Dare to enter the chilling world of Glenn Riley's "Creepy Crawlies", a spine-tingling collection where the smallest creatures cast the longest shadows. In this gripping anthology, Riley masterfully weaves tales of horror that skitter and scuttle fro...
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The streets shone bright as daytime from the raging fires consuming entire city blocks. Frances limped doggedly through smoke and drifting ash, trying not to dwell on whether anyone could still survive in those white-hot furnaces. This area should be packed with fleeing civilians desperate to escape the insectile onslaught. Instead only flames held dominion here. She hadn’t glimpsed another living soul in thirty minutes.
Reaching another intersection, Frances paused to catch her breath and get her bearings. The police station lay less than half a mile directly east. She could make it, she had to - it represented her only hope for salvation now. She tried her cellphone yet again but wasn’t surprised when it failed to connect. Either the network was hopelessly jammed or emergency services had ceased to function. She was on her own.
Setting her teeth against the throbbing burn of her injuries, she staggered on. The street opened into a broad plaza, ringed by towering corporate offices. Once a popular lunch spot, only scattered debris and abandoned vehicles occupied it now. Frances limped to an idling police cruiser, hoping against hope to find it occupied. Instead, the driver’s door gaped open, bubble lights still flashing mute testimony to its missing operator. She sagged against the hood, peering blearily about. Where was everyone?
Her answer came in a sudden blast of thunder and searing wind. Frances threw herself flat as impossibly huge shapes roared by just overhead, wingtips clipping nearby structures. Craning her head up, she gaped at a flight of insects easily the size of light aircraft. Mottled yellow jackets with wickedly barbed stingers led the pack, but other varieties followed. She even thought she spotted swollen bumblebees bigger than compact cars bringing up the rear. They thundered past without slowing, heading inland. But their initial passage created a violent downdraft in their wake that sent Frances rolling helplessly across broken pavement.
Slamming into an abandoned taxi, she lay stunned as debris rained down. Were even more horrific mutations stampeding in from tornado alley? If a full continental swarm headed this direction, nowhere would remain safe for long. Frances crawled stiffly upright, bracing against the yellow cab’s quarter panel. Time was running out.
She limped resolutely onwards only to freeze at a sudden scuttling rush from the alleyway ahead. A dog pack burst into view, fleeing some unseen threat. But her stunned mind took long seconds to recognize what she saw were not dogs at all. Multiple dark shapes flowed over and past one another, crimson eyes glowing above jaws that continuously worked and clicked. Though only the size of small hounds, their numbers posed an undeniable threat.
The tide of giant cockroaches hesitated briefly at her sudden appearance before surging forward in attack. Frances managed to retreat several steps while firing point blank into that oncoming wave. Smoking bodies fouled the advance but still they came on. Then fiery agony erupted at her ankle as mandibles latched tight. She screamed as the weight of the insectile bodies toppled her. The street spun crazily overhead before her head cracked pavement and she knew no more.
