Showing off

As Elmore drove back into town, the weight of the SwineLord’s massive carcass resting in the bed of his truck, the air was thick with a new, palpable tension. The Beast rumbled beneath him, still running despite the damage it had endured. As he made his way through the streets, everyone who saw the towering mass of flesh and tusks piled high in the truck bed stopped in their tracks. Cars pulled over, drivers staring in disbelief, while pedestrians paused, their faces a mixture of confusion and hope. Those who had been preparing to flee suddenly hesitated, their plans forgotten as they turned to follow the truck. Word spread fast—too fast—of what was happening. People ran from their homes, from their hiding places, and hurried to tell their neighbors what they had seen.

By the time Elmore reached the town center, a crowd had already gathered. It seemed like everyone still in town was there, drawn together by the spectacle of the fallen SwineLord. Elmore could feel the eyes of the entire town on him as he shut off the truck’s engine, the Beast finally resting after its battle. Beside him, Brett lay slumped against the window, in no condition to even attempt getting out of the truck. He was battered and bruised, his body still half-broken, but alive.

Elmore opened the door and stepped out, his entire body screaming in pain. He could hear the gasps from the crowd as they saw him—his leg was broken, the bone visible through torn flesh, his body a mass of cuts, bruises, blood, and bone. His shotgun, slung over his shoulder, had become a makeshift cane to keep him upright. He leaned heavily on it, but despite the agony, he stood tall.

Whispers rippled through the crowd as they watched him limp toward them, each step labored but determined. The people closest to him recoiled slightly, shocked by the extent of his injuries, but there was also something else in their expressions—admiration. These people had been terrified, on the verge of abandoning everything they knew, and yet here was Elmore, standing before them, proof that something had been done.

Drawing on memories from the old theater classes he’d taken, a strange sense of calm settled over him. The pain, the exhaustion, all faded to the background as he found his voice. It wasn’t just adrenaline that filled him—it was purpose.

"I know you've been scared," Elmore began, his voice hoarse but carrying across the crowd. "I know you were ready to leave. To run. But listen… you don’t have to anymore."

The crowd quieted, eyes locked on him, their uncertainty giving way to curiosity. They wanted answers.

He gestured to the colossal beast in the back of his truck. "This here," he said, "is what’s been attacking the towns. This is the SwineLord, and it led a herd of hundreds of hogs like this. I fought it with Brett at the New River Bridge."

Gasps and murmurs echoed through the crowd. People craned their necks, looking from Elmore to the truck and back again, trying to wrap their minds around what he was saying. Some whispered to each other, voices hushed in disbelief.

"I know a lot of you thought you had more time," Elmore continued, his voice growing steadier. "But time’s up. This thing," he pointed to the massive hog, "would’ve torn through this town in no time if we hadn’t stopped it. But now it's dead. It’s time for all of you to start using your skills, or we’re not going to survive what’s coming."

The crowd was stunned. The weight of his words hit them hard—skills. They had been ignoring the strange abilities all of them were developing, unsure or afraid of what it all meant. Elmore was telling them, in no uncertain terms, that hiding from it was no longer an option.

A young woman stepped forward from the crowd, her face pale but determined. "Can I treat your wounds?" she asked, her voice soft but firm.

Elmore nodded. “Go ahead. But don’t worry too much—my vitality’s high. I’ll be fine in a few weeks.”

There were skeptical glances exchanged among the people, but the woman ignored them. She reached out her hands, and as they hovered near Elmore’s broken leg, he saw it—her hands glowing with a soft, faint light. He noticed anyone else couldn’t see it, but he felt it. Slowly, the bone shifted back into place, not perfectly, but enough that it wasn’t exposed anymore. The wound was still raw and open, but the worst of it had been mended.

The woman stumbled back, nearly collapsing from the effort. “I’ve never used it before,” she admitted, her voice shaky. "I wish I'd done it sooner… I could’ve done more."

Elmore smiled weakly. “You did great. When you’re ready, Brett’s gonna need your help too.”

As she nodded and backed away, people’s eyes turned to Brett, who was still slumped in the truck. The whispers started again, but this time, there was something else mixed in with the shock. Respect.

Elmore took a deep breath and continued, addressing the entire crowd now. “It’s safe to stay,” he said firmly. “The SwineLord’s dead. Take as much meat as you want—it’s all good.”

“Is it safe?” someone asked, their voice hesitant. “To eat?”

Elmore chuckled softly. “If you’ve been eating meat from the store, you’ve already had plenty of things like it. I’m the one who’s been hunting most of it.”

At this, there was a shift in the crowd. People looked at him with newfound admiration, the fear and doubt that had gripped them loosening just a bit. He could see it in their eyes—the realization that they had been depending on him all along, even when they didn’t know it.

Slowly, people began moving toward the truck, cautiously at first, but then more confidently, as they realized the beast was well and truly dead. They began to gather around the fallen SwineLord, some poking at it, others shaking their heads in awe. The whispers turned to murmurs of amazement and disbelief.

Elmore stood there, his body screaming for rest, but for the first time in what felt like days, he allowed himself a moment of pride. He had done it. They had done it. And now, maybe, this town stood a chance.

Elmore groaned as he was helped back into the driver’s seat of the Beast, his battered body finally able to relax, if only for a moment. Every movement felt like fire in his veins, but he didn’t let it show. The crowd around him had grown, close to a thousand people now, all standing in awe of the massive SwineLord laid out in the bed of his truck.

Some were talking in hushed voices, others couldn’t help but steal glances at Elmore, as if he were some kind of legend walking among them. A few folks, especially the younger men, had already started cutting into the enormous hog, spreading out the meat just as Elmore had suggested.

"Alright," he rasped, his voice barely loud enough to carry over the low murmur of the crowd. "If you head down to the bridge, you'll find the rest of the smaller pigs. They're good meat too, and there’s plenty. Get to them before night falls."

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The "good old boys" he’d known for years, the ones with big trucks and even bigger hearts, nodded and set off to gather what was left of the herd. Elmore didn’t have to tell them twice—these men knew the land, knew how to work together, and most of all, they knew how to act fast.

“Don’t let night catch you out there,” he called after them. “And someone grab the tusks of the smaller ones if you can.”

A few older folks, their hands gnarled from years of work, began organizing the meat, cleaning it and spreading it out in neat piles. There was a quiet efficiency to their movements, as if they had done this a hundred times before. The whole town was moving, in a way they hadn’t before. Fear had been replaced by action.

"Leave the skull," Elmore reminded them, his eyes hardening for a moment. He wasn’t sure why, but he wanted to keep it—a trophy, maybe, or a reminder of what they had faced.

As the crowd began to disperse into their tasks, a few of the bolder townsfolk came up to Elmore, offering words of thanks, asking questions, wanting to hear the story firsthand. He answered in short bursts, his exhaustion starting to weigh on him. But each time, his words seemed to give them something—confidence, maybe. A belief that they could fight too, if it came down to it.

When the crowd thinned a bit and people were busy with their tasks, Elmore pulled out his walkie-talkie. His hand shook as he pressed the button, fatigue settling into his bones. He didn’t know how long he had been fighting—hours, maybe more—but it felt like days.

"Ash," he said, his voice crackling through the static.

There was a moment of silence, then her familiar voice came through, a mixture of concern and relief. "Elmore, you okay?"

He couldn’t help but chuckle softly, even though it hurt. "I’ve been better. We took care of a problem The SwineLord and a whole herd of pigs. Town’s safe for now."

Ash was quiet for a moment, processing what he’d said. "You did what?"

“Yeah something bad ill tell you later but im alive not in good shape tho” Elmore confirmed, leaning his head back against the seat. "Got a crowd of people here now. They’re cutting up the meat. Should be enough to keep everyone fed for a while."

“I’m on my way,” she said, her voice firm but filled with relief. “Hang in there.”

Elmore smiled, though no one could see it. "Take your time. I’ll be right here." He glanced over at Brett, still slumped against the door, breathing steadily but out cold. "Might need you to bring some more help, though. Brett’s gonna need a hand, too."

"Got it," Ash replied, her voice steady. "I'll see you soon."

Elmore clicked off the walkie-talkie and let out a long breath. The town was buzzing with activity, people moving in and out, talking, cutting meat, loading trucks. The sense of panic that had gripped them just hours ago had all but disappeared. In its place was a cautious optimism, something Elmore hadn’t seen in a long time.

As he sat there, watching the people move like a well-oiled machine, he realized something. They had done more than just kill a monster today—they had reminded the town of its own strength. It wasn’t just his fight. This was theirs now, too.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Elmore allowed himself to rest, knowing that for the moment, the town was safe.

Ash arrives

Ash drove into town, her eyes immediately widening at the scene. It was absolute chaos—but a controlled chaos, like a small army of civilians had mobilized overnight. People were everywhere, talking, shouting, laughing, and there was the massive hulking carcass of a half-butchered pig the size of an elephant right in the middle of it all. Tusks as long as her car’s hood gleamed in the fading daylight. The sight of it sent a wave of confusion through her, but her thoughts didn’t linger on the spectacle for long.

Her focus sharpened to one point as she parked and rushed around to the backseat, quickly unstrapping Edward from his car seat. “Come on, baby. Daddy needs us.” She scooped him up into her arms, the toddler squirming slightly but otherwise content, and made her way through the growing crowd.

People were busy—too busy to notice her at first—slicing up the SwineLord, hoisting chunks of meat into trucks, some of them practicing strange, new abilities right there on the street. She had to push through pockets of gathered onlookers and bystanders, all trying out their "gifts." A girl was vanishing and reappearing in the middle of a conversation—her clothes still visible, but her body and hair completely transparent. Another man spit onto the sidewalk, and his loogie immediately sizzled through the pavement, like cartoon acid. Then there was an older woman in a wheelchair, laughing giddily as she floated several feet off the ground, her chair left behind while she floated freely in the air.

But none of that mattered right now. Ash’s mind was laser-focused as she spotted the familiar outline of Elmore’s truck, the Beast. She didn’t notice the new dents or the bloodstains on the whole thing—her eyes zeroed in on the door.

"Elmore!" she called out, her voice tight with worry. She pulled open the door, eyes widening in shock. Her husband was slumped in the driver’s seat, out cold, his shotgun resting across his lap. Blood had soaked through his shirt, his leg bone still visibly peeking out of the bandage someone had half-applied.

Ash looked around, grabbing the nearest person. “What happened? Where's the doctor?”

The person—a young woman—blinked at her, then quickly explained that Elmore had killed the SwineLord, and Brett was injured too, but they were both alive, just badly beaten up. “We tried bandaging him, but... well, he didn’t look like he wanted much help.”

“Didn’t want help?” Ash’s voice came out sharper than intended, her motherly instinct kicking in. She handed Edward to another person nearby, carefully instructing them to watch him for just a moment, and immediately got to work, pulling out supplies from her bag to properly tend to Elmore and Brett.

As she worked, she could hear the buzz of the town all around her. People were excited, energized. It wasn’t just about the massive hog—it was their skills. Ash’s eyes flickered from one person to another as they tried out their newfound abilities. It was like a circus of the strange and powerful.

One man punched a hole clean through a tree trunk with a single swing, grinning ear to ear. Another woman hovered above the ground, her eyes alight with joy. The most bizarre of all was a group of people standing around chunks of pig meat cooking over an open flame that just hovered in the air above the sidewalk. No one seemed to know how it worked, but no one cared. They were cooking, and that was all that mattered.

Ash tried to take it all in, overwhelmed but focused on Elmore. As she bandaged him up, she realized that whatever was happening here, there was no pattern to the skills. They were all over the place—some purely physical, some outright magical. She’d never seen anything like it, and judging by the looks of awe and disbelief on people’s faces, neither had they.

Once she had finished with Elmore, she moved to Brett, patching him up as best she could. He was awake now, but groggy, his body still bruised and bloodied from the fight. He gave her a weak smile, clearly too exhausted to speak.

“Rest,” Ash said gently, her voice soft but firm. “You both did enough.”

As the evening crept closer, the crowd finally finished butchering the hog, and the town began to wind down. Elmore’s breathing was steady now, his wounds bandaged, though Ash knew he had a long recovery ahead of him. People gathered around the truck, still in awe of what Elmore and Brett had done. There was admiration in their eyes—respect that Ash hadn’t seen directed toward her husband.

Finally, with the help of a few townsfolk, Ash managed to get Elmore back into the truck, gently settling him in the middle seat. She gave the people who helped her a grateful nod and then climbed into the driver’s seat, looking back toward the massive carcass of the SwineLord one last time. The skull still rested in the bed of the truck, clean to bone along with the skeleton , just as Elmore had asked.

Ash knew Elmore was in no condition to drive, and she was too occupied with keeping an eye on Edward and making sure her husband was stable. After a few words with a burly local man who had been helping with the pig, she managed to convince him to drive the truck home while she followed in her own vehicle. The man, who introduced himself as Buck, seemed more than willing to help, especially after everything Elmore had done.

With a careful nod of thanks, Ash watched as Buck gently helped Elmore into the driver’s seat of the Beast, still unconscious but breathing steadily. Brett, looking equally worn but awake enough to mutter a few words of protest, was hoisted into the back seat next to Edward’s car seat.

As Ash climbed into her car, she kept glancing at the truck ahead, where Elmore sat slumped against the door. The exhaustion she had been fighting off for hours now threatened to crash down on her, but she pushed it aside. Not yet. They still had to get home.

The drive back was quiet, save for the faint hum of the engine and the occasional sleepy murmur from Edward in the back. Ash kept one eye on the road and one on the truck ahead, following closely. The town faded away in the rearview mirror, and soon enough, the familiar sights of home came into view.

Once they arrived at the house, Buck carefully parked the truck and got out, moving quickly to help Ash with the daunting task of getting the two injured men inside. Elmore stirred slightly as Buck wrapped an arm around him to help him out of the truck, his face pale and weary.

As they made their way toward the front door, Elmore suddenly muttered, “Damn... notification...” His voice was thick with exhaustion, and his eyes fluttered open for just a second before he fell back into unconsciousness.

Ash blinked, confused, but there wasn’t time to dwell on it. Buck helped her get Elmore to the couch, while Brett, despite his injuries, was able to hobble inside with minimal help, collapsing onto a chair with a groan.

"Thanks, Buck," Ash said softly, nodding her gratitude as the man tipped his hat and left, giving her a kind smile before disappearing into the night.

Once they were all inside, Ash made sure Edward was tucked into his crib before returning to check on Elmore and Brett. Both men were out cold, their breathing heavy, but steady. She knelt down beside Elmore, brushing a lock of hair from his face. His injuries were extensive, but he’d live. They all would, somehow.

Finally, with everyone else settled, Ash felt her body begin to give in to the overwhelming fatigue that had been hanging over her since she arrived in town. She crawled into bed, her muscles aching and her mind buzzing with the events of the day. She laid there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, replaying the surreal events over and over.

As soon as her head hit the pillow, she was asleep. For the first time in what felt like days, her body surrendered to the weight of it all. Tomorrow, they'd face whatever came next—but for now, they all needed to rest.