Thermophile

Eighteen: Foe

The weird dream was still boggling my mind when I decided to get up and check the floor I was in. There was nothing to see though, so I decided to just find my companion.

"You ready?" Elliot asked when he saw me going down the stairs from the wooden chair he sat on. And as one would expect in a house abandoned for who-knew how long, the lone furniture smackdab in the middle of the room was filled with dust and molds and rots. Funny how it didn't give up and crashed from the weight of my friend.

I went and stood by the seat opposite to him. "Yeah." I didn't bother sitting down, we were about to depart anyway.

I couldn't help but still swivel my head from sides to sides knowing that I would find nothing, the supposedly white walls were washed with a yellowish tinge and streaked with something brown in its corners and edges.

It must've been a beautiful house in its prime days, but when the phenomena hit and everyone evacuated, the place started to deteriorate.

"Let's go."

I nodded when he stood up and walked to the door.

We were about to cross the house's threshold when I felt Elliot tense.

His back was ramrod straight and so still, that it made me think something happened to his system.

A second after, he moved, still with the stiffness, and started walking. "Thirty-Five they're here." He whispered. "We should go, we can outrun them." He was still speaking in a hushed tone like they were in a hearing distance.

Why would we run away from them when we could take them out? I mean, what were our abilities for if not use them to our benefit?

"I don't understand why we have to outrun them. Won't they keep on coming at us if we go about it that way?"

He sighed. "I know, but they can and will knock you out and use that to subdue you plus you can take them on, I can't. I can only run until they get tired of coming after."

That shut me up for a second I completely forgot about Elliot not being able to do combat. He told me this before that a fault in his system rendered his physical form not able to fight or learn how to. "Okay." And I commend him for all those attempts to take me out of the laboratories despite that.

We picked up pace and were running at full speed and by full speed meant roughly ten meters per second. Elliot led the way while I followed behind.

"Just follow me, I have the coordinates—"

His voice was cut off when something large landed in front of him, it backhanded Elliot and sent him flying to the side.

My friend's dark hair was the only thing I could see of him.

I was stunned.

The thing grew even larger as it walked—stomped—towards me and it grew larger and larger until we were just an arm span away. My arm span, which was about five-foot five and my head was just leveled to its abdomen.

It didn't stop and my eyes were fast enough to catch the movement of its thick, meaty hand that was on its way to my direction. I stepped back, narrowly avoiding its limb, but immediately zeroed on the thing's throat and lunged. Although my steps were much smaller than it, I was fast. Its tan skin—could be scales—were rough on my palms. Having managed to grab its thick neck with both hands, I stabilized my hold and like wringing wet clothes, I squeezed and twisted.

No growl nor grunt came from it as it tried to shake me off, but it was futile, my hands were anchored to its thick neck. I was on autopilot, my senses were on high alert that any movement around me passed through my system. My brain seemed to have zoned out while my body had a mind of its own.