Metal Mouth
By Tracie McBride
Category: Science Fiction |
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“Get your arses back here, ya mongrels!”
Carl’s dogs looked back at him, tongues lolling, then plunged on through the bush. Carl hefted the pig’s carcass over his back and started up the slope after them. His jaw throbbed with the effort. The last time he’d been hunting, he’d stumbled across a couple of blokes tending their cannabis plot. He’ got a good look at one of them, a dread locked dickhead with a face full of piercings, before his mate smacked the side of Carl’s face in with a baseball bat. Six months later he still had a mouth full of wire holding his jaw together.
As he neared the top of the ridge, he turned on the radio slung around his neck. Should be able to pick up something here, he thought. He had fifty bucks riding on the game this weekend, and he wanted to find out the score. He surfed the static until he picked up a patchy reception.
“…succeeded in repelling the alien invasion…some could still be at large…. report any sightings to the following number…”
Must’ve picked up some bullshit radio play, he thought. He thumbed the dial through the frequencies, finding only more static, then switched it off.
He was nearly at the edge of the track where his ute was parked when his dogs came back, circling around his heels. He frowned. Normally they would be sitting on the back waiting for him. If some bastard had stolen it, he’d…
Carl stopped. The pig slid off his back. “Fuck me sideways!”
His ute was still there – what was left of it. The tyres sat on the ground, peeled from the missing rims like orange rinds. Between them lay the disemboweled seat. The steering wheel, gear stick and most of the dashboard were all largely intact. Shattered glass and shreds of bright plastic insulation decorated the site. Not a trace of metal remained. The dogs nosed through the debris, whining. Carl’s hands shook with fury as he loaded his rifle.
Movement flickered on the edge of his vision. Carl turned to see two creatures emerging from the scrub. The largest stood about eight feet tall. Its neck and shoulders were heavily muscled to support a massive head and elongated jaws. Its skin was dappled gray like a leprous elephant hide, but smooth and glossy. The dogs went into a barking frenzy from the relative safety of Carl’s heels.
Carl took aim and fired. The creatures didn’t flinch. The bullet lodged in the centre of the largest creature’s forehead like a third eye. It reached up and calmly extracted the bullet. Its flesh smoothed over to leave no trace of the impact. The creature examined the bullet, sniffed at it, and popped it in its mouth. The two creatures seemed to confer silently. They dropped to all fours, and in a blur of movement covered the several metres between themselves and Carl before he could blink.
The larger of the pair knocked him down and pinned him to the ground with one knee. It plucked his rifle from his grip and tossed it to its mate, who snapped it in two. They ate half each, the crunching sounding like a slow motion car crash. Carl caught a glimpse of triple rows of finger-length serrated metallic grey fangs.
The dogs were by now hysterical. Bess, his hunterway-boxer cross bitch, darted in to attack Carl’s captor. It picked her up by the scruff of the neck and sniffed her all over. Bess’s teeth slid off the creature’s skin as if she were trying to bite a windowpane. Carl struggled impotently. “Let her go, you fucking freak!” he yelled.
Two glinting talons extruded from the creature’s free hand. It severed Bess’s collar and let her drop. She hit the ground awkwardly, then scrabbled to her feet and headed for the hills, her mate close behind. The creature pulled the buckle of the collar free from the leather and swallowed it whole.
The two creatures returned their attention to Carl. The leader subjected him to the same sniff test it had given Bess. Again claws extended from its fingers. It drew two delicate lines down his chest, neatly removing the zipper from his jacket. It slurped up the zipper, chewed thoughtfully, then turned its head to the side and spat out remnants of cloth. Meanwhile, the smaller creature plucked all the eyelets from his boots. If they keep going, thought Carl, they’re going to meet in the middle and start scrapping over my…
Frantically Carl fumbled with his belt buckle and slid his jeans down his thighs. The creatures shredded his belt and jeans, extracting buckle, zip and studs. They rumbled in appreciation at the discovery of his hunting knife in the back pocket. The larger creature lifted its knee from Carl’s chest. Carl scrambled to his feet and started to run, when he heard the distant whine of trail bikes. Kids, he thought. Bloody kids. “Get out of here, you idiots! Fuck off!” he yelled.
The creature spun back on him. It gripped the front of his shirt, pulled Carl close to its muzzle and inhaled deeply. It prized Carl’s jaw open, its slanted eyes widening at the sight of the metal scaffolding in his mouth. It hooked a talon into the wire and tugged. Carl half-screamed, half-gargled in pain.
The whine became a roar as two motorcycles skidded into view. The creature dropped Carl and bounded after them, its companion on its heels. The bikes’ riders fell heavily as the creatures took them down. One lay immobile, apparently unconscious. The second man screamed, clutching his leg. Carl thought he looked familiar. The tongue stud, the pierced eyebrow, the ring in the nose, the shoulder-length brown dreadlocks…
Carl gathered what remained of his clothes, and grinned. He waved at the creatures. “Make sure you save room for dessert, fuckers!” he called, and slipped into the bush after his dogs.
