The Darkness and Dogs by T. S. Lanchbery

Author:T. S. Lanchbery [Lanchbery, T. S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Post-Apocalyptic | Dystopian
Published: 2019-08-19T04:00:00+00:00

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Chapter Twenty-Two

Two blocks later, as he approaches Main Street once again, Lowell ducks into an alleyway and bends double, panting heavily from his exertions. Peering around the corner, he surveys the scene in the direction he has come from and is pleased to see that there is no sign of any pursuers, just an empty street illuminated by the eerie light of a waxing gibbous moon. Whilst fleeing from the house his full attention had been fixed on evading his fellow man, and it is only now that this danger had passed that he considers the more familiar dangers that now surround him, and feels the vulnerability of his situation. Hefting his backpack, he glances nervously around himself to get his bearings and considers his options. He knows that he must find somewhere to get inside quickly. The perfume shop is an option, but he quickly dismisses it, as he has no desire to travel down Main Street at this hour. He hasn’t been in town for long enough to know which areas, if any, are relatively safe so quickly determines that he just has to pick a road and hope he can find somewhere to rest up before he is discovered by either man or beast. Peering into the gloom of the alleyway behind him, he shudders, quickly discounted heading in that uncertain direction in favor of the moonlit street - far better to be seen from a distance than ambushed from close range.

Scurrying out of the mouth of the alleyway, he adopts his customary wary darting from cover to cover; casting constant apprehensive glances all around him as he goes. Some way along, he finally spots what he is looking for: an open doorway at the far end of the street, leading to what looks like some small business or other. His pace quickens slightly but he forces himself to quell his instinct to run towards an uncertain sanctuary without scoping it out first and instead scurries across the street so that he will be approaching it from the far side.

With around one hundred meters left to travel he crouches down behind a car at the side of the road for a brief respite and cocks his ear up to listen for any unfamiliar noises in the night. He is tired now, the effects of his long night spent watchful and on edge and the subsequent exertion are catching up with him, and he is once again struggling to keep his eyes open. All is quiet apart from the occasional mournful cry of an early-rising lone seagull somewhere in the distance. Squinting to scrutinize his destination, he can now just make out the sign above the door, which is advertising a variety of sports betting and what seems to Lowell to be the fairly unlikely chance of a ‘thrilling Las Vegas experience’. Nothing stirs in the immediate vicinity so he climbs warily to his feet, takes a step closer, and begins to move towards the shop. At that exact moment a noise off in the distance stops him in his tracks.

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