Just before Midnight

Friday. September, 198-

Ulster County, New York

The young man drove through the darkness faster than he should have. He wasn't reckless by nature, but there was something about having the road all to himself that was intoxicating. The two lane ribbon of asphalt was poorly lit and had several dangerous curves and switchbacks, but the young man knew it intimately. He had grown up around here, and apart from the rare trip to New York City, seldom left the county. It was a beautiful, late summer night and he had the windows rolled all of the way down. The smell of pine and grass filled his car as he passed groves and farms on his way home. He was nineteen and a sophomore at the state university at New Paltz, and although he didn't have a set curfew, he usually tried not to stay out too late.

His rear tires kicked up gravel as he turned a little too sharply into his driveway. The young man could imagine his father chiding him for doing that – and then promptly dispatching him with a rake to even out the rut he left. He reached up to the sun-visor and pressed the button of the garage door opener hanging there. Nothing happened for a moment or two, and he silently cursed his luck with batteries. It was probably time to change them. However, before he could unbuckle himself, the door retracted. Well, that's something in my favor, he thought as he edged the Chevrolet into the detached garage.

"Home again, home again," he muttered to himself as he unhooked the garage door remote and collected his things from the passenger seat. The young man gently shut the car door and made his way to the back pack porch. About halfway to his destination, he turned and pushed the button.

Nothing. The young man waited a second or two and tried again. The door remained tucked up on the rails above his car – or at least that's what he assumed. His eyesight was good, but the driveway wasn't well lit. Between the faint light over the porch door and the motion-sensitive light on the corner of the house, much of the young man's field of vision was a patchwork of dancing shadows.

It can wait until morning, he thought as he turned back towards the house. He toyed with the idea of pulling the door down manually, but dismissed it. The last time his dad did it, the damned thing slipped off of one of its rails and it took an hour to get it seated again. It's not worth killing myself over it. It'll keep.

It was a safe, rural neighborhood and it was unlikely that anyone would decide to engage in any late night rummaging. The young man faintly heard a twig snap off to the side of the house, deep in the gloom and well out of sight. There was nothing unusual about that, and he dismissed it almost immediately. Things going bump, or rather snap, in the night were a fact of life in the country.

Probably just a possum or a raccoon, he mused. There were tons of critters in this part of the county, and most of them were harmless. Those that weren't - such as the odd coyote or black bear - were more a source of curiosity than fear. Whatever it was, it didn't sound big enough to be a black bear. He shrugged and fished his keys out of the pocket of his old leather jacket.

He took a couple of steps when something hit him like a ton of bricks. He hit the ground hard, his keys and garage door opener flew out of his hands and clattered away into the night. Sharp bits of stone cut into his palms as he tried to brace himself. The young man struggled to take a breath as he tried to regain his feet. Before he was able to, the same something that had laid him out was on him again. Panic rose in his throat as he felt claws rip into his jacket and the yielding flesh beneath. He tried to cover his head and neck, but was too slow. Razor like talons tore at his exposed hands and left deep gouges in his cheeks. The snarling, whining thing savaging him was light and smelled distinctly carnivorous. The young man could hear its teeth snapping shut mere fractions of an inch from the vulnerable nape of his neck as he writhed. His assailant's fetid breath was sickeningly warm against his exposed skin and the young man felt sharp teeth graze the back of his hand.

"No! NO!" He screamed as he pushed himself off of the ground with all of his might. The thing that was on top of the young man lost its grip on his jacket and was thrown off onto the gravel with a dull crunch. This time he was able to get back on his feet and he pivoted back towards the garage. He threw himself forward, stumbled and slid the last couple of feet into the yawning darkness next to his car. It hadn't been a conscious decision on his part - just a matter of blind luck. The young man's breath came in ragged gasps and his heart felt as if it was trying to batter its way out of his chest cavity.

My God! What was that? What did it do to me? He knew he was hurt and could feel blood – his blood – spreading from the deep gashes on his arms, legs and back. His face was sliced open as well, but it didn't seem as bad as the others. He wasn't in pain yet. He knew that would come later – if there was a later. With what strength he had left, he pushed himself deeper into the well of darkness between the car and wall. A growing fire seemed to take hold in the flesh of his hands, arms and back. In the inky darkness, he couldn't see how badly he had been mauled. God, what did it do to me? I'm not safe here! It can still get me! I'm not safe here….

Bleeding. I'm bleeding really badly. Gotta calm down. Gotta calm down. Gotta stop the bleeding.

How?

Help. I need help.

He wanted to scream and was about to do just that when something stopped him. The young man knew that if he made enough of a racket his folks would hear him and come outside to investigate – and fall victim to whatever had attacked him.

If I scream, my parents will come running and end up getting hurt. IT will get them. If I don't, I'll probably die out here, though.

I have to do something.

Minutes that felt like eons passed as the young man waited for the thing to press its attack. Surely it knew he was injured and cornered. Why didn't it follow me in here? Maybe it's waiting for me to bleed out? Did it really hurt me badly enough for me to bleed to death?

The fog of terror slowly began to lift as his pulse rate returned to normal. The thought crossed his mind that maybe whatever it was hadn't expected him to resist and had been put off by the struggle. He had read once that predators usually weren't willing to risk getting injured and would often back off from their prey if they weren't able to make a quick kill. That meant it had either skulked off to find something easier to kill, or that it was waiting in bushes for him – whatever it was.

Somehow that was the worst part of it. He had no idea what it was that might be lying in wait for him. He knew that it wasn't a dog – no dog or coyote had claws like that. Bears did, but they were scare in that part of the Adirondacks, and whatever had attacked him was far too small.

Maybe it was a mountain lion or cougar or something?

In New York? When was the last time someone saw a cougar here?

A tiny, perverse part of him was curious about what it was.

No fur.

I didn't feel any fur or whiskers. It grabbed at me, too. Whatever it was had grabbed at me.

It had hands.

"Stop it," he muttered to himself. It was dark and he was terrified, but he still realized that his line of thinking was nuts. The motion-sensor light switched off, plunging the driveway back into darkness. The young man swore to himself. He knew he needed help. Even if whatever had attacked him had left, he was still in trouble and had to get help.

Gotta get inside. Gotta get out of here and into the house.

I dropped my keys. I have to get them back.

Even with the outside lights on, it would have been difficult to find his keys in the dark. The young man only had the vaguest idea of where they were. He thought they landed not too far from one of the ceramic planters that marked the border of the driveway. Given time and patience, he probably could find them. He didn't have any time, and patience was a luxury he could ill afford at this point. In the stillness of the garage, he imagined he could feel his heart pumping blood out of each scratch and cut. He was already feeling drained and woozy. How much had he already lost? How much could he afford to lose? He knew he must have lost quite a bit of blood given how his shirt and jeans were sticking to him. He reached out in the dark and felt for the side of his car. Its engine made a soft ticking sound as it cooled.

"Shit," he moaned as he stood. His knees screamed in protest as he straightened himself out. He would have felt better if he could get the outdoor light to come back on, but he didn't dare expose himself – not yet anyway. In his mind, he envisioned it waiting for him, crouched just out of sight. He'd have to run and grab his keys and make a dash for the porch. Of course, that all depended on whether or not he could even find his keys. If they weren't where he thought they were, he would be done for.

What then, smart guy? He thought to himself. Do you really think it's gonna let you fumble with the door? What happens if it decides to attack right when you get it unlocked? Do you really want that thing loose in the house with mom and dad sound asleep upstairs - defenseless?

"Have to get inside," he said as tried to muster what courage remained within him. "Have to get inside. It can't get me when I'm inside."

The young man had no idea whether or not that was true. It was nothing more than wishful thinking, but it was all he had. He knew in his heart of hearts that he could wait out here and let nature – or whatever it was that was responsible – take its course. He was exhausted and part of him, perhaps more than he was aware of, wanted just to scoot to the back of the garage and curl up.

You're only nineteen? Do you really want to give up?

Why not? I'm beat. Besides, kids die all of the time. Usually it's a car crash or something. I just happen to be lucky enough to end up getting offed by a whatsit or something.

What about mom and dad? Do you really want them finding you in a pool of your own blood in the morning? Or worse…

"No. NO!" The young man felt something new take hold of him, replacing the fatigue and terror he had endured. He was furious. He didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve to die. He was a good person and knew he had an absolute right to at least have a fair shot at living.

Says who?

"Shut up!" With great effort he compelled himself to walk forward. He paused at the threshold of the garage and leaned out. He knew his odds of finding his keys were better if he could set off the motion sensors. He leaned out a little more.

Nothing happened. The lights remained off, but at least it didn't pounce on him.

"Come on," he decided he'd risk taking a step out into the open.

Still nothing.

He took another halting step forward. He felt his heart begin to race once again. His shirt was soaked with what he suspected was a healthy mix of blood and sweat and he was shaking.

The lights are motion sensitive. MOVE!

He held his breath and slowly waved his arms over his head. His exertion was agonizing, and for a moment or two, he thought he would pass out. He didn't and the lights finally switched on. His relief was almost as intense as his pain had been. He immediately scanned the area, but other than disturbed gravel, saw nothing to indicate that he was walking into an ambush.

What are you waiting for? He chided himself. Find your keys and get the fuck inside!

"OK. Gotta find my keys," he slowly staggered towards where he thought they had landed. As it turned out, luck had once again favored him. His keys were there, just on the edge of a shadow of a great oak tree. Had they sailed half a foot further, he probably wouldn't have seen them.

The young man risked another look around before bending down to get them. His hands were numb, and in the less than stellar light cast by the outside fixture, he could only just see the scrapes and abrasions. That was fine. He didn't want to see – not yet anyway. He'd freak out once he was safely indoors with the deadbolt set. Not until then.

"Home fr-"

The young man didn't hear the branch above him creak. Nor did he hear the soft thud behind him. Even if he had, there probably wasn't anything he could do about it. He was too tired and too weak to fight back. It was different this time, though.

The way it forced him to the ground was almost gentle. He had a vague sensation of being lowered rather than thrown this time. He tried to scream but wasn't able to. Something with an iron grip had taken a hold of his throat and was squeezing.

A hand. It had hands.

The young man felt its hot breath against his skin again. This time there was nothing he could do as sharp teeth tore into him. His vision dimmed as he was held down and he prayed that it would be over soon.

Lips, he thought as the darkness clouded his mind. Those are human lips against my neck.

He opened his eyes just enough to get a look at what was hurting him. The image was blurry but he thought he could make out matted blonde hair and what might once have been a KISS t-shirt.

A girl – a little girl.

It didn't hurt - at least not as much as he anticipated. He did feel his skin tear and a thick, spreading warmth pool beneath him, but it wasn't agonizing.

Tired. Just want to sleep. Just let me sleep, he thought.

"I'm sorry," It whispered to him. "I didn't want to hurt you more than I had to."

"Wh-wh-?"

"It would have been easier if Owen was here. I was so hungry. I couldn't help it."

A small, soft hand caressed his uninjured cheek as It – she – began to feed.

The young man closed his eyes for the last time.

NOTES: I thought it would be kind of interesting to write something from the point of view of one of Abby's victims. I figured I'd set it sometime after Abby and Owen flee New Mexico in the movie. I made Abby a little less monstrous in this than she was in the film. I don't recall Abby having claws in the movie, but since Eli had them in the book, I figured I'd let her have them.

I had a rough draft of this on my hard drive for quite some time, but wasn't sure what to do with it. I'm not quite sure if it works as a horror piece.

If this turns out to be OK, I might expand on it at some point.

All rights belong to the respective owners (John Ajvide Lindqvist and Matt Reeves.)