The Long Walk Home

The Long Walk Home



The mist rolled out of the black night, clinging to the ground like a cold wet blanket. It was late and I had just started my long walk home. The luminous street lights cast an eerie glow down on the empty town. The shops and businesses had long since been closed and locked down for the night. Although there wasn’t a soul in sight, I knew I was not alone.
I had left my car parked at Bills Ol’Time Tavern, since I was to drunk to drive; I had decided to walk the two and a half miles home. Despite the rain that had fallen earlier that night, the sky was clear and I needed time to sober up a bit before going home to my wife.
It was impossible to tell who or what was behind me. I had neither seen nor heard anything to make me believe there was anything there at all. It was just an ominous feeling of dread that traveled down through my whole body. It was as if I had jumped head first into an icy cold river. No matter how hard I tried to shake it, that feeling clung to me, and I knew with out a doubt that something tracked me in the night.
I turned left on Main walking with an outward calm I did not feel. As soon as I cleared the corner of the drug store, I took off in a stumbling run. Reaching an alley between that building and the next, I turned down it searching for anything I might be able to use to defend myself.
The alley was littered with garbage and junk piled up against the wall on both sides. A rusty dumpster sat long forgotten, overflowing with refuge, in desperate need for pick up. Wet cardboard, broken pallets, crates full of rotten vegetables, broken furniture and beer bottles lay strewn about the pavement. I took this all in, in a heartbeat, as my eyes returned to the broken furniture and an overturned chair.
Even in my drunken state, the adrenalin pumping through my body greatly overpowered the alcohol. I snatched up the chair, and grabbing one of the legs, wrenched it off. The nails let out a screech as they pulled free of the wood.
I Returned to the corner with my makeshift club in hand, and crept up to the edge of the building and waited. I stood like a sentinel awaiting an attack. I had an overwhelming feeling that my life was about to be snuffed out like a stale cigarette.
I gripped the chair leg in sweaty hands trying hard to control my breathing. Funny how you never notice the sound of your own breathing until it’s absolutely essential that you keep it quiet. It sounded like a demonic freight train pumping its way out of the station, on its way down to hell.
I took a couple of deep breaths through my nose to try and get my heart rate back down. I shook my head in a futile attempt to try and clear the alcoholic haze that I had so generously afflicted upon myself earlier that night.
I strained to hear, cocking my head to the side. The sound was faint at first. But as it drew closer it became clear. Footsteps. Slow rhythmic footsteps, like the ticking of an ancient grandfather clock, a clock that ticked away the last precious seconds of my life.
I raised the club over my head. My muscles tensed in anticipation. Then the footsteps abruptly stopped not two feet from the corner. Looking down I saw a shadow. It was elongated and distorted, but I could still make out the general shape. What I saw made my blood run cold.
It had the legs of a man, but that is where the similarities ended. Not two, but four arms extended from its misshapen torso. It sensed my presence, of that I had no doubt. Fear overtook me, washing over me like a tidal wave. My mind was screaming at me to run, run while I still had the chance.
Then a sound erupted out of the night. Tires screeched across the blacktop as a truck took a turn to fast. As it rounded the corner onto Main Street the glare from the headlights made the shadow dissolve. An old black Chevy truck sped past its engine roaring. The red flow of its tail lights shining on the wet asphalt looked like a tide of blood retreating back into the night.
I looked back to where the shadow had been, but it was gone. I waited listening intently. Silence. After a few second, I took a deep breath, willing my courage back, and peeked around the corner. Nothing. The sidewalk was deserted. I breathed a sigh of relief, but knowing it was still out there I kept the club, tucking it into my overcoat. Looking both ways, I emerged from the alley.
I quickly crossed the street. As I stepped up onto the curb, I glanced back over my shoulder, only to see the hideous beast step out from the shadows near the corner of the intersection. When it saw me it let out an unearthly roar, a sound unlike anything I had ever heard. The windows in the buildings around me seemed to shutter in response. I clamped my hands over my ears to try and ease the piercing pain the noise had created between my temples.
It took off straight at me, moving faster than I thought possible. I wheeled away running for my life. My feet pounded the sidewalk sending shock waves through my legs like some massive internal earthquake. I could hear its labored breath as it quickly gained on me. I turned down the first corner I came to, and went sprawling face first on the cement.
I hit hard but managed to get my hands up in time. They scraped against the hard ground tearing the flesh from my palms. My knees felt like they had been hit with a ball ping hammer. The chair leg went flying out of my overcoat and clattered to the ground. I knew I couldn’t get up to escape in time. The beast couldn’t have been more than ten feet behind me.
I rolled over onto my back, deciding I would rather see my death coming head on, than blind. I looked down the way I had come. There on the corner, slumped against the wall sat a homeless man. His legs lay limp out in front of him. I realized I must have tripped on them, yet he hadn’t even noticed. He was obviously passed out drunk. A bottle rapped in a brown paper bag was clutched in one of his dirty gnarled hands.
Then the beast came barreling around the corner. It stopped when it saw me, and I got a good look at it for the first time. It stood over eight feet tall. It was covered in green flaky scales, covering it like body armor. Its four arms were heavily muscled and its hands ended in wicked looking claws. But the head was the most unsightly thing of all. It was as big as a truck tire. Tentacles slithered from it, like huge feelers testing the air. Long mandibles extended out on either side of its thin lipped mouth. The eyes were that of an insect, with big, oval, hexagonal lenses. Those eyes locked on to mine and there was a moment of silence as we studied each other.
Then it seemed to sense the drunken man, and turned toward him, forgetting about me, at least for the moment. Then it reached down with its huge hand and grabbed the man by his ankle. It picked him up like a limp rag doll. Twisting him around so he was parallel to the ground, its other hand clamped down like a vice on his head. Before the man could even scream it tore his head off, effortlessly, like picking a fruit from a tree.
I managed to scramble to my feet but I could not take my eyes off the gruesome scene. I was paralyzed with fear, I wanted to run, but my legs refused to move, it felt like they were made of concrete, anchoring me to the ground.
The beast threw the headless corpse against the wall, blood spurting from the neck like a fountain. It cradled the head in all four hands turning it over; it seemed to be studying it. As the beast smashed the lifeless head against the ground, the skull broke open with an audible crack. It scooped the brains out with one hand and started to eat them, attacking its meal with a ferocious appetite.
Disgust broke the spell on me. I felt the vomit in my throat and choked it down. I scrambled to the chair leg an picked it up. I was surprised to find I was able run once again. At the end of the block, I looked back just as the beast was finishing its gruesome meal. It tossed the empty skull aside and took off after me once again.
I needed help, I needed guns. Heck, I needed a whole army, but some cops would do. There was only one way I could think of to get the cops to respond quickly. I switched the club into my right hand and gripped it in blood soaked fingers.
The next building I came to was a jewelry store. It had a large front display window. I swung the club with all the effort I had to spare. The window shattered, crashing all around me. The alarm system roared to life. It startled me even though I had expected it. I kept running, breaking the next window in mid stride. Then the next and the next until the street was alive with a chorus of singing alarm systems.
After the fifth window I turned to see the beast coming for me once more. Although it had slowed considerably, shaking its head from side to side as if to shake off the noise, it was still much faster than I could run. It was gaining quickly and I knew I needed to do something fast. This chase was about to end.
I spotted my answer across the street and never hesitated. I streaked across to the other side. Jumping up on the curb I threw the chair leg. It whipped through the air, tumbling end over end shattering the window of the local sporting goods store. I jumped through the window pane, shards of glass piercing my legs, but I did not slow. I had been here many times before and knew exactly what I was after. I bolted to the rear of the store. Three glass display cases were lined up against the back wall. Guns of all kinds placed with care and attention to detail were laid out upon the shelves. I picked up an aluminum baseball bat on a nearby rack. Lifting it high over my head I swung it down turning the glass case into millions of tiny shards, sounding off a yet another alarm. I reached in pulling out a Remington ten gauge, double barreled, side by side shotgun. The only gun in the case I was familiar with. I headed over to the ammo shelf, and found the shells I needed. Loading two into the chamber of the gun, I took a handful and put them in my pocket.
I turned just as the beast crashed through what remained of the window. It charged towards me, ignoring the obstacles in its path. Not ten feet away I fired. The gun had a massive recoil, the stock slammed into my stomach knocking the wind from me, but my aim held true. I hit it directly in the chest. It rocked the beast back a step but that was all. It continued on, fury reflected in its eyes. I fired the second round hitting it in the chest again.
As soon as I pulled the trigger I was moving. I rolled over what remained of the smashed display case and came to my feet. I ran through the back door. It opened up to a narrow hallway. It was illuminated by one naked light bulb that hung down from the ceiling. There was a bathroom to the right and a door to the left. I chose the door to the left which opened up to an office.
A filing cabinet stood against one wall and a large oak desk with a computer sat facing the door. I slammed the door shut and dove under the desk. I pulled two shells from my pocket and clicked open the shotgun just as the door exploded into pieces. I loaded the shells as the beast stepped in front of me. Grabbing the desk in one huge hand, it lifted it off of me and threw it against the wall. It blew into pieces. Wood splinters rained down around me. I snapped the gun back together and fired two quick shots, one after the other. They were like bee stings to the enormous creature. It simply ignored them. Reaching down, it picked me up by the throat. Another hand slapped down upon my head, just before it snapped my head off, I woke up.
I opened my eyes. My head lay on the bar; slobber seeped from my mouth congealing in a small puddle on the mahogany finish. An empty glass lay in front of my eyes, as I looked through it, it gave the bar a demonic, distorted appearance. I raised my head and looked around. I realized I must have passed out. Thank god, it was all a horrible dream. The bartender was closing up for the night. I paid my tab and asked him to call me a cab. I still couldn’t drive and there was no way I was going to walk.
When I got home, going up the stairs to my bedroom, I shook my head and laughed to myself. The dream had felt so real. I was surprised I hadn’t wet myself. I pulled my shirt up over my head, dropping it to the floor. I pulled my wallet out of my back pocket setting it on the night stand. I reached down into my pants to empty my pockets. My hand came out, and I stared in horror at what lay in my open palm. Shotgun shells.


The End