Cousin Rose told her white eyes were to be avoided. Somehow she had failed to mention that they had fangs and could stumble after you in torn up bodies straight off the Walking Dead. Every instinct she had said "Flee!" So she took to her heels as if her life depended on it. Surely, surely I can out run that thing.
The sound of her boots stomping the pavement reminded her that getting out of sight of her pursuer was a good idea. Her boots were incredibly heavy and her thighs were already burning, but the pursuing gut coughs and stamping wasn't gaining ground...yet.
No way she was going to make Nowhere. Kylie searched the sides of the road for house lights or flashes of outdoor holiday decorations outlining a roof, a front door, or a lawn ornament. She was swinging her head side to side quickly enough to make her brain feel sloshed about.
"Stop! Please!" a guttural cry from behind startled Kylie whose feet tripped over each other but kept carrying her forward. Maybe the woman only wanted help, flashed across Kylie's mind. She had no help to give though and could not shake the terror squeezing her chest and throat like kid with a juice box.
The white eyes spoke again, closer now.
Did I slow down?
"Make me keep hurting like this and I'll make you wish you were never born."
I am the juice box.
Kylie glanced back and wished she hadn't. She almost missed the break in the trees on the opposite side of the road. A one lane dirt and gravel track, well-worn parallel grooves cutting off through shadows. A house on the outskirts of town, a farm probably, she told herself and veered across to take the chance, the only chance she probably had.