by Guy Kessler
He crossed the street and felt his leg go numb, little ant-like prickles that ran up to his waist and disappeared, leaving a useless limb dangling from his hip. He fell forward, unsuccessfully using his hands to brace himself against the ground, and cracked his head against the sidewalk.
The siren was getting deeper, louder, closer. He dragged himself to his feet and hobbled down the embankment and across the spillway, dragging his numb leg, leaving a footprint and snake track in the snow behind him. As he approached the raised drain, he could hear bits of rock and debris vibrating against the metal. It was the siren. It was bone trembling.
He pulled his bag from his shoulders and tossed it up into the drain, hoisting himself in after it. He shimmied and writhed with all his might, only to get waist deep. Both legs were completely numb. He couldn’t move them. Had he lost that much blood? He looked back, out of the drain. There was no blood on the ground, just his tracks through the snow.
Then, he noticed the first of a train of black vehicles coming around the corner two blocks down the road. He dug his fingers into the corrugated metal and pulled with all his remaining strength, tearing the nail from his right index finger and just barely dragging his feet into the drain before the men in the vehicles were able to spot him. And then his arms went numb, his eyes grew heavy, and the world turned to black.
…to be continued…
the BREED: Day Two
