Page 74 of Feral

His brow creases as I push the compulsion away.

“Starting with you.”

I release him, waiting for him to run, which is exactly what he does.

I pounce, launching myself at him and gripping his shoulders as I sink my teeth into his neck.

The man screams, pushing and kicking as he struggles to get away. No chance. I drink just enough to keep him on the edge of life, and when his screams die down, I drop his weakened body to the ground, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

I take his phone from his shirt pocket, searching the contacts for anyone who looks like the man I want to reach. Not surprisingly, he doesn’t seem to have the big boss’s number in his phone, but he has one labeled, ‘Tony Guns’ so I press the button to call.

“Yeah,” the man answers gruffly.

“One of your soldiers is lying in a pool of his own blood on the corner of Twelfth and Gamble.”

“Who the fuck is this?”

“And he has a message for you and Johnny. I suggest you come get him before he bleeds out.”

“I said who the fuck?—”

I end the call before he can finish his sentence, choosing to scale the building and wait to see who shows up.

Several street kids walk by the bleeding man, glancing at him and then hurrying away. He’s alive. I can hear his shallow breathing from where I sit. At least he won’t be snagging any kids off the streets tonight.

About ten minutes later, a black car pulls up, stopping in the middle of the street. The passenger door opens, and a tall, beefy man steps out, a gun in his hand. He looks around before walking over to the man on the sidewalk.

He nudges him with his foot and the man moans. “He’s alive,” the guy calls out.

Another man steps out of the car from the back seat. He’s short and has a slight build, but he’s got a holster strapped to his chest with a shiny silver gun in it. From here I spot the intricate tattoo on his forearm, a gun with the name Tony scrolled above it.

“What happened to you, Matty?”

“He said…” The man coughs. “Not welcome here. Gonna attack us all. Tell Johnny.”

“Who was it? What was his name?”

“No…name.”

“Shit, Matty,” the other guy says. “Your neck’s all ripped up. How did he do this to you?”

Matty barely opens his eyes. “Teeth.”

Tony pulls his head back. “He bit you?”

Matty grabs his arm. “Mon-mon…” He coughs again, spitting up blood.

“What is it, Matty?”

“Mon-ster.”

“Monster?” Tony says, glancing at the other man. “Let’s get him up. We need to tell Johnny about this.”

The two men scoop their bloody friend off the sidewalk and carry him to the car. Once they drive off, I leap to the sidewalk and start my walk home, but I see the two kids he was talking to earlier.

“Hey.”

They both look panicked and ready to run.

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