Reid crashes through the underbrush, knowing in his bones he is barely ahead of his pursuers. He can’t hear them but he knows they are there, sees flickers of shadow deeper than the dark. He clutches his right hand to his chest, the precious tube held close, hiding it from them as best he can, keeping it sheltered until he can use it to the best effect.
If they find out about it, know of it, he is lost. It’s his last line of defense. And once it is gone, he is done. He has no other way to fight back. So he runs on and hopes he can take enough with him that it makes a difference.
Reid fully expects to die tonight, lost in the darkness, with no one left to save or mourn him because his friends will all be dead, too.
His body fails him the second time, blood loss making it more and more difficult to breath and focus and run. He stumbles over a tangled mass of brush, crumpling to the ground. Reid howls in agony, his left thigh on fire. He jerks back on reflex, looks down, the moonlight shining on a broken branch slick with his blood. A puncture the size of a silver dollar oozes black liquid from his leg.
Reid staggers upright, tries to run, but the damaged muscle won’t obey him. He is forced to drag himself forward, using the surrounding trees for stability, his useless left leg screaming pain until he can’t ignore it.
It’s finally happening. Reid is dying.
He hears them chuffing now, their deep and horrible voices calling to each other. They are all around him, taunting him with just enough noise he flinches and jerks every time. Reid scans the trees as best he can, desperate for a place to make a stand, his last chance to take them with him when he goes.
There. Up ahead. A large and lumpy shadow waits for him. Reid’s lungs protest as he drives himself forward, throwing his body against the moss-covered rock. He hops in a half circle, pressing his back to it, the precious tube still clutched to his chest as he pants his heavy breaths into the night.
They ooze out of the darkness to face him, four of them, smiling their shark smiles, silver eyes gleaming in the moonlight. The leader snarls at Reid, taps its teeth together. Licks its slick claws, wet with something Reid knows must be the blood of one of his friends.
White spots dance around the edges of his vision as his terror finally returns, driving his heart to beat even faster, forcing the blood from his wounds so quickly he can’t stay upright. The weakness is like a disease, eating away at his physical strength but more than that. It attacks his resolve, his need to kill the hunters. As his life leaves, his fear fades away again. He crumples to his knees, sliding down the soft moss with a whisper of sound. He grunts as he hits the ground, the pain bringing him back, briefly.
They watch him fall, witness his defeat and laugh at him in their harsh and haunting voices. Reid can’t feel his legs anymore, or his fingers. He knows there is something important in his hand but he can’t remember what it is or why it’s so vital he act.
Before he can figure it out, his world fades toward black as the hunters close in around him.
***