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Gable took a swig from his hipflask and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. He chewed off the end of his cigar, put it in his mouth, and lit it in a curse.
Just as he was about to turn and check on the girl, a strange movement from the road caught his attention. It wasn’t Paul. It was larger. Much larger. And it was moving towards them.
Gable drew his .45 and watched the large creature.
No, it wasn’t a creature. It was a machine of some kind. It had legs like a spider, and it was moving - clunking along in the darkness on long steel legs. It had a small frame and hissed and grinded with the sound of steam and cogs.
As it neared, under the poor weather, gable saw that someone was inside the machine. Controlling it.
Behind a red window – smiling.
Jesus it was - her. His old friend from the hotel.
Gable aimed and fired twice at the window, as he did a voice echoed from a gramophone from the head of the steel spider.
“Long time no see honey, how is your back by the way?” said the woman smiling.
Gable empted his .45 on one of the leg-joints of the spider; hoping to weaken it, but failing. “Once I got your knives out, the doc stitched me up just fine.” He voiced. He quickly drew his powder gun that he kept at his waist, and fired twice at the cockpit window. But there was no effect. It was if the glass was made of iron.
Pistons and gears hissed as the spider started gaining yet more ground.
“I should have used venom. But I had run out you see. Having killed all those people at the church dinner had drained my personal supply. And then you came along.”
A strange wiry talon suddenly sprung from the steel spider’s underbelly and reached for gable. But he dodged and it tore off the door instead.
“Lucky me.” He whispered.
Gable took a dyna-charge from his side, and throwing his cigar to the ground, pulled the pin out with his teeth. He watched the movements of the spider for a moment, to try and find some kind of rhythm, then letting off two more rounds – aiming for the cockpit once again – and threw the dyna-charge at the legs of the machine.
It exploded just under one of the legs, sending a hail of dirt from the road everywhere – but otherwise doing little damage to the machine.
Just as he was about to pull the pin on another, the huge claw came back and reached for him again, and a cackle of laughter sounded from the gramophone.
It had him by the arm. Gable cried out.
Jesus. Was that his arm breaking.
The pain was unbearable.
Gable pulled at it, but the claw was iron. He could not move it.