EDITOR’S NOTE: Read the other stories in this series by Tom Kropp by clicking here. Contains adult only content. Please read responsibly.
Werewolves & Monsters by Tom Kropp
Through the night, Scot saw the twenty foot tall Tyrannosaurus Rex hurtling to hit him and he managed to make a deft lunge left. The second, larger Rex tried to bite him in half with a stomp and big chomp. Scot’s extraordinary agility and supernatural celerity saved him as he dashed past the pair to slide behind a titanic tree. The pair of predators roared in furious frustration at their missed blitz attack.
Shannon flew through the night on their far Rex’s right from beyond its clear sight. The Rex never saw Shannon’s huge wolf form until she nipped its neck from behind with a mouth huger than a hippo and terrible teeth that gnashed through the neck to rive its spine. In an instant, Shannon’s maw and claws dealt death on the Rex bringing it crashing down with a shattered spine and opened arteries and veins gushing gore on the forest floor.
Shannon landed lightly despite her size. She was bigger than a Kodiak brown bear from Earth with colossal claws and a hippo-sized maw. She looked like an immense black wolf from Earth, but what made her change at night was a dark matter alien entity symbiont inside her. In daylight Shannon was a human pretty brunette lady with emerald eyes and a shapely figure. During her night wolf phases she still retained most of her human mind, but the symbiont also had a strong pull with its primitive wolfish desires to hunt, kill and feed.
The remaining Rex rushed at Shannon. At that moment the Rex dying on the ground managed to give a last spasmodic thrash and its long tail swooped in a loop to larrup Shannon’s legs from behind, staggering her.
Scot stepped out and the blaster pistol in his fist pulsed out plasma into the monster’s maw melting and mauling its mouth, but not frying its tiny mind. Enraged, it still charged Scot.
Shannon took advantage of its distraction with a stupendous spring and swing of her claws and maw. She nailed its neck from behind separating the spine and knifing its neck open. The Rex’s limbs folded under him as he came crashing down.
Scot and Shannon fled from the scene leaving both dying dinosaurs behind them. The alien world’s forest was primeval full of titanic trees and vegetation, but the couple moved with uncanny agility and speed. They were currently beneath the planet’s surface in a strange underworld only lit by an abundance of bioluminescent flora and fauna that grew on the ground, trees and the distant cave ceiling.
Scot was a short, very muscular, blond-haired, blue-eyed, young man that had good rugged looks with numerous facial scars. His left hand was robotic, but appeared normal. He had grown up in the Chicago ghetto back on Earth, but he was a long ways from home. He had been bitten by a creature called a Slypher on the planet and barely survived the sickness afterwards. The creatures bite had augmented his DNA making him several times stronger and faster than what he’d previously been, and Scot had been a very strong, swift and skilled fighter before the Slypher bite.
“Giants closing in on all sides! Swing right! Right!” Sharon desperately shouted and pointed urgently as she flew above Scot.
“Right Shannon!” Scot barked and pointed while wheeling over to divert his direction. Shannon followed his lead.
Only Scot could see Sharon because she was a ghost. When Scot was sixteen back on Earth he was hit in the head by a bat and suffered brain trauma. He woke up able to see and speak to souls that remained on Earth. Many murder victims came to him seeking vengeance against their killers.
Sharon had been a beautiful woman in life and remained so in death with long blond hair and blue eyes and fine figure. She was translucent and glowed with silvery astral light. She’d been an FBI agent that was murdered by a serial killer and she had discovered that Scot could see her. They’d become partners with her spying on the world hunting down killers and passing on the Intel to Scot. Scot had worked with certain law enforcement and military agencies to catch the killers and terrorists. In exchange Sharon helped him win money gambling in casinos at cards by telling him the cards other players had. They’d ended up on an alien world while working for the government discovering dimensional rifts that led from Earth to the world they were currently trapped on.
“Four giants ahead! You have to get through them to break through the gauntlet!” Sharon warned Scot while pointing.
“Shannon! Four giants!” Scot spat and pointed.
Shannon barely spared him a side glance as she loped along through the forest a few feet from him. They spread out wider and slowed down greatly to improve stealth. Sharon flew back and forth in blurs spying on the giants and warning Scot what lay ahead.
The four giants burst from brush and out from behind trees. The giants were terrifying titanic troglodytes averaging 15-18 feet tall and they wore a motley assortment of mail, iron and bone armor. Some had shields, sword, spears and bows and arrows in addition to their two shot double barrel cannons. All four had dark hair with very hairy bodies and humanoid faces. Their mouths were far too wide stretching ear to ear filled with sharp teeth and their eyes were dark pools without a visible iris or pupil. They had dark, dead, eyes and monster mouths set in human faces.
Several clutched cannon-sized firearms that fulminated and flashed vomiting out volleys at both Scot and Shannon. The ponderous, primitive flintlocks had long crude bayonets affixed to the barrels for the giants to stab after shooting.
Shannon wisely juked aside to dive behind a tree as a hive of lead lashed past and tattered the tree. The flock of grapeshot narrowly missed her and two pellets even pelted along her left leg. Her dark matter symbiont made her flesh and bones freakishly strong and swift to heal, but she still felt the stings ping her. After the cannons’ clamor she was ready as the nearest two giants appeared through the smoke in the moonlight. Shannon’s sudden rush was too fast for the nearest giant to counter. It tried to skewer her on its barrel bayonet, but she nimbly evaded the edge and was a blur of fur and fanged fury threshing its throat open with a bite like a titanic bear trap that snapped, clamped and tore in a flood of gore.
The other giant almost impaled her with a thrust. Shannon’s paw batted the bayonet blade aside as she leapt and swept her teeth and talons at its neck. The giant managed to get its elbow up to block her bite and strikes from its neck, but she half amputated its arm in her attack before she sprang clear of the colossal creature. The giant’s lacerated limb hung limp with severed nerves and tendons and it roared in agony and anger after her. Shannon wisely bolted clear of its reach.
Scot managed to hide behind a tree as the cannons’ coughed out conflagrant clouds and large spreads of lead as grapeshot torrents trashed trees and vegetation. Had Scot and Shannon been normal mortal beings they would have been pulverized by the projectiles.
Scot bolted into battle. His pistol pumped out plasma and the radiant rays screamed and steamed torching and scorching through helm and head of the nearest giant, boiling its brains. Another giant burst from the brush and tried to skewer Scot like a shish-kabob on its bayonet. Scot evaded the blade by sidestepping. Rather than go high, Scot stayed low with a snap shot of his plasma pistol and the photonic flash passed through the giant’s privates torching its testicles. Both plasma punctured giants crashed on the forest floor.
Then Scot and Shannon were running full tilt leaving the ambush behind. The other giants in the gauntlet showed up too late to confront the couple.
“Keep moving, Scot. You’ve avoided the ring of giants, but I wouldn’t rest anytime soon. They’re really mad.” Sharon advised him. “You distracted them from the other prisoners.”
Scot just grunted in reply. The two Tyrannosaurus Rex had been resting in the area and been disturbed by the chase through their nesting area. The band of giants moved fast through their forest on those long legs and they come very close to catching the couple in their closing ring.
“We’re through the ring, Shannon. But we need to keep moving.” Scot panted at the huge wolf.
The couple continued on their journey through the forest at a fast gait. They couldn’t maintain n full speed forever without getting winded, their augmented abilities had limits. Shannon’s lacerated leg healed up while she was on the move. Sharon kept them informed about the giants and other predators as they continued their jaunt through the jungle.
The primitive planet was called Tier by most of its sentient denizens. It was actually a huge research project bioengineered by the little alien Greys that visited Earth in their saucer shaped star ships that traveled through dimensional wormholes the Greys created. The Greys had seeded the planet with life forms from Earth history that included dinosaurs, massive mammals, immense avian entities, and humanoids of all sorts and species, including giants. In addition, alien creatures of all kinds dwelt there too.
The Greys had taken some perverse pleasure in watching the world slowly evolve in violent struggles. It was a world where might equaled right and the strong preyed on the weak. Thus far their weapon technology hadn’t evolved beyond primitive firearms using black powder and lead balls and limited shots. Many less evolved humanoids used poisoned arrows and spears, along with just hand weaponry. Only by banding together and using their superior intellects had the sentient species managed to survive amongst all the huge predators. It was also a racist world where societies didn’t trust anyone outside their own and slavery of all sorts still existed in many places.
The Greys’ great scientific studies had gone to hell in a hurry recently because a new species called the Skender had declared war on the Greys. The Skender resembled the tall, scary, seemingly faceless entity known as Slenderman in Earth myths. The Skender were very tall, strong, fast, and technologically advanced beyond even the Greys. The Greys were short, skinny, big headed, huge eyed, telepathic beings that flew saucer shaped ships. The Skender flew dart shaped starships and the Greys were losing the war.
Shannon and Scot had made enemies amongst both advanced alien species and were on the run from them and seemingly everything and everyone else on the savage planet. They’d escaped the surface war by going underground through a hidden Grey facility, where they’d freed dozens of human and alien prisoners that the Greys had been experimenting on.
& & &
They hadn’t been traveling long when Sharon suddenly flew back toward them, her movements frantic and nervous.
“Okay, we have problems ahead,” she hissed. “A battle is about to start raging. Apparently, we are trespassing on the territory of those giants.”
Scot paused. “Clarify that.”
Sharon hovered close to his ear, her voice a terrified whisper. “It’s the monster giants we just met. They are definitely meat-eaters, Scot. Predators. And they do not like all these strange species coming through their land. They’re setting up an ambush point just ahead.”
Scot looked at the situation from a selfish perspective. He had to. He had Shannon to think about, and while Sharon was a ghost and would likely be fine no matter what, he and the wolf were very much made of flesh and blood.
“I just got done freeing all those prisoners from their cages. Then Shannon and I almost got killed by distracting the other giants. I’m getting sick of being their savior.” Scot pointed out.
“They’ll be slaughtered if you don’t help,” Sharon calmly pointed out.
“What are my best options here?” Scot muttered. “If I try to help these people ahead and warn them about the ambush, do you think they’ll actually listen to us?”
Sharon hovered, her translucent brow furrowed in thought. “Some of them might. There are over sixty people in that party. They’ve banded together, grabbing whatever weaponry they can find—sticks for clubs and spears and sharp stones, along with a few rusted old knives, axes and swords that likely belonged to some beings killed long ago down here and left to rust. You have to remember, none of these prisoners are well-armed. The red-scaled beings are more reptilian; they’ve gone their own way in a group of about a hundred. The blue-furred ones seem more like apes, but they have a language. They’re moving off in a different direction. Then there are others… I don’t know how to classify them. Not quite mammal, not quite reptile. Their skin is pitch black, almost humanoid, but not quite.”
She looked toward the flickering light of the corridor. “I don’t know what the others will do, but the humans are sticking together. For now, everyone is just trying to run. But that attack is coming soon.”
Scot sighed deeply, looking down at Shannon. “Honey, I don’t know how to call this one. We might be biting off more trouble than we want, but then again, we might find the allies we need.”
Shannon looked up at him quizzically. Scot could see the frustration in her green eyes; she was trapped in a wolf’s body with a sharp human mind, unable to articulate the complex strategies spinning in her head. Scot couldn’t help but smile, even now.
“I know you hate this,” he said softly, “but let’s try the old system. One bark for yes, two barks for no. Do we help them?”
Shannon gave him a truly ugly look, clearly loathing being reduced to a “Lassie” dynamic. After a tense second, she let out a single, sharp bark.
“Okay, honey. We help the humans,” Scot sighed. He turned to Sharon. “You’ve seen it all. I’m sure you’ve got a plan. What’s our best move? How do we warn them?”
Sharon went quiet, her analytical mind spinning through years of tactical training and supernatural experience. Finally, she looked at him and told him her idea.
After hearing it, Scot agreed; Sharon’s plan was solid. They set out, with Sharon leading the way as she guided him and Shannon up into the higher cliffs.
The terrain was brutal—much more treacherous than the valley floor. It was easy to see why the humans and the other aliens had chosen the snaking pathway below, but that choice was a death trap. Scot and Shannon scrambled through dense forest, jagged rocks, and thick brush. Sharon did her best to guide them along a narrow game trail to speed their progress, flying back and forth to monitor the giants’ positions while keeping Scot on the right path.
After an hour of grueling climbing, Sharon stopped. “Okay,” she whispered into Scot’s mind. “The giants are right ahead, about two hundred yards. You’re coming up behind them. They’re positioned on the cliffs with bows and arrows, ready to rain fire down. They’ll trap everyone, including the humans. These giants call themselves Terrorodans.”
She pointed toward the edge of the ridge. “This is the back of their formation. They’re going to cut off the retreat, and when the crowd tries to surge forward, the rest of the Giants will close the pinch. The only way anyone survives is if you take out these bowmen. You’re going to have to be brutal, Scot. You have to shoot them from behind.”
Scot frowned. He wasn’t a fan of being a back-shooter, but Sharon cut his thoughts off.
“Don’t hesitate, Scot. I saw their village. They are short on meat, and they had humans and other aliens hanging there like livestock. To them, we aren’t intelligent beings; we’re just chickens and cows. We’re good eating. Make sure Shannon understands—no hesitation.”
Scot nodded grimly. The moral weight lifted as the reality of the situation sank in. “Okay, Sharon. It makes sense. Lead the way.”
Scot knelt and spoke softly to Shannon, explaining the stakes and the nature of the monsters they were about to face. Shannon listened intently, her eyes cold, and gave a sharp, understanding nod. They crept forward with Sharon’s expert guidance, moving inch by inch until they reached the flank of the hunting party.
The Terrordons were exactly as Sharon had described. Most of them averaged fifteen feet in height, their hair ranging from dark black to brown. Their faces were hauntingly, oddly beautiful—almost too perfect—but their eyes were a deep, soulless pitch black.
The most unsettling feature was their mouths, which stretched from ear to ear. Their lower lantern jaws looked as though they could unhinge at will, revealing rows of massive, sharp teeth designed for ripping through raw meat. They were pale skinned. They wore leather outfits patched with armor made of bone and various metals. Their weaponry was a hodgepodge of crudely forged iron, lead, and obsidian—bows, spears, and axes.
But what caught Scot’s eye was the most dangerous addition: the Terrordons had somehow acquired a pair of massive black powder cannons. There were also a few other big black powder guns in sight.
Among the males were females who shared that same titanic, terrifying beauty. Looking at them unnerved Scot; they were like statues of gods cursed with the mouths of monsters. He wondered just how fast and strong these creatures really were.
Sharon drifted over, her voice sharp in his mind. “Are you ready? Look at the cannon right there. Do you see the black powder keg?”
Scot followed her pointing finger and nodded.
“If you send a plasma shot into that keg, it’s going to go up,” Sharon said. “The iron shot is right next to it. It’ll be a massive explosion—it’ll take out the giants on this cliff and give everyone in the valley a warning. They’ll have a chance.”
“I’m ready,” Scot whispered.
He leaned down and whispered the plan into Shannon’s ear. The massive wolf looked him dead in the eye, nodded, and gave him a long, rough lick across his cheek.
Scot winced, wiping his face and suppressing the urge to comment on her “werewolf breath.” He drew his plasma pistols, the power cells humming as they warmed up.
Scot aimed through his plasma pistol at the keg of powder. He gently tugged the trigger, and the pistol pulsed, releasing a radiant ray that flashed and slashed across the distance. It struck the keg dead center. The powder immediately combusted, sending out a massive concussion and waves of conflagration. The large canisters of shot sitting next to the keg became a storm of shrapnel. The giants around the cannons were buffeted by the blast; it smashed, crashed, and bashed through their ranks, burning their bodies, tearing holes through their torsos, and shearing through limbs and skulls.
It was an ugly, brutal blast, but it didn’t affect the Terrordons further over who were holding their bows. Those giants spun instantly, but Scot was ready. His plasma pistol produced a barrage of bolts that blazed through the air, torching torsos and lacerating limbs as he focused on center body mass, trying to tag as many of the archers as he could while he still had the element of surprise.
The giants were no fools. Scot was amazed at how quickly they moved—rather than panicking, the still mobile Terrordons burst into the brush, fleeing the open area. They had already marked Scot’s position from his muzzle flares. They began working in concert, spreading out through the brush to catch the killers of their people.
Sharon flew over quickly. “Scot! They’re coming! They’re circling you to cut you off! Run, now!”
Scot patted Shannon on the head, and together they burst from their cover, fleeing the opening. They rushed past the burning bodies and blazing debris, moving through the rocks as they started down the steep terrain.
Below them, they could see the humans and the other freed aliens were now fully aware of the chaos. But the Terrordons further down the ridge were enraged. Their perfect trap had been blown, and they were infuriated. They closed the distance, drawing their massive bows. Showers of six-to-seven-foot long arrows arced through the air, the heavy shafts peppered the people below, impaling countless unsuspecting escapees.
Scot and Shannon navigated the steep cliff with desperate speed, but they soon realized the Terrordons were closing in too fast. Sharon appeared instantly, her spectral form shimmering. “Follow this route. Let me show you!”
Scot stayed hard on her heels. The path led deeper into the jagged rocks, utilizing the lip of the cliff to block them from the sight of the giants peering over the edge. They continued their descent as quickly as their legs could carry them. By the time they reached the valley floor, the battle was already in full pursuit.
The Terrordons were rushing in, sending showers of shafts sailing through the air. Humans and aliens scrambled for every bit of cover available, ducking behind boulders and dodging into the sparse treeline. It was clear this would soon devolve into brutal, close-range combat.
Sharon led Scot and Shannon through the rocky maze until they reached the huddle of humans. Scot fired a warning shot from his plasma pistol into the air to get their attention. As the humans turned in shock, Scot addressed them in their native tongue.
“Listen! We’re about to be overrun by those giants. They intend to eat us—it’s as bad as it gets. If you follow me, I think I can get us out of here!”
The humans looked stunned. Their de facto leader—a massive, blonde-haired, blue-eyed man who looked like a Viking of old—stepped forward. “Why should we follow you?” he demanded, his voice booming.
“Because I’m the one who just blew up the giants on the hill while they were lining you up for slaughter,” Scot snapped. “Do what you want, but if you want to live, move. Now!”
Scot didn’t wait for an answer. He took off running with Shannon at his side. The Viking leader tried to maintain his authority, but he was out of luck; the rest of the humans chose survival over politics and surged after Scot. With no other choice, the blonde giant raced after them.
Scot followed Sharon through the trees, feeling a growing frustration. The forest was sparse, the trees thin and the rocks scattered. There was no good place to hide or set an ambush in this flat valley.
“Is there any way to get around these giants?” Scot asked Sharon as they sprinted.
“I’m trying to guide you to a spot where the forest grows thicker,” Sharon responded, flying effortlessly beside him. “It’ll be harder for the giants to move through the brush there, but they’re too damn fast, Scot. They’re almost on us now.”
Scot sighed, his lungs burning. “We’re going to have to fight them more, aren’t we?”
Sharon looked at him sadly as they ran. “Yes, I’m afraid you are.”
“All right,” Scot huffed. “Tell me what to do.”
Sharon’s expression sharpened into that of the federal agent she once was. “I have a plan.”
& & &
Sharon guided Scot to a massive boulder flanked by sparse trees. Scot stopped by the stone, shouting to the fleeing refugees. “Follow this game trail! Keep running! The giants are coming through here. Anyone who wants to stay and help me can—but it won’t be pretty. I’m going to slow them down, or they’ll catch every one of you!”
Most of the humans, gripped by panic, kept running. However, a few bold men stepped out of the line, guiding their women forward before turning back. They took positions to protect their people’s fleeing flanks holding a pathetic assortment of hand weaponry. The “Viking” leader stopped only briefly, offering a disgusted grunt before continuing on, clearly hoping Scot and the others would die like fools.
“I don’t think you made a friend there,” Sharon said grimly.
“Yeah, I figured. Go check on the giants,” Scot replied.
As Sharon flew off, Scot ducked behind the boulder. Shannon, ever the predator, covertly crept to a tree at a cross-angle from Scot, ensuring they weren’t bunched together. Sharon rushed back moments later.
“Twenty of them are coming. Six are in the lead, but the rest are spread out—they’re being smart. They have heavy wood shields, but your plasma should fire right through them.”
“I hope so,” Scot muttered.
“There’s two of them holding a huge cannon behind the shield wall. You need to take them out right away so they can’t use that cannon.” Sharon clarified.
Soon, the thudding footsteps announced them. Six Terrordons appeared, holding massive, long wooden shields that covered them from chin to toe. Crude helms made of bone and copper protected their heads.
Scot took aim and squeezed the trigger. His pistol released a searing gleaming beam that streamed through the first shield, charring the giant’s chest, and exited his back. The giant staggered, looking down at his barbequed breast in shock before crashing to the ground. Scot immediately tacked a second target, the plasma fork frying through the shield to scorch through the stomach of that opponent. The two giants clutching the double barrel cannon tried to guide their muzzle at the man, but Scot’s ribbons of plasma roasted and toasted both targets’ torsos and their cannon accidentally triggered vomiting its volley into the ground ahead of Scot.
From the black powder smoke cloud the giants rushed at a speed Scot couldn’t believe. They were much faster than he’d credited. He managed two more shots, pumping plasma plops through shields to torch the torsos of two more targets, but these giants stayed upright, driven by fury. Others appeared from behind the shield-bearers, raining enfilades of immense arrows and stupendous spears down on Scot’s position.
“Get out! Run!” Sharon screamed.
Scot bolted in a blur, his augmented speed kicking in as he fired both pistols to keep them off his back. But the giants were too close.
Shannon made the difference.
She rushed the giants from their blind side, leaping with predatory grace. Her claws swept the nape of the nearest giant’s neck, and her immense maw snapped shut, crushing his vertebrae before he even knew death was at his back. She landed lightly and sprang again, her jaws clamping like a vice on the vertebrae of another giant while her claws carved through his carotid arteries.
As she jumped free, a third giant whirled with incredible speed, roaring as he swung a massive sword. Shannon neatly skipped aside, the blade grazing her shoulder. She felt the sting—these monsters were powerful. She lunged low with her claws goring the giant’s groin and tearing into his testicles.
She bolted through the maze of monsters, hurtling high to land on another’s back and latched her teeth into his neck. She shook her head savagely, half-decapitating him as he fell. But the pack was on her now. Spears, swords, and axes flailed furiously down. Shannon wisely bolted, dodging and evading. One giant tried to skewer her on a spear, but she slapped the point aside with a paw and dove low, her claws nailing his knee and carving out a chunk of flesh deep enough to bring him down screaming. She spotted a double barrel cannon leveled her way and made her quickest lunge as the cannon thundered and a shower of shot and smoke bloomed from the barrels and tore up turf behind Shannon. One of Scot’s plasma rays fried in the forehead of the cannon holder and he fell facedown flopping.
Then, Shannon was past the pack, running for the tree line.
Scot held his ground, his plasma pistols pulsing out radiant rays rhythmically as he unleashed an enfilade of accurate fire. The blazing bolts burnt into the giants, forcing them to dive for cover behind trees. Like a well-oiled machine, Scot and Shannon had saved each other once again. Under the cover of Scot’s fiery forking fusillade they turned and fled, leaving behind a trail of numerous dead and wounded giants.
They soon caught up to the fleeing humans, bypassing the stragglers with a sharp warning: “Keep going! It’s not over!”
Scot and Shannon pushed to the front, eventually passing even the tall Viking leader. The man looked visibly annoyed to see them still breathing.
“How far to safety?” Scot asked Sharon between breaths.
“Close now,” she answered. “Very close.”
“Did any of those men who stayed in the rearguard survive?”
Sharon nodded solemnly. “Two were killed back there. Two escaped. But it’s not looking good, Scot. You have to keep moving.”
With Scot’s alien augmented endurance and Shannon’s alien wolf physiology, they were simply too fast for the humans to keep up with, but there was no other choice. They reached a section of the forest where the brush grew thick and jagged. Sharon stopped them, pointing to a cluster of boulders nestled in the heavy greenery.
“This is as good a spot as any,” she said. “The brush is thick here. If the giants try to push in, you’ll have the maneuvering room, but they’ll be blinded and slowed. This is where I would make a stand. Let the humans get through first.”
Scot agreed and explained the situation to Shannon. As the refugees trickled past their hiding spot, Scot urged them on. He noticed then that despite their exhaustion, the prisoners were in surprisingly good physical shape—young, muscular males and females. The Greys had been picky, ensuring their “specimens” were healthy and well-fed for their experiments.
Once the last of the stragglers disappeared into the deeper woods, silence settled over the brush. Sharon flew out for one last scout and returned with a grim expression.
“They’re moving slower now because of their wounded, but they’re still coming,” she reported. “And they’re being smarter. They’ve brought two of the biggest cannons—they’re carrying them like rifles, loaded with grape shot. They’ve formed a full shield wall. I think you have to drive them back one more time, Scot. Make them think twice about following.”
Scot sighed in disgust. He wasn’t looking forward to another clash. The last one had been far too close; if Shannon hadn’t hit their flank, he was certain they would have overrun him. He looked at Shannon, noting the dark blood matting the fur on her shoulder. Despite the dark matter entity inside her, the Terrordon’s sword stroke had been tough enough to draw blood.
“You ready for this, Shannon?” Scot asked, explaining the new threat of the handheld cannons.
Shannon listened intently, her eyes narrowing, and gave a sharp nod. She padded off silently, vanishing into the shadows to find her own vantage point.
The Terrordons approached craftily. Scot sighted down his pistol, but the shield wall was too dense. “Let me aim,” Sharon whispered, hovering behind him. “Left two inches… there! Squeeze the trigger!”
Scot followed Sharon’s aiming guidance and unleashed an accurate arc of plasma. One of those plasma puffs punctured a powder keg carried on a giant’s shoulder pack. The resulting explosion was a thunderous boom of raw force, frying many foes in that row. Shrapnel scythed riddling their ranks. But one wounded giant held his ground while leveling his double-barreled cannon at Scot and tugging both triggers. The air instantly erupted in a photonic flash and fulmination as large balls of grapeshot hailed in a hurricane on Scot’s position.
Scot felt the boulder shudder and shatter in spots as the projectiles pummeled his position. Just when Scot thought the worst had passed, the second giant’s cannon erupted, both barrels firing simultaneously. Once again, the very air was thrown into a violent torrent of force and lead. The blast lashed everywhere, shattering trees and busting the boulder Scot was using for cover into shattered smithereens.
Scot was slammed backward as several lead pellets peppered his pectoral clubbing his Kevlar and ceramic armored vest. He was knocked flat, stunned, and fighting for breath. The air was thick with the churning, sulfurous smoke of the black powder, making the world a gray blur. Sharon was at his side, her mouth moving as she screamed for him to get up, but his ears were ringing so loudly he couldn’t hear a word.
His vest had absorbed the lethal impact, but the brutal body blow had left him dazed and hurt. One of his plasma pistols had been blown from his hand, lost in the debris, but his right fist still gripped the other with a death’s-grasp.
Out of the smoke, a figure rose above him. It was a female Terrordon, and the sight was bizarre—she was hauntingly beautiful, her face and figure the epitome of flawless, Gothic Goddess perfection. But in her hands, a massive sword was raised high, and her shield covered her vitals. She looked down at Scot with soulless dark eyes, bringing the blade down to cleave him in twain.
Scot fired his remaining pistol. The bolt scorched through her shield and boiled into her breast, but the tack to her torso didn’t seem to faze her. The sword fell fast, and Scot found himself unable to move quickly enough to escape the arc.
Shannon struck like a thunderbolt.
She flew through the air, her immense mass colliding with the giantess. Her jaws snapped shut, locking onto the sword arm of the Gothic Goddess warrior just in time to stop the blade from splitting Scot. Shannon savagely shook her head like a cat with a rat, her powerful neck muscles tearing until she amputated the arm above the elbow, carrying the limb clean off the giant’s body.
The goddess of war looked down in shock at her missing arm and the hole burnt in her breast where Scot’s plasma fork had fried through. Despite the horrific injuries, she opened her mouth impossibly wide, hissing as she leapt with her shield, trying to squash Shannon beneath the heavy timber. Shannon deftly dodged aside, and the giantess pancaked onto the ground, the shield slamming into the dirt where the wolf had just stood.
Shannon took no further chances. She jumped onto the giant’s back and bit through the nape of her neck, severing the spine.
With the threat down, Shannon was by Scot’s side, nudging him and urging him up. Fighting through the pain and dizziness, Scot managed to rise. As more giants appeared through the smoke, Scot retreated into the trees while releasing rows of razing rounds to keep them at bay. Ironically, the giants’ use of black powder had backfired; the dense smoke clouds provided the perfect screen for Scot and Shannon to vanish into the deeper woods.
Only when they reached a safe distance did Sharon finally ask, “Scot, are you okay?”
Scot looked at her with an expression that clearly said Are you crazy? But he remained silent, saving every bit of breath for movement. They paused for a brief moment, and Scot checked his gear. His vest had stopped the grape shot from his chest, but it had left a massive, bloody bruise across the region. He’d also been peppered by rock fragments, and a flame flash from the explosion had singed away part of his hair and his eyebrows.
He looked at his empty holster and then at the massive black wolf. “Thanks, Shannon,” Scot said grimly. “That big bitch had me back there. You saved me.”
Shannon gave him a rough lick along the cheek and let out a low whine, urging him to keep moving. Scot pushed forward with Shannon, his steps heavy and measured. He knew the dark matter within him would eventually heal his injuries, but the process wasn’t instantaneous. He felt every inch of the “beat-up” state he was in. As they moved, humans—men and women alike—greeted him with a mix of awe and concern, their voices a blurred hum of questions. Scot couldn’t find the breath to answer; he simply nodded and waved them along, his focus narrowed down to the simple act of putting one foot in front of the other.
Sharon remained a blur of spectral activity, flying back to ensure the Terrordons weren’t mounting a quick pursuit before surging ahead to scout for new dangers. Finally, they reached a wide clearing centered by a bubbling natural spring.
“This is as good a place as any to stop,” Sharon advised, her voice calm in Scot’s mind. “Have everyone get some water and dress their wounds. The giants are back there tending to their own. They’re furious, but they’ve lost too many to keep up the chase right now. You’ve bypassed them… for now.”
Scot collapsed against a mossy stone, his chest heaving. He took a long moment to process her words before looking up at her shimmering form. “And what in the hell am I supposed to say to these people?”
Sharon considered the desperate crowd gathering around the water. “I’d go with the truth, Scot. You’re all trapped down here together. Besides the dinosaurs and the massive mammalian predators you dealt with on the surface, there are other beings in this underground world that are just as bad as the Terrordons. You’re going to need each other to survive.”
She paused, looking at Shannon, who was already licking the blood from her wounded shoulder. “Then again, you and Shannon have always done best on your own. You could leave them behind if you wanted. I guess we’ll have to play it by ear.”
She looked toward the dark treeline ahead, her eyes narrowing. “But for right now, Scot? I think you should get ready to battle more.”
Scot noticed the sidelong glances from the crowd. As they gathered around the spring, people watched him with wary, confused expressions. To them, he was a strange man muttering to himself and a massive, predatory beast. Scot was used to the “crazy” looks; it wasn’t his fault they couldn’t see Sharon or understand that the wolf was a woman bonded to an alien symbiont. Explaining the truth would only make him look more insane, so he didn’t bother.
Instead, he focused on his own survival. He knelt by the water, washing the blood and grit from his face, and took a long, cold drink alongside Shannon. He dug into his pack and pulled out a few strips of dried jerky. He shared the meager rations with Shannon, both of them munching slowly to regain their strength.
He felt the eyes of the hungry refugees on him. Under any other circumstances, he might have felt guilty, but Scot almost laughed at the thought. He had just fought a literal army for these people; he wasn’t about to starve himself or Shannon when they were the only ones keeping the group from being eaten. Survival was brutal, and you couldn’t protect anyone if you were too weak to stand.
He was still chewing when the massive Viking-like man loomed over him.
“Are you going to share that food with us?” the man demanded.
Scot looked up at him in flat disbelief. “Really?”
“Yes,” the leader insisted, gesturing to the jerky. “You have food. You should share it with me—I’m the leader of this party.”
“Well, if you’re the leader, then you can find them some food,” Scot snapped. “I just saved all your asses. I’m not seeing much gratitude for it right now.”
The Viking’s face flushed with anger. He puffed out his barrel chest, shifting his grip on a heavy wooden club. In his other hand, he clutched a jagged rusty old knife that looked big enough to decapitate a man.
Shannon let out a low, vibrating snarl and turned toward him, her hackles rising. The man flinched, but he stood his ground. Behind him, seven muscular “bullies” stepped forward, brandishing their own cudgels and stones.
“Easy, Shannon,” Scot muttered. He stood up slowly, his movements stiff from his bruises, and leveled his plasma pistol at the Viking’s chest. “Look, dude. I don’t know you. I went out of my way to save these people, and as far as I’m concerned, you can all do whatever you want. But I’m not giving you my food, and if you take another step, I’m going to shoot you dead where you stand.”
The Viking drew himself up to his full, impressive height. “Only a coward would hide behind a magic light-pistol,” he spat. “Fight me in fair combat!”
Scot sighed in deep disgust.
“I’m too tired to be playing around with you,” Scot told the Viking, keeping his pistol leveled. “The only reason I don’t shoot you dead right now is that I’d prefer not to waste a shot. But if you push me, I’ll kill you where you stand. I don’t care who you think the leader is. I tried to help you people, and obviously, you didn’t appreciate it. I and my pet are leaving.”
Scot began to back away slowly, his eyes never leaving the hostile men. Abruptly, a woman stepped out from the crowd. She was striking—tall, even taller than Scot, with thick blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, and a figure that seemed sculpted for physical perfection. In each hand, she carried a jagged stone, ready to be used as a weapon.
Behind her followed eleven others—six women and five men—all young, attractive, and impressively built. It was clear the Greys had been curating a “best of the best” collection of human specimens.
“Direct doesn’t speak for us,” the woman said, her voice steady as she looked at Scot. “My name is Hera. He isn’t our leader; he’s just a jerk. Thank you for saving us. We would all be dead if not for you and your pet.”
Scot nodded curtly. “You’re welcome.”
“What do you think we should do next?” Hera asked bluntly.
Direct, the Viking, interjected with an aggravated snarl. “Hera, you don’t even know him!”
Hera didn’t even look at him. “I know enough. I’d rather follow him than listen to you any further. I never liked you, Direct. I will never be your mate. We will never get along. But we are all stuck here. We need to survive. You can help us or go your own way, but I’m following this guy and his wolf.”
Scot almost laughed, and he heard Sharon chuckle beside him. Shannon, however, gave a low, rumbling growl and nudged Scot’s leg. Looking down, Scot realized with a jolt of alarm that Shannon was jealous. The hero-worship coming from a beautiful woman like Hera was making her territorial. Great, he thought, if I didn’t have enough problems, now I’ve got a jealous werewolf.
Hera stepped closer, reaching out a hand, but Scot stepped back. “No offense, but I’m not shaking hands or getting close. I don’t know you people, and I have no idea if you’re going to turn on me. I did you a favor, but those things back there will recover and come looking for you. Going back isn’t smart. I’m going forward.”
“Do you know where you’re going?” Hera asked.
Scot looked at Sharon. Not really, she answered in his mind. I’m just trying to get you out of here before you get eaten.
Scot nodded to the air, prompting Hera to look at him like he was crazy again. Catching himself, he addressed her directly. “I don’t know what happened to you all, but up on the surface, the aliens are at war. I came underground to escape the battle. There’s no going back. I’m going forward into the unknown. You can come along or not—you’re free to do whatever you want.”
Hera conferred with her group for only a moment before they all nodded in agreement. “We’ll go with you.”
Direct tried to object again, but Hera waved a hand at him dismissively. Scot and Shannon kept their distance as they backed away from the spring, wary of the crowd. Scot had been betrayed too many times to count on the kindness of strangers. It was human nature to play friend and then stab in the back.
Hera proved to be a powerful voice. The refugees had broken into cliques, but her group spoke to the others, and within minutes, the majority began forming up behind Scot. Meanwhile, Direct and his muscle-bound “enforcers” stood to the side, fuming as their authority evaporated into the damp underground air.
Scot kept everyone in his vision range. He and Shannon had both endured too much betrayal to let their guard down now. It was human nature to deceive, and Scot wouldn’t have been shocked if Hera was a distraction while Direct’s men tried to jump him for his plasma pistol. He knew every person in the clearing coveted the weapon in his hand.
Backing away toward a large tree, he whispered to the air. “Go ahead, Sharon. Tell me what you see. We need to move soon.”
“I’ll be fast,” Sharon promised, her spectral form flickering as she took flight.
As Scot waited with Shannon, Hera approached again. This time, she came alone. She seemed to sense Scot’s standoffish nature and was clearly trying to ease the tension. “Can I speak to you?” she asked politely.
“Of course,” Scot said, though he kept a few paces between them.
He couldn’t help but notice Hera’s beauty as she frankly appraised him. On the world of Tier, the men were usually tall—likely due to the lower gravity—making Scot’s shorter, muscular build stand out.
“We were taken prisoner a while ago by the Grays,” Hera began. “They hit us with a flashing weapon—like yours. It stunned us. We lost track of the days in those cages. They fed us and clothed us, but there was no conversation. We watched them killing people… trying to take their souls to burn in that forge.”
Scot nodded grimly. “They’re trying to duplicate Skender technology. You know the Skender?”
Hera nodded. “The tall ones with the dark ships and faceless features. We’ve seen them on the surface.”
“The Skender use souls to power their tech,” Scot explained. “As of now, I don’t think they’ve found a way to use human souls yet, but they burn others as fuel to create incredible energy. The Grays are losing the war, so they’re experimenting on you to catch up.”
“They killed some of us,” Hera said sadly. “But they seemed frustrated when nothing came of it.”
“They couldn’t harvest you,” Scot said. “But they weren’t through trying.”
He went on to explain the hellscape the surface had become—the Skender invasion, the wormholes Tearing the planet apart, and the endless storms. Hera’s expression fell. “I don’t think I have anyone left up there,” she whispered. “They took everyone from my village.”
“I’ve been through that,” Scot said softly. “I’m on my own, too. Just me and my wolf, Shannon here.” He patted Shannon on the head, and the wolf gave him a look that made it clear she didn’t appreciate playing the part of the “pet.”
“She’s beautiful,” Hera remarked. “Could I pet her?”
“Honestly? I wouldn’t. She’s not friendly with strangers.”
Hera accepted that with a nod. “So, what do you plan to do?”
“I don’t have a grand plan. I barely escaped the surface. Going back means fighting through the Terrordons, the Skender, and the Grays. I’m going forward. There are predators down here, and you’ll need to be armed. You’re carrying whatever you could scavenge.”
“We found some knives and swords from previous victims in the valley,” Hera said. “But we aren’t ready for a real war. We have weapon-smiths and blacksmiths among us, though. The men are skilled in trades and battle.”
“That’s good.”
“And the women as well,” Hera added firmly. “We function as a team.”
Scot raised an eyebrow. “That’s rare on Tier. Usually, the men are in charge and the women are secondary.”
Hera shook her head. “Not in my tribe.”
Scot offered a small smile. “Good. Where I come from, women have an equal say—usually more than the men. But let’s be clear: I’m not trying to be your leader. If you want to come with me, I’ll do my best… but…” He shrugged helplessly. “To be honest, I could end up getting you all killed, too. I don’t know everything that’s ahead of us. I just know that what’s behind us is a no-go.”
Hera laughed aloud, a bright sound in the gloom. “Not many men would be that honest. I appreciate it. We’ll go with you. Let’s try to work together.”
Scot glanced over at Direct and his warriors, who were huddled together, their eyes fixed on Scot with predatory intensity. “What’s up with that Direct guy and his buddies? They look like they want to cut my head off and take my blaster.”
Hera nodded agreeably. “Oh, they would. They definitely would. I wouldn’t trust them for a second. We could try to exile them, but it wouldn’t end well. They’re the kind of men who would just linger in the shadows and lay an ambush. If we tell them to leave, they’ll just wait to kill us in our sleep.”
She narrowed her eyes at the Viking. “They were warriors from a neighboring clan—raiders, mostly. Direct approached my father once, trying to claim me as a mate. I refused him. He has never liked that, and he certainly isn’t going to like you being in charge. But my people will defer to your authority, within reason. We still vote on what we do; we don’t let anyone take complete control. Is that a problem?”
Scot shrugged. “No. I’m not trying to lead everyone. But if I see you guys headed in a direction I don’t like, I’m not following.”
“Fair enough,” Hera said.
“So, how do we deal with the jerks in the mix?” Scot asked. “I don’t want them near me.”
Hera offered a knowing smile. “That’s smart. I’ll speak to the others. We all know what Direct is like. We’ll keep an eye on his clan and warn you, but if I were you, I wouldn’t let them get close. And I certainly wouldn’t turn my back on them.”
“I figured that much,” Scot muttered. He looked around at the dim, oppressive landscape. “Does the sun ever come out down here?”
Hera looked up into the darkness, searching for a dawn that wasn’t coming. Scot almost laughed, but he felt a pang of pity. “No,” he admitted. “From what I understand, there is no daylight here. It is perpetual night.”
He pointed to the faint, eerie glows clinging to the distant cavern ceiling and the strange plants near the spring. “That’s bioluminescent fauna—algae or greenery that grows in the dark. It’s the only thing besides fire that will light our way.”
The reality of their situation was a heavy weight between them. Hera looked at the dark, rushing water of the spring, then back at Scot.
“How long did you plan on trying to camp here, or should we be moving on?” she asked bluntly.
Scot replied carefully, “I’m considering my next step. Give me a little bit and I will let you know what I plan on doing. For now, yes—soon. I think we’re going to have to keep moving. Tell your people to drink as much as they can. I don’t know where we’ll find the next water source.”
“Wouldn’t it be a smarter idea to follow the stream?” Hera asked.
Scot didn’t have an answer for her at that moment because Sharon had not yet returned with a scout’s report. He chose to end the conversation with a vague, “That’s something I’m considering.”
Hera frowned at him, her confidence in his leadership seemingly dipping a notch. Scot had no way of telling her he was waiting on a spirit guide. While the people of Tier did believe in an afterlife and the existence of spirits, Scot didn’t want to explain his specific situation and look entirely crazy. He figured he’d keep that information to himself for now.
* * * * THE END * * * *
Copyright Tom Kropp 2026
Image Source: Roman Datsiuk from Unsplash.com