Jack winced as another bestial cry echoed down the alley from behind them, the drizzling rain doing nothing to hide the sound. That thing, whatever it was, was chasing them now through the alleys of Maples, and the inconsistent lighting was making it difficult to move swiftly. The young man barely avoided colliding with another trash container as he followed Hank. The wheezing sound coming from the older man was fast becoming another concern for Jack as well, even as the stress and fear of whatever was behind them pushed Jack to keep running.
“J, Jack,” Hank suddenly wheezed as they rounded a corner, suddenly slowing down. “I’m, I’m done. I can’t, I can’t run no more. Everything, dizzy, hurts…” The older man stumbled into a building wall and collapsed, his injuries finally overtaking his consciousness.
“Hank no! We need to run!” Jack yelled, reaching down to pull at the other man. Unfortunately, Hank was too large and heavy for Jack to move with his average build. The older man would not be going anywhere without help. Jack checked his phone again, and had no signal.
Jack reflexively looked around the alley they were in. The city blocks of Maples oftentimes were a hodgepodge of alleys due to the various building sizes of various eras all mixing together. This one had a section of one building sticking out into the alley, creating a blind spot, but also lacking a direct exit to streetside. Jack pushed down his instinct to flee and leave Hank behind, easy enough when there wasn’t much to live for, and quickly came up with a plan.
Pulling out several trash bags from the container, Jack ripped them open and dumped the contents into the alley. He then covered Hank in the less gross bags, piled a couple more onto, and wiped some of Hank’s blood onto one of the unopened trash bags before throwing it down the alley close to the blind spot, placing a broken piece of glass atop it. Finally, the young man looked around and grabbed the first thing he could use as a weapon, an old and rusty iron pipe. Wrapping the base with an old towel to serve as a handle and to keep it connected to his hand, Jack got into position and waited in bating breath. It didn’t much longer for the thing to appear.
He heard the thing before he saw it. The low thumps in the ground like heavy footsteps, and the sudden dimming of the few lights in the alley. Jack somewhat realized the dim lights in the restaurant likely had also occurred because of the thing. Then, the low growl and loud sniffing froze his breath.
Jack didn’t risk peeking around the corner this time, instead relying on the piece of glass to get a look at the thing. Again, he couldn’t get a firm look at the attacker and only saw a black form loosely in the shape of a person, as if it was wearing a loose cloth over its body perhaps. The thing appeared to be a little confused as its head moved back forth while sniffing, the smell of garbage and rain covering up Hank’s hidden body, though any normal person should have thought the excess garbage on the ground was suspicious.
As he had hoped and dreaded, the attacker turned its attention further up the alley and moved toward the trash bag with Hank’s blood wiped on it. It let out a growl as it moved in for the attack, the reflection reaching up with an arm before slashing downwards with what appeared to be a clawed hand. The momentary pause as the attacker processed the trick allowed Jack his moment to jump at it with the iron bar raised over his head. Barely holding back the urge to scream, he slammed the rusty iron pipe into the back of the thing’s neck, causing it to crumple.
“Freddy Kreuger wannabe!” Jack finally let out the scream he’d been holding in his chest. “How do you like it? Huh!” He struck the attacker with all his might, over and over again, his attacks unfocused and feral. The thing on the ground let out a howl of pain, causing Jack to fatally hesitate in his attack flurry. Though the thing screeched in pain, it still moved faster than Jack could see. The young man suddenly felt the world around him fly past as a sudden hot pain appeared on the left side of his face. He only time a moment to realize he’d been hurt, before his back slammed into the hard concrete ground of the alley, and his vision blurred. The world, for the moment, went black.
***
Blurry, shaken, but still clutching the pipe thanks to the old towel wrap, Jack barely realized it as he somehow stumbled out of the alley. He felt a wave of dizziness as he stumbled between the concrete structures, his heart racing. With his body on autopilot, Jack didn’t know where he was anymore. All he knew was pain, in his back, and on his face. Trembling as he leaned against the wall, trying to catch his breath, Jack reached up with his open hand to touch his face. The feeling of warm liquid met his fingertips, followed by the metallic scent of blood in his nose. He felt three lines of pain running down from his forehead to his cheek, and most worryingly of all was the blur and pain in his left eye. Did the thing render him blind, or was it the blood?
Groaning, Jack slid to the ground and forced himself to catch his breath. He needed to deal with the open wound, but nothing in the dirty back alley would be able to help. He needed medical attention, hell any help at this point. The thought made him think of Emily, and with another groan Jack forced himself back onto his feet. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small sleeve of tissues, one his girlfriend had always insisted he take with him. Trembling hand notwithstanding, he managed to open the sleeve and pull out several tissues to wipe his face, wincing through the pain. It wasn’t exactly first aid, but at least the tissues helped him get rid of anything stuck in the wounds.
A savage cry from somewhere in the dark, forced Jack back into reality. The thing, likely pissed off, was likely wanting some payback. And this time, Jack didn’t have the element of surprise with the amount of blood on him. He didn’t even have any light, right? Confused, Jack rubbed his right eye, and then barely touched his left eye before closing them both.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
When Jack opened his eyes again, he felt disoriented. Everything looked, different, somehow to him. The alley, the concrete ground, the rain; everything seemed to have an otherworldly glow that allowed him to see their outlines perfectly. He rubbed his eyes again, thinking it was a trick of the light, but the outlines remained. It was like someone had selected the entire world with ‘select all’, or something similar. Looking around, Jack noted that everything was like this, and then he looked up at the sky.
The sky starred back at him, grotesque and bleeding.
Jack was filled with such horror he shut his eyes. The searing pain in his left eye made his gasp and open them again. All he saw were the dark rainclouds and their continuous light drizzle. The alley was once again dark, and the growls of something was getting closer.
Jack tensed up and turned to face the direction of the sound. He didn’t think he could outrun this thing, but he could at least give it a few more whacks. Jack felt a strange sensation as he reflexively rubbed his injured eye, as if something was moving beneath the surface. From the darkness, the attacker emerged once again. This time, however, Jack saw it for what it truly was. Its true form; a misshapen, hulking beast with sharp claws and glowing eyes barely in the form of a human. Sinuous muscle seemed to ooze across its form, skinless and erratic, as if barely held together. A nose-less face dominated by a circular maw looked on in malice, the assurance of violence promised in its gaze.
Jack stumbled backwards in shock, nearly falling over. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. The young man thought he must be hallucinating. But the monster remained, stalking towards him with predatory intent, something dripping from its large, teeth-ridden maw.
“Kris ‘sat to ordar,” came the low grutteral voice of, whatever the thing was. “Gregora maientre, to ordar. Streuntar, cattli’e.”
“You stop the hunt. It continues, the hunt. Run, little cattle.”
Even as the words somehow processed in his brain, Jack was already running as fast as he could away from the ting, chilling laughter chasing him further into the darkness. As he ran, he realized that his eye was hurting more than ever. He felt like it was on fire, and his vision was starting to blur. He stumbled several times but managed to keep running.
“How long is this damn alley?” Jack couldn’t help but roar in anger and fear. As if to answer his question, Jack spotted a familiar pile of white tissues, soaked in red. Had he run in a circle somehow? What the hell was going on?
The thuds from behind made Jack whirl around, and there the thing was again, even closer now. The teeth-ridden maw opened impossibly wide until it dominated the head.
“Kris-” it began to say, before Jack leaped at it with his pipe and smashed down hard.
“Only an idiot waits for a monologue!” the young man screamed as he unleashed a flurry of blows once again.
The creature let out a groan as it moved back away from the pipe, showing visible discomfort and anger at the attack. It reached out with its two arms to swipe at the smaller human, but Jack retreated and swung at the arms. The creature seemed oddly slow, as if it were unfamiliar with itself? Jack wasn’t quite sure, but less thinking, more hitting. Still, it was fast enough to get a good slash in at his arm, which Jack barely blocked with his pipe, but lost the towel wrap as it was sliced off.
The monster let out a snarl and suddenly moved back, and Jack watched as its outline started to blur. The thing’s image seemed to split, and split again, as if Jack had doubling vision until the monster was once again an indistinct black form. It moved erratically back and forth before surging towards Jack.
Pain. Sudden, red-hot pain emanated from Jack’s injured left eye, and suddenly the monster was once again solid and reaching out with a massive maw of teeth. Reflexively, the young man leaped out of the way and threw his pipe into the things mouth. Jack didn’t know why he did that. He’d just tossed away his only weapon.
The monster also looked confused for a moment, before it let out a sudden scream of agony. It collapsed onto the ground and flailed wildly, its arms tearing into its own flesh in some desperate attempt to reach the pipe inside of it. Flesh and viscera were flung around wildly in its self-mutilation, with Jack looking on in horror and awe. The thing’s red eyes rolled around in its head as its cried became weaker and weaker. When its arms fell to its side, the eyes locked onto Jack.
“Kris ‘sat to ordar,” it wheezed. “Gregora maientre, to ordar, eterna. Markadokris, cattli’e.”
“You stop the hunt. It continues, the hunt, forever. You are marked, little cattle.”
Finally, the monster collapsed to the ground, dead. Its form shifted and shimmered as it seemingly dissolved into shadow with the rain, leaving nothing behind but a gleaming iron pipe. The world itself seemed to be brighter now, even.
Jack leaned against the wall of the alley, panting heavily. He couldn't believe what had just happened. He had fought a monster, and, shockingly, he had won. Jack had no idea how to process this. Still, gaming instincts and a sense of responsibility pushed him to move. He walked over and picked up the shining iron pipe, noting the change but not thinking more on it. Maybe monster stomach acid worked as rust remover, who knows. The rain continued to fall, drops of blood falling from Jack’s face onto his clothes, the ground, and the pipe as he walked back the way he’d came.
It was only a short and stumbling walk to where he’d hidden Hank. Jack found the older man where he’d left him, still hidden under the trash. The younger man freed Hank from the trash, and then collapsed onto the ground next to him. Jack felt tired, and a feeling of weightlessness began to rise up in his mind. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, swiping to emergency call.
“911, what is your emergency?” came the voice of the operator.
“Called, earlier,” Jack mumbled loosely. “Ran, into alley with boss. Attacker, thing, I got him. Sorry, too tired.”
“Sir, you need to remain conscious!” the voice of the operator ordered. “Are you hurt? Can you provide a better location for emergency services?”
The words took longer to process in Jacks mind than usual. His left eye was itchy again. He looked up at the section of the building that invaded part of the alley and made the blind spot. He could have sworn it hadn’t been a dive bar entrance earlier. The sign above read, ‘Oakychookie Bar’.
“Oakychookie Bar,” Jack mumbled. The operator was talking again, but Jack couldn’t hear her very well now. He didn’t feel like moving anymore either, but he managed to tighten his grip on the iron bar. ‘For better or worse,’ came his last thought, ‘I guess this changes things, right?’
And then he fell into comforting darkness of oblivion.