Chapter 491:

The creature jumped onto the top of his car. Its head was thrown back in an ecstasy, and it was brighter than ever, and its eyes shone on the huge head. Its sound finally extinguished people's voices, it blew people's ears, it smashed into the car, smashed the windshield, and put the open-mouthed hand on the roof of the car. Then, it tore the steel like a lot of paper, its body twitched with joy, and its head jerked. After the roof was torn, it jumped onto the highway and threw the metal into the air. It turned the sky and hit the ground in the desert. Davidson briefly wanted to know what he could put on the insurance policy. Now, the creature is tearing the vehicle apart. The doors are scattered. The engine was taken apart. The wheel is bent from the shaft and tightened. There was no doubt the smell of gasoline in Davidson's nostrils. He quickly smelled the smell, glanced at a small piece of metal, and another creature and car were enveloped in a billowing fire and turned into thick smoke as it rolled on the highway.
This thing did not come out: or its pain was inaudible. Its flesh was burned out of hell, and every inch of its body was lit. It waved its arms frantically in an attempt to wipe out the fire, but in vain, it began to run down the highway and escape from the source of pain to the mountain. Flames sprouted from its back, and the air was filled with the smell of cooking meat.
Although the fire must be devouring it, it did not fall. Keep running until the heat dissolves the highway into a blue distance, and then it disappears.
Davidson knelt. The on his leg has dried out in the heat. The car continues to burn. The music disappeared completely, and the parade disappeared.
It was the sun that drove him from the beach back to his visceral car. When the next car on the highway stopped to pick him up, he was stunned.
Sheriff Josh Packard stared incredulously at the paw prints on the ground under his feet. They are etched in slowly solidified fat, which is the liquid meat of the monster who crossed the only street on "Welcome" Avenue a few minutes ago. Then it collapsed, took one last breath, and died in a long twisting ball three truckloads offshore. The normal business of receptions, transactions, debates, and how you do it has ceased. One or two disgusting people were received into the lobby of the hotel, and the meaty smell exuded a strong urban desert atmosphere.
The smell is somewhere between cooked fish and excavated carcasses, and it makes you feel uncomfortable. This is his town, ignored and protected by him. This fireball invasion did not cause people's attention. Packard took out his gun and started walking towards the body. After eating their best meal, the flames almost disappeared. Even if it was destroyed by the fire, it is still a lot. Things that used to be limbs were gathered in a place that might be his head. The rest are unrecognizable. All in all, Packard was happy with this little pity. But even in the deli, where the flesh color and the blackened bones are confused, he can recognize enough inhumane forms to speed up the pulse.
This is a monster: no doubt.
Creatures from the earth: indeed from the earth. From the underworld to the road leading to the big bowl, celebrate an evening. About every generation, his father told him that the desert vomited the devil and let them relax temporarily. As a self-righteous child, Packard never believed in the his father said, but isn't this a demon?
No matter what pranks brought this terrible monster into his town to death, they are happy to prove their vulnerability. His father never mentioned this possibility.
Packard smiled suspiciously and grasped the evil, so he stepped onto the smoking fixture and kicked it. The crowd still hovered in safety at the door, admiring his bravery. The distance of half a mile was all over his face. A kick alone is worth the night, maybe even a woman.
The thing is belly up. With the indifferent gaze of a professional demon kicker, he carefully checked the tangles of his limbs on his head. That's dead, obviously. He held the gun and bent over the body. He said, "Jabedia, take out a camera here."
His agent rushed to the office.
He said: "What we need is such beautiful photos."
Bend down and reached out to touch the dark limbs of the thing. His gloves will be broken, but this has brought many benefits to his public image, which is inconvenient. When he touched the flesh, he could almost feel an admirable look and began to shake the limbs on the monster's head. The torch parts were welded together, and he had to loosen his limbs. But there was a hoarse voice, revealing the dry eye below.
He put his limbs back in place, which was disgusting.
Beat.
Then, the demon's arms bend over-suddenly-too ​​suddenly to move. For a moment, the sheriff sublimated in horror. The sheriff saw his mouth open in his fore palm and closed it again with his hands. He lost his balance and sat in the fat. When his gloves were chewed, he pulled away from his mouth. The teeth were connected to his hands. When the rasps drew the fingers, blood and debris further into the intestines When he said, his finger was severed.
Packard slipped into the mess under him, he squirmed, now screaming, relaxed himself. It still has life, this is something from the underworld. He staggered to his feet, yelling with pity, and dragging the dirty stuff off the ground.
There was a sound, close to Packard's ear. When the limbs were blown towards the blacksmith's shop on the shoulders, liquid, blood and pus scattered on him, and his mouth loosened its grip. A large amount of wasted phagocytic muscle fell to the ground, and Packard's hand, or the remaining hand, was in the open air again. He has no fingers on his right hand, only a half thumb. The broken bones of his fingers stick out awkwardly from the partially chewed palm.
Eleanor Cook put down the barrel of the bullet gun he had just fired and grunted with satisfaction. "Your hand is gone," she said cruelly.
Packard remembers the monster his father told him, never die. He remembered it too late, and now he sacrificed his hands, drinking, and making love. The nostalgia that had lost his fingers for several years flooded him, and the bit by bit turned into darkness before his eyes. When he fainted, the last thing he saw was that his dedicated deputy raised the camera and recorded the entire scene.
The hut at the back of the house is Lucy's refuge, as it has always been. When Eugene got drunk from the welcome, or suddenly angered him because the stew was cold, Lucy retreated to the shed, where she could cry peacefully. Lucy's life is pitiful. Eugene certainly didn't, and he rarely had time to pity himself.
Now, the ancient source of stimulus has made Eugene furious: child.
Raise and nurture the children of your love; named after Moses' brother Aaron, which means "noble." A cute boy. The prettiest boy in the entire territory; only 5 years old, already as charming and polite as any East Coast mother would have hoped to raise.
Aaron
Lucy's pride and joy is a child who is suitable for blowing bubbles in picture books, for dancing, and for attracting the devil. That was Eugene's objection.
He said to Lucy, "The kid who flicks is a boy older than you." "He is not even a mixed race. He is only suitable for wearing fancy shoes and selling perfume. Or a missionary, he is suitable for missionary ."
He pointed at the boy with his fingernail biting a curved thumb hand.
"You are the shame of your father."
Aaron met his father's gaze.
"Did you hear me, boy?"
Eugene looked away. The boy's big eyes made him uncomfortable, and they looked more like dog eyes than anyone else. "I want him to leave this house."
"What did he do?"
"He doesn't need to do anything. That's enough for him. They laugh at me, you know? They laugh at me because of him."
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