Treachery out of Terror

Maybe an excerpt from the book I'm working on. If it makes the cut depends on word count

         Fear forced two friends to flee through the forest. What little moonlight managed to make its way through the thick foliage above was all they had to guide them. Branches clawed at their clothing, thorns tore at their skin, but nothing slowed them down. Every protruding root and bulging stone carried the same lethality as a landmine. However, speed was prioritized over caution, as the thunderous sounds of the thing chasing after them implied that not even ascending their mortal limits would be enough to escape.

         Entire trees gave way to its momentum, bushes were torn from the ground like grass, a feral panting kept rhythm with its Earth tearing pace--the only thing louder was the sound of Tim's own panicked breathing in his ears. Every gasp for air felt like fire in overworked lungs. Blood surged through his body with such intensity he could feel his veins pulse beneath the skin. Adrenaline coursed from his kidneys in such volume it felt as though they might explode.

         Running alongside Tim was his childhood friend, Jared. Though they ran together, their struggle was solitary; the two men couldn't help themselves, let alone each other. As they dodged trees and vaulted obstacles they began to resemble contending track stars, competing not for victory, but life. Their subconscious race ran neck-and-neck, until…

         THWACK!

         A limb lept from the darkness faster than Tim could react; it caught him across the brow, throwing his head back and disrupting his balance. His determined sprint devolved into a disorientated stagger. Blood ran into his eye, further decreasing visibility. It only prompted him to push harder. The throbbing of his head wound, the stinging in his eye, the ache of his muscles, the burning of his lungs--it was all inconsequential in the face of what would happen should he fall.

         Desperation mixed with dizziness to create clumsiness: a confection that constituted demise. An errant step caught uneven ground causing his ankle to twist, and brought the man crashing down. His hands shot forward to catch the impact; rocks pierced his palms, ragged soil peeled back skin. The shock forced air from his lungs in the form of a distressed yelp. He anticipated the creature's claws coming down on him at any moment, but they did not.

         A victorious roar sounded from about a dozen yards behind.

         Tim exploded off the ground with a scream. His legs pumped so hard to make up the lost distance it pulled muscles and strained tendons. There wasn't enough oxygen on Earth to fuel his flight. But no matter how hard he ran, his battered body could not catch back up to Jared.

         His friend hadn't reacted to his fall, not even a sign of concern, he just kept running--reminding Tim he was truly all alone to save himself. Tears welled up. He pleaded in prayer and babbled bargains. Try as me may, Tim could only get within arms reach of his best friend.

         A sinister solution for survival sprung from the most savage abyss of his subconscious.

         No! Tim scolded himself, Keep running. We can get out together.

         But his survival instinct didn't believe the lies of his conscience for a second. Every attempt to conjure motivating memories of their friendship was thwarted by visions of the atrocity that had initially sent them sprinting to safety: snarling fangs set in a massive muzzle dripping rabid saliva, razor claws with enough length to impale, a hulking frame still lean enough to allow agility, and eyes conveyed a craving for violence.

         The thing's breathing grew louder as it got closer; like a dog chasing a rabbit, it implied a perverse thrill. Tim swore he could feel it on the back of his neck. Sheer terror possessed him. His body operated as a machine, his awareness trapped inside as primal functioning overrode conscious control. Self-preservation eclipsed his sentiment just as adrenaline numbed his pain. Tim felt a frigid chill as he grabbed the back of Jared's shirt, and yanked him to the ground.

         A blood curdling scream shook the woods and seared into Tim's sentience. It was quickly underscored by the sounds of sundering skin and breaking bone, before being drowned out completely by the howl of a triumphant predator.

         Hope of escape hit Tim like a tailwind, inducing a burst of speed previously thought impossible. For hours, he ran. And ran. Eventually he would find the edge of the woods, and collapse from the damage of his trauma, yet he would still run. Even after reaching the safety of civilization, he continued to run. Even after Jared was declared the victim of an unfortunate animal attack, Tim would run from the ever present beast on his heels, burdened by the weight of a truth he could not tell.

         Every time that soul shattering scream would replay itself in his mind, it was as if Jared was reaching out from beyond the grave to take hold of Tim and pull him back--back through space and time--back into that woods, back to be shredded and devoured by his own monstrous guilt.