Up town
Elmore loaded the last of the freshly packaged meat into the truck bed, making sure it was secure before hopping into the driver's seat. The old engine of his 1964 pickup rumbled to life, the sound of metal and grease grinding together in a familiar, almost comforting rhythm. Brett sat beside him, silent as usual, but his eyes held the same tension that had gripped the whole town.
As they drove through the small streets toward the grocery store, Elmore couldn't help but notice the growing signs of abandonment. Shops were being boarded up, the windows nailed shut with sheets of plywood. Families were packing up trucks, loading their belongings with urgency as if time was slipping away faster than usual. Churches were setting up tables in front of their doors, handing out maps, pamphlets, and small crosses to anyone willing to take them. The townspeople looked hollow, scared, like they knew something terrible was just over the horizon.
Elmore rolled down his window, catching snippets of conversation from people on the street. Words like "disappeared" and "the bridge" floated by, accompanied by hurried whispers and frantic gestures.
The sight left a bitter taste in his mouth, but he kept moving. The grocery store came into view, and sure enough, the manager, Larry, stood out front, the doors already locked up. He was a stout man, usually friendly and open, but today his face was drawn tight, his eyes darting nervously down the street.
Elmore pulled the truck into the lot and killed the engine, stepping out just as Larry began to close the last of the shutters over the store's windows. Brett followed, his boots crunching on the gravel.
"Hey, Larry," Elmore called, waving him down. "What's goin' on? Why's everyone boardin' up?"
Larry wiped a hand across his brow, his voice clipped and tense. "You ain’t heard?"
Elmore shook his head. "Not a damn thing. What’s goin’ on?"
Larry glanced around, as if someone might overhear, even though the street was practically empty. "Town on the other side of the New River Gorge—stopped respondin'. No calls, no messages, nothin' coming in or out. People are spooked. They think whatever’s takin’ out those towns is headin’ this way."
The words sank into Elmore like a lead weight. "You sure?"
Larry nodded grimly, locking the last of the bolts. "As sure as I can be. I’m closing up, but I waited for you. Figured you’d still be bringing in meat." He gestured toward the back of the truck. "I’ll take it, but this’ll probably be the last time. I’m leavin’ with my family in the morning."
Elmore and Brett exchanged a glance. Elmore turned back to Larry. "Where’s everyone thinkin' of goin’?"
"Anywhere but here," Larry muttered as he handed Elmore a wad of cash. "You should do the same, Elmore. Whatever’s comin'... it ain’t normal."
Elmore thanked him, but the unease in his gut was only growing. They watched as Larry quickly loaded the meat into a cart and hurried back inside, the heavy metal door slamming shut behind him.
Brett crossed his arms, staring at the road that led out of town. "You think we should leave too?"
Elmore shook his head, thinking for a moment. "We’re Level Two, Brett. Whatever’s out there, we should be able to handle it. Most people are too scared to fight. Besides, it’s only a fifteen-minute drive to the bridge. We should go check it out, see what’s goin’ on for ourselves."
Brett nodded, already looking more resolved. "You got your gear?"
"Yeah." Elmore walked back to the truck, pulling open the toolbox in the back. He grabbed his hunting leathers, the mountain lion’s pelt now cured and worked into a thick overcoat and padded trousers. He threw them on, adjusting the straps and securing his holster as he loaded his shotgun, and axe.
Brett stripped down to his usual tank top and shorts, his bare feet hitting the gravel. His muscles rippled under his skin as he stretched, already preparing for the transformation that would come if they ran into trouble. His bare form was a contrast to Elmore’s layered protection, but the two of them had learned to fight together over the months, each balancing the other.
Once they were both ready, Brett looked over at Elmore. "We goin’?"
Elmore smirked, slamming the truck door shut. "Yeah. Let’s see what the hell’s goin' on."
The old pickup roared to life once more, its engine growling like a beast awakened from slumber. They rumbled out of town, the empty streets fading into the rearview mirror as the truck surged forward, bouncing over the uneven dirt roads like it was ready to tear through anything in its path.
They both knew whatever they found at the bridge wasn’t going to be normal. But as they sped down the winding roads toward the New River Gorge, the only thing on their minds was the possibility that this, whatever it was, might not stop at the bridge.
Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.
The Bridge
As they sped down the dirt road to the highway, Elmore glanced over at Brett. "You’re ridin' in the back for this one," he said, his voice calm but firm.
Brett raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. Without a word, he hopped out of the window and swung himself into the truck bed, crouching down for stability. His hand settled on a length of rebar, only about four feet long, but solid and sharp at the edges—more than enough for whatever they might face. He gave it a quick spin, testing its weight, and just hung over the cab one hand on the roof the other on his weapon.
Elmore turned his focus back to the road, gripping the steering wheel tighter as they merged onto the highway. The old truck rumbled beneath him, the engine purring like a wild animal. It was a beast of a machine, and he’d driven it hard before, but today… today was different.
There was something in the air—an electricity, a tension. As Elmore pressed down on the gas, he felt a flicker of something deep within the truck, a faint glow, barely perceptible but there, radiating from the engine. A whisper of energy. He wasn’t sure why he noticed it now, but it tugged at him, pulling him in like a siren’s call.
Without really thinking, Elmore reached out—mentally, emotionally—toward that glow. And the moment he made contact, it was as if the truck became an extension of himself. A deep, pulsing connection shot through him, like his blood had fused with the steel and pistons of the machine. His nose bled instantly, and a sharp, throbbing headache pulsed behind his eyes, but he gritted his teeth and held on.
The reaction from the truck was immediate. The engine roared, red smoke belching from the exhaust as if it had suddenly come alive. The front end lifted slightly off the ground, tires squealing, and for a moment, Elmore thought the damn thing was going to rear up like a stallion. The speedometer shot up, the needle racing past 80, 90, 100 mph as the truck thundered down the highway like a runaway train.
Brett pounded on the roof from the back, holding on for dear life. "Elmore! What the hell?!"
Elmore’s hands tightened on the wheel, his mind racing. The truck felt… alive. He could feel its eagerness, its raw power, but it was almost too much—too wild, too strong. He slammed his foot on the brake, forcing the beast to slow down. The tires screamed in protest, but the truck reluctantly dropped its speed to 65, still growling like it wanted to tear down the road.
Sweat dripped down Elmore’s forehead as he took a deep breath, trying to clear his head. The headache was still there, dull but persistent, but he’d managed to regain control. The truck… it wasn’t just a machine anymore. It was something more, something that felt his intentions, like it was ready for whatever came next.
"Easy now," Elmore muttered, talking to the truck like it was a trained dog that had gotten too excited before the hunt. He could feel the energy still pulsing beneath the hood, almost eager, like it was ready to prove itself.
He ran a hand under his nose, wiping away the blood. "Alright… we’re good," he said, mostly to himself.
Ahead, the road stretched out toward the horizon, the bridge over the New River Gorge looming in the distance. The sky above was turning a deep orange as the sun sank lower, casting long shadows over the trees and the winding river far below. The bridge itself was a towering steel structure, wide and imposing, but something about it seemed off. Too quiet. Too still.
Elmore slowed the truck as they approached the final stretch of road leading to the bridge. He could feel that same tension again, a weight in the air that pressed down on him like a storm brewing just over the horizon.
He glanced back at Brett, who was gripping the rebar tightly now, eyes fixed on the bridge ahead. Brett nodded once, signaling that he was ready.
Elmore exhaled slowly, gripping the wheel a little tighter. "Alright, Beast," he murmured to the truck. "Let’s see what you can do."
The New River Gorge Bridge loomed ahead, the tallest bridge in the western hemisphere. It was a rusted iron giant, a relic of an older world, towering over the canyon below. Two lanes of blacktop stretched across its length, flanked by cement guardrails that had seen better days. It might have once been a marvel of engineering, but now it stood as a fading monument to human achievement, red with rust and time. But the view... the view was something else. The vast expanse of the gorge spread out beneath them, the river winding like a silver ribbon far below, framed by the rich greens and oranges of the trees in the late afternoon light. It was perfect, a view man made and lord designed .
As the truck rumbled over the halfway point of the bridge, the towering cliffs on either side began to fade from view. Then Elmore saw it.
At first, it was just a distant blur of movement. Then, as they crept closer, it became clear. A herd of hogs. But not just any hogs. These were massive, wild, long-tusked beasts, covered in coarse, matted hair and stained with mud and blood. They moved in a chaotic frenzy, snorting and trampling everything in their path. But what made Elmore’s blood run cold wasn’t the herd—it was what lurked at the back.
Towering above the other hogs, a titan stood. It was twelve feet at the shoulder, bigger than any animal Elmore had ever seen, easily weighing 15,000 pounds—larger than even an African elephant. Its tusks were jagged and covered in the remains of its last victims, and its body was caked in filth, a blend of blood and dirt. It exuded a raw, primal power, and as Elmore’s gaze locked onto it, the thing seemed to snarl, its black eyes gleaming with malice.
“Hold on!” Elmore screamed to Brett in the back, barely keeping the panic out of his voice.
With a deep breath and a wild look in his eyes, Elmore slammed his foot onto the gas pedal, feeling something tug from within him—something deep, primal, and raw. The truck, already a beast in its own right, roared in response. A thick cloud of blood-red smoke billowed from the exhaust, and the engine let out a metallic roar like thunder cracking through the sky. The headlights flickered on with an almost blinding red glow, casting a hellish light on the bridge ahead.
The truck surged forward, its speed jumping from 65 to 100 in seconds. Elmore’s vision tunneled as they hurtled toward the herd. His grip on the steering wheel was white-knuckled, but he didn’t dare let up. They were going too fast. Too far in.
“Brett!” he shouted, more to himself than his companion.
But Brett heard him, and with a quick glance behind, Elmore saw the man grip the rebar tightly, crouching low as the truck barrelled toward the hogs. The herd turned at the last second, but it was too late.
At the final stretch, the truck hit 225 miles per hour, plowing through the mass of hogs with the force of a freight train. The sound was deafening—a cacophony of crunching bones, flesh tearing, and metallic roars as the truck shredded through the beasts. Blood and gore sprayed across the windshield, but the truck didn’t stop. The impact should’ve totaled the old machine, sent it careening over the edge of the bridge, but the Beast, fueled by something far beyond its mechanical limits, pushed through. Elmore could feel the truck hum with power, responding to his every thought, his every fear, and desire to survive.
They tore through the hogs, turning them into little more than paste under the tires. The truck only slowed to 100 mph as the carnage thinned out. Elmore whipped the steering wheel to the side, bringing the truck to a grinding halt. The Beast growled, its engine still pulsing with power, its red smoke billowing into the air like the breath of a dragon.
Panting, Elmore stared out at the scene behind them. The road was slick with blood and bone, a grotesque trail of bodies that marked their passage. But it wasn’t over. As he glanced into the rearview mirror, his stomach dropped. Hundreds of them still remained. The titan hog was still standing, and more of the creatures were pouring onto the road from the wood on both sides. They weren’t stopping.
“Shit,” Elmore muttered under his breath.
In the mirror, he saw Brett. His friend had stripped out of his shirt, his skin shimmering and shifting as he transformed, fur sprouting along his back, claws elongating, and his eyes glowing with predatory intensity. Brett’s jaw clenched as he let out a low growl, eyes fixated on the oncoming herd.
“We’re here,” Brett said, his voice deep and guttural as his transformation completed. “No turning back now.”
Elmore nodded, gripping the steering wheel tightly once more. The Beast was with them, humming with power, ready to tear into the fray again. They were in it. Whatever was happening at that bridge—whatever had driven the town across the gorge silent—was coming for them.
And they were ready to meet it head-on.