Henry glanced at the others, and the reaction spread instantly.
People pulled back from the entrance, dragging mops, broken handles, anything they could grip. The rest huddled deeper inside the store, trying to stay away from the front.
Only a few held their ground—David, Jim, Bud, and Ollie—each gripping their makeshift weapons, eyes fixed on the covered doors.
Henry walked toward the entrance and stopped a few steps away. The glass was completely hidden behind taped sheets, blocking any view outside. There was nothing to see.
Only sound.
The tapping continued.
Light at first.
Then more of it.
Multiple points striking the glass at once, like things landing, crawling, shifting across the surface. The noise spread across the entire entrance—uneven, restless, alive.
Jim swallowed. "That's… a lot of them."
Then something heavier moved.
A sudden impact slammed into the doors.
The entire front shook, and a sharp cracking sound followed from behind the covered glass. The racks they had pushed against the entrance rattled violently, metal scraping against the floor as they shifted slightly under the force.
Another hit came.
Harder.
The cracks deepened, spreading unseen behind the sheets, but the sound made it obvious. The structure was weakening.
The smaller tapping didn't stop.
Dozens of impacts mixed with the heavier blows, something small and fast crawling over the glass while something larger kept ramming into it.
Bud tightened his grip. "It's not just one thing hitting that door…"
A heavy slam drove into the glass, and this time the racks slid back an inch, metal legs screeching across the floor. The pressure behind the doors was building fast.
The cracking sound spread wider, sharper, like the entire front was about to give.
Ollie took a step back. "It's gonna break…"
The next hit split the front.
A sharp crack tore through the glass, and one panel gave way. The sheet stretched, then ripped apart as something forced through it.
A loud, violent buzzing flooded in.
Dozens of shapes burst through the opening, wings beating fast, bodies slamming against the torn sheet as they poured inside.
Scorpion-Flies.
Bud stumbled back. "Oh—oh, shit—!"
Henry stepped forward instead.
The gun snapped up.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Each shot cut through the noise, sharp and controlled. One creature dropped mid-air, another jerked sideways and fell, a third burst apart as the bullet tore through its head.
The swarm didn't slow.
One shot in from his left side.
Henry's knife flashed—one clean slash—and it split in two, both halves hitting the floor.
Another dove straight for his face.
Bang!
It dropped inches before reaching him.
More came through the broken glass, crawling over each other, wings shrieking as they forced their way inside.
Henry moved into them.
His body reacted faster than thought, turning, stepping, firing.
Bang! Bang!
Two more fell.
A blur of movement from the side—he pivoted, knife cutting across, slicing another out of the air.
Jim shouted behind him, swinging wildly at one that got too close.
"Keep them off your face!" Henry snapped.
Another lunged low.
Henry shifted, drove the knife forward, then ripped it free and brought the gun up again.
The body dropped.
The air filled with wings, gunfire, and the wet thuds of bodies hitting the ground.
Then something heavier forced its way through the broken opening.
A massive shape burst past the swarm, wings beating hard enough to shove the smaller creatures aside. It lunged through the gap—bigger, faster—snatching Scorpion-Flies out of the air as it came.
Pterobuzzard.
It dropped low, angling straight toward the people in the back.
"Henry!" Madison shouted.
Henry's head snapped around. He pivoted in one motion, raising the gun.
Bang!
The shot hit clean.
The creature jerked mid-air, crashed hard onto the floor, and skidded forward, its body scraping across tiles before slamming to a stop at their feet.
For a second, no one moved.
Then Henry turned back toward the entrance.
More Scorpion-Flies were pouring in through the broken glass. The swarm didn't thin. It didn't slow.
There was no end to them.
"David—mop. Fire," Henry said, already moving.
He dropped the gun—empty—and grabbed a signboard from the side, swinging it hard as a cluster rushed in. The impact crushed two mid-air, sending pieces splattering across the floor.
"On it!" David replied.
He shoved a mop into a bucket, soaking it, while Bud flicked a lighter under it. The cloth caught, flames licking up fast.
David didn't hesitate. He ran it over.
Henry took it, turned, and drove forward a step before hurling it straight through the broken opening.
The burning mop flew out into the mist.
For a second, nothing—
Then something outside caught.
Flames surged, lighting up shapes in the fog, and the swarm near the entrance scattered, drawn toward the fire.
"Bring something big—cover that gap!" Henry snapped.
Ollie rushed off and came back dragging a heavy curtain. Together, they forced it over the broken section, tying it tight across the frame, sealing as much as they could.
The buzzing dropped.
Not gone.
But less.
Henry exhaled slowly, lowering the signboard. The floor around him was covered—bodies, wings, dark fluid smeared across tile.
"So… casualties?" he asked, scanning the group.
The answer came as a scream.
Everyone turned.
One man had tried to run during the chaos. He was on the ground now, clutching his face, his skin already swelling where the stingers had hit.
David, Jim, and Henry moved closer.
The swelling spread fast.
"I—I can't—" the man choked, his voice breaking as his throat tightened.
Jim swallowed hard, hand instinctively going to his own neck. "That thing almost got me…"
Henry didn't look away from the man on the ground. "Yeah," he said quietly. "It's not quick. But it's certain."
"Save me…" the man choked, his voice breaking as his swollen throat struggled to push the words out.
Henry moved closer and knelt beside him.
"I'm sorry," he said, low and firm. "There's no cure for this. But I can end the pain."
The man's eyes, wide and desperate, searched his face for a second—then slowly, weakly, he nodded.
That was enough.
Henry placed a hand behind his head, the other bracing his jaw. There was a brief pause—just a breath—and then a sharp, decisive motion.
It ended.
Clean.
The tension drained from the man's body almost instantly.
David turned his head away, jaw tight, while Jim looked down at the floor, his grip on the stick loosening as the reality settled in.
Henry stayed there for a second longer, then let go and stood up, his expression hardening again as he looked back toward the covered entrance.
***
A/N: The Mist arc will wrap up in about 5–6 chapters, and then the Supernatural storyline will pick up.
*****
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