Division X

By August Hill

The monster killing business isn't all it's cracked up to be.

We all have a monster within... understatement of the year. For 24-year-old Randi Matheson, she quite literally does. On every full moon, it rears its hairy head. She wasn't always like this. Ever since her attack, the animal comes out to play. And on one full m

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brother Mockingbird
• Release date: Oct 20, 2022
• ISBN: 9798986330532

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DIVISION X

DIVISION X

August Hill

BROTHER MOCKINGBIRD

Copyright ©2022 by Ryan Hill

All rights reserved

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Library of Congress Control Number: 2022943263

Cover Design by: Kayla Kravchuk Designs

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any

form or by any means without written permission from

the publisher.

For information please contact:

Brother Mockingbird, LLC

www.brothermockingbird.org

ISBN: 979-8-9863305-2-5 Paperback

ISBN: 979-8-9863305-3-2 EBook

For Mimi. Love you always.

1

A sleeping mansion

rests atop a wooded hill shrouded by the black blanket of a thunderstorm. Its gravel driveway is bordered by weeping willows whose branches hang over two figures dressed in black tactical gear. Flashlight beams sway from the lights attached to their assault rifles as they approach the house upon the hill. Rushing through the driveway’s circle, where several cars are parked, they burst through the mansion’s main doors.

The two men enter the entrance hall where a master staircase lies straight ahead, and a glass chandelier hangs above, its arms stretching across the room like a spider’s web. The smell of cooked poultry, as if a great feast was prepared, lingers in the air. A flash of lightning illuminates the grand hall revealing a white marble floor marred by blood. Rainwater drips from the soldiers’ gear as they train their weapons ahead. With the thunder’s crash, both men aim their guns at the base of the staircase where a fresh body lies torn about as if mauled by a pack of bloodthirsty animals.

The taller of the two men, Briggs, a stern, black, South African absent an accent, traces a blood trail into an adjacent room with his light. Close the door, he whispers to Sebastian, his twenty-three-year-old Scottish partner. Sebastian promptly seals the entrance behind them, silencing the rain’s patter. Briggs then signals for him to follow and moves forward. He makes sure to step clear of the mess as he follows the trail into the next room. He doesn’t want to leave a trace of his presence.

Briggs’ light shines across a long dining room table. The top half of an eviscerated man lies atop it, and the room is red on white, the red added this evening. Amongst the dispersed food, another cadaver is ripped to ribbons, its wet flesh scattered across the floor and fallen chairs.

Sebastian enters the room behind Briggs and tries the light switch. Nothing happens. You think it’s the storm?

Briggs shakes his head. It’s smart, he responds. He follows the streaks of blood out of the dining room with Sebastian in tow, scowling at the remnants of the feast. They both notice the bottom half of a corpse in the corner. One of its legs is broken and flopped to the side, snapped in so many places it looks boneless.

They enter a kitchen where a faceless man lies lifeless atop a counter stuffed between it and the cabinets above. His waist is gnawed open, and his intestines are strewn about the room, red, mashed, and nibbled upon. Yet, his hand still clutches a knife. The rest of the cutlery lay mixed with the gore.

A few five-toed paw prints are pressed into the blood on the floor, and Briggs crouches to hover his hand over the prints for a size comparison. He confirms it was much larger than anticipated. It looked big before, Sebastian says. I doubt it’s getting any smaller considering the meal it’s been having. Ignoring him, Briggs stands and follows the blood into the next room while Sebastian looks to the body.

A fireplace burns with wood and flesh in the spacious living room. A severed arm is in the fire, poisoning the aroma, and the man it belongs to rests headless on the nearby sofa, his head atop the carpet beside the couch. Another corpse is mounted on a wall of animal trophies pierced by the antlers of an elk, protruding through his chest. This catches Sebastian’s eye as he enters behind Briggs. He breaks away from his partner to get a closer look and notices a trail of blood continuing up the staircase on the opposite side of the room.

It impaled him on an elk’s head. Sebastian grimaces from the smell of melting flesh. He looks back to Briggs who is watching the severed arm bake. What does that?

A mildly enthusiastic voice comes in through their earpieces. It’s their boss. So, how goes the squatching?

Briggs answers. Good and bad, sir.

I only want the good news, says their boss.

Trap worked. We tagged it with a tranquilizer before it ran off. Followed it to our current location.

Sebastian rendezvous with Briggs in front of the fire adding, Problem is our location is a residence, and the occupants appear to have been mutilated. This thing is fast and smart. Got here long before us and took out the power before entering. A creak in the house’s structure groans above them. Both men look to the ceiling.

That doesn’t sound like good news, replies their boss.

Sebastian continues. Chances are there may be some survivors. There were several cars out front. Briggs and Sebastian move across the living room together to reach the staircase. But more likely than not, the thing is still here, and we’re going to get it for you.

Briggs begins climbing the stairs, blood dripping from step to step. A jagged claw mark is engraved into the wall beside him, and a human jaw rests on the top stair. Words to live by, kid, their boss starts. Don’t get cocky.

When Briggs and Sebastian reach the top of the staircase, they see a woman gazing at them from the carpeted floor of a lounge. Her lower jaw is missing, and her back is torn open. Air escapes from her exposed throat, and her eyes desperately look to them for help.

Sebastian quickly rushes past Briggs lowering his weapon and removing a small syringe from one of his pouches. Annoyed he’s breaking formation, Briggs races to Sebastian with his gun aimed at the nearest door from the room. It lies ajar.

Sebastian grabs the woman’s shaking hand to calm her while he administers the morphine, but she ceases all movement before the needle pierces her skin. He releases her hand, clenching his into a fist, and puts the shot away. He then scowls and grips his assault rifle so hard his knuckles crack.

Don’t be stupid, kid, or you’ll wind up worse, Briggs whispers. Sebastian is about to retort when a gurgled gasp echoes from the hardwood hall outside the door.

Briggs flicks his head toward the door, and they both flank the frame, guns at the ready. A deep-throated growl reverberates down the adjacent corridor. They turn off their lights and flip down their night vision monocular. Briggs steps into the blackness of the corridor. His firearm is trained on a door, ajar, standing at the end of the hall. Claw marks are carved into the door’s wood so deep he can almost see through them. He approaches silently with Sebastian behind.

They see a bare human leg through the door’s slim opening, but the body it’s attached to is obscured by the rest of the door. The leg tries to use the heel of its foot to push itself somewhere, but it can’t. Streaks of blood trace themselves down the limb while more blood slowly pools from the room into the hallway. Another gurgled moan echoes down the hall from this room, followed by another growl.

Briggs raises his right fist, so Sebastian halts in place, squares his legs, and tightens his grip. The leg continues its struggles as Briggs approaches the door. He hears a fleshy gnawing as he lowers his assault weapon and pulls a tranquilizer gun from his leg holster. He plants himself in front of the door, and the wood beneath him creaks under the weight of his body. The sound of chewing ceases. Exhaling his nerves, Briggs places a hand on the door, pushes it open, and steps into the room.

A woman with a missing leg and her shoulder torn out spits up blood while staring up from the ground at Briggs. He is distracted by her, just for a moment, but long enough for a slavering creature to charge him from the dark, snarling. It slashes Briggs across his chest with a massive claw, and its immense strength sends him hurling into an antique dresser. Collapsing to the floor, Briggs draws quickly as the beast stalks toward him to bury its blood-soaked maw into his throat. Firing his tranquilizer at the encroaching shadow, he hears a whistled whine escape the beast’s snout. Struck, the monster stumbles backwards through the doorway.

Sebastian’s eyes widen as the massive creature staggers out of the room and into the hallway. It lands on all fours and heaves its chest once before slowly standing back up on its hind legs. Its wild, unkempt gray fur is matted down from the blood of its prey while its ears, long and pointed, stick out from its disheveled mane. It’s a digitigrade animal, standing on the digits of its thin, elongated feet, with its legs constantly bent, as if it’s always ready to pounce.

Sebastian’s gaze locks with the creature’s. Its bright yellow eyes dilate at the sight of him standing halfway down the hall. Curling its lips along its snout to reveal long and jagged teeth, red with blood and flesh, it digs its curved nails into the floor, splitting the wood, before launching itself at Sebastian on all fours. Bullet casings eject from Sebastian’s rifle, clinking under the boom of the gun. Muzzle flashes strobe the hallway as he unloads on the beast barreling toward him. The creature leaps with enormous force, arms outstretched, and tackles Sebastian mid-flight.

Plummeting against the hardwood with what feels like a car atop him, Sebastian fights to keep the monster’s dripping maw from his face by pushing against its thick, fur-covered neck, but the beast’s muzzle inches ever closer until it buries its fangs into what it can get its mouth around—Sebastian’s shoulder.

Gritting his teeth and moaning in pain, Sebastian draws a knife and furiously stabs the creature’s throat until it releases his shoulder from its jaws and instead clamps down on the arm holding the blade. He screams as its razor-sharp fangs bury themselves into his forearm, scraping his bones. Letting the creature have its way with his limb, he goes for his tranquilizer gun, but before he reaches it, a deafening thunder rattles the hall.

A hail of bullets impacts the beast’s back. It spits out its human chew toy, digs its claws into the wood floor, springs off Sebastian, and darts through the doorway to the lounge.

Briggs charges down the hallway after the creature and enters the lounge opening fire. The flash of gunfire casts light on Sebastian as he pulls his needle of morphine out and administers it on himself. You okay, kid? his boss asks through his earpiece. That was a lot of screaming.

Sebastian painfully pulls himself up from the floor with his rifle in hand. Yeah. Peaches and gravy, boss. He enters the lounge, acutely aware of his pounding wounds and numb arm, to see the last of the creature heading down the stairs as bullets riddle the stairwell.

Chase! Chase! Chase! Briggs yells as he sprints after the creature with Sebastian hobbling to keep up.

Entering the entrance hall from the dining room, Briggs hastily checks his corners, but he quickly spots the front door leaning from one of its battered hinges. He rushes to it and stands in the open frame, the wood splintered and marred from claws and teeth. A flash of lightning illuminates the front driveway and parking circle. There isn’t any sign of movement. He exhales, Shit.

Sebastian staggers into the room behind him clumsily whipping his gun from side to side as he moves, but when he sees Briggs standing in the door frame, he stops his frantic struggle to keep up.

Briggs looks over his shoulder at his partner whose head is swaying. Fuck that thing, Sebastian spouts before collapsing onto the floor, unconscious.

Briggs looks back outside. Boss, we’re going to need extract and cleanup. Multiple deceased. Man down preventing pursuit.

The boss’ voice comes back through the comms. That’s not good news.

You shouldn’t have stuck me with the kid.

The boss sighs. His parents want him doing something.

Briggs leaves the doorway and walks over to Sebastian. That ‘something’ is going to get him killed.

Hopefully. Then he won’t be our problem.

Removing a bandage from his first aid kit, Briggs begins wrapping Sebastian’s arm. Real nice.

Well, he’ll at least be good for one thing, the boss starts. We can see if this curse spreads by bite like Hollywood tells us it does.

2

Three Months Later

A single car

drives along a winding forest road where greenery reaches out from all sides to touch its visitors. The sedan’s windows are rolled down letting the fresh September air in and the radio’s song out. Inside the vehicle, Randi, a twenty-four-year-old woman with dark-brown, wavy hair wearing thick-rimmed glasses, is driving. Behind her frames, her brown eyes watch over the road, while her peach complexion absorbs the sun. She glances at her sixteen-year-old cousin, Becca, in the passenger seat beside her and wonders what’s on her mind. She’s five feet and five inches tall, just one inch shorter than Randi, but each day she seems to shrink more and more within herself. Looking glum as she gazes out her window into the passing woods, Becca fiddles with the silver bracelet around her wrist.

Randi, growing more concerned as Becca’s silence continues, turns down the radio, reaches over, and touches Becca’s shoulder beneath her long brunette hair. Becca turns to face her, her blue eyes piercing everything they see. Thought you were dead a minute, says Randi. Becca twists away, staring back out the window. Come on, Becca, you haven’t spoken a word in days. It’s not healthy to shut the world out. Receiving no response, Randi sighs and returns her attention over the wheel. Bad things happen. Especially to good people. But it’s part of life.

Shut up, Randi, Becca mumbles.

Barely catching what she said, Randi turns the radio back up whispering, Fine, shut the world out.

The forest green gradually fades away as Randi drives through town getting closer and closer to the school. When she reaches its driveway, she follows it to the student drop off. Before she manages to put the car in park, though, the passenger door is thrown open and Becca rushes out. Stay out of trou—

Becca slams the door before Randi can finish then walks, arms across her chest with a slight hunch, into the school.

The halls are worn, its bulletin board postings dated, its classroom numbers faded, its colors drab, and its capacity nearly filled with students. Those present mingle the best they can, eyes avoiding Becca, but a few can’t help themselves.

Becca’s gaze is fixed on the checkered floor as she follows it to her locker. Once there, she unlocks it and removes her books while staring at the pictures hung on the inside of her door. They are all of her with her best friend. She closes her locker but doesn’t move her gaze. She stares deeply, longingly, and wishfully at the locker beside her. It adorns a flower themed magnet which spells out the name Daisy. She soon realizes what she’s doing and quickly turns away, shooting the nearby onlookers a sharp glance. They all look the other way.

As the day passes, Randi remains fixed behind the screen of her laptop atop her desk, typing rapidly. Her den, riddled with handwritten papers across the walls, looks more like the cell of a deranged lunatic than a healthy work environment.

Ceasing her typing, Randi leans on her palm and inhales a deep breath before speaking. Working title draft five. She blows the air from her lungs. Pine needles tickled my cold, dirt-caked feet as I walked down the worn woodland path. Crickets chirped from behind every rock, log, and blade of grass, while bats scanned the sky in search of food. A lonely owl hooted just before a breeze sifted through my long blonde hair. I couldn’t help but smile when the bright, full moon peeked out from behind the clouds. It was my only light in the darkness that surrounded me. Randi removes her glasses and rubs her eyes. If that’s how you’re going to start your book, nobody’s going to read it. She presses and holds the backspace key until everything is gone. There. That’s what people want to read by you. Absolutely nothing.

The kitchen phone rings followed by a female voice, coming from the upstairs of the home, shouting for Randi to pick it up.

Getting up from her desk, Randi leaves her confined writer’s den for the kitchen. The house’s open floor plan makes her den seem more like a cave, however. The kitchen is situated between the dining room and the living room. The home’s front door is on the far wall of the living room opposite the staircase, and an attached garage door is against the wall behind the living room sofa.

A large refrigerator decorated in family photos is beside the kitchen landline. When Randi pulls the phone off its hook, she rests her elbow against the fridge. Hello?

Her Uncle Steve’s voice comes through the receiver. Randi don’t turn on the news for a few hours. There’s been another attack.

Another?

It was a family this time. The Newmans.

Randi brushes a hand through her hair not wanting to believe the news. Oh no, I think their oldest is a grade above Becca.

He was, Steve says gravely. Listen, don’t tell Mary. She was friends with Katy Newman.

Randi sighs. Sure, Uncle Steve, whatever you say.

Don’t worry, this will stop. It’s just a wild animal. They’ll kill it.

The more I hear that the less I believe it. Randi hears her Aunt Mary coming down the stairs and covers one side of her mouth to whisper, Got to go. Mary’s in the room. She hangs up the phone just as Mary places a basket of laundry on the living room sofa.

Mary, a 48-year-old vegan more concerned with her healthy figure than is healthy, sits on the couch opposite the television and begins setting herself up for a folding session. Who was it?

Randi shrugs saying, Telemarketer.

Mary shakes her head. Seems they’re the only people who call here anymore. I swear, sometimes it feels like I have no friends. Mary lifts the T.V. remote from the couch cushion beside her and aims it at the receiver as Randi rushes into the living room trying to block the signal but is too late. An infomercial about dog leashes bursts across the television screen, and Mary looks to Randi like she’s crazy.

What are you doing? Mary questions.

Randi shrugs. Nothing.

Mary raises her eyebrows as she turns back to the television and changes the channel to the news. All right, weirdo.

On screen, a reporter is standing in front of the Newman house. Behind him, the Newman family is covered with white sheets and on stretchers. The reporter’s voice speaks over the scene. Third attack in the last two weeks in small-town Ashwood, Vermont. The first of the attacks to claim the lives of an entire family. Mary’s pleasant countenance turns to dismay. Mr. and Mrs. Newman along with their two children were found mauled inside their home by a wild animal this morning by their postman.

Mary looks to Randi realizing she tried shielding her from this information.

Randi hangs her head slightly. Uncle Steve just told me over the phone. He didn’t want you to see. Mary briefly eyes Randi before she grabs her laundry basket and heads back upstairs.

Randi watches her leave before facing the television to see stretchers with bloodied coverings being placed into the backs of ambulances. The reporter’s voice continues from off-screen. This is the most gruesome attack yet to befall Ashwood. Victims of this shocking string of attacks include ten-year-old Peter Leil, sixteen-year-old Daisy Harper, and now— Randi turns the television off and heads back to her den. She plops herself down into her office chair and does a slow spin on it while observing the papers across her walls. When she comes face to face with her blank computer document screen, she sighs and lays her forehead against her desk.

X

The night darkens as the clouds cover the last of the moonlight, and all the chirping crickets surrounding the Brody home suddenly silence in unison. The world is still, except for inside the house where Steve, Mary, Becca, and Randi all sit around the dining room table. There is a window behind the head seat of the table where Steve is sitting and a cabinet of china behind Mary. An imitation crystal chandelier hangs above casting light upon the grim atmosphere. The tension in the air is palpable as everyone but Becca eats their spaghetti.

Steve is first to break the silence. So, Bec, how was school? Becca is prodding her food with a fork. Her silence answers his question. Mmh. This spaghetti’s delicious, Mary. And the sauce, the sauce is the best. How’d you do it?

Mary takes a break from her meal to stare blankly at it and responds, I opened the jar, poured it into a pot, and let it come to a boil. She resumes eating.

Understanding her standoffish tone, Steve turns to Randi for saving. So, kid, how’s the book coming along?

Randi shrugs. Slowly.

Well, what’s it about at least?

That’s a secret, Randi says. Then to herself she mumbles, Even to me.

Becca, having heard what Randi said, finally speaks. How long have you been working on it? she asks sharply. Her interjection catches her father off guard, and he smiles happy to hear her talk.

Randi swallows the food in her mouth before answering, A few years now.

And you still don’t know what it’s about, Becca says, intent on degrading her.

Trying to ignore Becca’s tone, Randi responds, I know what I want it to be about. I’m just having trouble conveying what I mean. I’ve had a few bad starts, too.

So, for years you’ve been doing essentially nothing. Becca is eyeballing Randi who finally locks with her gaze. I see why Aunt Linda kicked you out. She got sick of your shit, Becca snaps.

Becca! Steve intervenes. There’s no call for that.

It’s fine, Randi says. She’s just venting.

Mom, Dad, Becca continues, If I finished college and sat at home all day, everyday trying to write a book I haven’t started yet, how long would it take you to kick me out, too?

Becca, stop being a jerk, her father says calmly, but she isn’t finished.

I’m guessing you’d wait about two years, as well.

Becca! her father finally shouts, and she glares at him.

Randi is staring at her food trying to hide behind her hair while Mary looks miserably at all three of them wishing they would stop arguing.

Why can’t we all just enjoy dinner? Steve asks the table. It’s been nearly a week since we’ve had a normal meal. Let’s all try a bit harder.

They share a brief silence before Becca speaks up. May I be excused?

Her father puts down his silverware. No. Eat.

I’m not hungry. Her stomach growls.

Your gut would disagree.

Becca begins to roll her eyes when she catches sight of something outside the window behind her father. Fear seizes her.

The shadowy figure, standing in the night, watches her back. Its eyes gleam, reflecting the light in the room, and its body heaves with a breath, fogging the window.

Widening her eyes at the sight of it, Becca watches as it lifts a clawed finger and taps on the glass three times before scratching its nail along the window. The subsequent screech steals everyone else’s attention.

Steve twists around in his chair just in time to see something step back into the dark behind him. Rising from his seat, he peers through the black night, trying to see what he thought he saw, when the window explodes open.

Shards of glass fly everywhere as a monstrous creature bursts into the room mid-leap. It pounces onto Steve, burying its jagged teeth into his shoulder, and the force of the collision drives Steve back hard against the table. Their weight snaps the table’s legs, and it crashes to the floor with the two entangled atop it.

Steve’s screams snap everyone out of their shock.

The girls all stand, shrieking, as the creature begins to violently shake its maw back and forth, effectively tearing apart Steve’s shoulder.

Mary quickly grabs a knife that fell from the table, rushes to the creature, and starts stabbing it in the back of its neck. Blood spurts from the wound.

The creature releases Steve and stands on its hind legs. Its yellow eyes glare down at Mary whose mouth is agape. Its stature is massive, the back of its neck touching the ceiling, and its muzzle drips with blood and flesh as it growls at its cowering attacker.

Mary’s shaking hand clutches her butter knife tighter before the creature thrusts one of its claws into her stomach and lifts her from the ground. It then forcefully drives its speared prey into the china cabinet shattering everything within.

Steve looks up from the ground at his impaled wife then to his daughter and niece. Run!

Becca and Randi make a break for the kitchen, but the sudden movement catches the creature’s attention. It removes its claw from Mary, who coughs up blood upon its removal, and pursues the girls into the next room.

Becca and Randi are running for their lives as the creature takes a massive step into the kitchen and leaps for them. It catches Randi in its long arms and tackles her to the ground where she manages to roll face up to see the thing eye to eye before its wide jaw opens and plunges for the kill. It goes for her neck, but she moves herself to the side enough for the creature to catch her shoulder instead. It bites down, breaking bone, and viciously twists its grip on her, crushing everything in its mouth.

Becca screams at the sight of the creature tearing open her shrieking cousin, and as blood pours from Randi’s wound, Becca makes a break for the front door to escape. However, the creature’s hellish