Noise

The itch of the coarse woolen jumper felt unbearable by now to Tomer so, keeping sound to a minimum, he slid it off. He listened. After carefully opening a drawer, he pulled out a t-shirt, his hand explored around the drawer trying to feel it out. He wasn't entirely sure why he did it, perhaps in some vain hope of finding a gun.
He tip toed over to the other side of the room and noiselessly got his jacket and shoes.

Unsure of what exactly he heard or sensed as he was awakening from an impromptu nap, Tomer's mind reran over every possibility again, secretly wishing for some benign cause, yet nothing even remotely plausible could explain that horrible screech and what followed that did not come from the domain of the horrific.

Tomer thought over his situation, stuck in a cabin, dozens of miles from the nearest town with no phone and only a jacket and that jumper for warmth. The night that had fallen as he slept was freezing and the heating had to be turned on manually. And there was something out there.

He couldn't think of curling up in the bed for warmth and comfort. His nerves were too frayed to stay in any state of rest. Usually Tomer was a calm guy, yet every cubic inch of his brain's instinct center told him this could not be ignored. After tying the laces he forced himself up from his chair and creeped towards the door.

A faint patter of steps came through the door. Midway between the chair and the door Tomer froze unwilling to make even the slightest of sounds.

The steps seemed to pass his door but unaware of where they had ceased, he turned from the doorway to the window. The bedroom was on the first floor and the keys were in his jacket pocket. Hesitating for a minute, he opened it and squeezed out to the cold darkness. Chills flowed through him further when he detected his bedroom doorknob turning clumsily. He hastened his departure and while at first thinking of going to the front door he found himself running to a large tree.

Light from his bedroom window cast him in the trunk's saving shadow. Now he was panicking, thinking who he would know that might have come at this hour and let themselves in. Nobody came to mind that won't have called for him on entering or make that forsaken noise, even as some practical joke.
He summoned the courage to peek over the trunk. He slowly brought his head out far enough to see something looking out, silhouetted against the brightness of the lightbulb. He jerked back, certain he'd been spotted. The keys to his car were in the kitchen. He always threw them on the worktop after work. Anyone entering would have seen them. Whoever was there only needed to wait for the cold to bring him in.

Tomer was no survivalist and the chill had already creeped through his jacket, hands buried in its pockets and arms hugged against his torso. If only I kept the jumper on as well, he cursed himself.

The light went off and the hairs on his neck seethed with alarm. It was going out. He must have been spotted.
He bolted for the woods, certain of it's pursuit.
He ran and jumped, slid and continued. The cold air pumping his lungs stung, he was now aware of the sweat that stuck jacket and shirt to his skin, more discomforting than the jumper and only hurrying the chill.

Exasperated and lost he gave up running. Silence, and then the sprinting behind him. Tomer didn't turn around.