The Beast

The alley is always quiet this early, more night than morning. The few streetlights buzz overhead, but all the windows Diane can see are dark. Offices and businesses, not yet open.

The light coat covering her scrubs is more for comfort than warmth. The night air is pleasant this time of year, at least as long as she ignores the smell from the dumpsters. Her sneakers make almost no sound as she picks up the pace. This shortcut has always been practical, cutting fifteen minutes off her walk to the hospital, and she knows it well by now. Walking a little faster through the darker areas, but never really frightened.

Lately, this had changed, and every morning this week, she's had a slight prickle between her shoulder blades, as if someone watched from the shadows. At first, she’d brushed it off. Just nerves. Then she’d seen the shadow of a man disappearing behind a pile of old crates. This city has its share of outcasts: the poor, the homeless, the suffering. She knows this, and feeling that she had to do something, she started leaving little things.

A paper cup of black coffee, the sandwich that was supposed to have been her lunch.

“You must be hungry. Please eat,” she had said, speaking into the shadows.

There was no answer, but when she returned after her shift, the coffee was gone and the sandwich half eaten. Only the meat was taken, the cheese and bread tossed aside, untouched. Surprisingly, even the rats had left it alone. But, come to think of it, she’s not heard or seen any rats or birds in the last few days. And there used to be plenty.

And then there was the sound. She’s only heard it once.

A growl. Low, guttural. Not loud, but… wrong. Not angry exactly. More like a warning. Just thinking about it makes a chill run along her spine, some ancient instincts trying to fight their way up, past the logic that assured her that many homeless men had a canine companion.

Dogs growl. Right?

So, this morning, she’s added a small can of dog food to her backpack, together with a box of meatballs, a water bottle, and a small thermos with coffee. Just in case.

Diane slows as she nears the crate she’s using as a makeshift table. The alley feels colder here. More quiet. She starts unloading her bag, smiling.

“One of these days I’ll bring two cups, and we can have coffee together.” She doesn’t expect an answer, and there’s none. “I wish there was more I could do. I’ll help you if you let me.” Still, there’s only silence, and she turns to leave. Her shift will start soon. Then she hears it.

A shuffle behind her.

Diane spins around, heart pounding, fingers clutching her bag tightly.

Nothing.

Just the usual trash bags and crates piled against the wall, and the faint rustle of the wind blowing some empty candy wrappers along the ground

She shakes her head, muttering to herself. Silly girl, letting the alley get to you. Then…

Voices. More than one. Laughing.

Not friendly.

They come out of the dark like they've been waiting for her. Young, careless, in identical black hoodies. One of them flips a pocketknife open and closed, the sound unnaturally loud in the stillness.

“Well, look who it is,” he says. “Little Miss Do-Gooder.”

Diane's heart stops. She takes a step back, her hand fumbling for her phone in her pocket.

The second thug grins. “Come on, lady. Since you’re such a good Samaritan, why don’t you donate your purse to the poor?”

They close in. A third one, tall, broad-shouldered, just stares at her. Her skin crawls, even before he steps closer with a husky,

“Such a good girl. Such a pretty girl.”

The phone slips from her numb fingers and falls to the ground. They are too close. There’s nowhere to run. A whimpering sound, barely human, makes it past her lips, turning into incoherent pleas to let her go, to not hurt her, to not…

Her voice gets drowned out, not by any of them. By the growl.

It rolls through the alley, low, deep, impossible. The gang freezes. For a long moment, no one moves.

A shape breaks free from the shadows and leaps over the crate where the food still sits.

It’s huge, and moves so fast that Diane’s eyes can’t keep up. There’s fur, dark and matted, giant paws with claws longer than her fingers. An open, snarling maw. Teeth. Dear god, the teeth. Too many, too sharp. The thing is huge, part bear, part wolf, part… cat, and all… wrong.

Diane backs away, eyes wide, too stunned to scream. One foot behind the other, then the next, holding her breath, praying that the beast will ignore her. And it does. Streaking past her so close that she can feel first hot breath, then smooth fur, the creature quietly passes her before it barrels into the nearest man.

There's a crunch, a scream that’s cut short. The shuffle of many feet trying to escape, but too slowly.

One by one, the men are slain, ripped apart until only one remains. The tall, creepy one. Instead of making a run for it, he darts in behind her, an arm hooked around her neck, using her as a shield as he drags her with him. Her feet skid over the ground. Her fingers scratching inefficiently at his thick arm. She can’t breathe. She can’t…

The creature turns to face them, golden eyes meeting hers for a moment. Then it roars, and she screams, finally having found her voice again. She’s thrown to the ground, stunned by the force of the impact. The streetlights flicker high above her as the roar echoes through the alley, through every fiber of her being. She needs to run, hide, but her body won’t move.

She closes her eyes, throws her arms up to cover her face. There is screaming, hers and someone else's. Something warm and sticky splashes over her, and all thoughts vanish.

Please don’t kill me. Please don’t kill me. Please don’t…

“It’s you!”

She’s not sure she hears the words through her ears, or if they’re transmitted straight to her brain. A wet snout pokes her face, sniffing her, and she lowers her arms, forcing her eyelids to move. Expecting to be bitten in half any second.

She’s not. Instead, she’s looking into those golden eyes once more, a tufted, pointy ear twitching slightly as the creature looks at her intently, tilting its head. She’s trying not to see the blood that’s tainting its long fur, or the broken body next to her.

Bloodstained teeth close around her arm, dragging her deeper into the alley, behind the crates.

“No. Let go of me.” Her struggles and pleas are futile. “Please.”

The lights above crackle and go out as the air sizzles with energy. The world spins, and the ground disappears from under her. She screams again, reaching desperately for something to hold on to. Anything. But there’s only the creature, and so she clings to it.

Desperate fingers dig deep into thick fur, holding on for dear life as they fall, spinning together, faster and faster, caught in a flickering vortex, the words “I found you!” echoing triumphantly through her mind.

She screams and screams until there’s no more voice, no more sound, no more light, only darkness and blessed nothingness.