It watched the man step
out into the bitter night. It saw the gated door slammed shut and the
man's breath clouding, a shudder not far behind followed by ginger
steps across the wooden porch. The ice from this latest spat of
unseasonal weather remained, invisible as it may be, and the old
timer was taking no chances. Bereft of his cane he steadied himself
against the railings and began descending the steps. Even for winter
it was a bitter night, the observer didn't feel it though. Its
concealed presence on the other side of the street cast no shadow
onto the snow-dappled ground. Its breath formed no condensation. Its
narrow-slitted eyes unwavering in their attention.
The old man was at the
bottom of the steps now. He took a quick glance back at the brightly
lit porch before pulling his chamois coat tighter and pressing on
down the path ahead. The figure smiled, a patient smile. A smile born
of experience. It had been the same as this for the past three
nights, the slow shuffle to the path followed by a turn to the right,
to collect logs for the fire. On the previous nights though the man
had emerged earlier, when the sun was still setting and the darkness
yet to close in. But not tonight.
The figure crouched, a
brief release of excitement in an otherwise controlled performance.
It was so close now. Its last kill had been a week ago, it wasn't
like it needed to feed but the thrill, the joy of it drew him ever
back. Its senses felt sharp, its muscles taut. As the man disappeared
from view the creature crept forwards. Its soft leathery feet making
no sound on the hard concrete, its eyes clearly making out the way
despite the lack of anything but the moon for guidance. It had been
leaving the town when it had come across this place, and the
opportunity seemed too good to pass up. Isolated at the end of a
long, hilly road the cottage was well set back from the road and lay
alone, surrounded by dense woodland and fields. In the day, when the
light burned it, the creature took refuge in the woods. What little
sunlight made it through the persistent cloud subsequently failed to
break through the tightly packed leaves and branches leaving the
creature relatively free to wander. From this shaded position it had
come to observe the life, as it was, of the old man currently
struggling to lift logs into his feeble arms. He lived alone, and
stayed indoors mainly. Only venturing out when the postman came, for
a chat, or to clear the fallen snow and ice from his patio and
garden.
From outside looking in
it seemed a waste. A waste of life, to be spent in such isolation, in
such mundanity. The creature was incensed by this. It's bloodlust
growing with every thought, its patience tested with every day spent
watching, waiting. But it had to be cautious. Time the great teacher
had imparted that lesson and it heeded it well. Its continued
existence was testament to that, its relative rarity compared to the
past a constant reminder. The confidence of power is foolishness, and
so he watched and waited. Until tonight.
Moving closer still the
nameless creature entered the gate silently and made for the cover of
the trees to the left. It's inky black skin made it hard to detect
but it was taking no chances. Meticulous hunters they may be, but a
frailty that had never been bred out remained, the creatures were no
match for gun or flame, the development and use of which had
diminished the once thriving populations to what they were now.
Ancient they may be, but it was only a select few who survived the
upheaval mankind wrought on the world. An age, a second, a century
but a blink. Their perception of time shifted so that it seemed a
blur, this ascension. This infestation of a once empty planet. So
they retreated to the shadows, what remoteness remained provided
shelter, but the instinct remained. The urge to hunt and to kill.
They could not bend to it, they could not adapt. So those smart
enough, cunning enough, forged a life as best they could, picking on
the old and frail. The weak and alone. Somewhere deep inside the
shame of this burned, but those flames had long since been dimmed.
Survival had prevailed and any semblance of fairness swept aside. As
the creature watched the man now, struggling to balance logs in his
arms, his body quivering in the cold, it felt momentary disgust with
all that had lead to this point. But the rage was entering its eyes
now, it was ready to throw caution aside. Why worry about one little
old man, a legacy of pain and death and triumphant destruction pared
down to this? Its last victim, an old lady it had found walking the
long road back to town one night was a distant memory now. At the
time the taste of her had been as sweet as any it remembered, but the
thrill never lasted these days. With no challenge, no righteous
competition it was a hollow victory. It was a slave to its impulses.
To its past.
The man turned away
now, this was the chance. The creature made his way up behind, its
feet expertly navigating the icy patches that remained, the snow that
had settled muffling the sound. It raised its hands, that familiar
rush coursed through its very being, its claws outstretched it leapt.
The old man had no chance, he hadn't even moved.
Except.
Except... blinding pain
rattled the creatures skull knocking it backwards. Light shimmered
and the sky encircled. It lay on the freezing ground as the figure of
the old man swam into view. In his hands was held a large axe, the
logs lay fallen to the side. The axe handle came down again, the
stricken creature was now the helpless one, unable to move, it gasped
as new waves of pain drowned its meagre consciousness.
“Disappointing.”
The old man grunted as he grabbed the unconscious creature by the
legs and began dragging it along, “I was hoping for a bit more of a
fight.”
*
When the creature woke
it was strapped down to a wooden table, the room was dark, but the
nearby embers of a fire provided illumination enough for it to take
in its surroundings. Sparsely decorated, the kitchen was rustic but
modern. It tried to move, fruitlessly and awaited the end.
The man entered soon,
except now he was different. There was a spring in his step, his
ambling gait had been replaced, his withered tiredness replaced by an
oddly youthful excitement.
“I wanted you awake
for this” the man spoke calmly as he approached, the axe still in
his hands. “We do best to abide by the old customs, and at least
for that you deserve a death of some honour.” The creature
understood him, but could not respond. It regarded him with a look as
icy as the old man's tone.
“You do what you were
raised, same as me I reckon. Heard rumours of one of you in the
village last couple weeks, wasn't hard to clock when you turned up
here. Your kind never can resist this place, especially with such
easy prey lurking within.”
The man leant on the
axe now, surveying the creature with contempt, but little joy. “Have
to admit you were more cautious than the others. Tricky one I've got
here, I thought. But still predictable. I'll not prolong it, just so
you know. But wanted a chance to see you. To remember. It's bigger
than us, my dad used to say, this war. I don't know much about that
but I do my part. Mostly though I wanted you to hear this. To hear
that we will end you, your entire parasitic race. To let you know
that you lost. To see that look in your face.”
The creature's eyed
narrowed, its release was coming. This world wasn't theirs any more.
It refused to close its eyes as the axe swung down.
*
The man mounted the
head above the fireplace, as he always did. The creature joined its
brothers, their lifeless eyes staring forever ahead.
Stepping back down from
his handiwork the old man grabbed another log from the basket and
threw it on the softly glowing embers of the fire, before sitting
back down in his armchair, his feet resting up on the nearby table.
In front of him the fire sparked back to life.
