Travis ran like the devil himself was chasing him, and in all fairness, the truth was really not so different.
Thunder cracked high above him as lighting bolts pierced the gloomy night sky with a terrifying flash, obscured by the towering trees and restless leaves that rustled and shook in the night time wind, which was like a cold slap in the face for Travis.
He slipped so many times as he ran between the trees, the soles of his boots covered with thick, sludgy mud that caused the ground to slide out from under him more than once, but the panic that gripped his system overruled all reasonable thought, and he always recovered quickly, as he surged on with only the desire to get to his cabin.
From far behind, but swiftly drawing closer, he could hear the deep howls and rabid snarls as the darkness seemed to grow deeper with every passing second... Seconds which seemed like minutes.
The sounds of splintering wood and his own frantic breathing were the only sounds that Travis would register in his mind. With every enegertic beat of his heart, he was reminded that he was still alive for another second, and with every stamp of his feet, he was reminded of the intense desire to be alive for the next one.
Up ahead, through the trees, he could see the darkened shape of his cabin, briefly illuminated by a flash of lightning. He could see his dark green 1962 Ford F-250 pickup truck sitting motionlessly on the dirt driveway. He was sourly tempted to jump in, and drive off, but he knew how clunky it was to get going. He would be dead before he had got maybe three yards.
He rushed up to the front door, and took a deep breath, as he got his keys out, knowing that panic and clumsiness could be the death of him now, as he slid the key into the lock, and opened the door, and then slammed it shut behind him, before he pulled a large block of wood down from the side of the door to barr it shut and at least keep... whatever the hell they were, outside.
Rain rattled against windows and walls like softened machine gun fire, with an occasional roar and crash of a thunderbolt. Travis fought to get his breath back, his face dripping with sweat, and his beard soaked with rainwater. He stood slightly stooped over, with his hands on his knees, as he took strained intakes of air. He ignored the rain, and the thunder, they were not what he had to worry about. He slowly looked up at the door from which he had just burst through.
He could almost feel his heart stop, and the breath that was halfway to his lungs freeze in place as he watched the doorhandle turn, at first slowly, but soon enough it was a frantic, desperatly jiggling orb of brass, and then just a suddenly, it fell off of the door, as the handle on the other side was pulled out from the other side.
The door handle landed on the wooden floor with a metallic thud, but it seemed to resonate much louder, and for much longer than any roll of thunder, and it echoed through Travis' mind, and he found himself backed against the wall, clutching his hunting rifle, a Model 110, close to his chest.
Something pounded against the door heavily, but not only pounding... also scratching, and gnawing, and a distinct growling. Travis watched in uncomfortable trepidation as tiny splinters of wood were starting to pop off of the door, which was creaking and cracking, as if it was going to cave in.
And then, just as suddenly as the noises started, they stopped.
Travis blinked, and then felt his discomfort seem to both drop, and build up, especially in the lower part of his body. He blinked again, when he realized that it was due to the fact that he had just soiled himself. He swatted away his shame in his mind, and let out a sigh of relief, as whatever was so desperate to get at him had seemed to have given up it's efforts.
Travis slid down the wall and into a sitting position, his legs cast out in front of him, as he held the rifle to his shoulder, and once again started to take breaths again. He could not tear his eyes away from the fallen doorhandle, which had fallen like the head of an executed criminal under a guillotine. After what seemed like hours, he rested his rain-sodden head against the wall, and let out a loud sigh.
He felt a slight breeze and the whirling whistle of a gust of wind from the doorway on his right. Although it was bone-chillingly cold, it brought a welcome wave of cooling calmness to Travis, as it pushed aside the heat he had built up in his desperate bid for survival.
He ran a gloved hand across his forehead, down his face, across his cheek, and along his beard, before his heart-rate managed to settle on a normal pace.
Then, as fast as the flashes of lightning, panic shot through his body, as a fearful question finally made itself known in his mind.
Why was there a breeze?
Travis leaned to the right, and peered around the doorframe, into the kitchen.
He could see the backdoor, swinging slowly, wide open, showing off the sillhouetted trees and the mountains in the distance, as well as the falling rain.
Travis just sat there, staring at the door for a long time. Before he slowly pulled himself up, and, step by terrifying step, he walked to the door, fearful to the core that something was going to reach out from the darkness outside and pull him into oblivion.
He reached out to the door, put his hand on the wood, and gently pushed it shut. He couldn't lock it. His keys had been abandoned on the outside of the front door. He just let it shut, no rational thought able to enter his head, as doubt and uncertainty of his next step plauged his mind.
A bolt of lightning cast a brief burst of light through a window behind him. This time, he could not help but notice the light it cast against the wall next to him, and the humanoid shadow in the center of it.
He tensed up, taking breaths again, trying to fight back the overwhelming urge to just run and never stop, but he knew that would only make things worse. Slowly, and purposely, he flicked the safety switch off of his rifle.
Then, he felt something grip his shoulder.
He whirled around as fast as he could, and held the rifle's scope to his face, finger on the trigger.
He blinked.
"Woah woah woah!" The other man exclaimed, backing away as he suddenly found the end of a gun in his face. "Christ, Travis, what the hell's gotten into you? You're as jumpy as a rabbit"
It was Noel, Travis' friend and hunting partner. He wore a dark red, plaid shirt, underkneath a bright orange sleaveless body warmer, and blue jeans tucked into a pair of light yellow hiking boots. There was a red truckers cap on his head, with a white front.
Travis breathed a sigh of relief once more, and lowered his rifle. "Did you see 'em?" Travis whispered harshly.
Noel blinked. "See who, Travis?"
"Those... those things" Travis breathed.
"Travis, take it easy, you're panicking... You need to look in the mirror, alright? You're covered in shit" Noel remarked. "Go use the bathroom before I take it, I need a leak"
Travis nodded, wordlessly walking to the door to the bathroom, and pushed it open, stepping inside, and finally closed the door behind him.
He looked up into the mirror that was before him.
He was caked in mud, most of his face obscured by the dark brown, dripping sludge, that was in his hair and his beard, as well as coating his dark green camo jacket. He stared into his soft brown eyes.
Without looking, he turned on the cold tap, and as the water flowed from the faucett, he flung it into his face, and washed the muck away, not caring about his clothes for now.
He turned the tap off, and let out yet another long sigh.
"Fuckin'... late night movies... messing with my fucking head... 's gotta be that man, some stupid horror show mindgames shit..." Travis muttered to himself, as he stood up straight.
He shook his head, and turned around, and opened the door.
He wished to God that he hadn't.
Travis found himself staring at wolf's face... but not just any wolf.
Wolves don't stand on two legs... or have thick muscles, broad shoulders, and a savage expression of hunger, pain and agression constantly upon their face. And nor did they have piercing crimson eyes that seemed to be sucking the soul out of you.
In one final movement of desperate hope, Travis started raising his rifle.
The diabolical creature slammed it's claws into his shoulders, and forced him straight into the wall, cracking his skull into the mirror, and shattering it. Travis was dazed, and the he saw the maw of the beast stretch open, revealing two rows of thick, and blood covered fangs.
Travis twitched his finger, and fired his rifle, not knowing where it was facing.
The bullet hit the creature in the chest, causing it to drop Travis, who fell to the floor, his head jarring against the corner of the wall.
Looking through the doorway, he could see the dead body of Noel in the kitchen. It was facing away from him, but Travis could tell that Noel was dead for sure. Living people tend to have much more skin and muscle around their neck, and don't lie in puddles of blood.
Travis suddenly felt claws pierce his chest through his jacket, as shards of pain rippled through his entire body, feeling his lung get punctured, as the wolfen beast lifted him up, and once again brought the man to it's face.
Travis stared into it's eyes with a mixture of terror, anger and awe.
"...the fuck are you?" Travis choked out softly.
Travis saw one eye close... the creature winked at him.
And then it's mightly jaws dug into his neck, and the thick teeth pierced his flesh, blood flowing out like a river, Travis' vision going black, and dead, as the beast closed it's jaws all the way, and tore Travis away from it, taking strands of muscle and flesh with it, as well as the Adam's Apple that was in it's mouth. It tossed Travis' lifeless form aside, the man's skull bouncing off of the porcelain of the toilet, and his tattered throat spread across the tiled floor.
The creature leaned over Travis' body, and it's jaws tore through his clothing, and the beast he had desperatly tried to outrun, began feasting upon his corpse.
As the rain continued to hammer down upon the cabin roof, another crack of thunder sounded across the forest.