Sep 25, 2015 by


By Gary Hewitt          

I’ve gotta run. Anyone see me? Those people over there. My God, there are so many yet I’ve no choice. I go right at them. I hope they’re not armed.

I look behind. There’s no sign of him. Better to be shot I reckon.

Those people aren’t moving even though I’m sprinting. My fist tightens and my breath drowns in spluttered air. I make it though. I dive right between the legs of one of these unmoving spectators.

Still none of them move. Maybe they’re tailors dummies or something. I dare to touch the hand of the man who I’ve sneaked beneath. Definitely flesh. Cold flesh yeah but for sure this is the real deal.

I snatch my hand away and hide it in my jacket pocket. I finger cold metal. I’m careful though, my blade is blood sharp. Good for hunting with, good for protection too. But that bastard out there, it isn’t much protection against him in that butcher’s suit of his.

I crawl through more of these human mannequins. I don’t know what’s the matter with these people. It’s like they’re asleep with their eyes open. I reach the outline of a shop. I crawl through the broken window and look back. The sun’s coming down and a red ray bears down on the street outside.

He’s there. Six foot four, pointing straight at me.

“Hey little one, you’ve found your new family. They’re great aren’t they? I call them the Johnsons. You’ll be a wonderful daughter for Billy. I had the biggest fun gutting that hunk of flesh.”

He’s moving forward. I pull back and a jar shatters behind me. He’s in the door, grabs for me and yanks my ankle.

Upside down I stare at the bottom of his gas mask. He throws me over his shoulder as though I was a dead rabbit. My breath is taken when he slams me down a table. He ties my limbs to four corners. He nods in approval at my supine form and tickles my exposed tummy with dead metal.

“Welcome home, Sally.” he says.

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