Hunted

HUNTED
BY
Brian E Ritenbaugh

I curl under the dilapidated porch of the abandoned house. It is dark and smells of dirt and fungus. It feels familiar, like home. I hear nothing but the sounds of the night, crickets and nocturnal animals, some of them old friends. Finally, I have a moment to rest, to breathe.

They have been attacking us for weeks now. There are few places left to hide. They come in large groups now. They grab at us, pull us. They've torn my friends' limb from limb, rending our flesh with their bare hands, their teeth, anything, everything. They broke into our homes, bursting right through the doors, windows and walls. We fought back at first. We still try to fight. But there are so few of us left now. They are winning.

There's a sound on the porch floor above me. I freeze in place. Sweat beads on my forehead, running down my cheek into my mouth. I'm not used to sweating. I lick the bitter moisture from my lips and my tongue catches on my sharp canine. I stifle a whimper. I'm not used to doing that either.

The noise grows louder. Someone is above me. He moves to the edge of the porch and jumps off. I hold my breath, lest a sound escapes me. Golden glowing eyes stare at me for a moment. Is that malevolence I see? Is he deciding if I'm worth it? I blink.

My eyes focus. It's just a raccoon. I let out my breath in a rush and wipe my hand across my face. I tell him to go away. He can find his dinner elsewhere. His look lingers on me for a bit. Then he turns and disappears into the darkness.

I try and relax a bit. I think I just might be safe. For now at least. I try to rest, but I am hungry. I haven't eaten properly in, what's it been now? Four? Five days? I'm not sure anymore. It feels like I've been running from those monsters for as long as I've been alive. I laugh at myself. That thought was ridiculous, of course.

Lost in my thoughts, I almost miss a new sound. It was small, a scuff of a foot on gravel. I turn my head and peer into the night. There. A pair of brown hiking boots, the tops hidden by denim. He was alone. There was just one of them. Just one. I relax a little. I can handle just one of them.

I am ready so I burst through the rotten floor boards of the old porch. Even half starved, I have more than enough strength for a surprise attack. I bare my fangs and hiss at him. My eyes burn red with my fury.

I'm confused. He's not at all startled or frightened. He looks at me as if he's amused. Amused by me! I leap at him, confident in my superior strength.

He moves faster than I expect.

As my head separates from my body, I have time to send one last thought out to the ether.

"Brothers! Sisters! The mortals are reclaiming their world. The days of the undead are over!"

Then I find oblivion.

End