I rammed the shaft as hard as I could into the beast causing it to howl in pain. I paused momentarily almost shocked at how loud it was before continuing my efforts to mush the bastards insides to paste, twisting and swirling the staff to do as much internal damage as possible.

I'm not sure for how long this went on but at some point the beast lay limp and I fell back on my ass completely exhausted.

Propping myself up on my hands I looked at the foul mix of bile shit and blood that covered my chest and shorts completely. Standing up to quickly remove it and fling it on the ground. Looking up from my abandoned sweatshirt I thought about just how long I had been out here and glanced over to the neighbors. It seemed that coyotes were still enjoying their meal across the street.

I was lucky that not showed up because just killing at a single trapped coyote had taken its toll on me and I would not have stood a chance against a free beast.

I went to pull my rod from the rectem of my victim and gagged barely holding in my stomach contents, the stench that had evaded my mind, most likely due to the adrenaline rush of the fight rushed into my notrols with a vengeance. I had to look away and cover my nose not to vomit on the spot as a retrieved my weapon.

With the shaft in hand I ran to the backside of the house and was back in the relative safety of my house. I crept back over to the window and watched the neighbors house for any signs of movement, not sure what I would or could do if I saw anything, but the need to know ate at me.

Maybe ten minutes later the coyotes came out of the same hole they had created in the door and after sniffing around a bit ran back across the bog into there woods.

Seeing the pack of coyotes run back into the woods took a weight off my shoulders, I knew I wasn’t safe and would very likely never be truly safe again, but it was still a relief to see them leave. At least for now…

They would be back once they were hungry again. They would find me or one of the other hiding in their homes and tear into them or me. The thought of those metal teeth sinking into my flesh sent shivers running down my spine. Should I end it all avoid such a painful and unsightly death in favor of a simple easy way to go… the same one I had almost taken many times before any of this madness even began. I shoved those dark thoughts of my almost inevitable death down deep inside of me not allowing myself to wallow in self pity again.

Maybe it was sheer stubbornness to not let this hell win or maybe it was just cowardness itself of the unknown that didn’t let me take that way out right now, I honestly can’t say.

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I decided to try to prepare come up with some semblance of a plan for when the beasts returned hungry again. I needed something with more weight and piercing power than the light metal shaft. The damage it did to the beasts tough hide was less than negligible , it was almost insignificant without a big nasty glaring weakness in the armor the beast presented me.

The basement, while there were no long tools I could use to keep them at a distance, there were likely some tools down there to do some serious damage. I left my spot by the window and went to the kitchen to the entrance to the basement. There was not much down here beside boxes of holiday decorations and old furniture that would do me good. In the back was where the real treasures lay.

My father was a fairly competent handyman, resorting to fixing anything other than electrical issues by himself rather than paying someone else for the work. I moved through the small path through the junk to get to the workbench and metal cabinets.

I searched every nook and cranny taking out any useful or even potentially useful items I could find. I came up with duct tape, a medium sized hammer, a chainsaw with and extra chain, and a red gas canister, and an electric screwdriver. I spread them all out on the workbench and tried to think how I could use these. The chainsaw much like the car before did not even come close to starting when I revved it but the electric screwdriver seemed to work fine. Was that the reason the house still had electricity, because it didn’t come from an engine but a nuclear power plant. If that was the case why did my phone have any service? Did the satellites run on gas? I didn’t know but these questions ran through my mind.

I briefly wondered if it was out of gas and removed the cap to fill the damn thing. “AAAAAH” I shouted in pain as I felt a pulsing awful burning pain in my calf and fell to my knees dropping the gas. I grabbed my pained calf and felt something hairy and small and shoved it off.

Still reeling from the pain and not thinking I just absently grabbed at my injury and allowed the small creature to bite my hand. This time I only pulled back for a second before limping away from the small terror. It seemed to still be recovering from my shove and rolled to its feet and I saw the little mouse no bigger than the palm of my hand run for me and stomped the little bastard with my good foot.

It gave a satisfying crunch when my foot came down on its small body. That was a small distraction from the pain ate at the small bite on my hand and deep tears at my calf. I limped over to the workbench not sure what to do with the tools but still wanted to take what I could carry out of the basement. I shoved the duct tape, extra chainsaw chain, hammer and screwdriver into a bag I had acquired before entering the basement and lamented that I couldn’t take the actual chainsaw of gas because I could not fit them in the bag and now only had one useful hand.

Pausing to look at the cumbersome items a moment to make sure I was making the correct decision I noticed something odd about the spilled gas pooling from when I dropped it. Has normally had a clear color but this looked red and lacked the pleasant but very pungent odor of gasoline. I dropped the bag and looked around to see if any more vermin approached and inspected the strange red liquid. Not knowing what else to do, I put a finger into it and pulled it out to get a smell. It smelt actually pretty good almost like beer, and not the cheap stuff me and my friends would drink but the real dark stuff the hipsters and old men enjoy.

“Fuck it” I said to myself and put the finger into my mouth. It tastes sweet in contrasted to it beer-like smell and I felt an odd tingle in my wounds and the pain lessened. I looked down at my hand and saw the skin close a fraction of a fraction of an inch. “No way this stuff is a healing potion” I said to myself in the dark cold basement almost giddy at my relief from the pain the held more for the past couple of minutes. I immediately picked up the gas in my good hand and with a seconds pause from the mental shock of drinking out of a gas can, began downing the stuff.