Luke didn't give the stunned giant a chance to recover. He swung the chainsaw sideways in one brutal arc.
The enchanted blade tore through flesh and bone like paper, slicing the massive deford man clean in half at the waist.
Hot intestines and blood exploded across the ground in a wet spray.
The giant's upper body stayed attached for a second longer, then finally separated and crashed down in a heap.
The remaining giants stared at Luke in pure terror, like they'd just seen the devil himself.
They turned and bolted without a second thought.
Luke wasn't about to let them go.
He sprinted after them, grabbed one by the back of the neck, and drove the chainsaw straight through its back. The spinning teeth burst out the front of its chest in a fountain of gore.
The last giant was fastest, already disappearing into the darkness.
Brando raised his rifle and took careful aim.
"Leave one alive!" Luke shouted.
Brando adjusted his aim downward.
"Bang!"
The bullet punched through the giant's thigh. It scread and went down hard, unable to get back up.
The fight had started fast and ended even faster.
In just a few minutes the gas station was a slaughterhouse. Four mangled bodies lay in pools of blood, the air thick with the stench of gore and gunpowder. One survivor groaned in pain nearby.
Bob's family peeked out from behind their car, faces drained of all color as they took in the nightmare scene.
Bob's mouth hung open. The beer can slipped from his fingers and hit the ground. His throat felt like sandpaper—he couldn't make a sound.
His wife clutched their youngest daughter's eyes shut, her own body shaking uncontrollably.
Lionel wandered back to the grill, picked up a half-cooked sausage, blew the dust off, and took a bite.
"Goddamn it. I was finally getting my appetite back and these ugly bastards had to ruin it."
His casual complaint broke the stunned silence.
Bob finally found the courage to step forward.
"Who the hell are you people?"
He braced himself for answers like "outlaws" or "serial killers."
Instead Luke casually planted the bloody chainsaw in the dirt, pulled out his badge, and held it up.
"Miami PD."
Bob stared at the shield, completely lost.
"Police?"
Bob's little girl blurted out without thinking, "That's funny—my dad's a cop too."
"Oh yeah?" Luke raised an eyebrow, genuinely curious. His eyes shifted to Bob.
Bob forced a weak smile that looked more like a grimace and scratched the back of his head.
"I'm a cop in Cleveland."
Luke smirked. "Not a very good one, huh? You didn't even draw your gun when the shooting started."
Bob's face went red.
"I left it locked in the safe at ho. Figured it wasn't safe to bring on a family vacation."
The tension in the air eased a little after that exchange. As fellow officers, Bob wisely didn't ask why Luke's group was ard to the teeth or how Lionel had survived getting stabbed in the chest. He just wanted to survive the night and get his family back on the highway to that stupid amusent park where they could eat ice cream and pretend this never happened.
On the other side of the lot things got lively again.
Lionel dragged the wounded giant back by one leg like a dead dog and dumped him in front of the grill. The monster groaned and cursed through the pain, his deford face twisting even uglier with fear.
Lionel crouched down and slapped the giant's cheek hard enough to make his head rock.
"Hey. Wake up. Let's chat. What are you freaks? Where'd you co from?"
The giant spat blood at him and glared with pure hatred, muttering sothing no one could understand.
"Speak up, asshole!" Lionel snapped.
"Hold on. Let check." Brando pushed Lionel aside, pulled out a scalpel, grabbed the giant's jaw, and sliced open his cheek.
He forced the mouth wide and examined inside. When he stood back up his face was grim.
"Useless. Congenital defect. His tongue's fused to his jaw, vocal cords never developed properly. He can't form real words. We kept this one alive for nothing."
He sounded genuinely disappointed.
Then he pulled his pistol and put a bullet through the giant's skull.
"Bang!"
Brains and blood splattered across the dirt.
Everyone turned toward the sound.
The small cloaked figure—the one Lionel had pinned with the ice pick—was twitching on the ground.
Luke and the others rushed over.
"This one's still breathing. And he can actually talk."
Lionel yanked the ice pick out of the little man's chest.
The deford figure coughed up blood, then lifted his head. His cloudy eyes locked onto Luke as his lips moved.
"You… can't run… Father will kill you all."
Brando actually laughed. "Hear that? It's a family business. They've got relatives."
Luke nodded, deadly serious. "Sounds like there's a lot more of them. We're going to have to go in hard."
He glanced at the dark horizon. "They ca at us in the dark. Night fighting gives them the edge. Without night-vision gear we're better off waiting until morning."
Brando agreed. He pulled Bob aside and the two cops worked out a watch rotation for the night.
Once everything was settled, Luke walked over to Bob and handed him a pistol plus two spare magazines.
"Take this."
Bob started to refuse, but the mont his fingers closed around the grip, the solid weight gave him a rush of long-forgotten safety. He couldn't let go.
Luke pointed toward the road they'd co in on.
"At first light you drive straight back the way you ca. No stopping. No curiosity. No matter what you see or hear, keep going until you hit the main highway. Then take your family to that amusent park and forget everything that happened tonight."
Bob's wife finally spoke up, voice tight with worry. "You're going to their lair? Why not co with us?"
Luke smiled. "Because this is why I ca."
He softened his tone. "Don't worry about us. Get your kids to sleep. Pretend tonight was just a bad dream. By morning it'll all be over."
Bob's wife nodded and led the children back to the car.
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