ENCOUNTER ONE: MOTORWAY GOLIATH

Things were quiet on the way to London. The car was pulled over for the night, resting in the parking lot of a gas station long since abandoned. A moss covered but of concrete, that clearly hadn't been graced with human presence for quite some time. 

Unlike Clark, Roger didn't fail to see the silver lining in this, eagerly jogging over to the gas pumps with a practised ease unfitting of his ageing frame. 

"Lads! We got petrol!" He shouted, almost giddy. 

Clark just gave a little thumbs up, too busy trying to shimmy the gas station's toilet door open with a crowbar. Roland was dozing in the car, completely unresponsive. Roger didn't seem to care, grabbing a couple of jerry cans from the Chevvy's boot and setting them down to be filled. Repeatedly he had to kick the pumps to coax the gas out, but it would be worth it. 

Clark, meanwhile, was very desperate for a wee, and resorted to booting the door open- only to find a blighter with its pants down sitting on the toilet. It groaned, making a little shooing motion with its rotten hand at Clark. 

"EWWWW- for god's sake, man! How long have you been sitting on that thing?" 

The blighter put up four fingers, making another little groan with an "un" sound in it. 

"I- four months?! Yeah, no, sorry mate, it's my turn. I'll only be two minutes." 

He tried nudging the blighter with his crowbar, whose upper half simply fell off the toilet, leaving the rest of it sat there. Clark simply sighed, rolling his eyes, nudging the rest of the blighter off the toilet. 

"How- how on earth did you sit yourself down like that after getting cut in half?"

"Eurgh." Said the blighter. 

"Forget I asked. Just uhhh- look the other way, yeah? I'll just take a wee and then I'll be out of your hair." 

The blighter ran a hand over its spectacularly bald head. 

"Oh, you know what I mean." 

Outside, Roland was woken up from his little nap. He felt the car shaking, thunderous bangs in the distance. He instinctively went for the duffel bag, fishing his shotgun out of it, sliding 12 gauge shells into it until he couldn't any more. 

"Roger! You hear that?"

"Damn well I do! Reckon that's the big 'un?" 

"No, I think it's my guilty bloomin' conscience catching up to me. OF COURSE IT'S THE BIG ONE!"

Roger rolled his eyes, taking the jerry cans back to the car. "So, what're we going to do about it?" 

"We get on the roof, and keep shooting it in the face till it dies." 

"You're quite the thinker, ain't you?" 

"I do try, Roger boy. Now, help a fella up, will you? And try bring a can of gas up." 

"But I just-" 

"We can refuel later. Plus, you still got another two there. Quit moaning." 

And so the two men began the laborious task of climbing up to the gas station roof, something easier sad than done given it being roughly three meters in the air. It took a lot of swearing, a bit of shouting, and twenty minutes for Roger and Roland to get up there. 

What was even worse was seeing the big blighter they had talked about advance upon the gas station. It was roughly ten feet tall, a mass of flesh and rebar and bits of lamp post stomping towards them. Despite looking like a brute- which it was, it was remarkably clever, with an eagle eye to boot. 

Roland didn't care, snatching one of Roger's six-shooters and firing off a shot in the air, then the other five at the Goliath- as it was known in local bandit circles- most of the rounds pinging off the rebar criss-crossed all over it. It was fine. That's what Roland wanted. 

In fact, Roland had a plan. He reached into his pocket, grabbing a handkerchief and a lighter, jamming the former into the jerry can. He grabbed his shotgun, firing off more shells at its face- doing considerable damage- before letting it advance closer. They were at the roof's edge, closest to the Goliath. Before it could fully reach them, Roger lit up the handkerchief, throwing the can at the Goliath. 

There was roughly three seconds before an explosion would ensue. Roland made the most of them, grabbing Roger and running across the roof. The boom sounded for over a mile away. Roland was just happy the rest of the gas station didn't go up in flames. Chunks of the Goliath flew about, one hitting Clark, who had just left the toilet, whistling merrily. 

"I- for the love of god..."