Peter sits in the middle of the aisle, mindlessly repeating the word “why” over and over again as he digs at the floor, trying to back up. Mr. Mullens is sprawled out in front him, babbling as blood rushes from an apparently quite severe laceration, pleading for someone to help him.
“Please!” he occasionally cries out, although no one seems to notice.
Mikey and Cheryl both cower behind their desk as Cheryl cries and Mikey hisses, “be quiet or it’ll hear you!” Susan rushes to the other side of the room and ducks behind a desk, trying to disappear, and Dana also runs to the other side of the room, hugging the wall. Cirel is either hurt or in shock and simply lies beside his desk covered in Madeline’s blood for a whole minute before deciding to join Dana. Tony simply hugs the wall, sitting with widened eyes as he examines the creature, Mike still situated against the table where he’d try to grab the beast.
Libby and Chris run to back and begin struggling with something, lab equipment most likely, trying to formulate a plan. I consider grabbing Tammy and running back there as well, but know we’ll be on the out as soon as something happens. Instead, I grab her by the arm and angle toward the opposite side of the room, noticing Joni and John rushing toward the door.
The frog stands atop Madeline, who is now involuntarily kicking with her hands spread across the floor. It continually dips its knife into her mouth until it finally manages to pry her tongue loose and scoop it out, and is lapping its tongue greedily against it when it notices Joni and John. Turning, it looks at Tony and seems to smile before facing the doorway, and as soon as John reaches the handle, the thing moves.
Squatting atop Madeline as she convulses on the floor, it kicks its legs and leaps, landing on the table before jumping again. Joni screams as soon as she sees it and shoves John, knocking him off-balance as she mindlessly claws at the door. John teeters, losing his footing as he turns almost one hundred-eighty degrees before the creature lands in front of him.
“No, no, no!” Joni cries, never once turning as the frog leaps toward her companion. Taking short hops back and forth, it toys with him before moving in for the kill.
John’s a big guy too, and capable of out-performing most athletes on the football field, but as he turns and tries to track the thing, I can tell he’s outmatched. John manages to right himself and tries kicking the creature, but it’s simply too fast. As soon as he extends his leg, I can tell by the expression that he knows he’s made a mistake.
With its little arms darting, the thing wickedly whips the scalpel deep into John’s exposed ankle, slicing a thick line through his pants before bounding toward his other leg. Horrified, John can do nothing but watch as the creature moves like lightning, sinking the blade in deep just above his shoe and carving a U-shaped pattern.
“O shit! It’s got me! It’s got me!” he cries as he loses his balance and tumbles sideways, crashing into Joni and knocking her toward the wall.
With one leg under him and one lying perilously exposed, he tries swatting at the frog with his arms and even punches at it, but the thing seems to anticipate his moves. Slashing with uncanny precision, it slices into one of john’s wrists and manages to sever a tendon in the other arm before leaping onto his waist and stopping. Sitting there, it seems to mock him with the scalpel, waving it back and before finally plunging it into his shirt. Moving quickly, it works its way right, maneuvering the blade until John finally starts pleading with it, begging the thing to stop.
“Please!” he screams again and again as the blade surges with an audible rip.
Finally, almost mercifully, it yanks the blade out and thrusts it skyward, plunging it first into his throat before maneuvering it sideways. John starts convulsing as blood jets from the wound, covering his shirt, the door and wall.
Then it turns toward Joni.
Chapter 8
While the creature seems to delight in taunting Joni by reaching its tiny digits into John’s exposed waist and yanking free what looks like a piece of his intestines, I see Mike start moving again, heading for the beast. He’d apparently had the foresight to search one of the table’s drawers and had found a claw hammer, which he now carries as he slinks across the floor. Strangely, I remember putting hammer there on accident after a small piece of banded metal popped off my chair, and think what a happy coincidence that oversight might end up being. The thing doesn’t seemed to notice him as he bypasses Madeline and Tony, all of its energies instead focused on moving closer to Joni.
Mike stealthily maneuvers his heft past John’s body and is almost behind the thing when Joni makes the mistake of looking his way. Leaping, the frog lands onto her chest and delays as John skulks even closer before lifting the hammer and taking aim. Swinging, he seems to have it dead to rights, but at the last second it moves. That’s when Mike realizes his mistake, right before the hammer smashes squarely into Joni’s face.
“Fucker!” Mike screams as Joni’s head snaps back, the hammer making contact just under her right eye. A wet thud echoes throughout the room as her eyes cross and she starts shaking, both her arms and legs quivering in undulating waves. The spasm catches Mike off-guard and causes him to delay for three seconds at the most, regretting his unfortunate mistake. That feeling would be one he’d take to the grave.
When Mike finally focuses once again, he sees that the frog has landed to his left, and is a whole lot closer than he expects it to be. Gasping, he pulls his arm back, fully expecting to have enough time to strike before the frog launches another assault. Instead, he barely manages to cock his wrist before the frog nimbly maneuvers alongside his body.
In the briefest of interludes, it manages to take the scalpel and dig it underneath Mike’s arm, causing him to swing wide. He doesn’t get another chance as the thing quickly repositions itself and drives the blade in just behind his ear. Pulling down, it lays his neck wide open and stands there, opening its mouth as ruby liquid flies.
“Mike!” Chris screams as his brother drops the hammer and grasps at his throat before slumping toward the door.
Chapter 9
Slicked with gore, the creature moves away from Mike and begins focusing on Tony. Jumping atop that first table, it slowly waddles toward the edge and looks down, pausing as it seems to be contemplate what to do next. I hate it for him too, knowing he stands little to no chance against the beast, hoping beyond hope someone will help. Somewhere inside, I expect to see Chris rush in and try to avenge his brother, doing everything in his power to stop the vile frog. But no, that doesn’t happen. Instead, he simply looks on while brandishing a small acetylene torch, with Lori desperately clinging to his side. As the thing meanders, taking its time, I turn toward Tammy.
“I’ve got to do something,” I tell her, hating myself almost instantly for thinking that way. I’ve never been anything close to the hero type and almost always avoiding conflict whenever possible. The one time I did stand my ground turned out to be a nightmare, with me receiving a black eye and a bloodied nose. This time, if things go badly, I know I’ll be looking at something much, much worse.
“No,” she says, grabbing me by the arm. “You can’t. Not you.”
She looks terrified by the idea, afraid that I too may end up dying. so I smile. I looked at her and smile while telling myself to be calm, that I can do this.
“It’ll be fine,” I say, leaning in close to her, thinking fuck it, why not? As I start to get up, I reach over and kiss her squarely on the lips, hoping this won’t be my last. She returns the kiss, closing her eyes for the longest of seconds before I release.
“If something goes wrong, there’s something in my bag for you. Ask my mother what it means. She’ll know” My mother. Not exactly the most romantic thing to say after essentially telling her how I fell in the most direct way possible, but o well. If something does happen, she’ll tell Tammy about the bear and my father, and maybe Tammy will tell her that I tried.
“Get away from me!” Tony screams from across the room, causi
ng me to turn. As I do, I notice the frog standing in front of him, its weight causing it to teeter from side-to-side and it mockingly waves the blade back and forth. Tony is bleeding from a wound in his leg, and the thing seems to be lingering, taking its time finishing him.
Angling toward the closest table, I reach up and grab an abandoned scalpel and knock off some of those pins before reaching into one of the drawers and fishing around. Afraid to linger, I prod at it blindly as that thing again stabs Tony in the leg, only this time higher up. Maliciously, it carves a ruby slit in his pants leg as he cries out and suddenly thrusts forward, catching the thing off-guard and sending it flying. It drops the scalpel as it arches up and collides with the edge of the table, as something that doesn’t quite look like blood leaks from the top of its head. Despite his wounds, Tony manages to pull himself forward, seemingly intent on ending the frog.
Finding nothing save a few pencils, I decide to go, thinking this might be my only chance to act. Ducking down, I slink between two tables, remembering how Mike almost slipped in atop it by staying low. Tony howls in pain as his legs flex, but he still keeps going, and Mikey moves as well, obviously thinking of joining him before Cheryl grabs him by the arm.
“No you fucking don’t!” I hear her say, chiding him for thinking something so brazen. “Someone will come and help us. Surely they can hear us dying in here!”
Tony seems to be having trouble getting around Madeline, who’s blood now slicks that entire area. Every time he moves, you can hear that sticky liquid cling to him, grabbing his hands and clothing like tape. He retches but finally manages to push her out of the way , and is almost on top of the thing by the time I slink into the center aisle.
Reaching to the floor beside him, Tony picks up a stray needle and makes a fist, jabbing it down toward the creature. As his hand arches down, the thing seems to come to and teeters to its left, causing Tony’s aim to be slightly off. Instead of spearing the thing directly in its body, he manages to drive the pin through one of the frog’s back legs.
Opening its mouth, the thing lets out a strange half-bay, half-roar that resounds somewhat like a sheep and partially like a person as it flops about, enraged. Despite what it is, I can see anger stretch across its face as its expression turns from malice to sheer loathing. It tries to reach the pin but its arms aren’t long enough, and this seems to infuriate it even more.
Tony extends both hands and actually grabs the thing as he tries to squeeze, but instead of maintaining a grip, the gore slicking its body causes it to slip loose. Before he can do anything else, the thing opens its mouth and I fully expect to see its long tongue dart out again. Instead, the frog whip sideways and snaps with a head filled with dagger-like teeth, taking three of Tony’s fingers off at the knuckle. His eyes go wide as the fight almost instantly drains out, replaced by an all-consuming fear. Shuffling, he backs up, colliding with the wall.
The beast spits the fingers at Tony as it half-jumps, half-shakes itself sideways, quivering atop the floor as it grabs at the scalpel, seemingly no longer able to leap. Despite this limitation, it’s still fast, and before I know what’s happening, it’s managed to hoist the blade and starts pushing itself along in tiny pulsating bounds.
“Help me, someone, please!” Tony screams.
Cautiously working my way toward the thing, I manage to align myself almost directly behind it. Since it’s distracted by rage, I figure now is the time to strike.
Pointing the scalpel toward the floor, I make a fist and shove down and away, driving it toward the frog. And miss. Somehow, someway, those huge eyes notice me, and the thing manages to move at the last possible second, slipping toward Tony with its blade extended.
No1” I scream as the frog drives the scalpel deep into his belly, looking at me as it works. It knows what I’m trying to do, that I’m trying to save him, and mockingly starts working the blade up and down, back and forth, carving wavy lines in his stomach.
Tony tries to fight it off, but blood loss, exhaustion, fear or a combination of the three keep him from doing much more than slapping at the creature. It’s winning, and I can’t stand that notion any longer because it’s a fucking frog!
“Come on, you ugly piece of shit!” I yell at it. “Let’s dance!”
The thing stares at me with its huge, unblinking eyes as it seems to try goading me forward by pulling the blade back and forth, and I almost start toward it when I think of something better. It must have noticed my pause too, because it again sinks the knife into Tony, causing him to wince.
Forgive me, I think to myself as I reach out grab a discarded stool, flinging it forward. The thing sees it right before it hits and jumps to its right, scooting toward John’s grizzly body. A finger flies in to the side as well as the stool crashes into Tony and causes him to loudly exhale.
Unfortunately, the beast still has its blade with it. That, and I can no longer see it because the table is now effectively blocking my view.
Chapter 10
For a second I feel panicked, realizing I can no longer determine where the creature is. My mind skitters in a myriad of directions, telling me to lunge back or forward or to even jump onto the table, or to perhaps stand my ground and wait for it to come. After what I’d seen today, I knew could be anywhere, and that it would perhaps come over the table at any second. That causes me to delay for just a moment, and that’s all the time the creature needs.
“Look out!” I hear Tammy scream from across the room, causing me to almost look her way. Then I suddenly I realize what she’s saying, that it’s right there, but by then it’s too late. The beast had surged forward almost immediately after avoiding the stool, scalpel in tow, managing to get under the table while I stood there thinking. Stupid, I realize, thinking how idiotic it had been for me to pause.
The blade shimmers, glowing as it slices, as I desperately move my feet, the thing still managing to drive the scalpel deep into the middle of my shoe, well into my foot.
“God!” I cry out, astounded by how badly it hurts, knowing I’m about to fall.
Acknowledging that, I allow myself to tumble but force myself to teeter left, away from the thing. As I descend, it manages to thrust the scalpel up and catch me in the ankle, slitting it open. Pain explodes through my head as I cringe, tumbling down.
It could have been much, much worse however, because the thing’s already where I ‘d been standing by the time I reach the ground. Had I simply fallen, it would’ve been on me in seconds.
Crashing down, I heavily land on my left elbow and back, and instinctually brace by utilizing my legs. Something inside my foot pops loudly as I awkwardly hit, white-hot pain shooting through from my wounds and extending, flashing through every fiber of my being. Were it not for adrenaline and perhaps because of the notions that I finally had someone worth living for, I would’ve been screwed.
The thing is almost on top of me when I hit, but deep down I knew that happen. Something primal started shouting it’s too close, and that instinctual something combined with my almost desperate need to live causes me to scoot.
I don’t go far, maybe a few inches at the most, and that doesn’t separate me from the thing. It still manages to climb onto my leg and thrust the blade into my calf as I twist, actually using its weight to hold me in place. What that push does do is allow me to accidentally make contact with something on the floor as I close in on the other desk.
The creature repeatedly strikes, stabbing at my right leg a second and third time before switching sides and slicing at my left kneecap, causing me to cry out . Struggling, something clicks in my mind, causing me to swing my left fist forward as I manage to grapple one of the pins I’d accidentally knocked off the desk earlier. I’m not sure I if recognize what it is or if I really even comprehend that my hand is in motion. Everything becomes movement and panic, threat and reaction, empowering my adrenaline-soaked strike.
My left hand surges with the needle in tow as the thing lifts the
scalpel and thrust it toward my arm, effective using my motion to flay my wrist. That doesn’t stop me from following though however, or from driving the strike home.
Afterward, I stare at my arm in a daze, feeling as though I might pass out as I notice blood and what looks like a vein dangling through the skin. Fatty blobs of something slosh out as well, floating through the air in slow motion, causing me to feel ill. Horrified, I barely notice that the creature is no longer attacking, or that it’s no longer standing close at all.
Forcing myself to focus, I see it slinking across the floor with the scalpel clutched in its arms, noticing a pin protruding to the right. Fluids trail behind it as it struggles, sometimes limping along and sometimes dragging itself, angling for Madeline’s body.
“I’m gonna kill you!”
The words come from somewhere to my right, and I briefly think it’s John. Did I somehow insult his girlfriend again? God, I hope not, because he’ll beat the crap out of.. And then I remember. The bodies. John, Joni, all of it. How could I forget that?
Turning my head slightly, I see Chris hugging the wall as he slowly approaches the creature. Bypassing Tony, he keeps his distance as the frog stops beside Madeline and starts rubbing the pin that I can now tell is sticking out of its eye. Clutching his torch, Chris is cautious, trying to find just the right angle of approach to finish the…ping. The sound breaks my concentration as I glance back at the beast, wondering if it’s run into something or is perhaps stabbing at Madeline as one final insult before it dies. Instead, I see that it’s managed to yank the pin out of its head and is now attempting to work the needle out of its leg by cornering it against her arm. While doing so, it opens its mouth and actually starts chewing on Madeline’s ear.
“Sick little bastard!” Chris yells as he lights the torch. Whoosh; the sound seems to magnify as he turns the knob atop the canister and the flame focuses. “I’m gonna make you suffer!”