Things that Go Bump in the Night

Chapter 51: Part 3: The Beast that Kills

It couldn't be....

The white wolf lunges, easily knocking the black beast to the ground, but the dark shadow fights back like a soul possessed, using its lower position to drag sharp talons cross the underbelly of the white wolf. Blood sprays across the landscape as the shadow takes more damage without care, fighting back viciously without heed to his own safety. The white beast would win, but the shadow was not going down without causing some damage.

Not him...Not him.

My eyes desperately search the landscape for my rifle, finding the metallic glint of the barrel several feet away. Cradling my broken arm to my chest, I drag myself toward it with my good arm, choking back sobs as my sides scrape the ground. My bloody fingers reach for it, barely touching steel.

I dig my fingers into the earth, pulling myself forward with a cry.

My good hand grips the rifle.

I roll back painfully, leveling the rifle with the elbow of my broken arm and knees. The white wolf has the Monster pinned, ready to make a final strike.

But I made mine first.

I could barely even hear my own breathing from the residual shock of the gun shot, but I knew there were no other sounds. There had been a scuffle, but when the dust settled, the white wolf was unmoving, dark blood pooling over the desert, half of his face obliterated across the sand.

Dead.

Dead.

Movement drew my gaze away from the grotesque aftermath of the white wolf and made me raise the rifle once more.

The dark shadow was slowly dragging itself out from the carcass of the white beast. On shaky legs it stood, looking disoriented before approaching me with a slow unsteady gait.

The blood pounding through my ears was the only sound I could hear as the monster came forward. Memories of this monster chasing me through the rain in bloodlust, making my grip on the rifle tighten. I could remember the Monster's black gaze burning me with such a promise of torture that I was willing to end my own life to escape him.

I would not kill myself now.

He would be the one to die.

I would kill this Monster with my own hands, just like the other.

I was ready to watch the light drain from those bottomless inhuman obsidian pools.

This monster that hunted me.

This monster that ruined me.

This monster that made me helpless.

The monster stumbled and fell just a few feet before me, struggling to pull itself up before falling again. I clenched my teeth as I forced myself to stand, holding the rifle as well as I could with one good hand. The monster stayed down as I approached on shaking legs, only stopping as I came to stand above my oppressor.

My nightmare.

I lifted the rifle, using my shoulder to brace the butt of the gun as I aimed directly over the Monster's head, my finger ready to pull the trigger.

The motion caused the Monster to open its eyes and look up at me.

Our locked gaze made every hair on my body stand on end and restarted the violent shaking of my hand. I was ready to kill the Monster. I was ready to watch his life fade out by my hands, like he had taken everything away from me.

I was ready to kill the Monster.

The Monster.

But the eyes that looked up at me were not the Monster's eyes.