with the bat he knew it was a risk to take on three of them — they had knives and maybe even a gun. Plus they weren't screaming inside with pain like he was.
He hunted around for the exit, not seeing a sign. There were doors at the far end on the right so he opened one and jumped back in shock at the sight of a demented looking shaved-headed man with eyes black-rimmed, two day stubble making his face look even more gaunt than it was.
Jeez, it's me! I look like death.
He pointedly ignored the mirror and headed down the short corridor until he finally came to the fire exit. The safety bar was across, but it would give him his freedom if he pushed down and it wasn't locked.
Beep beep beep. The damn door had an alarm! What the hell? Power was out and had been for years, so it must have had some kind of weird backup. At least it was open, but his pursuers knew exactly where he was now.
The door led outside to a concrete ramp with a handrail on the left, then into a small car-park for staff for a few of the stores. There were two cars in spots outside the store he'd just left, no others.
The people inside. Poor buggers.
Shaking his legs into life, Edsel began running once more. It was all he did — run and run and run. The moving without running had actually energized him a little though. His heart rate returned to almost normal, well, as normal as you can expect when you are being chased by crazed religious freaks that want to make sure you die slowly at their hands for blasphemy.
Back in the street once more. A different one, a narrow one-way system with a tiny sidewalk almost too narrow to walk on and not spill into the road. Once the little businesses here made a roaring trade selling all manner of bespoke items from expensive jewelery to antiques — now the doors hung from fractured hinges and the jewels were taken before people realized they were less valuable than a hot meal; the antiques mostly stayed put. What use were they when survival was what mattered most of all?
Water bubbled up from the drains, unable to cope without regular maintenance for so long, and once again his feet, now in mismatched sneakers, were soaked. He heard his pursuers behind him and took a quick look. One was well ahead of the others, a stocky guy that seemed built for the chase.
Around the corner, another street, a chance maybe?
Turning quickly, and before the thick-set man had a chance to react, Edsel swung the bat with all the strength he had left, hearing a satisfying crack as it connected with the red bald head of the man. He staggered, clutched his head, then went down into a pile of tattered garbage sacks as his ear oozed thick blood.
Yes! Go.
Edsel ran on, winding his way slowly but surely back to all that kept him going in the world. Home to Kathy.
HOME
The door slammed behind him and he bolted it, in no mood to chastise Kathy for the mess in the hallway — she never was very tidy. Not that it made any difference — The Eventuals knew where he had been living and would have been here soon enough anyway, just to check if he'd risked coming home or not.
"Kathy, Kathy honey? We have to go. Now."
He ran into the living room and went cold. They'd already been, closing the door politely behind them on their way out, after they caved in her head with a poker from the unused fireplace. As if to mock him they'd then had the good grace to put the poker back in the coal scuttle where it was kept.
They're here.
Edsel didn't have any fight left in him — what was the point now anyway? Everything was gone.
Everything.
Kathy.
DESPAIR
Edsel's world crashed down around him in wave after wave of sick clarity. The bat fell to the floor with a soft thud, thick carpet soaking up the sound just as it had the blood of the most beautiful creature he had ever known.
The image of Kathy would forever be burned into his brain like a brand.
How could they? How could they do this to her?
He hunted around for the exit, not seeing a sign. There were doors at the far end on the right so he opened one and jumped back in shock at the sight of a demented looking shaved-headed man with eyes black-rimmed, two day stubble making his face look even more gaunt than it was.
Jeez, it's me! I look like death.
He pointedly ignored the mirror and headed down the short corridor until he finally came to the fire exit. The safety bar was across, but it would give him his freedom if he pushed down and it wasn't locked.
Beep beep beep. The damn door had an alarm! What the hell? Power was out and had been for years, so it must have had some kind of weird backup. At least it was open, but his pursuers knew exactly where he was now.
The door led outside to a concrete ramp with a handrail on the left, then into a small car-park for staff for a few of the stores. There were two cars in spots outside the store he'd just left, no others.
The people inside. Poor buggers.
Shaking his legs into life, Edsel began running once more. It was all he did — run and run and run. The moving without running had actually energized him a little though. His heart rate returned to almost normal, well, as normal as you can expect when you are being chased by crazed religious freaks that want to make sure you die slowly at their hands for blasphemy.
Back in the street once more. A different one, a narrow one-way system with a tiny sidewalk almost too narrow to walk on and not spill into the road. Once the little businesses here made a roaring trade selling all manner of bespoke items from expensive jewelery to antiques — now the doors hung from fractured hinges and the jewels were taken before people realized they were less valuable than a hot meal; the antiques mostly stayed put. What use were they when survival was what mattered most of all?
Water bubbled up from the drains, unable to cope without regular maintenance for so long, and once again his feet, now in mismatched sneakers, were soaked. He heard his pursuers behind him and took a quick look. One was well ahead of the others, a stocky guy that seemed built for the chase.
Around the corner, another street, a chance maybe?
Turning quickly, and before the thick-set man had a chance to react, Edsel swung the bat with all the strength he had left, hearing a satisfying crack as it connected with the red bald head of the man. He staggered, clutched his head, then went down into a pile of tattered garbage sacks as his ear oozed thick blood.
Yes! Go.
Edsel ran on, winding his way slowly but surely back to all that kept him going in the world. Home to Kathy.
HOME
The door slammed behind him and he bolted it, in no mood to chastise Kathy for the mess in the hallway — she never was very tidy. Not that it made any difference — The Eventuals knew where he had been living and would have been here soon enough anyway, just to check if he'd risked coming home or not.
"Kathy, Kathy honey? We have to go. Now."
He ran into the living room and went cold. They'd already been, closing the door politely behind them on their way out, after they caved in her head with a poker from the unused fireplace. As if to mock him they'd then had the good grace to put the poker back in the coal scuttle where it was kept.
They're here.
Edsel didn't have any fight left in him — what was the point now anyway? Everything was gone.
Everything.
Kathy.
DESPAIR
Edsel's world crashed down around him in wave after wave of sick clarity. The bat fell to the floor with a soft thud, thick carpet soaking up the sound just as it had the blood of the most beautiful creature he had ever known.
The image of Kathy would forever be burned into his brain like a brand.
How could they? How could they do this to her?
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