inappropriate times. Just the thought of a beautiful nympho-demon looking at me with the bad kind of hungry eyes, sends a chill down my spine.
“Well,” I say, stepping forward, “it looks like you got to be the freak you always wanted to be—”
She attacks again, but is a lot slower than before. The bruised and possibly broken leg is definitely slowing her down. She hops towards me and slashes with her clawed hand. I do my best boxing move and shuffle back.
The Siren repeats the swipe, trying to disembowel me, but I parry her other hand with my baton, batting it aside. The strike staggers the she-devil, her balance already compromised. I move in and whip the steel shaft across her throat.
The fight is taken out of her immediately. Even the Unseen have to breathe, but her crushed windpipe isn’t going to let that happen anytime soon.
I look down to my holstered gun, happy I didn’t have to use it again. Then, I turn, listening to the dying creature wheeze at my heels.
Why didn’t I just shoot the ravenous woman?
Well, that’s a pretty easy answer.
Ammo isn’t easy to come by right now. Unless you want to travel in the wide-open streets—which I don’t. So, I’m trying to conserve my bullets as best I can and only draw the weapon when I have to. The results, as you’ve now witnessed, are pretty awful. The quieter I can kill an Unseen, the better. I think it’s pretty obvious what happens when I fire my gun.
BOOM.
The door to the apartment shakes, as it gets hit from the other side. I need to leave. Now. I carefully step over a soiled t-shirt and jeans, not wanting to find out if they belonged to the guy in the bed. Mr. 90% Off is one of a hundred other things since last night that I’ll never forget. The ghastly sights are piling up worse than the credit card bills.
I rush forward and clip the frame of the shattered window on my way out, banging my shoulder against it. Wincing in pain, I grab the open wound and I see blood as it seeps through the slashed jacket.
Feeling something prick my hand, I reach into the sliced material, grab the slick, hard piece of something and pull. A geyser of blood shoots into the air as I uncork the metaphorical bottle. The glass I just yanked free is a decent size, maybe the size of a half-dollar coin, and I’m bleeding pretty good now.
Should’ve left it in, I think, holding my hand over the wound. I know it’s a stupid thing to think and write it off as a hazard of the situation. At least the glass is somewhat sterile. If the Siren had caught me I’d be in a lot worse trouble. Like I said before, I don’t think whatever happened is contagious. As far as I can tell, if you get bit…it’ll just really, really hurt. Like getting bit by the world’s angriest dog.
BOOM.
From outside the broken window, I hear the apartment door rattle again, sending me into full-fledged escape mode. Still gripping my bleeding shoulder, my feet pound up the fire escape’s rusty metal stairs. It’s getting darker, and with little-to-no exterior lights to help guide me through the city, I’ll need to find a place to hide until sunrise.
Plus, the Unseen come out in droves at night. They don’t like daylight as much, sticking to the shadows whenever possible, or hiding in abandoned buildings, like the Siren I just met.
Thinking ahead, I plan on scaling a few more floors. Then, I’ll move to another part of the building before I settle in for the night. It’s the first thing that comes to mind and I’ve learned to trust my instincts both in life and on the job. This is no different a time to use them. The perfect time really.
Four floors up from the Siren’s apartment, I enter the first open window I see. The place is empty and the front door is shut and presumably locked.
“Perfect…” I mumble to myself, feeling a little woozy. I decide to forego the whole ‘move to another part of the building’ portion of my plan and draw my gun.
I climb inside, having no
“Well,” I say, stepping forward, “it looks like you got to be the freak you always wanted to be—”
She attacks again, but is a lot slower than before. The bruised and possibly broken leg is definitely slowing her down. She hops towards me and slashes with her clawed hand. I do my best boxing move and shuffle back.
The Siren repeats the swipe, trying to disembowel me, but I parry her other hand with my baton, batting it aside. The strike staggers the she-devil, her balance already compromised. I move in and whip the steel shaft across her throat.
The fight is taken out of her immediately. Even the Unseen have to breathe, but her crushed windpipe isn’t going to let that happen anytime soon.
I look down to my holstered gun, happy I didn’t have to use it again. Then, I turn, listening to the dying creature wheeze at my heels.
Why didn’t I just shoot the ravenous woman?
Well, that’s a pretty easy answer.
Ammo isn’t easy to come by right now. Unless you want to travel in the wide-open streets—which I don’t. So, I’m trying to conserve my bullets as best I can and only draw the weapon when I have to. The results, as you’ve now witnessed, are pretty awful. The quieter I can kill an Unseen, the better. I think it’s pretty obvious what happens when I fire my gun.
BOOM.
The door to the apartment shakes, as it gets hit from the other side. I need to leave. Now. I carefully step over a soiled t-shirt and jeans, not wanting to find out if they belonged to the guy in the bed. Mr. 90% Off is one of a hundred other things since last night that I’ll never forget. The ghastly sights are piling up worse than the credit card bills.
I rush forward and clip the frame of the shattered window on my way out, banging my shoulder against it. Wincing in pain, I grab the open wound and I see blood as it seeps through the slashed jacket.
Feeling something prick my hand, I reach into the sliced material, grab the slick, hard piece of something and pull. A geyser of blood shoots into the air as I uncork the metaphorical bottle. The glass I just yanked free is a decent size, maybe the size of a half-dollar coin, and I’m bleeding pretty good now.
Should’ve left it in, I think, holding my hand over the wound. I know it’s a stupid thing to think and write it off as a hazard of the situation. At least the glass is somewhat sterile. If the Siren had caught me I’d be in a lot worse trouble. Like I said before, I don’t think whatever happened is contagious. As far as I can tell, if you get bit…it’ll just really, really hurt. Like getting bit by the world’s angriest dog.
BOOM.
From outside the broken window, I hear the apartment door rattle again, sending me into full-fledged escape mode. Still gripping my bleeding shoulder, my feet pound up the fire escape’s rusty metal stairs. It’s getting darker, and with little-to-no exterior lights to help guide me through the city, I’ll need to find a place to hide until sunrise.
Plus, the Unseen come out in droves at night. They don’t like daylight as much, sticking to the shadows whenever possible, or hiding in abandoned buildings, like the Siren I just met.
Thinking ahead, I plan on scaling a few more floors. Then, I’ll move to another part of the building before I settle in for the night. It’s the first thing that comes to mind and I’ve learned to trust my instincts both in life and on the job. This is no different a time to use them. The perfect time really.
Four floors up from the Siren’s apartment, I enter the first open window I see. The place is empty and the front door is shut and presumably locked.
“Perfect…” I mumble to myself, feeling a little woozy. I decide to forego the whole ‘move to another part of the building’ portion of my plan and draw my gun.
I climb inside, having no
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