Chapter 14

The creature sniffed my legs like an oversized dog and licked my back with its bristly tongue. Something about me confused it, as if it couldn’t figure out what I was. It pawed at my vest with curiosity, and I slowed my breath, hoping for the beast to lose interest and head towards the town. I wasn’t so fortunate.

A claw grabbed my arm and flipped me to the sight of a human bat mix. Dark and bright patches of wrinkly flesh covered its body, and veins crisscrossed through the flaps that reached from its knees to its palms. It had human hands with talon-like claws and the face of an old man with sunken cheeks. Through the night vision, the black holes replacing beady eyes were haunting.

Without thinking, I kicked my boot into its side and rose, but before I could maneuver myself on top of its body, the beast regained its balance, dug its fingers into my arms, and pinned me to the ground. Feet to legs, hands to arms—it held me with four thumbs and locked me in place.

I struggled against its grasp and yelled from the slicing of my skin, angering the monster further.

Even though the helmet cushioned the blow, the creature’s headbutts silenced me before it turned its attention to the blood on my arm. Barbs on its tongue hooked and lifted my flesh from the bone as it tracked towards my neck. It tried to bite, but my helmet was in the way, and its mouth was too large to fit in the gap of protection.

The bat-like horror wrapped its jaws around my shielded skull and shook side to side until the muscles in my neck tore, then it raised me from the ground and banged me on the hard dirt. By the sixth or seventh strike, I struggled to move my head and had the urge to vomit. I couldn’t scream through the gasping if I tried.

The freak’s tongue raked down my arm towards my wrist, and it clamped down with needle-like fangs, but it didn’t thrash. The sharp pain I expected turned into a comfortable warmth that flowed through the wound. Its bite eased my agitation and convinced me not to worry; that everything was fine. Soothing, like the calm embrace of a powerful hold, I didn’t want to leave. I closed my eyes and let the affectionate hand grip whatever it touched—a tenderness I willingly accepted.

The creature left me drifting on a pillowy cloud and retracted its claws once my body fell limp. I reached up and caressed its side—taut skin with no bumps, smooth with no lesions. The skin looked different, like it belonged to another animal. I stroked the beast as if it were a dog, and it didn’t resist. Instead, it repositioned itself into a comfortable stance. Like a pet that missed its owner, it seemed happy and invaded my thoughts.

Memories of events that never happened circled in my mind like a carousel, and I wanted to believe the sandy beaches and warm waters were real. The beast made them up, and I wanted to live them. Better than a dream, more vivid than my imagination, I let myself go and continued in my alternative world, praying it would never end. Sadly, it didn’t last long.

The creature shifted once more and adjusted its jaw. My eyes flew open. A tingle became a sting, and a moment later, the sting turned into a severe attack. Stabbing pulses of hot and cold surged through my body, triggering more nerves than I thought I had. My mind nearly exploded from the overstimulation.

I shuddered and instinctually flailed as I tried to escape. The beast struck me again, but not only my body; it attacked my soul as well. I fought and kicked, but my blows fell on its festering sores like gentle pats. Unlike the smooth skin I imagined, my nails scraped at a thick hide with pus coated hairs.

My body grew slower with each passing moment, heavier, and the scorching attack on my soul expanded. The creature had no essence; it had no soul; I had no way to hurt it while its fangs hooked deeper into my flesh. I wriggled my cramped hand up to the vest pockets and jerked at the straps, blindly pulling for anything I thought would help. Eventually, I found Andy’s pistol and paused.

For the first time in my life, I would fire a gun.

After a brief struggle, I yanked the handgun free from the holster, and shakily held it next to the creature’s oversized ear; it ignored the barrel and didn’t move. Either the beast didn’t hear, or it didn’t understand what a gun was. I didn’t care. I pulled the trigger.

The weapon kicked, and I lost my grip, losing it to the tangled grass. Hot blood poured from the wound to the ground, and the mutated beast’s body dropped. The entire time, the nightmare never made a noise, never snarled or growled, just attacked, as if it had no vocal cords—just a quiet block of dense flesh crushing my ribs.

The creature’s weight prevented anything more than shallow breaths, and my heart raced to keep oxygen flowing. I desperately writhed from underneath and pressed with my strengthened arms until I could breathe again. Once I regained control, and my mind cleared enough to move without retching, I searched for my belongings scattered across the matted grass.