Jonas

just bent down and slid the box inside with one hand.

That's when I heard it.

Upstairs.

A slow, scraping sound.

Something heavy dragging across the floor.

I stopped breathing.

The sound went on four or five seconds long enough for me to know it wasn't the house settling, and then it just stopped.

I backed off the porch one step at a time and nearly slipped off the last board.

My boots hit gravel and I bolted for the truck.

Quadrants, sound the door, locked it, heart pounding.

As I shifted into reverse, the headlights caught something at the edge of the woods.

Same guy, but he wasn't standing anymore, he was crouched slow, arms resting on his knees, head tilted, watching, I froze, he moved just a twitch, but it was wrong, like his limbs didn't quite know how to function, jerked instead of forward, then he rose slow and steady, and his arms, I swear to you, they didn't stop, or arms are supposed to stop, they just kept going, elbows too high, fingers that harm way, way too lower, almost brushing his knees.

That's when I panicked.

I slammed on the gas tires getting before they caught.

The whole truck bucked and I nearly lost control going down that hill.

Didn't care.

I bounced and slid and braked just enough to avoid flying off the path.

When the tires hit the main road, I didn't stop to check for damage, just kept driving.

Didn't look back once.

I got to town and parked behind the shop.