The Dawn Predator

3.45 am. Stephen Adams stood in the kitchen of his suburban semi drinking the last remnants of his coffee. The rest of the house slept. His mind wandered, not for the first time, back to his sleeping wife wishing he could get back into bed and feel her warmth against him once more.

3.48 am. The neon blue of the cooker clock scalded him for his indulgence. With a reluctant sigh, Stephen placed his coffee cup on the worktop and reached for his keys. ‘At least it’s Friday,’ he thought, ‘am really going to enjoy this weekend.’

Closing the door quietly, he trudged across the damp, crisp grass. Fog rolled lazily through the trees muting the amber glow from the street lamps. Turning the corner of the house he caught sight of it. The jet black, curvaceous body of his beloved Jaguar XJ v8 glistening with early morning dew, a wanton predator ready to do its master's bidding. Stephen realised he had slowed, stepping gently across the gravel, not wanting to cause alarm. As if in recognition of his tender approach, a gentle warm light emanated from its body in gracious welcome as he slid in behind the wheel. His hand was immediately drawn to single illuminated word - Power - a gentle roar greeting his delicate touch.

They rolled gently from the overnight resting place, moving slowly into the quiet suburban streets. Nothing stirred. Moving his hands gently over the smooth leather skin of his charge, excitement stirred deep within him. The reassuring low murmur resonating through his body as they prowled along deserted trails. Stephen loved this time of day. Just the two of them, alone, with the world at their feet.

A solitary red light pierced the mist. They rolled to a halt on the edge of town. Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply, drinking in the tranquillity of his surroundings. He smiled. 'Life's sweet,' he thought.
In less than 15 minutes, he would be dead.

The silence was shattered so abruptly that, for a moment Stephen felt dazed, confused. The stillness of the crisp autumnal morning massacred by a thudding monotonous muffled beat. His peripheral vision filled with bright light that suffocated his thoughts.

'WHAT THE HELL?!', Stephen shouted, frantically looking for the source of the torment. His heart raced as he tried to regain his senses, understand what was happening.

A high pitched growl the tone rising, falling, rising in angry rebuke. The light around him becoming brighter. Fading. Pulsating. The light moved around him as he turned to confront his agitator. Two of them. Young. Taunting. Spitting insults. Laughing at his impotence. With a final mocking squeal they bolted into the mist, their red glow fading as silence returned.

The anger welled up inside him. Indignant of the challenge, Stephen stamped his right foot hard to the floor. A jubilant roar of aggressive approval, the sound vibrating through every inch of his body. Rubber claws scrabbling in giddy delight as they gave chase.

Anger, mixed with excitement coursed through his veins. The thrill of pursuit heightened his senses. The roar of the beast flowed through him. Every undulation, each twist left, right, feeding his excitement. He had never felt so alive!

Through the mist the dancing glow of their prey pulsated as they darted right, left, trying to throw them off course. There was no escape. They would soon be on them.

Stephen's eyes grew wide in excited anticipation. He knew this territory well. They had passed this way many times before. Their kingdom. Their domain.

Their prey darted to the left, slipping, almost losing control as they frantically tried to evade capture.
Weakness exposed, an anticipatory flash of excitement gripped him. Without slowing, they flicked left, over a crest, momentary lightness adding to the exhilaration.

This is where the kill would be made. Twists and turns lay ahead of them now. The young provocateurs were no match for the agility of their pursuer.

With a triumphant roar they were upon them, snarling inches from them. He could see his tormentors turn to him, still mocking, convinced they were the stronger.

In the far recesses of his mind a familiar sound fought for his attention. Pulsating blue light assaulted his vision, surrounding him, suffocating him. The piercing siren call filled the air, an excited chattering that reverberated through the forest, warning all in the vicinity of the pursuit. A sense of foreboding grew in the pit of Stephen’s stomach. Panic began to consume him.
Have to escape, hide. Sacrifice the challenger in order to survive.

A track branched sharply to their left. Stamping feet to the ground they desperately tried to lose speed, scrabbling for grip, pivoting, sliding across the loose gravel, clawing at the loose earth, moving forward, gathering speed once more.
'YES!!!' exalted Stephen.

His exhilaration was short lived. He looked behind. Anguish consumed him. The Hunter. Gaining. Impossible. Surely, the young tormentors were the easier prey?

Panic. Faster. Got to escape. Sharp right. Adrenaline coursed through him, heart pounding, over-powering his judgements. Faster. Mist growing thicker. His vision obscured. Noise reverberating through the woodland. A glance behind. Lights fading.

'YES!'

And then time slowed.

Stephen turned to view the road ahead. Focusing, he saw the road twist sharp right, deflected by a mighty oak through the stone walls of the bridge. Inevitability stole his breath from him. In a last futile gesture, Stephen stamped on the brakes, a deep, guttural scream of terror his only defence as they hit the wall. A crushing silence suffocated all sensation as they rose in a deathly pirouette. Held tightly in his seat in a final loving embrace Stephen’s vision was drawn inextricably to the clock in the centre of the neon display.

04.13

The tree hit like an executioner's blade, expunging all life. One decisive terminal blow. A single red dot, a beating heart marking time, faded. Extinguished. A red tear flowed across Stephen’s cheek.

Their time was at an end.