The Reaping - By M. Leighton Page 0,76

had to find something to eat and a place to stay for the immediate future. I’d have plenty of time to think after that.

On my way north toward Toledo, I found a Marriott that looked suitable enough for what I hoped would be a fairly short stay. Across the street were Starbuck’s and McDonald’s, two establishments I’d recently learned were staples in my simple existence.

Later, as I walked back from McDonald’s, I noticed that the street I was on was heavily trafficked, but not by foot traffic. I had the sidewalk all to myself but for the man I saw up ahead jogging toward me. Though he was looking right at me, it was more like he looked right through me. His eyes were focused on something off in the distance. It was obvious he was totally preoccupied.

He was tallish and lean and, despite the cold temperatures, he was dressed in blue shorts and a sweatshirt, which indicated to me that he was a seasoned runner. His salt-and-pepper hair was cut short and neat and, though I’d put his age in the mid forties, he was very handsome with his olive skin and aristocratic features. Something about his carriage made me think he was both highly educated and highly successful.

I watched a strong wind whip his short hair and sweatshirt, but, strangely enough, I didn’t feel the slightest breeze ruffling my hair or nipping at my cheeks.

When he was within twenty feet of me, he still didn’t acknowledge that he saw me, that faraway look still in his eyes. Then suddenly, he looked to his right. An expression of sheer panic flitted across his face. He had no more than raised his arms defensively when his body flew across the pavement as if he’d been hit by a car.

I was stunned into immobility, confused by what I’d seen. We were on the sidewalk and no cars had even come close to us. I looked around and saw nothing out of the ordinary. In fact, no passersby seemed even to have seen the accident, if that’s what it really was.

When the initial shock wore off, I ran to the man’s side and knelt on the ground by his head. The whole right side of his body was mutilated. His white sweatshirt was liberally stained with blood and I could see unnatural lumps beneath it, presumably displaced bone and tissue. His bare legs were riddled with cuts and contusions, pieces of bone sticking out in numerous places. His head was crushed beyond recognition. Had I not just seen him, healthy and hale only moments before, I would never have guessed this was the same man.

His body twitched and shook, a gurgling sound bubbling up from his throat. I didn’t know what to do. His injuries were so extensive, I was afraid to touch him. Then, a few short seconds later, he went absolutely still. I watched him carefully for signs of life—for movement, sound, anything—but there were none.

I stood up, knowing I should do something, but not sure what that something was. Internally, I went over what I could’ve done differently, wondering if there was some way I could’ve helped him.

As I stood there, staring down at the man, I suddenly felt a cold, tickling sensation ripple through my entire body.

And then I saw her appear in front of me.

Her back was to me and she was nearly transparent, but I could still make out who she was. Her red hair glistened like fire in the sun. I watched as she stepped over the lifeless body of the runner then turned toward me. She knelt beside his broken and bloodied body then looked up.

Pleasure was evident in her hollow, black eyes. She inhaled deeply, as if savoring her favorite smell. She ran her finger over the indention that used to be the man’s cheekbone then down to his neck where a small trickle of blood still flowed. She brought her finger to her mouth and her tongue flickered out to lick it. Her eyes closed in ecstasy. “It’s what we do,” she said.

I stood helplessly by, paralyzed by fear and revulsion, and watched as her lips curled back, bearing a multitude of long, sharp teeth that she drove into the man’s neck.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

For a minute, I actually doubted my eyes. I squeezed them shut and prayed that the runner and the girl would disappear. But when I opened my eyes again, she was still bent over the man, feeding on him. Above

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