The Hunted

His breath came in shallow, ragged, and quick gasps. He glanced back over his shoulder. His terrified eyes trying to pierce the thickening darkness as he drew away from the first abandoned alley. At this point, the whole city seemed to be abandoned.

Only the dull silver light of the full moon lit the alley, half captured by thelow-hanging clouds threatening to rain a second time. The rain stopped less than fifteen minutes before he was sent on a simple errand to buy more alcohol; twenty minutes after this hellish race began.

He could see the end of the alley! Cars zoomed quickly in and out of view no more than a block away. The number of cars he saw in the few footsteps in this section of alleyway suggested Main Street. Safety.

Between him and safety, stood two large green garbage bins, a number of garbage bags and boxes strewn about the alley, and a couple of large puddles from the previous rain fall, and he could also make out some debris of some kind. None of that mattered to him. Safety was close by.

Old shops lined the alleyway. Small two story buildings that, in front, looked in decent shape, but unkempt and in need of repair from the back—from what he could make out in the silvery darkness. This part of town was not the richest area, nearing the north end of Main Street and the city.

His heart boomed in his chest and his lungs burned with every sharp, ragged breath in. Both working over time trying to beat the evil—the creature—running after him.

His legs hurt, even with being a runner by nature. A stitch in his side turned into a massive burning. His side felt as if it would burst into flames at any given chance.

He leaped over an upturned box, not caring if it was empty or not. He needed the distance he had, and more. The thing behind him was fast. Sometimes it would gain ground quickly; thankfully it always seemed to loose steam and fall back. Skirting around another box knowing it was empty. He pulled himself back on track—straight down the alley.

How many blocks? Five? Six? No, it had to be closer to ten, if Main Street was up ahead. He could have run the course laid out in front of him from start to end perfectly fine, but this is different. The race was for his life. He did not think the huge furry creature behind him was just going to capture and tickle him.

Glancing over his shoulder, his eyes drew to the back of the alley. He could see the hulking shape turning the corner into this section of the alley. Ten or fifteen meters away at most. The creature stood at least six and a half feet tall and as broad as a football player, probably more. He knew it was covered in dark brown fur and had a muzzle pushing out from it’s face, thankfully that was all he saw. That was all he needed to see.

The first green BFI garbage bin came fast on his left, close. He slammed his hand against the side and pushed off. He noticed the lid was closed. The slick feeling of grease and other slime coated his fingers, which did not bother him. He sidestepped a dark green garbage bag and reoriented himself.

A long section of alley stretched out between him and the second BFI bin, and the street beyond. The section, only a two or three minute run, seemed like an eternity away. Three quarters of a block—so close and yet so far. Leaflets and newspaper stuck to the dark pavement, against the back of buildings, and randomly placed by the winds and rain.

He splashed through a puddle of rainwater. The splash echoed back from the dirty and degrading walls of the buildings surrounding him. Thunder boomed overhead, adding to the ominous fear of nature to the unknown creature stalking him.

He leaped over a small pile of trash, not daring to take the time to think what might be inside of the refuse. He heard a deep grunt from behind, instinct told him to continue forward and ignore the sound, and caught himself glancing back over his shoulder.

The creature slammed down onto the top of the green BFI container. Thunder bellowed inside of the container, reverberating inside like a deep echo. It cut the distance between itself and him within seconds. It stopped and dropped down, hunched itself over and took a long, deep whiff of the lid and the smell contained therein.

He turned away, pushing a little harder. His feet splashed into a deep puddle, water pushed up and splashed down soaking his shoes and socks. The cold water shocked his hot skin forcing a surprised hiss from his contrasting lungs. The two feelings hurt.

Half way.

He heard the creature grunt, turned his head in time to see it leaping for the ground before turning his attention back to the final goal: the end of the alley. He did not see the piece of wax paper under the dark puddle of water a single step in front of him.

His right foot slammed down onto the piece of paper. He felt his foot slip as soon as he lifted his left foot into the air. He let out a surprised and terrified cry knowing he would be dead if he fell. Slamming his left foot back down on the ground, he pin wheeled for a brief moment and found his footing, loosing a few precious moments of time.

The creature landed on the pavement with a dull thud. He pushed harder, as hard as he could—still far beyond what he could have done at any other race—just to try and make up the lost second or two of time. He dared not look back. The sound of the creatures landing seemed close, too close.

He could hear the creature’s bipedal form slamming his feet—paws—down on the glistening wet asphalt. Glass up ahead. He could see the silver moon light splash against the glass and bounce off casting sparkles in his eyes. A few drops of cold water splashed against the back of his hot neck.

It was fast. He could hear his own footfalls barely matching those of the creature. He judged the distance between him and the garbage bin at roughly half-dozen meters. He knew he would be cutting it close, but now he was sure he would win. The race would be over, and…and then what? What would he say to his friends? What would he say to the cops?

He heard it grunt. He tried pushing himself faster, harder, and could not. Everything he had (and more) went through him now. He could muster nothing more, not even to save his life. He did not need it. He was going to...

The creature crashed down into his view between him and the BFI garbage bin. It’s back and shoulders flexed and rippled as it breathed in. He could see it’s ears, two large triangles leading up to a razor thin point on the top of his head, one at each side.

He cried out and started to skid to a stop. His body screaming in pain as he back peddled. His mind screaming in utter horror suddenly understanding he had been played with. Watching, crashing down onto the dirty ground in the dark and filthy alley, the creature turned around.

His huge arms flexed, his chest heaved, and his clawed hands balling into fists with every breath, and relaxing as he exhaled. It’s hands could easily be called paws, completely covered in deep brown fur with nails extending an inch or two out. His chest, stomach, arms and legs showed huge bulging muscles under the thick layer of matted fur.

The asphalt burned his skin, ripping and tearing at the heel of his palms. The pain flooded up his arms and vanished, his attention on the creature in front of him. The creature’s black eyes burned into his. The muzzle pushed out about five inches with yellow and jagged carnivorous teeth; each tooth looking as if it could rip right through any bone in his body.

A canine. A wolf. A…

“Oh, Jesus…” His voice was a mere whisper, harsh and terrified.

It lunged forward. He tried to escape. Not fast enough.

He could only watch as the huge hulking shape bore down on him. The moonlight vanished from the girth of the werewolf’s huge form. The creature growled lowly, a guttural sound. He felt the creature’s huge teeth pierce his neck. He tried to gasp and heard only a wet gurgle from below his mouth. Hot liquid poured down his chest, and felt himself starting to tire, an interesting feeling.

Soon he felt nothing; barely hearing the happy grunts and mutters from the creature, and even those faded away.