Russell bolted out of his truck. He sprinted past the familiar line of parked cars, hurrying to return to where he had left Serena.
And the irregular heartbeats came back with force. The tempo accelerated, mimicking the rapid pounding in his chest.
Russell picked up the pace, feeling like the receiver he had been back in the day as he ran with abandon. Keeping his breathing even didn't matter. His own safety didn't matter. Any thoughts of caution had long gone out the window.
Please, he prayed to whichever gods were listening. Please be wrong.
He rounded the same silver Bentley and odd sapling from earlier, and he slid to a stop, prepared for the worst. Halfway down the parking lane, standing in the middle of the dark, Serena and Bernard were laughing together like old friends. Russell looked on in disbelief as his breaths came in rapid bursts. He stared, and he stared. But there was nothing wrong. He had been worried for nothing.
He braced his hands on his knees as his sweat trickled down his forehead. His heart drummed in his chest, and his lungs burned with every breath. The flashlight lay in his hand, and he swallowed a curse. He had left behind the toolbox in his haste. A stupid mistake. He could already imagine the mocking words the old man would say.
A gentle breeze blew by, carrying the scent of blood.
Russell snapped his head up as the black vehicle across from the pair moved.
His breath caught in his throat. He didn't think, didn’t hesitate. He shot forward as if a starter pistol had gone off, accelerating from a dead stop to his top speed like he never accelerated before.
The black car flew across the space between the row of vehicles. The two remain unaware of the coming danger, and Russell realized two things in an instant.
No vehicle could move three feet above the ground.
And there was no way he would make it in time.
Even as his eyes widened in horror, even as he opened his mouth to shout, Serena was already reacting, looking at the corner of her eye, noticing the threat heading their way. But she was too late.
The thing smashed into Bernard and landed on the other side of the lane, stopping just before it crashed into the row of vehicles.
Serena blinked as a strong breeze sent her hair whipping around. One moment, the old man was in front of her. The next, he was gone.
And Russell watched helplessly in horror at what happened next.
The thing wasn't a car but a wild animal, and it tore through Bernard, not even giving the old man a chance to scream. The beast growled as it waggled its large head, scattering blood all over the white coupe next to it as it feasted on Bernard’s corpse like a starving beast.
Standing near the carnage, Serena met Russell’s gaze, ignorant of her narrow escape from death. Her curious expression morphed into one of confusion as he ran toward her, her eyes asking him where the old man had disappeared to—before she turned her head to look.
The man she had been laughing with only moments ago now lay dead on the ground, his corpse being devoured right in front of her eyes, and Serena…froze.
Even with the creature crouched low on the ground, its size dwarfed that of an adult grizzly bear. Serena’s slender frame couldn’t even compare as she stood stock still mere yards from the hulking beast. She was rooted in place, a deer in the headlights, a witless prey waiting to be eaten.
Russell gnashed his teeth in frustration.
Why aren't you running, you fool? He cursed inside his head, his thoughts racing together with his body. Run! Run! he kept yelling in his mind until the words burst free from his own mouth.
“Run, Serena!” he screamed at the top of his lungs. “RUN!”
Good thing the wild animal didn't turn to the sound of his voice, too preoccupied with enjoying its kill.
He was so close.
He was nearly there.
And then he reached her.
He blew past the beast and grabbed Serena by her wrist. Without slowing down, he yanked her from her spot and raced away as he pulled her along behind him. He ran like a wide receiver clearing his final obstacle. Only the wide and open field waited ahead of him. He had gotten to her in time. The hard part was over. All he needed now was to get them both to safety.
Serena chose that moment to scream.
He snapped his gaze behind him, afraid he had ended up dislocating her shoulder, terrified the animal had gotten a piece of her without him noticing.
Serena was safe; she was only experiencing a delayed reaction. But her high-pitched screams achieved what his earlier shouts couldn’t—they finally attracted the animal’s attention.
Behind them, the huge silhouette raised its head. It lifted its nose high in the air, disregarding what was left of Bernard’s corpse. It’s head cocked, and then it turned in their direction.
It found its next prey.
Russell redoubled his efforts. The only thing left was to run. To escape. But his legs had turned to lead. His body felt cumbersome like he was running against a current. Serena was of no help, wailing without end, a dead weight dragging him back. And yet he refused to let her go.
No one deserved to die the way the old man did. Russell couldn’t save Bernard, but Serena was still alive. He wasn’t leaving her behind to meet the same fate.
Then the unusual happened. Similar to Bradford’s souvenir earlier that evening, Russell felt it. He perceived the threat even without looking. And there was no escaping it.
They only made a few more steps when he sensed the animal lunge from behind them.
Without warning, he shoved Serena to the side and spun in place. He faced the incoming threat head-on, instinctively raising his arms to defend himself. He had moved as he had been trained to do against a tackle—and immediately recognized his mistake.
He wasn't facing someone else on the football field. He was up against a beast of an animal.
And that beast slammed into him with the force of a dozen linebackers. Its sheer mass and momentum threw him off his feet, sending him flying over the ground as his own breath was left behind. Its jaw snapped shut around him, rows of teeth engulfing his vision, and they both crashed back into the hard asphalt. Then he saw stars stars.
He felt like his head had split open. The beast’s soft underbelly was his only saving grace, the only reason why he hadn't died in an instant with his chest collapsed between solid ground and a half-ton monstrosity.
The beast’s underbelly carried a pungent odor and felt like warm leather against his cheek, hot to the touch and slowly searing his skin. Darkness filled his vision. Heat seeped into his body, scorching his insides. His breath had long escaped him. He pictured himself getting crushed under the unbearable weight, his face and body charring to a crisp as seconds passed. His senses were failing him. He couldn't breathe or see. He choked and jerked as he was being burnt alive, and he knew at that moment he was going to die.
A rumble escaped the beast's chest, and it lifted its head from the ground. Like bedroom curtains being drawn open for the morning sun, the air and light returned.
Russell had the luxury to breathe once again. He swallowed the blood in his mouth and gasped a lungful of air. His lungs were working fine. But the taste of iron drenched his tongue. He batted his eyes as the animal rose high above him, leaving him lying unencumbered on the asphalt.
The beast shook its head in erratic movements, different from the way it had played with the old man’s flesh. Russell watched with weary eyes as the beast struggled to crush something stuck in its mouth, something long and black, sturdy even against canine teeth the size of his palm, and his eyes widened in recognition—it was gnawing on his flashlight.
With another shake of its head, the beast jostled the offending object loose and spat it on the ground. The flashlight fell beside his head with a heavy thud, and together with the stench of blood and rotting carcass assaulting his nose, the shock on his senses jolted him awake.
In one swift movement, he turned to lie on his stomach, grabbed his dinged-up flashlight, and jumped back to his feet. Before the beast realized its prey was still alive, he swung for the fences, batting for a home run.
The end of his flashlight smashed against the beast’s temple, and his all-out strike ended with a metallic thunk.
Russell gasped. It felt like he had used a hammer to strike an anvil with everything he got. The impact reverberated through his makeshift weapon, and he almost almost lost his grip. Waves of numbing pain shot through his fingers and up his arms. But the blow had managed to stagger the beast, and his blow had dented the black scale on its left temple.
Scale? Russell reached for the back of his head and felt for any sign of open wound. What the hell kind of animal is this?
He got a good look at it now. What he was facing wasn't some breed of wolf like he had initially assumed. No matte black fur covered its enormous figure. Instead, it resembled a scaled reptilian species—or at least a hybrid of the two he had never seen before.
The wolf-lizard thing staggered to the side, revealing Serena behind it. She had her hands clasped over her mouth as she tried to smother her primal instinct to scream.
Russell raised his hand and pressed a trembling finger to his lips, reminding her to stay silent. There was nothing else he could do for her, not with the beast standing between them.
Crouching low, he moved back step by step. He started tapping the asphalt with the broken head of his flashlight. He needed to keep the beast’s attention focused solely on him and draw it away from Serena.
The animal crouched low as well but remained in place. Around its hindquarters, its black scales tightened, overlapping over one another like links in a chain. It was going for another attack.
“C’mon. That’s it,” Russell whispered as he raised his flashlight. This time, he was prepared to meet it head-on. He angled himself in a fighting stance and took another step backward—and then he found himself on his back.
He found himself lying on the ground a second time in a short while just as the beast lunged. Its underbelly flashed past over his head. It had cleared the gap between them in the blink of an eye, its movement more wolf than lizard.
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A chill crawled up his spine. Was it from the pain in his back, or was it for avoiding certain death? He couldn't react to it; he barely even caught a glimpse of it. Its speed had been faster than what his human reflexes could possibly match.
Russell batted his eyes and raised his head. An oxygen tank rolled past his feet.
Dodging the beast had been a fluke, and his accidental fall may have been the only reason he was still alive.
Cursing under his breath, he scrambled back to his feet and raised his hand. But the flashlight was gone, and he muttered another curse. His only weapon lay between him and the beast.
Before the creature could turn around, he reached for his flashlight when something whipped past in front of him, carving a shallow groove on the asphalt, and pain seared his left hand.
He hissed, clutching his arm to his chest. A wound cut across his palm, staining his shirt in blood. But the injury was shallow. His hand remained intact.
The beast let out a deep-chested growl. Its tail whipped back and forth behind it, the sharp end dripping fresh blood on the ground. His blood.
He gritted his teeth, using the tip of his boot to roll the flashlight back to him. He grabbed it with his uninjured right hand and slowly stood back up, never taking his eyes away from the beast.
The wild animal took a step back, its growls weakening, rumbling closer to its throat than its chest.
He knitted his brows. The beast stayed in place as if its desire to attack him had disappeared. Wary of some kind of trick, he wielded the flashlight like a short blade and pointed it at the beast. There would be no accidental tripping this time.
The wild animal bared its blood-drenched teeth before taking another step back,
Russell tilted his head, confused. The beast looked afraid of him, of his makeshift weapon. So he kept his hand raised, keeping the flashlight between them, thinking, wondering of ways he could use its fear to his advantage.
The beast physically outmatched him in every way, no different from facing a bigger, faster, and stronger opponent on the football field. He needed to change the game somehow, to use a different strategy. Beat it with a new approach.
He nodded to himself. A new play it is.
“C’mon, big guy,” he said, twirling the flashlight in his hand as he tried to psych himself up. “Time for second down.”
The beast crouched low once again, the scales around its hind legs compressing as it gathered its power.
But Russell was done playing defense. He bent even lower to the ground and—as if hearing the snap of the football—he took off toward the beast.
His feet pumped under him. The soles of his boots gripped the asphalt like cleats on a grass surface. He screamed at the top of his lungs, making the beast hesitated. He juked to his left and then cut to his right, and he kept his opponent guessing right until the moment he ran past it.
And then he fled.
The beast was fast, but it was far from being nimble.
From his brief but unfortunate experience, he knew it had the speed but not the agility to match. The mutt excelled at charging in a straight line and lunging for its prey, but it lacked the limberness for small changes in direction.
He capitalized on that small weakness.
Still, his feint would only buy him a short time. And he was right.
Six steps.
He managed to take six whole steps before the beast caught on. It let out a low growl behind him, a predator infuriated with its prey slipping from its clutches, and Russell sensed it again.
He leaped to the side without hesitation, throwing himself into the nearest cover he could find—an open convertible.
Something sharp grated against the asphalt behind him, the beast roaring as it missed him once again.
He groaned as he sat flush on the passenger seat, sighing in relief. The sudden comfort welcomed him, and he lost himself in the plush leather and the new car smell. He just about recovered enough energy to open his eyes. Of all the vehicles there, he ended up back inside Bernard’s car—with the beast's head rising over the door panel beside him.
Russell ducked.
A maw snapped shut inches above his face. Right where his head had just been.
Holy shit.
Warm drool spilled all over him. And with a jerk of its head, the beast ripped the headrest clean off the rest of the seat.
He rolled to his left, threw himself between the front seats, and collided headfirst with the cramped backseat of the roadster.
The creature blasted through the side of the convertible, rocking the entire vehicle with a loud explosion.
It crushed the panel of the car door and shattered half the windshield. With a mighty snarl, the beast tore its head back. This time, it took the entire bucket seat with it.
HOLY. SHIT.
He pushed his arms against the soft leather upholstery and sat up straight. Getting an elbow over the backseat, he fought to drag himself over the trunk, looking to escape through the back of the vehicle when pain shot up his right foot, and he slid back down on the bench seat.
Underneath the remnants of the passenger seat, he found his boot in the tight grip of twisted metal. Trapped.
A quiet snarl came from above.
He looked up, and his blood ran cold.
A large head hovered over the center console.
“C’mon,” he muttered, jerking his foot from the base of the seat. But the metal won’t give.
The beast watched him struggle. Low rumbling filled its chest.
“C’mon.” He grabbed the denim of his pants. With numb fingers, he pulled, tugged, yanked. Nothing worked.
It’s huge maw eased open. Rancid breath blasted his face in a hot, sulfuric wave.
He let go of his leg and instead raised his fists. His arms shook. His flashlight was missing from his hand. He didn’t know what else he could do. He needed to escape, to get away, to get home—but it was no use.
The beast revealed a set of white fangs larger than any canine’s. It inched its head closer, taking its time, savoring the end of the hunt.
The death of its prey.
“Come on!” he screamed.
No memories flashed before him. No thoughts of regret crossed his mind. There were no what-ifs or existential questions. There was only the the gaping maw ready to swallow his head whole. And his final moment was accompanied by a resounding clang like church bells ringing, ushering the end of his mortal life.
As if a gong had been struck, the beast’s large head snapped to the side, and something heavy fell beside Russell.
He peered down beside him, blinking in confusion. An oxygen tank sat in the back seat with him, the same tank he had tripped on, the same one Bernie had owned.
Russell blinked again, his brain lagging behind what had just happened. A hiss of pain came from outside the wrecked convertible, and he crept his incredulous gaze over the edge of what was left of the door panel.
Serena hunched just outside, clutching her trembling hands close to her chest.
The beast was down. Serena had saved him.
He exhaled the breath he didn't know he had been holding. Closing his eyes, he melted back into the plush leather seat as the rush of adrenaline left him, its departure sapping him of all his strength. He felt like he was lying on a bed at a 5-star hotel—the plush cushion, the smell of leather, the rotting stench.
A shiver ran through him, starting from his toes all the way to his scalp. He had never been so fearful for his life.
“R-Russ?” Serena muttered.
He wiped the disgusting slobber off his face and peeked at her from the corner of his eye.
“Bernie…” Serena licked her dry lips. “Why was he—How did he—What was that thing just now?”
Russell shook his head with slow mechanical movements. He had no idea either.
Serena’s thin figure swayed, and she braced herself on the frame of the car. The woman continued to wobble in place, and she looked about to collapse on the ground at any moment. “I…I don’t understand,” she said as her eyes lost their focus. “What the damn hell just happened, Russ?”
He took another deep breath and let the cold night air fill his lungs, soothing the turmoil raging inside him. “Ever heard of animal control, Ms. Solace?” he quipped, trying to keep his voice even. As if he hadn’t almost died mere seconds ago. “With how much you folks charge your clients for membership fees, one would think keeping the wildlife off your property was already included.” He reached down low and tugged at his trapped foot, but he had to struggle with such a simple task. His hands kept shaking, and no matter how hard he tried, his numb fingers refused to cooperate.
The smell of blood suffused the air—the beast’s, the old man’s, even his. Russell gritted his teeth, focusing on getting his hands to work. He forced himself not to look at what was left of the car, at the beast, at the blood smeared on its mouth. He forced himself not to check on the corpse they had abandoned, the body lying a few feet away.
He forced himself not to think at all.
“What's with the oversized mutt, huh?” he asked again after finally getting his foot free from its snare. “Was owning a country club getting too boring for you? Were you planning on building your own zoo as well?”
Serena didn’t respond. He leaned back in his seat and gave her a curious glance. She gasped and took a step back. Her knees buckled under her, and she almost lost her balance. Russell flicked his eyes to the downed form of the beast. It remained inside the car, unmoving.
Its scaly head twitched.
He hesitated. Seconds passed, but nothing else happened. Did he see correctly? Or was he imagining things? “It's fine,” he breathed out. “It's already—”
A low rumble escaped from the it’s throat, and Russell’s heart raced. The hulking frame bucked, and what remained of the convertible jerked with it.
Newfound energy flooded Russell’s veins. He grabbed the edge of what was once a car door, vaulted over it, and he tripped on the ground. His legs had turned boneless, and it took all his strength for him to get back to his feet and look behind him.
The beast roused from its short slumber, rising from its prone position, very much alive.
He grabbed for Serena’s hand. “C’mon,” he murmured while backing away. “Clubhouse. Now.”
It crouched atop the wrecked convertible and wobbled in place, its head drooping low.
Serena tugged at his sleeves. She raised her arm and pointed a trembling finger in front of them, past the dazed beast, past the row of cars, right at the lobby in the distance—opposite the direction they had unknowingly taken.
Well, shit.
“GO!” Russell spun around and broke into a run. He dragged Serena with him, putting distance between them and the beast.
And the safety of the clubhouse.
They flew by one car after another, heading for nowhere. There were only vehicles here. There was no place to hide. And their time was running out.
“It’s—It's too fast!” Serena gasped a step behind him.
He yanked at her arm, urging her to go faster. “Eyes front! Keep running!”
They raced between the rows of parked vehicles, running on open ground, picking up speed. His lungs burned. His legs blazed with ache. Pain ignited everything inside him. His body was telling him to give up. And yet he carried on.
“We won't make it!” Serena cried out.
“Just freakin’ run, Solace!” he snapped between ragged breaths. “Run! As fast as you can!"
He didn't know how long he could last. He had burned away his reserves. He was draining what little willpower he had left. He had no more else to give.
But like a snapshot in time, far to their right, a few rows down, popping up for an instant between two vehicles, Russell caught a glimpse of a beat-up truck.
Just when the song returned with a vengeance.
They had run out of time.
Russell pulled Serena close and turned in a dime. Without losing momentum, he swung a squealing woman around him and cut to his left.
Something swiped on the back of his head, missing him by inches before he crashed to the ground right between two vehicles.
The beast flashed past with a frustrated roar.
The car beside them shook with the sound of tearing metal.
Russell hauled Serena to her feet. Cold sweat broke out his back as he resumed their escape.
After cutting through another parking lane, he grabbed her by the shoulders and dragged her low to the ground. Keeping out of sight, he led her around the vehicle beside them and doubled back, returning to the direction they came from.
They ran and ran, and they kept on running. They huddled low like scurrying rodents, weaved between endless cars like thieves in the night. Soon they reached a familiar row of cars. They had only missed Big Bertha by a handful of parking spots.
Even as they crept closer to his truck, he made sure to keep his eyes peeled, his ears perked. The beast was somewhere nearby, still closing in, still tracking them somehow.
Serena let out a sigh of relief. A rusty bumper emerged before their bowed faces. The truck’s passenger-side door beckoned, already within reach.
The roars grew louder, the footfalls heavier.
"Inside!" he hissed, creeping into the tight space between his truck and the supercar parked next to it. He reached up and pulled the door handle open.
The car door didn't budge.
He yanked at it repeatedly, but it still refused to open. He shoved his hand in his pocket and froze. Like a bucket of cold water, he recognized his mistake.
He shot to his feet and hooded his eyes against the glass, peering inside the truck’s cabin. Even in the darkness, even without being able to see much, he immediately spotted what he was looking for—the key he had left in the ignition.
He leaned away from the window, cursing in his head. He grabbed Serena’s hand to lead her to the open door on the other side. But as he stared inside his truck, at the new bloodstain smudging the glass, he caught sight of a reflection against the dirty window, a movement coming directly from behind him.
A shiver of dread crawled down his spine.
He wrestled Serena to the ground, and the impact jarred him hard. His knees protested from the pain, and he barely made it time to cover her mouth, stifling her scream of surprise.
With his other arm wrapped around her waist, he wiggled underneath the large truck, his vehicle's clearance high enough to accommodate them both.
Now, lying on the rough asphalt, peering between the front tires of his truck, he let Serena go, but the woman refused to move away as they waited with bated breath.
A clawed foot dropped in front of them.
Serena whimpered in his embrace.
C’mon…
Another foot descended. Then another. And another.
Sweat dripped below his eyebrow, stinging his eye.
That’s it…
Limbs appeared and disappeared, plodding in a slow, ponderous gait.
He licked his dry lips and swallowed the lump in his throat.
A little more…
The beast took its time, pausing every few steps, until it crept past their view, leaving his truck behind.
Lungs burning, he took a deep breath only to scrunch his nose right after. He had inhaled the vapor from the large puddle of grease inches away from their faces, and he grimaced in disgust.
He slid to his left, pulling Serena after him as he went up the other side. Having left the driver-side door open, it didn't take the woman any urging to get her ass inside. In her haste, she nearly tripped over the toolbox he had left on the ground. He followed right after her and eased the car door shut as quietly as he could, trying not to make a sound.
“It's okay,” he whispered, thumbing down the door lock for good measure. “We're safe now. We're—"
The truck shook in place. Its suspensions screeched. Metal groaned and the entire cabin tilted forward. And right before them, perched atop the hood, waiting beyond the windshield, loomed the beast.
“—fucked.”