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I ducked so fucking fast I almost quacked.
Don’t make a sound.
I slapped a hand over my mouth to prevent any noise. Possibly overkill. I mean, a fellow who showed up to kill monsters probably wasn’t the bad guy, but at the same time, PEOPLE WITH SCYTHES DON’T SHOW UP TO KILL THINGS!
Like seriously. This wasn’t a horror flick or a book. In the real world, this kind of shit didn’t happen. The Grim Reaper didn’t exist.
Tell that to the big dude outside.
A shadow suddenly blocked what little streetlight seeped in through the window, and I held my breath. As if that mattered when my heart pounded so loud it might as well have invited the looming specter in.
The door handle rattled, and I almost peed my pants. I sweated so hard I almost lost my grip on the frying pan.
The shadow of the scythe man moved away, and I waited. Waited a good thirty seconds before I couldn’t stand it and I crept upwards for a peek.
And got caught!
The man in the duster stood staring at the store’s front door and caught my gaze.
I gaped. Did I look upon my killer? At least he wasn’t ugly. Despite the low brim of his hat, he had a square jaw, sexy stubble, and surprisingly tempting lips set in a frown.
“Who are you?” he asked, his voice muffled but still distinct enough to hear through the glass.
“No one,” I squeaked, putting a second hand on my weapon in case he burst in and I had to swing.
“What did you see?”
“Nothing,” I lied. “I just finished work.”
“Open the door.”
“I don’t fucking think so,” I huffed.
“I mean you no harm.”
“Says the dude with a giant scythe,” I muttered under my breath.
His head swiveled as sirens wailed in the distance, their strident woo-ooo getting louder as they neared. He glanced back at me. “You might want to keep quiet about what you saw.”
“What did I see?” Because I still struggled with it all.
“Nothing. If anyone asks, it was dark, and you didn’t see shit.”
With that warning, the guy whirled, his long coat swinging with him. He tapped his scythe on the ground, and it shrank. Don’t ask me how, but it got small enough he could tuck it into his pocket. He strode off, and my whole body slumped in relief.
He’d not killed me.
The sewer aliens were dead.
But so were a bunch of people. Or so I assumed? Maybe they were just injured and in need of some pressure to stop the bleeding. If so, I really should render some aid.
I rearmed the store and locked the door once I emerged. I wasn’t the only one standing in shock on the sidewalk. People in apartments had heard the commotion and, now that red and white lights blocked the street on both ends, they’d found the courage to step outside.
I hugged myself as I surveyed the carnage. Bodies lay all over. None moving. My gorge rose as I saw the head of the first driver just sitting in the street.
Some of the slickness on the sidewalk and asphalt had to be blood. Hard to tell for sure with the darkness and the pouring rain. Oddly, I didn’t see any sewer alien parts. Despite the scythe dude having diced them mere paces from the shop, not a trace of them remained.
