I wait quietly on the blue, metal bench for the bus. It’s almost five in the morning, and still pitch black aside from the glowing street lamp directly above me. The off-and-on rain leaves the air bitterly chilled, causing me to flex my gloved hands to warm them. I find the task unsuccessful, and shove them into the pockets of my boldly red peat-coat.
I boredly blow puffs of white vapor in the air and watch them fade. The rain has stopped for now, but the absence of its gentle patter has left the dark, empty street eerily quiet. Just as I am beginning to feel uneasy, my cell phone vibrates in my pocket, making me jump and gasp.
I take a deep breath and right myself, and then fish the phone from my pocket to read the new text message. Printed plainly on the glowing screen is one word, from an unknown number: run.
I roll my eyes and replace the phone in my pocket. It’s surely a misdial, or maybe a friend trying to pull a prank. Besides, I think to myself as I glance up and down the street, there’s nothing to run from.
Suddenly, I hear shuffle faintly among the dripping gutters. It is two quick, hard steps, and then a long slide of something hard against the asphalt. Thud-thud scraaape.
I look in the direction of the sound, but can see nothing. I heard the slow shuffle once more. Thud-thud scraaape.
“Hello?” I call into the gloom beyond the light of the bus stop. There is no reply, only the same gait. Thud-thud scraaape.
I wonder if I am hearing things, but then the noise repeats itself. Overhead, the street lamp flickers. A chill runs down my spine.
I shuddered. “Who’s there?”
Thud-thud scraaape.
Maybe I should run after all, but what if it’s nothing? Surely it’s nothing, I think desperately. Still, I can feel my heart pounding faster in my chest.
Thud-thud scraaape.
In my pocket, my cell phone buzzes again, and I cry out in surprise. My hands tremble slightly as I open the message, and as I read my breath accelerates. It reads; run now!
There is no longer any question in my mind. With a white-knuckled grip on my phone, I spring from the bench and sprint down the sidewalk, away from whatever is approaching. Behind, the shuffle increases in speed.
Thud-thud scrape, thud-thud scrape.
The icy air stings my throat as I gasp for breath and my legs are quickly growing sore, but I can’t stop, not while the noise is still behind my.
Thud-thud scrape, thud-thud scrape.
Beneath my coat, I can feel the hair on my arms raise with goose bumps. I feel fearful tears tickle the corners of my eyes, and then run down my cheeks. My breath is high and ragged.
Thud-thud scrape, thud-thud scrape.
“Help me!” I call, but my coarse voice is hardly more than a whisper. The sharp, winter-chill has left me voiceless.
Thud-thud scrape, thud-thud scrape.
Behind me, the noise is slowly growing distant. Half of my mind rejoices that I am outrunning my unseen foe. Just as I am starting to feel victorious, the toe of my shoe catches on a crack in the pavement. I tumble forward, scraping my cheek on the wet cement.
Thud-thud scrape, thud-thud scrape.
Still gasping, I roll over and squeeze my eyes shut, practically paralyzed with terror. It’s all over, I have made a fatal mistake.
I hold my breath and completely freeze when the shuffle stops beside me. My lungs burn, but I dare not make a sound while I can feel the presence of something looming over me. Barely audible over my own panic is heavy breathing.
The noise begins again, slower now. It slowly grows softer and softer as the being moves away. I dare to open my eyes, and turn my head slightly to see the faintest flicker of a shadow disappear into an alley. I can no longer hear the menacing stride.
I relax where I lay and take several deep breath., somehow knowing that it has moved on and I am safe, for now at least.
I gaze past the street to see that where the sky touches the horizon, the midnight black is fading into blue. My limps ache, my cheek stings from the cold and the grit imbedded in my flesh, but my pains do not matter.
“Thank you,” I whisper into the crisp, morning air.
I startle when my phone, lying a few feet away, buzzes loudly on hard ground. I dive for it, and open the new message in a panic.
It is from the same unknown number as before. There are two words, printed on the freshly cracked screen. I speak the words into the coming day as I read. I sigh, “You’re welcome.”