His only chance was to shake them off.
The demons hissed at his back, and when he glanced over his shoulder, he saw them reaching out their hands like Frankenstein’s monster, yet it was that lack of coordination which allowed him to pull even farther ahead.
How had they snuck up on him? Had they been nearby when he’d fired up the chainsaw? Why was this group out here alone? Were they another of the death squads he’d seen cleansing the streets outside his apartment building? Had they done such a thorough job that only the countryside remained? Soon, there would be nowhere left to hide.
Nothing lay on the horizon, the road seeming to go on forever. Fields lay to his left, too exposed to lose a pursuer, and on the other side of the road were thick trees and tangled bushes. He could break his neck running through there, but what other choice did he have?
I have to lose them.
Kamiyo bolted to his right, leaping over a roadside ditch and entering the first row of trees. The branches fought him, thorns whipping at his face and slicing his cheeks. The demons followed. He could hear them crunching and snapping through the undergrowth behind him. He felt more than ever like a hunted fox. His lungs burned, and his throat ached from having been strangled. I’m not out of the woods yet.
Laughing at his own joke, Kamiyo wondered if he was crazy or if it was just the adrenaline in his system playing havoc with his emotions. He leapt over a fallen tree trunk and ducked under a willow canopy before zigzagging between other trees he couldn’t name. Desperately, he fought to disappear into the thick foliage. The noise of his pursuers seemed to fade. The distance between them was growing.
Kamiyo locked his jaws and powered forward. The ground fell away beneath his boots as he bounded over a dried-out stream, and the split-second of air made him feel like a leaping stag. The more the sounds of his pursuers faded, the more elated he became. While most of the world was dead, he was alive and defying the odds. The demons couldn’t kill him, no matter how many times they tried. He wouldn’t let them. It made him feel powerful, denying the universe control over him like that. An alien sentiment, to answer only to himself. No parents, no superiors. No plan. Only survival.
He wanted to slow down and catch his breath, but he couldn’t. Even though the demons had lost sight of him, they would keep on coming. He needed to ensure he moved completely out of their path before he allowed himself to stop.
The woods were vast, and he considered he might have reached Kielder Forest Park in Northumberland, a vast swath of nature marking one of England’s last surviving wildernesses. He’d planned to visit it a year ago, to relax and connect with nature, but studies and work had got in the way. How idiotic that felt now.
Heading ever deeper into the forest, Kamiyo entered a world without signs or pathways. The vast tangle of nature contrasted with the perverse monstrosities chasing him. This was a place of solitude and peace, and as much as the forest unsettled him, it also offered safety.
Kamiyo kept on running for another twenty minutes or so, and when he stopped, it was because his knees buckled. Flopping against the mud, his fingers slipped into a thatch of weeds, twigs, and brambles. This deep in the forest, the floor was a carpet, and it made it even harder to resist just lying there and taking a nap, but it was only late afternoon. Incredible, how adrenaline could burn out a body so rapidly.
He allowed himself a few minutes, tempting death by enjoying the sway of the trees overhead—the first movement in weeks that hadn’t immediately panicked him into hiding. The forest embraced him, hid him, and made him feel protected. He couldn’t help but cling to it for a few moments more.
Once he’d caught his breath, Kamiyo got up and continued, but this time he kept to a walk. The demons were clumsy enough that he would hear them if they got close, and he was fairly confident he’d dodged out of their path. They could be two miles in the other direction by now, as lost as he was. Not that it was possible to be lost when there was no place to go.
For now, walking through the vast forest was as far ahead as Kamiyo wanted to think. Perhaps he would stay here and learn to hunt as planned. Squirrels and birds zipped about everywhere between these branches, and if he could just figure out a way to snare them… He could even fell trees and make himself a cabin. Find a stream to fish in. Maybe survive until he was an old man. Was this the place? Could he survive here? Ha, I’ll be half mad within the year. Solitude is not good for emotional health.
But it sure as heck beats dying.
He increased his pace, catching the last of his breath. A slight stitch needled his ribs, but he was in good shape overall—uninjured, and with a rucksack laden with supplies. Although, as he inspected his pack now, he saw it had torn at the bottom. It must have caught on a branch. A large bag of rice had split open inside and now contained barely a dozen grains, the rest spilled on the ground behind him in a meandering line. Not a disaster, for there was still plenty of food left in his rucksack, so he tossed the empty packet to the ground and headed up the slight incline ahead.
Then, as he started down the other side, he saw an end to the forest. The trees thinned out abruptly in an ordered line, and he could make out
