Hartlepoole
Sean Pitt walked Anna Powell home along the side path of the motorway that skirted their city. It wasn’t a very scenic route to walk-it was littered, noisy, and polluted-but it was nicer because Sean liked Anna, and he thought that Anna liked him back, even though she ignored him at school. But on Wednesday evenings, when they both had orchestra, he was able to walk her home, just the two of them together, alone.
The route was well known to him, and he had long-standing fantasies of, at certain bends and turns, either taking her hand in his, or putting his arm around her, or maybe even leaning over and kissing her on the cheek. These fantasies were so tied to different parts in the route that they were virtually landmarks.
But they were still fantasies nonetheless. For some reason, he never got the courage up to do any of it. Part of the reason was that she was always rumoured to be going out with Mark Morris, but most of it was that he was paralysed by the idea that she would stop walking back with him on Wednesdays. Some time with her every week was better than no time with her at all. And so every week he did nothing, and every Wednesday evening he kicked himself for his cowardice.
But it couldn’t last forever. School was ending in a few weeks, and he resolved to take some action. Today, he told himself, was different. The fact that he’d told himself that every Wednesday before this one was “different” was irrelevant and didn’t detract from today’s difference. Today his courage wouldn’t fail.
“I can’t stand Megan anymore,” Anna was saying. “We used to be really close, but now she’s just ignoring me.”
“Yeah,” Sean agreed. He couldn’t recall who Megan was. He was pretty sure Anna had never mentioned her before.
“She’s always been a moody cow, but we used to get on, at least. And Jenna told me what Megan told her about me, which was all lies, obviously, saying Mark and I got it on, when we never have. She’s such a big liar.”
“Yeah,” Sean agreed again. The path was taking them beneath the overpass, which was always busy with traffic but was also the most secluded of all the spots on their winding way home.
“I like you, Sean,” Anna said after an uncharacteristic moment of quiet. “I always feel like I can talk to you. I’ll miss you when school ends.”
“Well,” Sean said, flushing, “you know. . I. .”
Anna stopped. “Who’s that over there?”
“Where?”
Propped against one of the columns was a heap of something or other that, in the low light, gave a silhouette like a person, but it was a trick of the eye; it was far too big to actually be someone.
“It’s nothing,” said Sean. “Just some bin bags or something.”
“No, it’s moving,” Anna said, moving up the concrete ramp toward the pillar.
“It’s just the wind,” Sean said, faltering. The news had been going on about some missing children lately, and he suddenly wanted to be away from here. Quickly.
“All right,” said Anna, and she turned back toward him just as the silhouette leaned forward and stood up.
Anna caught the movement out of the corner of her eye, shrieked, and froze. Sean’s legs convulsed beneath him. His instincts told him to run, but he couldn’t leave Anna here alone.
“Anna, come away,” he said, tugging her sleeve.
Anna shook her head.
“What’s wrong with you? Move!” Sean growled.
“I–I can’t. I’m too scared.”
“Be scared of what will happen to you if you don’t,” Sean said as the inhuman thing straightened to its full height. It was not just tall but bulky, chunky. It was either made of dirt and rubbish, or that stuff was embedded in its skin. As it moved bits fell off.
It growled as it started to slide down the concrete escarpment. It stopped directly in front of Anna. Its face lowered; instead of skin it had black sludge, which oozed itself into a grin that revealed massive, yellow, pebble-like teeth. “Pretty,” it said, lifting an arm and hand. “Tasty,” it said, reaching out for her.
In a flash, Sean picked up a length of metal pipe that laid nearby-part of a mangled signpost. He hefted it above his head and ran forward, bringing it down heavily on the thing’s shoulder, just above an orange traffic cone that appeared to be a part of its back.
It felt the blow-barely. It reacted as Sean would react if a three-year-old hit him with a cardboard tube. He got the monster’s attention though.
“Run, Anna!”
Anna broke into a sprint, across the field toward home, not daring to look back.
Sean dropped the heavy bit of metal in his hands and made to follow her, but the monster took two large strides toward him and swiped with his arm. It was like being hit by a falling tree trunk, and the blow sent him flying through the air where he smacked into one of the concrete pillars of the overpass.
His head swam and his perception rippled, like jelly tossed into a swimming pool. He was dizzy and sick, and wondering why everything had become so dark.
He shook his head to clear it, and through a dim tunnel of fuzzy grey, he saw an enormous head with even more enormous teeth grinning at him, as though it was very far away, but he could feel and smell a breath that stank like rancid ditch water.
“Tasty,” the face said, and Sean felt a massive hand wrap around his arm and he was lurched upright, which made the world spin horrifyingly. There was intense pain and a chomping noise and then nothing more.