Samuel quickly realized the danger…

The creature staggered closer, Samuel caught wind of an awful stench and saw that its clothes were blood stained.  How had this thing slipped past the crowd?  He lowered the weapon to his eye level, holding his arm straight in front of him.  The pistol felt like it weighed a ton, and the barrel pointed at the creatures face.  It stood in front of him, lurching and shuffling in place and moaning a guttural snarl that bubbled with broken vocal chords and a blood soaked esophagus.  


He placed his finger on the trigger; then it occurred to him that he may have been dreaming the whole thing up.  He hesitated and the creature swung at him.  Samuel held firm to the pistol and pulled the trigger.  The blast rang out, and the hand of the bloodstained thing swiped lifelessly against his own cheek as it crumpled to the floor.  A second later, and that hand would have pushed Samuel’s aim off, sending a stray bullet that would have hit someone in the crowd.  Everyone began to scream and scatter.  The doors of the bank flew open and Samuel was knocked off balance.  Trying desperately not to fall, he grabbed onto shoulders and scarves and arms and chests.  He brought others down, heard their muffled screams as the people trampled them.  


Samuel caught his footing and was shoved against a wall as the crowd poured out from the bank.  Slowly, the cold crept back into the room as the volume of bodies dropped.  He could not see, he could not move, so many heads pushing with such a powerful surge.  Their screams of terror, and no one had even known who fired the shot.  


He leaned against the wall and removed his cigarettes.  The room was almost clear, and he could see a few bodies on the floor.  He felt awful about the whole thing, but in this world, it’s you or them. 


He stood there against the wall, finally having enough room to stand comfortably.  The screaming had died down a bit and people were filing out in a more orderly fashion.  The tellers were gone.  


When the patrons were mostly gone, when it was only Samuel and a few others in the building, he saw them get back up, not all of them, only a few.  Even the one he shot through the eye got back up.  Now blind, the thing staggered around aimlessly and bumped into a support pillar in the lobby of the bank.  It snarled and started thrashing and kicking the pillar. 


 Others got up as well.  Samuel’s cigarette slipped from his lips. 


 By the time the butt had dropped to the floor and scattered its sparks across his fine leather shoes, there were seven total, including the one without eyes.  He held the revolver in his right hand and clicked the hammer back. 

 

“Sweet Saint Mary.  Just what in the hell is going on here?”  The question resonated in the empty space and some of the other patrons that had been in the building with Samuel noticed the ones that had gotten up.  Their faces were battered and bruised from being stepped on, some had arms and legs that had been broken or fractured.  They did not stand tall, instead they held a hunched over façade against the empty space of the lobby.  Samuel’s hand shook.  Some of the stragglers noticed the gun and ran screaming from the building.  The sound triggered a few of them that took off running out the door, one leapt right through the glass wall facing the street.

 

 The others that were left rushed Samuel.  He’d have to think fast…

 

Samuel dashed toward a glass wall on his right.  If it worked for them, it would work for him.  Who knows what these things were, but this was not the time to ask questions. 

 

Published on January 28, 2009 at 6:43 PM  Leave a Comment  

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