I don’t know what’s chasing me. Turning my head would cost me valuable speed, so I haven’t risked it. It feels like every vein and muscle fiber in my legs are being wrenched tighter and tighter with every push of the pedal, and I fear that soon they’re going to snap. My entire body is shaking in exhaustion and pain, but I cannot stop. Because of the four people who started this bike ride, I was the only one left.
We started down a mountain trail people never used. We thought it’d be fun, adventurous, something that would give us a great photo opp when we got to the end. About a half-hour in, we all heard Riley go down. There was a noise of confusion, a shocked ‘Huh?’, before the sound of crunching metal and meat being torn apart echoed through the massive forest.
We stopped for a second, barely even one. I was leading like I always did, so when I turned and looked I got the worst image of what had happened to our friend keeping up the rear. All I saw was a bike twisted into a metal pretzel, a splash of red, and something that looked like a mangled foot on the ground. And…it.
Again, worst vision. I can’t describe it beyond the fact that it was taller than two of us combined and twice as thick. It looked like a big mound of… I want to say fur? And it moved tightly along the ground. Not like an animal, no, but like the fastest centipede you’ve ever seen. Like its bulk hid hundreds of small appendages that carried it around in a spastic and horrifically quick display.
We took off before it moved. Then I heard it start up again, silent as it ran but deep, wet breaths followed us as we pedaled faster than we ever had before.
Next was Danny. I heard him scream ‘Oh god plea-’ before the sound of twisting metal and a gurgling throat filled the air. Then Tanya, who was right on my tail. I actually felt a puff of air as that thing seemed to snatch her off her bike, the useless vehicle careening forward past me and lodging itself into a thicket on the side of the trail.
I’ve been biking for an hour. I don’t know how, but my body has kept up this pace, my legs pounding away at the pedals harder than I thought myself capable. I peed about twenty minutes ago. The cool liquid felt nice before it mingled with my sweat and it started to feel like I was biking in a used diaper.
I know I’m getting closer to civilization. If my mental image of the map is accurate, I only have about a mile to go. But there was something I forgot about. That our path crested over the very beginning of the mountain, a mound that could barely be called a hill. I remembered the guidebook saying it offered a beautiful view of a nearby waterfall and was a must-stop for any sightseers biking through.
Tears are sliding down my face now. I can feel another one of my toenails pop off and the cramp that’s been tearing apart my right foot is beginning to grow with each inch I gain towards the start of the hill. I’m praying now, hoping that the athletic wonder keeping my body going will allow me to bike uphill without slowing or stopping altogether.
Because that thing is still behind me. It hasn’t slowed down at all, and you want to know the worst part? I heard it. Amidst the heavy splat that seems to be the sound of its breath, I heard a small hitching, just a slight warble of vocal fry that sounded like tree bark being split in half. I was hoping that it was a sign of it growing tired, slowing down, but after the fourth time, I realized what it was.
The thing was giggling. It was enjoying the chase. And it was growing excited, because it could see the hill too.
It knew its game was about to be done.