting out in a mad halo, that in her anger made her look three times bigger.

“You’re not gonna hurt my Timmy!” she bawled. “Take that! And that! And that!”  With each yell a dirt clod came hurtling out of her fists and struck the creature on the head. Vines shot out of her mud body and tangled themselves around the Tekkel’s legs. For a moment the beast was halted, not by any pain of the puny attack but in sheer amazement. Then it recovered itself.

It reached out an abrupt, casual claw, and Maggie’s severed head went rolling away and her little body thumped soddenly to the floor, earth to earth.

Timmy howled, a great wordless cry of denial, but at that moment Kassie swooped in and hauled him out of the way, grabbing the collar of his robe and tugging him up backward to his feet. Then the way was clear, and my time had come. I stepped tottering up to the monster, and in the moment it took to assess this new thing confronting it, I said, “Mister, I don’t reckon you’re welcome in these parts.” With a practiced swing, I sent a splash of holy water right across its face.

The effect, as my old friend used to say, was immediate and electric. The creature hissed and shrank into itself like a salted snail. As I advanced and threw spray after spray on the writhing body it got smaller and smaller. It seemed nailed to the spot in its agony. At last it was down to the size it was when it came through the door to our world, but showed no signs of further dissolution. The sweat was standing on my forehead.

“Come on now, quick!” I called to the others, not taking my eyes off the cowering beast. “Its spiritual powers are bound down, and that makes its body vulnerable! But once the water runs out … you got to strike now!”

They came forward out of the darkness, to where I had the Tekkel pinioned in one of the dusty shafts of afternoon light. Timmy with a jagged metal chair leg, Kassie snapping together her newly cleared gun, and Korm with the heavy flashlight. Together they clubbed, stomped, and stabbed at the beast. Everyone drew back as the girl put her last few bullets right into the monster’s head. But even though it squirmed and chittered and bled dark acrid blood, it seemed nowhere near dying yet. And I was running out of water.

Then Roth came up, carrying something heavy in his hands, half-concealed by the drape of his red cape.

“Sorry,” he rumbled. “Couldn’t find my sword. But maybe these will do.” He pulled out his arms, and there in his paws were clenched two enormous bowling balls.

With a roar he sprang forward, and we all fell back out of his way. Grunting fiercely, he brought the balls down crushing into the shell of the Tekkel, first one and then the other, in a continuous left-right motion, as if he were cracking open a particularly stubborn and outsized lobster. The skittering limbs scrambled wildly under his assault, then went stiff, then fell limp. In a moment, under Roth’s blows, they were a loose collection of sticks around a steaming pile of pulp. And then even that evaporated, leaving only another dark stain on the dusty floor.