Five:
The skin, pale and sickly, was stained with what appeared to be blood, rust and other less pleasant substances. it wore a loose garment around its waist, little more than a filthy, shredded rag, hanging down to the large creature's knees.
The helmet was steeply angled, resembling a child's misbegotten concept of a pyramid. The creature clutched an enormous weapon in one hand. A sword, or perhaps an oversized knife. It was incredibly thick, and appeared to have a series of jagged holes punched through the blade.
Arthur tried to slow, leaning back in his seat. It was a futile attempt to distance himself from the seven foot tall thing standing between him and freedom. The attempt failed spectacularly.
The bike collided with with creature and seemed to crumple. Arthur managed to throw himself free before the creature retaliated, grabbing hold of the bent bike frame and pitching it aside.
Arthur landed on his shoulder with a grunt. The bad one, no less. He could tell without moving that it had been broken again. Only pure fear made him rise, ignoring the screaming pain.
The fog seemed to give a dream like quality to the entire situation. The large, filthy creature making a slow turn toward Arthur. The all too familar pain. His ruined, mangled bike. He couldn't clear his head immediately, brandishing his club with his good arm. He could only think of one thing to say.
"You broke my bike, you ugly son of a bitch!"
He hadn't expected any kind of response, and he got just that: The prolonged stare from the pyramid creature. He couldn't see any eyes, but the mute beast seemed to be watching him. Arthur wasn't sticking around to see what it was capable of.
He wheeled around and began to run. He had to find some escape. Perhaps the car at the Texxon Station still had the keys in it. It was the closest thing to a plan he could formulate.
The station was as he had last seen it, the gas still spreading in a stinking lake. A quick check of the car's interior revealed that it, in fact, had no keys. The seats were soaked in blood, and he could smell something rotten coming from the trunk.
Arthur turned, squinting into the mist to try and see where his new companion had gone, and if he had made any progress toward the Texxon station. The creature was slowly making progress, long strides carrying it through the fog.
Arthur turned the other way to see if the road was clear. His heart immediately sank, as he found himself facing not one, but three more of the pyramid headed giants. Flanking them on either side were several of the Dog Things, and at least one of the Straightjackets.
Apparently, they had set up an ambush for him. Arthur turned back toward the first creature, which had been joined by even more Dog Things.
He rapidly backed away, stumbling over the gas hose and then turning to flee. He charged toward the gas station, hefting his makeshift club and simply throwing it straight through window.
The glass didn't shatter completely, but he didn't have time to consider the consequences of barreling through it. He simply guarded his face with his good arm and crashed through what remained.
A weapon. I need a weapon. This is a goddamn gas station, in America. The chances of there not being a Shotgun or something are small.
He swept behind the counter, knocking cigarette packs and lighters out of the way as he searched. Sure enough, there was a shotgun hidden beneath the counter. Unfortunately, it only held six shells, and there were no extra rounds anywhere to be found.
He grimaced and picked up the weapon. Pumping it sharply with one hand, he tested the weight. He'd never fired a shotgun before, but he knew where to look for the safety, and had enough strength to pump and catch it. It'd have to do.
"Fuckin' Custer's Last Stand...What a day...Guess it's too late to care about my health now." Arthur said. He'd resigned himself to what had to happen. He snatched up a pack of cigarettes, staring at the pack.
Lucky strikes. Well ain't that a pip. Guess God's got a sick sense of humor.
Arthur ripped the pack open with his teeth, tugging one of the smokes free with his incisors. He discarded the pack and snatched up a lighter. With a flick and a hiss, he'd lit his cigarette. A long drag and a release of smoke brought a small coughing fit on, but he enjoyed it none the less.
He picked up the shotgun again and stepped around the counter, propping the shotgun on his shoulder. The creatures had closed in around the station. It seemed as if it were a sea of them, including strange Bird-like freaks and what appeared to be a giant, four-legged Panther or Reptile of some sort in the back.
One of the Straightjackets stepped too close, and ate a face full of lead. The misshapen head seemed to collapse in on itself in a crimson cloud. He threw the gun up and caught it by the pump, snapping it down sharply and pumping a fresh shell into the chamber.
Another creature, a Pyramid this time, lurched forward, hefting what appeared to be a gigantic spear. A shot to the chest made the creature reel. Catch and pump. A second shot to the gut opened it's torso. Catch and pump. A third shot obliterated it's right knee. It fell, not dead but dying. Catch and pump.
Arthur marched toward the car, taking a deep breath. Smoke and fumes, gasoline and tobacco. One of the Dogs charged him, it's grotesque head splitting in twain. Arthur jammed the barrel down it's gaping throat and pulled the trigger. It's contents spilled onto the concrete as it jerked away and screamed, a long cry of pure agony. To Arthur's surprise, a gold wrist watch appeared to be mingled in with the stomach contents.
Arthur stepped over to the hatchback and leaned against the door. He fired his final shell into the crowd with no intent other than to inflict pain. He puffed on the cigarette again, and dropped the shotgun with a clank.
He raised his voice and blew a stream of smoke from his nostrils.
"I take it that you intend to kill me. That is an unfortunate and lamentable choice on your part. Due to your choice of action, I have decided to do something in further retaliation. So, please allow me to invite you...To get FUCKED."
The creature lunged as he screamed his last words. He flicked the cigarette to the ground, raised his good arm in defiance, and offered the creatures the world's most recognizable hand signal..