A Hunger in the Night
© Copyright 2012 by Michael Robb Mathias
All Rights Reserved
**Warning** this story contains adult situations and language.
She left the bar at one a.m. Normally she would wait until after last call, but the big unkempt guy who had been ogling her for the last half hour went into the bathroom and she didn’t want to be there when he came out. It was all for nothing though, because before she could turn the corner at the end of the building she saw that he was coming out the door. He saw her, but he didn’t do anything other than continue lighting his cigarette. She didn’t quicken her pace until she was around the corner and out of sight. Then she started running, knowing that he was probably running now too.
If she had driven her Mustang to Ruby’s Bloody Mary, she could have gotten to her car before he caught up, but she hadn’t. She lived in an apartment building on the other side of the small wooded block that separated the neighborhoods from the city’s main strip. It was just a five minute walk. In the cool autumn evenings she relished the multitude of feelings traversing the urban forest allowed her. The feeling of being chased through the woods had come over her before, causing her to sprint all the way home. But this was no half-drunken “Little Red Riding Hood” fantasy. She was in good shape though, and since she knew she would probably be walking home, she’d worn her tennis shoes. She had on skinny-jeans, which didn’t go well with her balloon sleeved white blouse and black leather vest. Her jet black hair and dark-eyed, Gothic make-up deserved a flowing dress or, at the very least, black slacks and spiked heels. She was glad she was dressed somewhat normal, because she could hear him coming now.
As she entered the circle of illumination thrown by the street light at the back corner of the asphalt parking-lot, he came around the corner slowing to make it look like he hadn’t been hurrying. She knew he saw her plainly. She let her rushing adrenaline push her that much faster out of the lot, across the freshly mowed grass, into the tree line. His pounding footfalls came from behind her as he started running too.
She had pepper spray on her key chain, but it was in her clutch purse. She didn’t want to fumble with it while she was running. The last time she’d used the mace on an asshole it got into her mouth and tasted terrible. In the glove box of her car she had a high voltage stunner, and by the way this guy was catching up, she was starting to wish she had it with her.
She ducked a low hanging limb and cursed the lack of moonlight. An owl or maybe a crow jumped from a tree and noisily flapped away from her intrusion. The chill wind hissed and moaned as it passed through the near barren tree limbs. Leaping a small ravine, that she sensed more than saw, she landed on a wrist-thick piece of deadfall and went tumbling through the crunchy autumn leaves. When she came to a stop she held her breath and felt the ankle that had given way. In the silence she could hear that the weirdo had slowed his pursuit to a hesitant jog.
Winded from her run, she had to breathe, but she did so as quietly as possible. Her ankle wasn’t swollen, but she didn’t feel relieved. The creep was walking now, stopping every few steps to listen. He wasn’t anywhere close, but he was moving deeper into the trees. Soon he was between her and her apartment building. They had gone far enough that if she ran back the other way, he would probably be able to hear her, and then catch her. She decided to take a different, more direct approach.
She was trembling, but not so much from fear as from anticipation. She stood up as quietly as possible and hugged a tree for support. She listened for the man, but couldn’t hear him anymore. This alarmed her. Not knowing where he was felt worse than having him chasing her.
She tested her weight and found that her ankle didn’t hurt at all. Then she bent down and picked up the stick that tripped her. It was about the length of her old softball bat. It felt thick in her grasp, but she was pretty sure she could deliver a solid wallop with it.
Taking a few deep breaths to calm herself, she started walking toward her apartment, trying to step as quietly as possible. She expected to hear his footfalls crunching quickly toward her but didn’t. Above the canopy of sparsely leaved trees the moon’s light escaped from under the cloud blanket that had been covering it. The once familiar woods took on an eerie cast. Everything, even the roiling steam from her breath, was bathed in a silvery glow. Looking around for any hint of movement, she stumbled over a tangled root. She didn’t fall this time, but while correcting herself, she made enough noise to give away exactly where she was.
She heard him coming now, from ahead of her and to the right. Even if she ran straight ahead as fast as she could, it sounded like he would intercept her before she got to the apartment’s brightly illuminated parking lot. She turned and started running back the way she had come, but a surge of debilitating anxiety; a tingling splash of fear, disgust, and even desire, came washing over her. She stumbled and fainted, falling limply to the ground. When she opened her eyes again, he was there, stalking slowly up toward her.
She couldn’t make out his features. He was more silhouette and shadow than form. She remembered he was a few days unshaven and had a mustard stain along the edge of his well loosened tie. He had old man hair, all bald and shiny over the top, and fierce blue eyes that stayed on her in the bar for an uncomfortably long time.
“I got you now bitch,” he growled as he came to stand over her feet.
Her hand squeezed, relaxed, and then squeezed again the end of the makeshift club lying beside her. “Leave me alone fucker,” she said as she slowly sat up.
“Why did you take off running like that?” He asked. “I was just going to offer you a ride home. I’ve seen you there before.”
“You didn’t chase me all the way out here just to give me a ride home.”
“You’re right,” he chuckled menacingly. He reached for his pants and starting unbuckling his belt. “Got something I wanna show you.”
“You know, I gotta tell you something,” she said in a tone that was calm enough to confuse him. “I knew that if you didn’t see me when you came out of that bathroom that you would come outside looking for me.”
“How did you know that?”
“You fucking creeps are all the same,” she smirked. Then her voice went soft and demure, “Now let me help you with that.”
She rose up as if she were going to oblige him. Then the branch came around and caught him in the side of his knee. The wood shattered, but so did something in his leg. As he crumpled to the ground, with his pants half down, clutching at his pain, she rolled away and got back to her feet.
He was grunting and growling as he rolled around hugging his injury. “Fuck you bitch. You broke my leg,” he hissed.
“That’s the least of your worries,” she said as she strolled back up to him. “You thought you were chasing me, but I was leading you all along.”
“What?” His eyes were full of fear now; he was clearly able to tell that her form had shifted. “What the fuck are you?”
“I’m a hungry bitch,” she said as her ghoulish mouth opened up impossibly wide, revealing several rows of pointed little teeth. She fell on him then, wrapping her powerful arms around him so that he couldn’t hit her. He screamed as she took a cantaloupe sized bite out of his neck.
“What are you doing? P-P-PLEASE STOP!”
Wishing she had her stun gun again, because this bastard was as strong as a bull, she tore her head back, ripping a second mouthful of meat from his body.
“STOP!” He screamed as she chewed. “G-G-God Pleeeeeease!”
“God can’t hear you, creep,” she chuckled, causing his own blood to spray like spittle from her frothy maw. “Now shut the fuck up. I’m trying to eat.”
This piece of FREE Flash Fiction is brought to you courtesy of the full length novel, The Butcher’s Boy by Michael Robb Mathias 2011 Readers Favorite Award Winner in Horror Fiction. Read some of the rave reviews and/or start reading The Butcher’s Boy right now here: