A cougar prowled through the forest. Weaving through trees, her sleek body moved like water over rocks. Instinct and memory was leading her. The smell of an intruder as clear as day on her turf. A predator, same as her.
Her massive paws barely made a sound as she rushed through her lush home. Sniffing the air, she knew she was close. Fear, sweat, and blood, food was running, but not from her. She licked her chops; the smell was making her hungry. Perhaps the predator would be her meal instead? A good fight was just as keen.
Half a mile away, the cougar came to a river. A trail of blood was smeared on the rocks. Signs showed a fight, a struggle. Deer blood. The deer put up quite the fight, but judging from the blood it lost . . .
Following the trail, the cougar found wisps of blood waving in the river. Looking up, she found the dead prey . . . and her intruder.
A coyote. Its maw was stained with blood, entrails dangled messily from its snapping teeth. Its fur was a dark brown, almost to the point of black. Unnatural for a coyote, but nothing that concerned her, just intrigued. Its ears were sharp and curved.
Despite her careful footsteps, the coyote lifted its head up, spotting her. Then she saw it. Its eyes. So weird, unnatural, more intimidating then she would like to admit. They were red, like the blood it was eating.
Its stare burned through the cougar to her soul.
Ignoring her inner fear, the cougar hissed and growled. Slowly, she approached. One coyote, she could handle that. With the stag and the coyote, she would eat well.
Then the cougar jumped back, when the coyote began to laugh. It laughed, and laughed, and laughed, disgorging blood and meat from its mouth.
The cougar was now more than cautious. Out of the darkened forest, more coyotes showed up. Just out of nowhere, no sign of their existence. She didn't smell them; she didn't hear them. It was like they just manifested from the air. Summoned by their master, this weird . . . evil thing.
The coyote barked and his minions charged. The cougar was now on the defensive. It swiped its claws, cutting and slapping the creatures away. Their bodies were small and weak, but they were many. She was strong and fast, but only one.
Both sides became bloody and ragged. From afar, the alpha coyote watched with sick fascination.
America's eyes opened suddenly when her radio went off. It woke up Boomer as well who stretched and yawned before bounding off the bed and sat down patiently.
America wiped the sleep from her eyes before grabbing her radio and answering whoever was on the other side.
"This is Deputy Jones." She yawned nearly.
"Good morning, Deputy. Sorry to bother you so early. I wouldn't have if this weren't important." A male voice spoke on the line.
"What is it and who am I speaking too?"
"This is Carl Carmichael. I'm in charge of holding the Fertilizer Plant that you took yesterday. Again, sorry to bother you ma'am, but we got a situation."
"Can't you get Mary or Jerome to handle it?" She had other plans today.
"I would ma'am, but I think this is something that needs your expertise more."
"My expertise?" She shook her head. "Fine. I'll be there within the hour."
She got up and got dressed, putting on a flannel shirt over a white Tee, jeans, and leather black boots. She placed a green trucker hat on her head and set a pair of shades over the rim. Once she checked herself over in the mirror, she looked over to Boomer who was still waiting patiently for his master. America nodded and pat the dog's head appreciatively.
Her head shifted when she heard a car door slam shut. Looking out the window she saw Cassidy loading up a truck. America quickly grabbed her weapons and headed outside.
The Deputy managed to catch the redhead before she left.
"Hey."
Cass turned around. "Hey."
An awkward silence.
"I didn't catch Grace inside." America said idly.
"She left early this morning. Mary-May asked her to head back to the Lamb of God Church to help escort some civilians to a safe location past the river."
"Ah, I see."
The weird silence returned between them.
"And you?" She referred to the packed truck.
"Got a tip on the last lighter—somewhere in the Henbane. Gonna sneak past the peggies and snatch it up."
"Oh, okay. Good."
"Jones, listen . . ."
"I'm sorry." The Deputy abruptly said. "I'm sorry about what I said yesterday and I'm sorry for the way I've been acting. You were right . . . about everything. I've been letting the Seeds get to me, when I should have been putting on a stronger front for the people. For you, and Grace, and the others. I was a dick and I'm sorry."
Cass smiled warmly at America and gave the woman a hug, surprising the Deputy.
"Apology accepted. I know it's been tough for you lately, but I promise, it'll get easier down the line."
"God, I hope so."
The two held onto each other a bit longer than necessary and quickly released when the hugging became somewhat awkward. America thumbed her pockets while Cass coughed nervously.
"So . . . what'cha gotta do today?" Cass said trying to break the ice.
"I was going to see Zip Kupka about some explosives, but I got a call from the Fertilizer Plant just now. They need me to fix something for them."
"Heh. Everyone needs your help these days, America. Guess it comes with the job."
"Most police jobs don't require you to do half the shit I've done since I've stepped foot in this valley."
"True enough." Cass through the last bit of her things into the passenger seat and slammed the door shut. "Well, good luck out there. If I'm lucky I'll see ya in a few days, America."
"Yeah." Cass was about to walk around to the driver seat, but the Deputy stopped her by grabbing her arm. "Cass . . ."
"Yeah?"
"Um . . . when you get back . . . uh, do you want—when you're available—to hang out . . . on our off time—you know when we're not working?" She stumbled awkwardly.
Cass smiled. "Yeah. I'd like that."
"Me too."
Cass quickly pecked the Deputy on the cheek and hopped into her truck. Without looking back, the redhead drove off and sped out of town. America just watched her go, a dumb look plastered on her face and her hand placed where Cass placed her lips.
She looked down and saw Boomer staring at her with a thoughtful look.
"What? What are you looking at?"
Boomer just barked noncommittally and walked to the Blue Eagle.
"Don't give me that. You got to go with that golden retriever the other day. I deserve some too."
Green-Busch Fertilizer Co.
"Thank you for coming on such short notice, Deputy Jones." They shook hands and walked further into the outpost.
"It's what I'm here for, Mr. Carmichael. But tell me, what is it that happened that makes you think I have "expertise" to handle it?"
"Well ma'am . . ."
They turned the corner and America was shocked to see the place in such a disarray. Despite just reclaiming this location, the Resistance was quick to clean up and rid the place of any cult prints on it. Hell, most outposts taken now looked like they had never even seen a warzone. Last she checked the Fertilizer Plant was no different.
But from what she saw it looked like a driveby of tornadoes came through the place. Crates were smashed to splinters, a car was toppled on its side, and the four bodies covered in blue tarps was the biggest eye catcher.
"What the hell happened here?" Boomer sniffed the air and growled warningly. Something bad was here and left terrible smell. And it wasn't just cult shit.
"A delivery truck came by early this morning—cult claimed. We figured they must not have known that the outpost was taken so we ambushed them when they arrived and took out the driver."
"Driver? There was no escort?"
"None, just the driver. At the time we didn't think anything of it and well . . ."
"What happened?"
"We opened the contents of the truck and were surprised by what came out of it. No supplies or weapons of any kind, instead there was just a . . . monster."
America was taken aback. She stared at Carmichael and the absolute fear on his face. Then she looked at the crying and somber fighters who gathered around the bodies. Walking over to them, she kneeled down and examined the bodies. Some of them looked disproportionate.
Pulling the covers back America was shocked to see one of the bodies had a caved in head. The second was skewered all over, like it was penetrated by multiple protruding spikes. The third was crushed to death, most of the bones reduced to mincemeat. And the fourth looked like it was mangled; bloody bones were poking out and extremities were angled in odd directions.
Whatever attacked these men, it was strong and fierce.
"What did this, Carmichael?"
"A moose. But unlike any you've ever seen. The cult did something to it. Pumped it full of drugs and made it go crazy. After it killed some of our guys it made a run for it into the woods."
"What did it look like?" She pressed.
"Nothing like you've ever seen. Its body was white, but not naturally albino."
America plucked some hair from one of the bodies fingernails.
"Gaunt, like it was starving."
The body with holes in it also had a massive bitemark on its neck.
"Its eyes were unnaturally red. Almost like they shined."
Wiping her hand over the headless body, she found a trace of bliss dust on the abdomen. Just a tiny sprinkle was enough to make her see stars.
America put the tarp back over the bodies and stood up. "You called the right person, Carmichael. First, send the bodies to Fall's End, Jerome will see to them. Second, clean up that truck the moose came in. I think it leaked some bliss when it was released. And finally, third, give me four fighters . . . I'll bring you back the beast's head."
None had to be chosen, four fighters volunteered to join the Deputy on her hunt. A couple of them carried rifles, while one held a sniper rifle and the fourth one, a woman, had a bow. They headed south, the direction the beast fled to.
It was mostly silent, the trek. No one wanted to speak, too afraid that the Judge Moose would hear them and come running. While that would save them some time, the Deputy found it better to find the creature unaware, so she asked for silence, both radio and verbal.
Two hours they walked through the forest. The Deputy led the team by following the animal's tracks via Boomer. One thing she could tell about the beast besides it being a threat, it was erratic. Its steps were a mess, it was wobbling all over the place and even collapsing every few hundred yards. She had only ever seen animals move like that when they were tranqued or losing blood.
Other signs included wrecked flora, downed trees, destroyed shrubs and grass. Then they came upon the more . . . violent scenes. Animals unfortunate enough to have crossed the Judge Moose's path. A raccoon that fell out of—no, knocked out of the tree and trampled to death; reduced to a bloody pancake. The Judge relentlessly tore up the tree just trying to get to the raccoon. They came across a young doe that was completely eviscerated. A buck next to it, brutally stamped to death trying to defend its mate.
"This is getting out of hand." One of the fighters, named Beth, said.
"All this destruction caused by one animal. I just can't believe it."
"Moose are already dangerous enough. But leave it to the cult to mess with nature even more."
"I asked for silence people." America whispered harshly. "I don't want to attract that creature's attention if it's close." Boomer sniffed the ground and point to east. She looked down at the tracks. "And I'm sure we're getting close."
"That's what you said the hour before Deputy, but we still haven't come across it. It's always moving." A man, named Trainor, said. He was the one carrying the sniper rifle.
"Have more faith in the Deputy, Trainor." The rifleman, Gary, defended. "Besides, we have the famous Boomer by our side. Without a doubt we'll find it.
Another half hour passed following the trail. Everyone was starting to get fatigued now. But then . . .
"Grrrr!" Boomer stopped and growled.
With stumbling heft, a hoof stamped the ground. The Judge Moose had shown itself. It was worse than America imagined. The herbivore was gaunt, its skeleton showing through malnourished flesh. What little hair was still attached to it was white as a sheet and course to the touch. Its antlers looked worse for wear, chipped in several places, stained with blood; they almost looked like devil's antlers. Then there were its eyes. They were bloodshot red and manic looking. Just like Carmichael said, they almost glowed from the Bliss dust permeating from it. It slobbered as it breathed heavily, then from its bloody lips, released an ungodly moo as it charged.
"Open fire!" America yelled frantically. The team fired on the charging moose.
Bullets hit it, but did absolutely nothing to slow it. America quickly realized this thing was just like those bears from Orchard. It felt nothing!
"Scatter!"
Everyone got out of the way before they were either skewered or run over. The Judge Moose bellowed ragefully again and made to turn. Arrows struck its hide, but all it did was draw its attention to Beth.
Beth cursed and tried pulling back an arrow to strike its head as it charged at her. She fired three arrows at the moose. One of them bounced off its antlers, the two missed drastically because of fear and stress.
Before the Judge Moose got to Beth, a round struck it, making it veer to the left. Trainor had gotten into position and fired his sniper rifle. Despite the massive damage the moose took, it still ran with full speed. Trainor tried firing again, but the beast was moving too fast, so he either hit a tree or nothing at all.
America and the other two fighters, who were armed with rifles, fired at the moose too. America reloaded the Farmhand and blasted away, hoping the spread would get the animal. It was faster than they thought though, even when they did hit it, it just kept going.
"Look out!" The Deputy cried. She and the two riflemen got out of the way.
One wasn't fast enough the and the Judge Moose trampled him. The fighter screamed in pain and everyone winced when they heard his spine break under the beast's hoof. America called out the second rifleman who went to the aid of his partner, but it was too late.
The Judge came back around and struck the guy with its antlers, spearing him. The rifleman flew back, America came to his aid, but found nothing she could do except watch him bleed out in agony. Then she heard more screams, followed by squelching noises. The Judge had finished off the second rifleman by stamping his body into red paste.
America screamed in fury and brought up the Farmhand. She fired and the Moose recoiled and howled in pain and anger. It charged at the Deputy, who fired her second buckshot. The pellets struck true, even getting the beast in the eye, but it still didn't slow.
At the last second, America managed to duck and roll underneath the moose's antlers. As it tried coming back around, the Deputy pulled out Judgement and fired more rounds into the beast's wiry frame.
Then an arrow struck the Moose in the damaged eye, making it bellow even louder. Beth pulled back another arrow ready to strike, hoping to give the Deputy more time to reload her guns. The Moose snarled and charged at America again.
America was unprepared for the beast and wasn't in a position to dodge. Then Trainor pushed her out of the way, taking the full force of the Judge's charge. Trainor went flying and he impacted a tree; a sharp branch penetrated his side.
Beth yelled, "Trainor!" and ran to him.
The Judge got distracted by the woman's scream, allowing Boomer to leap from his hiding spot and jump on the Moose's back. He bit into the Judge's back, snarling and ripping off chunks of fur and flesh. The Moose howled in pain and started to jump, kick and shake the hound off, but Boomer held on tight.
Both America and Beth got to Trainor's side and pulled him off the branch. He made no sound as they did. Because he was dead; eyes wide open and blood dripping from his mouth.
America was frozen with shock and Beth just cried and cried. She then looked at Trainor's sniper rifle, then to the two dead riflemen, and then at the Judge Moose. Her lips turned into a snarl and her face a deep disconcerting scowl. Something in her head snapped and she made a grab for the sniper rifle.
The Deputy tried calling her back, but Beth was in her own world of red and wrath.
"Damn you!" She fired the sniper rifle as she advanced on the moose. She had no formal training with such a device, so it missed.
"Fuck you!" She fired and missed again.
"Bastard Beast!" Another round came dangerously close to Boomer, but she didn't notice.
"DEMON!" She finally hit it in the rear, but only because she was very close.
Close enough that the erratic moose kicked out and struck Beth in the head with its hind legs. America yelled out when she heard the loud crack and Beth dropped like a sack of rocks.
The Judge Moose finally got Boomer off, who had to retreat else he got stomped to death. The Judge lost sight of Boomer, but it turned to the Deputy. Panicking, America crawled desperately toward her shotgun as the Moose charged.
She managed to grab it, reload, and fall back just as the Moose was in stamping range. On her back, she held up the double-barrel and fired. The impact of the round knocked the Judge back. On the ground it continued to squirm and groan angrily, but it didn't get up. Large pools of blood began to spread around.
America got up. Catching her breath, she just stared at the beast. She kept her distance, not wanting to get kicked or bit. Scowling, she reloaded two shells into the chambers. Leveling the shotgun, she had pointblank range on the animal's neck. It just continued to stare at her with its bloodshot eyes, filled with malice and hunger and pain.
*BLAM!*
Its suffering was no more.
America dropped her gun and fell to her knees. She looked all around her; the devastation, the death. Once again, she survived . . . somehow. Then she sobbed.
She cried into her hands, taking the moment of loneliness to feel . . . weak.
Then she felt a nudge to her side and saw Boomer. Whining sadly for her. America pulled the dog in for a hug as she continued to cry for several more minutes.
. . .
The Deputy returned to the refinery after loading up all the bodies, including the Judge Moose, into the back of the truck. No one celebrated the Judge's demise; they were too busy being somber over four more bodies the cult had created.
While the fighters took their fallen to the truck, America and Carl stayed behind to examine the monstrosity.
"Damn thing is uglier than a I thought." Carl said. He used a pencil to lift up its lip to see its blood-stained teeth.
America gripped his wrist and pulled it away. She stared sternly at him. "Don't get too close. Its body is covered in Bliss dust."
Carl took a cautious step back.
The Deputy gave the animal a harsh look, but there was also pity behind her eyes. "The cult made a monster here. Or more specifically a demon." She reached into her pocket and tossed a small item into Carl's hands.
It was a yellow ear tag. The kind that are pierced on cows to keep information on them. On it read:
"Subject 13: Mammon—Gender: Male—Blood Type: B—Age: 15"
"What is this?"
"Found that on the Judge's ear. It was an experiment made by the cult." She explained.
"I heard the cult was performing experiments on various animals all over the county. Looks like they're succeeding."
"No, they're failing. They want to control these animals." She stated. "They're dumping their rejects on us."
"You mean there's more of . . . Those out there?" Carl replied fearfully, shivering at the thought of facing another Judge Moose . . . or worse.
"Definitely, but I would bet not all of them are moose." America took the tag back and started heading toward her truck. "I gotta keep moving Carmichael. Make sure those bodies get safely back to Fall's End."
"I will Deputy. What about the Judge Moose?"
She got in the Blue Eagle, but answered before closing the door. "Send it there too. Have someone run safe tests on it. Maybe these things have a weakness other than lots and lots of bullets."
Kupka Ranch
America was right outside the Kupka residence and it was not quite what she expected. Surrounding the acre long land was a ten-foot-tall chain-link fence, with four rows of barbed wire at the top jutting out at a 90-degree angle. Along the road as she pulled in were a bunch of post signs that said various words like "Keep Out!", "Stay Off Land", "Trespassers Will Be Shot" and "Free Corn".
The most disconcerting part? The charred bodies lying along the border of the fence. Some of them were lying on the ground, most picked clean by scavengers. A few were still clinging to the fence. The Deputy picked up a stick and tossed it to the fence. There was a big "ZAP" and the stick was set on fire. Thankfully, most of the ground was dry dirt.
"An electrified fence." She looked at the bodies, who's hands were fused to the fence now.
Judging from the look of whatever was left of the corpses' clothes, they were peggies. Seems they were trying to find a way in. Looking up, she spotted about three cameras looking at her.
Not wanting to end up like the cult, America used the front door, which was actually just a sliding gate. There was no way for her to open it though, at least not from her side. Instead, there was an intercom to her left. Pressing the big red button, she talked through it.
"Mr. Kupka?"
An answer came after nearly a minute. "What? What?! Who are you?"
"My name is Deputy Jones. I'm here to make sure you're alright." That wasn't entirely true, but you could never be too careful with these types.
"Oh yeah? Well, how do I know you're not with THEM?"
"I'm not with the cult, sir. I really am—" Her reassurances were quickly silenced.
"The cult? They're only part of a larger problem! Are you with the government?!"
"The government? What does—"
"The government! The ones controlled by those fascists goblins, who command a squadron of brain-erasing ghosts to control the frequencies of all media, so that they have all of the people's minds trapped in a cage like a screaming baboon!"
. . .
. . .
What was she even supposed to say to that?
She pressed the comm button again. "Listen, Mr. Kupka, I'm not with the . . . government. I'm just a deputy of the Sheriff's Office."
"That's just what someone from the Government WOULD say!"
America felt a migraine coming on. She looked down at Boomer who just gave a little tilt of the head and a confused whine. Even the dog couldn't comprehend this man.
"Mr. Kupka, I'm not with the government, I'm not with the cult, I just came to give my help and get yours. Mary May, Pastor Jerome and Nick Rye suggested you to me. If you could just listen—"
"Mary . . . Jerome . . . Nick . . ." There was a pause after that confused response. "They're the most patriotic people I know. If those three sent you to me, you couldn't be a thrall of the established system." Another short pause. There was a loud buzz noise and the gate slid open. "Alright, you can come in."
America and Boomer quickly walked through the gate. As soon as they were a step in it closed almost instantly behind them.
They walked along a long dirt driveway. They came upon the main Kupka residence. A simple wooden homestead, a barn that was turned into a garage—maybe a radio center, if the signal tower on top meant something. To the left was a row of solar panels. On the far side, behind the barn was a shed. A simple pickup truck was parked by the two-story house. Zip Kupka was over near a pile of garbage . . . and burning it with a flamethrower.
As America got closer, she could see most of the garbage was cult shit. Kupka himself was exactly how she expected him to look like. He looked almost like a hobo, with his ragged shorts, and unbuttoned green shirt; a red, flamethrower tank was strapped to his back. He had scraggily, curly hair, and a messy beard, covered by a gasmask. Along his arms, chest and face were burn scars, like he spent too long near a furnace . . . or out in the sun.
Zip stopped torching the cult's junk and addressed the deputy.
"So you ARE that Deputy Jones! I was worried perhaps you were one of them."
America didn't know what possessed her to ask, "One of who?"
"The shapeshifters the government use to spy on their people." He looked around to see if anyone was listening in. "They got some kind of slime from the aliens that crashed in Roswell. Been using it since the Cold War with the Russians. You can't be too careful."
America repressed the urge to smack her forehead, else she become like this . . . person.
"Anyway! It's just nice to meet another individual interested in the truth. A fellow seeker of justice. I heard how you've been stirring the Peggie's globalist plot. Everything about the cult STINKS. You know it and I know it. Say it. Say it at the same time as me—WE ARE SLAVES TO THE GOVERNMENT!"
The Deputy refused to say anything, but Kupka continued on like she had responded.
"Good enough. Now—" America raised a hand, otherwise she'd never get him to stop.
"Listen, Mr. Kupka—"
"Call me, Zip. Mr. Kupka was my father."
"Zip," she said pointedly, "I'm here for your help. I heard that you have high grade explosives on your property. The Resistance could use those explosives to beat back the cult and maybe even blow a hole in John's stupid bunker."
"Hm, while I am concerned with the fact my secret stock is exposed, I do like the idea of using them to hurt the Peggie's dastardly plots. But if I'm going to trust you with my tools, I need to know you're REALLY on the side of Justice and Truth."
America sighed. "And what, pray tell, do you want me to do?"
"World's not comin' to an end like the cult says. That's a demonically driven government ploy of a scare tactic to pull our attention away from what's really happening. This whole county is ground zero for government fuckery. Baby farms, chem trails, weather manipulation, pesticides, genetically modified this, that, and the other."
"Of . . . of course it is." Was all she could bring herself to say.
"There's this place down the way. Flatiron Stockyards. I did some diggin' and found barrels full of that brain meltin' stuff all over that place. You know what I'm talkin' about. The BLISS."
America's attention was completely on Kupka now.
"They're experimenting on the animals there with Bliss." She said.
"Right-O. They're feeding it to the animals and we're EATING them—chemicals of conformity, and what we need to do is destroy the tools that are indoctrinating us."
Even ignoring the whole conspiracy thing, this was a situation to worry about. A Judge Moose killed eight people easily. An entire farm of Judges? Who knows the amount of chaos that could cause?
"I just got done killin' a fucking Judge Moose, Zip. Damn thing was a monster. If what you're saying is true, then we need to shut this place down. Fast. But when we get this done, I want your explosives for the war. Deal?"
Zip eagerly shook her hand, a big dumb grin spread across his face. "Deal! Bout time someone finally listened to me! Hop in my truck, Deputy, I'll take you to Flatiron's. You and me are gonna FUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK THE GOVERNMENT! Sideways."
Flatiron Stockyard
The Flatiron Stockyards were exactly as Zip described. A main office building, a large barn, and an entire area of penned up animals that clearly have been blissed out of their minds.
All over, practically discarded, were barrels of Bliss, emptied or left fallen over; the contents seeping into the ground. America watched several peggies dump Bliss into the animal's troughs where they devoured the content with furious gusto; almost like they were starving.
The animals ranged from boars, to goats, sheep, horses, some wolves and dogs, even a couple of bears. They roared and barked and squealed at their jailers, rattling their cages and threatening to break out.
That was actually a relief to America. Just like the Judge Moose, it meant the cult couldn't control them.
There were many cultists wandering about. America counted about ten, though there could be more in the barn. A sniper stood on the roof of the barn. There was a pyro leaning against the shed on the far eastern side. And a VIP just watching the place, while holding a large cleaver and revolver.
"So, what do we do, Zip?" America whispered. The two were hiding in the tall grass, lying on their bellies. Boomer laid by her side, while she peered through her binoculars.
"We?" Zip questioned.
The Deputy looked at the conspiracy nut. "Yeah. "We." As in, how are WE gonna take care of the peggies and the Blissed animals?"
"Oh, uh, perhaps I should have mentioned this sooner, but it's actually just you who's gonna do all the work."
"WHA—" America covered her mouth before she alerted the enemy. Controlling herself, she spoke in an aggravated whisper, "What do you mean only I'm gonna take care of it?"
"I used to work here, Deputy. Before I was kicked out for sniffing to close to the peggie's plans. I got a bond with those animals and I won't be able to bring myself to harm them. So, it's up to you to put'em down. I'm talking euthanasia. It's the only way."
America groaned frustratingly and banged her head against the dirt. How was she supposed to take on all those peggies and fight a horde of blissed out animals at the same time?!
She contemplated calling for backup, have the Resistance help sweep through the place, but then she had another idea. Looking through her binoculars, she saw many of the pens had flimsy looking locks. Must have weakened from the animals forceful rustling.
It hit her then. A way for her to deal with the facility and its inhabitants without calling in people to risk their lives.
Taking out the Fall's Ghost rifle, she looked down the sights and aimed at the nearest pen, which were the boars.
"Kupka." She said, without taking her eyes off her target. "Whatever happens, stay down."
The Ghost fired and there was a loud clang that followed after. The noise caused the animals to freak and the peggies to look around in alarm. The cultists were trying to find the source of the shot, but before they could look properly, the boars burst out of their confines and started attacking the cultists.
While they were distracted by the rampaging boars, more shots were fired by Fall's Ghost as the repetitive noises of gunfire went off. Soon, the canines, the livestock, the horses, and the bears were released from their prisons.
It was complete pandemonium.
The peggies were trying to shoot as many animals as they could, but the blissed beasts were immune to pain and filled with wild wrath. They hardly felt the bullets rip into their flesh and if they did, all it resulted in was making them angrier.
America watched the animals tear the cult to pieces, all the while, Zip was calling out the animal's names for each one that perished. The boars gored many peggies to death. The pyro tried setting them on fire to kill them, but their pain-addled skin made them not feel it. So, the peggies were gored to death while also being burned. This was the end result for the pyro.
"Goodbye, Alvin! First babe I ever held!"
The wolves and dogs ripped into the peggies, shredding them to pieces. The cult had an easier time killing them, but the canines were still formidable.
"Oh, sweet Daisy, you were one of a kind!"
The goats and sheep bit and trampled the cultists. Many died slow and agonizing pain. America saw one cultist get rammed by a goat and stabbed by its horns. Another cultist was downed by another goat and a sheep tore out the throat of the dazed man. A woman got stampeded and was left a broken mess by the crazed livestock.
The horses ran wild like the rest. They kicked and stomped the peggies to death. Neighing loudly, one horse reared back and practically squashed a cultist into paste with its front hooves. The horses were however the first to die. The sniper on the roof saw to that.
"Off to a better place, Claire! I'll miss you!"
The sniper was probably the safest out of all the peggies. She sniped from the rooftop and killed off a lot of the boars, wolves and dogs. She actually did the most thinning out the animals. Then a shot rang out and the woman felt her body go limp. There was a red stain over her shirt, where her heart was. Feeling her body get heavier she fell off the roof and landed with a thud on the ground. She finally died when a bunch of animals trampled her to death.
America quickly hid back into the grass. She had to handle the sniper else the peggies would have more of a chance of succeeding. So far, the peggies weren't doing well against their own creations. The only peggie that was able to hold their own was the VIP. The man was practically ripping through the beasts. Chopping them up with his cleaver then shooting them in the head with his revolver. He was an excellent fighter.
"Bettina, you were the softest! Goodnight, sweet girl!"
The Deputy saw him cleave off a boar's head, put down two wolves by shooting their open mouths. He even managed to cut half way through the remaining horse's head and then put a bullet between its eyes.
"Brock, I'll miss scratchin' your belly buddy!"
His kill streak would come to an end though when the bear showed up. Its maw was stained red and ripping with fresh blood; both human and animal. The peggies were very few now and while there were more animals then humans, they were exhausted and the damage they took was catching up to them.
The bear and VIP clashed. The VIP tried staying out of the bear's reach, but it was too fast and the VIP received numerous, deep claw marks all over his body. He fired his revolver several times, but it barely did anything. He tried aiming for its head, but the bear would not let him get a good shot. Very quickly the VIP's revolver emptied and he was forced to use it as a blunt weapon.
The VIP managed to damage the beast's eye with several precise blows with the handle of his gun. That would be the most he could do though, as the bear lurched forward and bit into the VIP's shoulder. The VIP cried out in pain as he was shaken around like a chew toy. Gripping his cleaver, he tried going for one more attack and the VIP struck the animal's neck.
Blood gushed out of the bear's throat, but it did not let go. With added pressure and force, the bear tore off the VIP's arm and then crushed his body with the weight of its massive size.
The bear had won. Though it was a pyrrhic victory. The bear stumbled away, ready to fight the remainders, but its throat leaked too much blood and it died within seconds.
When the chaos died down, America, Zip and a Boomer walked into the stockyards. Shotgun in hand, the Deputy went around putting down any animal and peggie left alive. There were quite a few of them, mostly animals. What peggies were alive were broken, beaten and bloodied. If America didn't finish them, they'd die within several hours. One buckshot to the brain ended their miserable lives.
"This isn't over yet, Deputy." Zip said suddenly. "I chose this time to strike because I knew a majority of the peggies would be gone. But they should be back any minute now." He pulled out a block of C4 from his pack. The plastic explosive had some sensor device connected to it. "I'm gonna boobytrap the place. Their reinforcements will be met with the fire of God."
Zip quickly ran out to the driveway and set up the explosives. He spread them out about fifteen feet apart from each other. Far enough that they wouldn't detonate each other.
When he was all done, he ran back to America and Boomer, who were hiding behind some crates.
"Any demons come here will be blown sky high. They can never hurt defenseless animals again. Never again!"
The three didn't have to wait long as they heard something come down the road.
"Heh heh. Heeeeeere they come." Zip chuckled mischievously.
Something didn't feel right though. She heard trucks, but there was more of a rumble in the distance as well as in the ground.
"Uh, Zip," America started unsurely, "do you hear that?"
"What?" Zip said and looked over cover. His eyes went wide with shock. "What?! No. NO! They're bringing in cows!"
Sure enough, a herd of cows came stampeding down the road, being driven by cultists in trucks. And they were heading right for Kupka's trap.
"Ryan? Davie?! SHEENA?!" Zip whimpered confusedly. Like the other animals he was apparently familiar with these bovines too. "Ryan! Davie! SHEEEEENAAAAA! NOOOOOOOO!"
It was too late. The cows set off the explosives. They were immediately turned into groundbeef and the surrounding cows were knocked back, mortally injured or also killed. Blood and bloody chunks rained down and even splattered on the peggies. It felt like some Old Testament shit. A dark part of America found the whole situation funny. The realistic part of her thought this whole situation was ridiculous.
Then a round shot passed her head and she realized they were still in danger.
"This wasn't supposed to happen! You bastards! Look what you made me do!" Zip cried out. He grabbed a molotov cocktail from the back of his pants and lit it. He chucked it at the cultist's vehicle, setting it ablaze.
America wasted no time and pulled out her machinegun. The weapon mowed down nearly all the surprised peggies, the rest were lit on fire by Zip and his flamethrower. Soon, al the peggies were dead . . . and not a single cow was left alive.
Zip looked out across the blood-stained road with a far-off look in his eyes. Tears began to fall across his cheeks.
"These poor animals. This hits me right in the feels, partner. But at the end of the day I suppose we won the battle. Still . . . my . . . my heart is so broken."
America did her best to console the man. "I'm . . . sorry for your loss."
Zip quickly turned around and hugged her. America flinched and did her best not to cringe. She slowly reciprocated and awkwardly pat the man on the back.
Zip sniffled. "Thanks, Dep."
"I'm sorry for what happened here, Zip, but I still need those explosives." She felt somewhat bad for having to change the topic like that.
"Yeah. I get it. You'll get your explosives, Dep. Hell, you're good people, I'll even help the Resistance fight the cult."
"You'll fight with us?"
"What? No! I'm retiring, didn't you see that shit? That was fuuucked up. Naw, I'll just make explosives for you guys and point you to places that need a good dose of C4."
Well, that was good enough for her. She really just needed his explosives.
"I'll radio the Resistance, see if we can't spare some people to guard this place."
"Agreed can't let the Peggies get back their precious mind control factory. The poor animals have been through enough."
Fall's End
America dropped Zip back off at his ranch, then headed straight back to Fall's End. She drove the Blue Eagle through the makeshift barricade and parked it next to the Spread Eagle.
Boomer rushed in once she opened the door. The bell rang signaling everyone that she was back.
"DEPUTY!" Everyone inside cheered.
The display of admiration made her flinch, but she cracked a little smile regardless.
Taking a seat at the counter, she was greeted by the lovely, friendly smile of Mary May. Notebook in hand and ready to take orders.
"Good to see ya, Deputy. What'll you have?"
"What do you got?" She needed to hear how their food stocks were doing.
Catching the meaning under her words, Mary's smile grew bigger and answered.
"Enough that we won't have to worry about the people starving. The farms have brought us a ton of produce and the hunters and fishers have caught us a lot of meat. So, don't be afraid to ask for whatever you want, Jones. We'd get it for you even if we didn't have it."
Reassured, America thought over what she wanted. Her mind wandered to the sight of exploding cows and juicy red meat.
'A steak sounds fucking delicious.' She realized just how wrong that thought was, but couldn't deny the craving.
"I'll have the steak. Rare. A side of fries and ranch dressing."
Mary May wrote that down, her pleased smile never leaving. She ripped it off and handed it to Casey who was quick to get it done.
While Mary was doing that, America turned her head slightly and noticed a new ornament hanging on the bar's wall. A moose's skull.
"Is that . . ."
Mary turned to see what she was looking at and said, "The Judge Moose you killed? Yes."
"Why did you . . ."
"We never came across anything like that thing before. Damn thing was a beast. When we heard you killed it, we thought we'd hang it up as a trophy. Mainly to boost morale. Show everyone that the cult and their monsters can be beat." There was a short pause between them. "Do you . . . want us to take it down?"
America looked around and saw everyone joking, laughing, and smiling. In the Spread Eagle there was no war, no suffering. A couple conversation she could make out were about her and her exploits. Mainly about her taking down the Judge Moose. She didn't hear anything about the eight lives the demon took.
'In this place, everyone feels strong. In control.' She thought bitterly. 'Damn it all.'
"It's fine. Keep it there." The Deputy replied.
Mary nodded. "We had our best hunter examine the creature. He said there was enough metal in that moose's body to kill five more moose."
America wasn't shocked by that in the least. "What else can you tell me?"
Mary started cleaning a mug when she remarked. "If you want to know more, you can ask Smokie yourself."
"Smokie?"
The Bartender tilted her head to the right. "That guy sitting in the booth at the far corner."
America looked over and saw an older gentleman of sixty sitting in said booth. He looked to be of Native American descent and was smoking a cigar, while having a plate of smoked salmon.
"Your food won't be ready until a while. You can go talk to him until then." Mary suggested.
Nodding, America got up from her stool and walked over to Smokie. Boomer followed after her, several of the patrons fed the hound scraps of their meals as they passed.
"Deputy Jones." Smokie greeted when she stopped in front of his table. "It's a pleasure to finally meet your acquaintance."
"Yours as well . . . um?"
"Lucas Summers. Though folks call me Smokie, on account that I got a bad smoking habit." He emphasized this by taking a big puff of his cigar and blowing a ring out into the air.
"May I sit with you?" She asked.
Smokie swayed his hand out. "I'd be honored."
America took a seat. Boomer lied at her feet under the table.
"So, what brings you to my table, Deputy?" Smokie asked.
"Mary told me you had a closer inspection of the Judge Moose."
"Hmm." He nodded. "I did. Used to be the High School Biology Teacher before the Peggies shut the place down with their drugs and extortion."
America raised an eyebrow. "I've only lived in Hope County for less than five days."
"Hmph. The school had to be closed down temporarily because the cult bought the nearby land. They sold drugs to kids, namely teenagers, but there were reports the little ones got ahold of some Bliss. Then there were the violent crimes being committed around the place. Apparently one girl stabbed her boyfriend to death when he said something unkind about Joseph Seed. After that, parents just refused to send their kids to school."
America couldn't believe that shit. It was so typical of a cult to brainwash the younger masses with drugs.
'Children are always a target for groups like Eden's Gate. The fact they succeeded is so fucking depressing I don't even want to think about it anymore.'
"Anyway, I checked over that monster you had Carmichael send our way. Honestly, I don't know what to make of it. I had to practically burn the hide because the Bliss dust was not coming off. Its metabolism was working overtime which is why it was constantly eating everything in sight; including meat. Its brain was an absolute mess, doped to the brim, which was one of the reasons it was so psychotic. Every fiber in its body looked burned out. Like it was stretched to the point of atrophy. I looked at its heart and saw extreme signs of taxation. If I had to guess, the damn thing was beating 200 beats per minute. This damn thing should have died on its own, but whatever drugs was pumping through it was enough to keep it going past the point of exhaustion, pain and reason. Killing that thing was a mercy, Deputy."
'So, like the Angels, the Judge Moose was tougher, dumber and stronger. With a 900 pound advantage, plus hooves, and antlers.'
America reached into her pocket and pulled out the ear tag she got off the thing. "This was tagged to its ear." Smokie grasped and examined it. "'Subject 13.' They're testing, trying to work out the kinks of their drugs. There's more of those things out there in the cult's possession . . . more than likely not just moose."
Smokie handed it back. "That's what Jerome suggested. If you do come across more of these . . . subjects . . . send'em my way and I'll examine them for you. Here." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a little trinket.
"What's this?" She asked. It felt like a piece of bone, with a red ribbon wrapped around it and three little green beads."
"A charm I made from a piece of the Judge Moose. My ancestors used to believe that taking a part of an enemy granted you a portion of their power, strength, wisdom, courage, etcetera. This Judge Moose was strong, may its strength be your strength now."
America took the charm and smiled as she looked at it. "Thank you, Smokie."
The former teacher nodded and then his attention was drawn to Mary May, who was bringing them two plates. A steak and fires, with a chocolate milkshake.
"Here you guys go." Mary set the plates down and handed Smokie his milkshake.
"Much obliged, Mary May." Smokie thanked and took a loud sip of his frozen drink.
"Yeah, thanks, Mary." America said gratefully. Wasting no time, the Deputy dug into her steak and savored the juicy flavor of it.
"To you, Deputy Jones." Smokie saluted, raising his drink. "To you seeing us through these dark times."
. . .
That night, America had that weird dream again. The one with the cougar and the coyote.
The cougar had slain the coyote's pack, but the black hound scampered away during the deadly brawl. The cougar, injured and tired, could not follow.
She retreated to her home, one of the slain in her maw for sustenance. A cave, hidden under a rock formation was her shelter, just in time as another storm approached. One of many that have been occurring lately.
As she was devouring her meal for the night, off in the distance, nearly out of sight, to red eyes were staring at her. She knew it was the black coyote. Watching her, scheming. The storm was too harsh for her to chase it off. The coyote looked all too comfortable in the middle of the chaos.
Through eating her dinner and for most of the night, the two creatures watched each other. Nothing more.
Because they both knew, that their "war" was just beginning.
Playing through the game, I always found it odd that there were individual characters that didn't look like they were being harassed by the cult. Zip, Wendell, Larry, the cult doesn't seem to bother with them, especially since the cult have no qualms about attacking anyone. So, in my story each character will have a legit reason why the cult stay away from them. For Wendell's case, it was because he was a Vietnam Vet, who still had enough experience, backbone, and weapon to keep the cult at bay. And for Zip? Well, he's just plain crazy and paranoid and that's enough to scare off the cult or at least, create a large body count. Just wait till you see what I do with Larry Parker.