The man was up first. He righted himself and wasted no time assessing the room and locking sight of the front double-doors with their needles of white light piercing through. Now that he was standing, Alfred realized the man was at least a half meter taller than himself or Chela. His arms stretched unnaturally down to his knees, which were themselves distorted and misplaced in the ill-conceived proportions of his thin, monstrous legs.
Alfred found himself, in this moment more than any before, wishing he had his pen.
The man was gaunt all over but his strength became evident when he bounded toward Alfred, too quickly for him to react, took him by the arm and began dragging him toward the exit. The creature’s pull took Alfred’s breath from his lungs – he felt locked in fear like he was trapped in a nightmare where he could not speak, could not act, but must let this horrible thing happen as a rule to some cosmic game.
Carrion crouched behind a row of chairs, staring with those glassy eyes, wincing when Alfred and his beast passed by, utterly revealing her position. Tabitha stood close behind. She had thrown open her duster, revealing a tool belt full of mechanisms. She was removing them and locking them together as efficiently as a fisherman might assemble their tackle. Alfred could only watch and wonder and wait to be enveloped in the light of the next scene as the doors flew open and he could feel himself beginning to awaken.
Chela climbed out of the pile of the dead, resting her palms on the back of a corpse, her knees crushing the jaw and hand of another. She lifted her head and observed the abduction, peering between the chairs, a predator on the hunt.