Relapse to Instinct

chapter11

He was trying desperately to resist the temptation.

Really, he was.

John sat inside his Porsche on Jazz's 'drive', staring into the fathomless trees ofthe woods in front of him, the warning and reminder not to go into them echoing through his head.

But that was all it was: an echo. It was annoying, yes, but it was easily ignored as well.

With that thought process going through his head, John unfolded himself from the low-slung sports car, glanced around tobe sure that there was no movement coming from the house, (it would do no good for Jazz to catch him there...) and cautiously made his way to the trees, locking the Porsche over his shoulder on the way.

He needed something to distract him from the disastrous shopping trip, and the woodshad beckoned him come, and John would never deny his curiosity, even if it usually did cause nothing but trouble.

Moments after he'd stepped into the trees, he was completely surrounded: the trees were surprisingly thick and cramped; he was already losing sight of the hulking white house.

Briefly, he contemplated turning back before he got too in over his head (literally) and got lost. It wasn't a pleasant thought, and the 'serial killer/werewolf' theory from the afternoon before buzzed uncomfortably in his head.

With a determined nod, he halted from thesteady walk, intending to turn around and go back, but upon glancing behind him, he found that the house had been swallowed from view.

' Jeez. This always happens in movies. Why was I dumb enough to fall for that same, boring plot?' John mentally chided, walking back the direction that he believedhe had come from, despite the niggling reminder that he hadn't been able to walk in a straight line because of the trees.

A twig snapping somewhere in front of him had his steps frozen. He even held his breathe, straining to hear the noise again.

And hear it again, he did. This time though, it was closer...

Much closer.

Heart hammering and mind turning up the volume on his worries, he spun around and sprinted in the opposite direction to the noise.

Now, normally, when a person feels threatened, a primal 'fight or flight' instinct will surface. This was the same for John, and he had a tendency to lean towards the 'fight' side.

However, this was a foreign town, and he was trapped in the woods, being followed by a possible murderer with no one else around.

Fighting just didn't have much appeal to him at that moment.

Running through a confusing wood that he didn't know very quickly showed the flawto that plan. A well placed twig had his head snapping backwards, as the branch broke from the tree by the force of the collision and landed on his legs as they went out from underneath him.

He rubbed at the dirt on his forehead, andaccidently smudged it into his sandy blonde hair. John's eyes darted behind him, catching sight of a shadowed blur heading rapidly towards him.

He looked at the branch lying across his legs, the jeans beneath torn and shredded. Hefting it, he stood up quickly; testing itsweight in both hands, taking a small, experimental swing.

' Bring it on, bitch.'

The figure slowed and stopped, as if it could see him standing there threateningly;stick in hand, although John could still only see a shadow.

From what he could see, the person looked to be taller than him, and a lot broader, and had started moving towards him again.

Tightening his grip, the twenty five year old stared as the shadow began to take form.