Novel P. 14
As the bus stood still, Holden watched in agony as the Dead Bod Man got closer, and closer. He turned around and saw that traffic was clearing. Car after car was getting through the intersection, while the light was green. As it turned red, the Dead Bod Man was still two blocks away. A quick light and they were through and on their way to the next stop still more than ten blocks away. Now he watched the light expectantly. Holden waited for it turn green. Second after second passed, and it wasn’t turning red.
This couldn’t be happening. Could it be real, that the Dead Bod man was this close to getting to him, in public, with nowhere obvious to hide? When the Dead Bod Man was so angry… It was the worst of circumstances.
A full minute and passed. And the light was still red. Holden looked behind him, and to his horror the Dad Bod Man was on the block, and approaching the bus. He was running, running so fast, and in a moment, he was within ten feet of the bus.
Holden thought to himself, well what should he do? There were only two options, at least at first. Either remain where he was, and wait for the light to turn, or to run, and really try to get away. Which one was more of a gamble?
Holden looked behind him, but he didn’t see the Dead Bod Man. He felt intense panic. Then he looked towards the door of the bus, the Dead Bod Man was right outside of it, almost close enough now to jump in. In a split second Holden knew he had just to jump, and he went for it.
He sprinted for the back doors of the bus. He shook them back and forth, but they weren’t budging. Finally he leaned all his wait on it. It busted just a little. He noticed he’d got the attention of the driver. ‘Let me off,’ he shouted. ‘Please!!!’
In another moment, the bus driver released the door, and Holden jumped out and started running with all his heart. Away, away, from the Dead Bod Man that meant to do more horrible things to him, and finally take his life. As if he swallowed the key to the box with confession of all his darkest and most grotesque crimes.
It felt as if something ripped in his anus. And he knew he was bleeding as he speeded along the sidewalk. He just had to bite the pain. He kept running as fast as he could. The Dead Bod Man had surely known he had exited the bus, and was obviously in pursuit of him. Was he close? Holden could not spare a moment to turn round and check. Or maybe the Dead Bod Man would catch up. To tell you the truth, he was right behind him. He was three, four steps behind him. If the Dead Bod Man jumped, he would miss grasping Holden by an inch, and he knew that.
Holden kept pushing as hard as he could, through the pain. He had lost a step, from the injury. But pride, desire for survival, kept him running faster than he could remember ever running.
Could someone chase him just as fast while only desiring grotesque sexual conquest? Perhaps. And while the chaser is not injured? It is possible. What kind of shape was the Dead Bod Man? Not particular good shape. He didn’t exercise. At least not officially. Though he spent hours, every single day, he spent even half the day, just walking, stalking his prey. He was oddly in shape. And was the Dad Bod Man overweight? No, he hardly ate. But he had eaten with a ferocious intensity, as you might expect. And if you knew what he ate, then it would make even more sense to you how the Dead Bod Man ate. He ate dead bodies.
He was inching closer to Holden. And the latter sprinter could sense it. He tried to let go of all fear of pulling his limbs, all fears of collapsing, and just run like he had no ligaments.
Was it enough? Well, no. It was not enough, in the end, it was… not enough. But did Holden survive? Well, perhaps. But to tell you the truth, it is likely he might die.
A dead end, Holden swerved hard right, and crushed it around the corner. This was the advantage the Dead Bod Man needed. Suddenly Holden felt the coldest hand he had ever felt on his shoulder, and it ripped him backwards. He fell on his back. And suddenly he was at the mercy of the Dead Bod Man.
