Legs burn. Heart races. Can't stop. Stopping means dying. Want to scream, but lungs feel like they're on fire.
A tandem bike is so much harder to control alone.
The sound still reverberates through my mind
The running steps. The snarling. Growling. Alice's scream as she was ripped off her seat behind me.
Our ride down this quiet wooded path had turned into a nightmare. Uneaten sandwiches are violently thrown around our basket as I take a turn too fast, nearly flying into a ditch. What went wrong? The bike rental clerk said this trail was easy. Paved, scenic, perfect for an afternoon ride.
The sun shone through the leaves; a light breeze kept us cool. We had ridden maybe ten minutes before . . . What happened?
I remember noticing the birds. Or rather, the lack thereof. At some point while we were busy chatting I remember realizing I couldn't hear any birds. I didn't think anything of it.
What else?
The smell. There was a slight smell of . . . Something? Like damp fur and copper. It was so faint I almost didn't notice.
Then a twig snapped. We came to a stop when we heard what sounded like a creature running through the woods ahead of us. It sounded big. A wolf? Bear, maybe? We listened in silence, hearts beating faster, as the sounds came closer.
Then a snarl.
As fast as we could manage, we clumsily turned the bike around and pedaled back toward town. The creature followed, closing in at alarming speed. One moment crashing through underbrush to our right, the next grunting and panting to our left.
The bike rattled beneath us, pushed to its limits.
Another snarl. So close now I felt I could smell its foul breath. A cry escaped my throat as I pushed myself to go faster. A grunt, a growl, a scream.
I felt the bike shake. It suddenly felt lighter. "Alice?" I didn't dare look behind me. I kept focus on the path ahead, readjusted my balance to account for the lighter load.
The woods were quiet again. Sweat and tears dripped off my face. How much further? The ride in hadn't been this long, had it? But The trail seemed to stretch miles ahead of me. How long ago did we turn around? Two minutes? Five? I grip the handlebars tighter and lean forward, ignoring the pain in my legs.
Go. Faster.
A branch breaks. I hear a snort in the distance behind me. I blink the tears out of my eyes. Focus. It can't be too much further.
The scent. The silent birds. The creature is closing in.
There! I see the signs making the tail head. Almost there. Just. Keep. Pushing.
A snarl.
Pedal. Pedal. Pedal.
A grunt.
Breathe. Remember to breathe.
A long, low growl.
A few more yards.
All at once I'm thrown from my seat, the bike finally giving out beneath me. My reflexes are slow. I tumble to the pavement, scraping shins, elbows, and hands. My helmet prevents my head from colliding with the ground.
I look toward the tail head. My escape route. Only twenty or so feet. I clamber to my feet. My vision blurs. I blink my eyes and try to stay upright.
Run.
My legs try to obey.
One step. Another.
My vision blurs again.
I blink.
There's a person standing by the signs.
Blink.
It almost looks like . . .
"Alice?"
No. That's not right. It looks like Alice. But.
Matted hair. Blood dripping from wounds. A . . . smile?
Her smile grows. Bigger. Wider.
"Alice?"
Two rows of pointed teeth line her inhuman mouth.
She grunts.
She growls.
She pounces.
I scre—
A tandem bike is so much harder to control alone.
The sound still reverberates through my mind
The running steps. The snarling. Growling. Alice's scream as she was ripped off her seat behind me.
Our ride down this quiet wooded path had turned into a nightmare. Uneaten sandwiches are violently thrown around our basket as I take a turn too fast, nearly flying into a ditch. What went wrong? The bike rental clerk said this trail was easy. Paved, scenic, perfect for an afternoon ride.
The sun shone through the leaves; a light breeze kept us cool. We had ridden maybe ten minutes before . . . What happened?
I remember noticing the birds. Or rather, the lack thereof. At some point while we were busy chatting I remember realizing I couldn't hear any birds. I didn't think anything of it.
What else?
The smell. There was a slight smell of . . . Something? Like damp fur and copper. It was so faint I almost didn't notice.
Then a twig snapped. We came to a stop when we heard what sounded like a creature running through the woods ahead of us. It sounded big. A wolf? Bear, maybe? We listened in silence, hearts beating faster, as the sounds came closer.
Then a snarl.
As fast as we could manage, we clumsily turned the bike around and pedaled back toward town. The creature followed, closing in at alarming speed. One moment crashing through underbrush to our right, the next grunting and panting to our left.
The bike rattled beneath us, pushed to its limits.
Another snarl. So close now I felt I could smell its foul breath. A cry escaped my throat as I pushed myself to go faster. A grunt, a growl, a scream.
I felt the bike shake. It suddenly felt lighter. "Alice?" I didn't dare look behind me. I kept focus on the path ahead, readjusted my balance to account for the lighter load.
The woods were quiet again. Sweat and tears dripped off my face. How much further? The ride in hadn't been this long, had it? But The trail seemed to stretch miles ahead of me. How long ago did we turn around? Two minutes? Five? I grip the handlebars tighter and lean forward, ignoring the pain in my legs.
Go. Faster.
A branch breaks. I hear a snort in the distance behind me. I blink the tears out of my eyes. Focus. It can't be too much further.
The scent. The silent birds. The creature is closing in.
There! I see the signs making the tail head. Almost there. Just. Keep. Pushing.
A snarl.
Pedal. Pedal. Pedal.
A grunt.
Breathe. Remember to breathe.
A long, low growl.
A few more yards.
All at once I'm thrown from my seat, the bike finally giving out beneath me. My reflexes are slow. I tumble to the pavement, scraping shins, elbows, and hands. My helmet prevents my head from colliding with the ground.
I look toward the tail head. My escape route. Only twenty or so feet. I clamber to my feet. My vision blurs. I blink my eyes and try to stay upright.
Run.
My legs try to obey.
One step. Another.
My vision blurs again.
I blink.
There's a person standing by the signs.
Blink.
It almost looks like . . .
"Alice?"
No. That's not right. It looks like Alice. But.
Matted hair. Blood dripping from wounds. A . . . smile?
Her smile grows. Bigger. Wider.
"Alice?"
Two rows of pointed teeth line her inhuman mouth.
She grunts.
She growls.
She pounces.
I scre—