He took cover behind the old clock tower as he fired. It was smaller, faster, than he had expected; the drill-bit head barely clearing the tops of the Tudor houses on either side of the street. The Sergeant was barking orders directing the boys to cover, but it didn’t seem to be doing any good. Their rounds were just bouncing off, making the thing angrier. It had already made a shambles of B Company and the Shakespeare theater. In a moment it would be up the street and among them. Aren’t these sort of monsters supposed to stick to Japan?
***
Title by: dcdave
Story by: David
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