something out there, something listening for any sound, something waiting...
Michael's need to do something – anything – took over, and he launched the pebble into the fog to the left of the Café, well away from the tiny car park.
The world kicked back into life as though recovering from a power cut.
The pebble landed with a whimper; a barely audible thud , and suddenly something was crashing through the fog and trees to their left, seemingly oblivious to the branches and undergrowth, tearing toward the noise.
The shape burst from the trees, perhaps thirty feet in front of Carl and Michael, just close enough to make out in the fog. Michael squinted, trying to make out anything beyond the rough silhouette.
It was a man of average size. Alone. Yet there was something unusual about the figure, something awkward about its movements that seemed more animal than human.
The figure paused in roughly the location that Michael had tossed the pebble, head whipping back and forth violently, swinging left and right like a radar dish. Whoever it was, it was quickly apparent that the shape in the fog had not seen the two men standing to its right.
Michael raised a hand again to warn Carl to remain silent.
A beat too late.
"Christ!" Carl cried, his voice choked, "It's Craig Haycock."
Michael felt his stomach drop.
Things happened quickly then.
The silhouette's head whipped in the direction of Carl’s voice, and with lightning speed the figure sprinted toward them. Michael had an instant to take in the man's features, his mind recoiling in horror. Haycock's chest was drenched, black with blood, but his face...
Long ragged tears ripped down the man's face, starting at the hairline, ending at the jaw. Tears made by fingernails.
He's ripped his own fucking eyes out.
"The car!" Michael cried, turning and sprinting toward the parking area.
He heard Carl's feet pounding behind him, and the crashing, chaotic footfalls of the eyeless, bloodied man. Getting closer.
Michael reached the car first, yanking open the passenger door and diving inside, his hip landing painfully on the handbrake. Even as the pain blossomed he heard the scream, a gurgling yelp of pure terror, and knew his partner hadn't made it.
Michael turned to see Carl stagger to one knee, Craig Haycock hanging from his neck, teeth buried into the big man's shoulder, blood washing over the smaller man's jaw.
For a moment Michael felt like he was watching one of those incredible BBC nature documentaries; watching in slow motion as some fierce creature, all teeth and claws, brought down its much larger prey through force of will and relentless animal aggression.
Carl tried to haul himself back to his feet, took another half step, unable to shake the smaller figure away, and then went down hard, his face smashing into the gravel.
Michael slammed the door shut and brought his elbow down on the lock. Outside, Carl moaned, low and bubbling, then fell silent. The silence made Michael's skin crawl almost as much as had the feeble, gurgling cry. He clasped his hands to his temples in horror, shaking his head, hoping to wake from the nightmare.
Outside, he saw Haycock leap to his feet – again that rapid, unnatural motion – his head swinging back and forth and blood oozing down his chin, searching for a sign of where the other part of his meal had gone. Michael felt his mind veering close to breaking point and clapped a hand over his mouth, suddenly afraid that he would not be able to keep himself from screaming.
Wide-eyed, Michael watched as Haycock began to prowl around, searching. Blind, yet terrible and dangerous, stalking about like a caged beast. He was maybe fifteen feet away from the car.
Only a matter of time...
Michael thought about the radio, but knew it was useless. Glenda would provide no help whatsoever, and he did not fancy his chances of surviving long if he had to wait there for backup to arrive. Coming from Haverfordwest, the best case scenario was
Michael's need to do something – anything – took over, and he launched the pebble into the fog to the left of the Café, well away from the tiny car park.
The world kicked back into life as though recovering from a power cut.
The pebble landed with a whimper; a barely audible thud , and suddenly something was crashing through the fog and trees to their left, seemingly oblivious to the branches and undergrowth, tearing toward the noise.
The shape burst from the trees, perhaps thirty feet in front of Carl and Michael, just close enough to make out in the fog. Michael squinted, trying to make out anything beyond the rough silhouette.
It was a man of average size. Alone. Yet there was something unusual about the figure, something awkward about its movements that seemed more animal than human.
The figure paused in roughly the location that Michael had tossed the pebble, head whipping back and forth violently, swinging left and right like a radar dish. Whoever it was, it was quickly apparent that the shape in the fog had not seen the two men standing to its right.
Michael raised a hand again to warn Carl to remain silent.
A beat too late.
"Christ!" Carl cried, his voice choked, "It's Craig Haycock."
Michael felt his stomach drop.
Things happened quickly then.
The silhouette's head whipped in the direction of Carl’s voice, and with lightning speed the figure sprinted toward them. Michael had an instant to take in the man's features, his mind recoiling in horror. Haycock's chest was drenched, black with blood, but his face...
Long ragged tears ripped down the man's face, starting at the hairline, ending at the jaw. Tears made by fingernails.
He's ripped his own fucking eyes out.
"The car!" Michael cried, turning and sprinting toward the parking area.
He heard Carl's feet pounding behind him, and the crashing, chaotic footfalls of the eyeless, bloodied man. Getting closer.
Michael reached the car first, yanking open the passenger door and diving inside, his hip landing painfully on the handbrake. Even as the pain blossomed he heard the scream, a gurgling yelp of pure terror, and knew his partner hadn't made it.
Michael turned to see Carl stagger to one knee, Craig Haycock hanging from his neck, teeth buried into the big man's shoulder, blood washing over the smaller man's jaw.
For a moment Michael felt like he was watching one of those incredible BBC nature documentaries; watching in slow motion as some fierce creature, all teeth and claws, brought down its much larger prey through force of will and relentless animal aggression.
Carl tried to haul himself back to his feet, took another half step, unable to shake the smaller figure away, and then went down hard, his face smashing into the gravel.
Michael slammed the door shut and brought his elbow down on the lock. Outside, Carl moaned, low and bubbling, then fell silent. The silence made Michael's skin crawl almost as much as had the feeble, gurgling cry. He clasped his hands to his temples in horror, shaking his head, hoping to wake from the nightmare.
Outside, he saw Haycock leap to his feet – again that rapid, unnatural motion – his head swinging back and forth and blood oozing down his chin, searching for a sign of where the other part of his meal had gone. Michael felt his mind veering close to breaking point and clapped a hand over his mouth, suddenly afraid that he would not be able to keep himself from screaming.
Wide-eyed, Michael watched as Haycock began to prowl around, searching. Blind, yet terrible and dangerous, stalking about like a caged beast. He was maybe fifteen feet away from the car.
Only a matter of time...
Michael thought about the radio, but knew it was useless. Glenda would provide no help whatsoever, and he did not fancy his chances of surviving long if he had to wait there for backup to arrive. Coming from Haverfordwest, the best case scenario was
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