Gavin scanned the crooked line of men. His eyes went from hunting rifles to break action shotguns to a few expensive home defense weapons. Their attire was varied, but appropriate for the task at hand. They all wore some kind of boot. All carried at least one canteen.

The jeeps and trucks that they had piled into were parked nearby. They were on the outskirts of town. The forest was pressing in tight, even as the season forced it to slumber.

Gavin stood beside the witness, a man is own age named Bill. A big revolver sat on the young preacher’s hip, one of those that were used as a backup weapon by big game hunters.

“I seen it leave the station,” Bill stammered, “Blood, its blood, and theirs. I can’t describe what it looked like. I have trouble picturing it.”

“That’s okay, Bill. You’re brave as hell for going with us after seeing that thing. Just do your best,” Gavin said reassuringly.

“Horrible mouth. Claws, nasty looking claws. And things on its head. I don’t know what they were. Weird, disgusting things on its head. It killed them all, except that lady cop. It carried her off.”

“What that thing did was unspeakable,” Gavin said in a reassuring tone, “Those officers gave their lives defending the good people of this town. It killed them because it knew that they were a threat to it.”

“You think that it is intelligent?” someone asked.

“Of course. Demons, although wicked, are intelligent. And yes, that is what I believe that this monster is. It is a demon, sent here to fulfill some dark purpose. We are going to stop it.”

“It killed the whole police force. How are we supposed to stop it?” another member of the posse wandered.

“There are more of us. We have more firepower, believe it or not. It has lost the element of surprise. And most importantly, we have God on our side.”

Many nodded in agreement, emanating the same energy that those who heard his sermon did. Others looked away awkwardly or kept their eyes on the ground.

An older man wearing woodland camouflage walked over, hustling, “I found a blood trail. Looks like it is heading in the direction of the old factory.”

“Good job, we have our target,” Gavin turned back toward the group, “Alright. We are going to the factory. Frank will cut for sign. Keep him covered and make sure to check your targets. Remember, we won’t help anybody if we gun down innocent campers. That thing took one of the officers hostage. That’s another reason to watch your fire.”

With that, they started out. The group made a racket, breaking sticks, rustling leaves, accidently clacking pieces of equipment together. One of the jeeps followed behind, picking its way past trunks and boulders. Men stood in the back, balancing rifles on the rollbar.

“Cliff on our left,” the tracker warned. A few echoed his warning. The jeep started working its way to the right.

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For the most part they kept quiet. This wasn’t done for stealth. The jeep’s engine made enough noise. The crunching that the leaves made upon every footfall produced their own racket. The jostling of weapons and other pieces of gear added to the cacophony. They kept their mouths shut out of fear, fear that was louder than a drum.

A great crashing sound overcame all of the other noises. A brutish thing burst through a patch of evergreen foliage.

Nearly twice as tall as the average man. Massive muscles. A grimace worthy of the most hardened soldier. And the eyes, in those eyes there was nothing that resembled fear. The thing wasn’t human, wasn’t even an animal. It was a monster. And yet its eyes burned with determination, pride. This was how the men saw our creation.

It grabbed ahold of the jeep. The men inside screamed as it lifted the vehicle over its head. Those that were riding in the back fell out. They kept screaming as the jeep was thrown into the air and over the side of the cliff. The screams were replaced with the sounds of metal being bashed to pieces. The riders were crushed under the berserker’s mighty feet.

All at once, as if they were torn from a daze, the posse reacted. A few men turned tail, sprinting away. One man was reduced to a babbling idiot. The majority of them opened fire.

Black blood spurted out of countless holes. It kept coming. A shot to the leg staggered it, but it kept going. Gavin worked the bolt on his rifle. A round moved into place. He fired, repeated the process.

The berserker passed by a large rock. A quick sweep of its hand and pieces of the stone were flying. They raked across the posse, like a massive shotgun blast. Many fell shouted for help, called to the God of Abraham, to their mothers and fathers as they perished from terrible wounds.

Slick with its own blood, the brute ripped a man’s arm off, beat him with it as the one beside him tried to reload. He dropped the magazine. Despite the fact that he had several more on his chest rig, he still bent down to search for it in the weeds.

The brute finished the beating, threw the limb toward another member of the posse, causing him to dive for cover. He found the mag. Two handfuls of meat were torn from his back before he could look back up. These were unceremoniously stuffed into the creature’s mouth. It chewed as it advanced on the remaining enemies.

The creature grabbed the panicking man roughly, annoyed by his mindless prattling. A hand in each of the man’s sides, our minion squeezed. The head popped off, sailing away, trailing blood like a jet’s exhaust. The twisted ropes of his intestines, crushed organs, and shattered bones exploded out of his torso. The monster grinned as it let the bloody mess fall to the forest floor.

Gavin’s rifle ran dry. He pulled his hog leg, worked his way around the cylinder. One shot at a time. One burst of blood and gore at a time. The brute went to one knee. Gavin dumped the spent casings, started dropping fresh rounds into place.

The berserker lashed out, the slap sent a line of men flying, the last of his foes, save for the young preacher. The youth fought to reload. As he knocked the cylinder back into place, the brute rose, towering over him, grinning like the devil.

A flash of light. A deafening roar. The RPG didn’t explode on impact, the target was too soft for that. It became stuck, imbedded in the brute’s torso. It staggered around, trying to pull the munition out of its body. The rocket still burned.

Gavin dove away, placed his arms over his head. The warhead finally detonated. Flaming chunks of meat tumbled along the ground. Boiling blood painted tree trunks and stones.

John stepped out into the open, casting aside an empty RPG launcher. Gavin stood back up. The two of them looked around the battlefield. Men lay on the ground, amongst the inferno of dead leaves. Some began to moan in pain.

Gavin stared at the smoldering remains of the berserker, let out a sigh of relief, “We killed it, even if we took a lot of casualties. It’s over.”

“No. This is a different one,” John told him.

Relief turned to anger and fear, “What do you mean?”

“The one that attacked the police station had claws. That’s what Bill told the paper. This one doesn’t have claws. Come on, we need to get these men to a hospital. Then we need to go prepare.”