Gunshots. The men scream. Her heartbeat. It rings in her ears. Her breath, shallow and quick as she runs, burns her throat. Her nostrils flare up, and her eyes tear up. The bundle she holds against her chest moves a little, reassuring her that he’s still alive. She stops momentarily, her back against one of the many pine trees around her house, and checks on him. The boy holds his hands up against his face, as if to complain about being woken up. He doesn’t cry though. He’s been such a good boy so far. He needs to be quiet or the creature will pursue. She glances back at her house. Through the windows, she sees the shadows move haphazardly. More gun blasts. Windows shatter. The men scream again. “She’s too fucking fast!” “Just distract her long enough for Jean to run away!” More gunshots. A screech follows. It breaks […]