Page 76 of Catching Camila

Camila

Friday 9:17 a.m.

When the door slammed shut, Camila’s heart kicked into gear, drumming out the pain of John's departure.

Seven feet of terror stood before her. The claws, the huge muscular limbs, the skeletal knobs made its features horrible and otherworldly. She got a flash in her head of the Predator from that terrible Arnold Schwarzenegger movie. It walked on two legs like a man, but its movements shouted predator.

She scuttled back, slamming into the far wall.

The beast took a step forward, rattling the containers. Its eyes tracked over her body and a gurgle rolled from its throat. Slowly, it cocked its head and sniffed at the air. It opened its mouth. Curving teeth dripped with yellow saliva.

The beast lidded its eyes, curled up its jowls, and roared.

Camila bolted for the storage room.

Claws slashed through her shirt and tore through the skin of her back. Heat and pain seared her shoulder. She skidded into the storage room and slammed the door.

Claws on the outside, nails slowly dragging against the wood. It was toying with her like a cat with a mouse. Her sweaty hands fumbled for a lock, but remembered there was none.

The beast slammed its body against the door.

The door banged into her and sending her flying. She hit the far wall and crumpled to the floor. Her head spun and pain blared from her back and neck.

She lifted her eyes. The door was open.

Razor sharp claws curled over the door frame.

Terror raked through her. What should she do? She scrambled up, pulling on the metal storage racks for support. Her eyes scanned rows of Ready Whip, hot fudge, cherry topping. No weapons. Nothing.

The beast growled.

Outside her storage room, something was happening. Was someone trying to get in the back door? There was no time. She had to flight.

The beast stepped into the storage closet and raised its claws.

Camila trembled as the beast stepped into the storage room.

She scrambled back, bumping into the shelves. She fumbled for something, anything to use as a weapon.

It stepped closer, blood dripping off one claw.

It would hurt to die. She trembled, trying to breathe. She had to get out.

The beast stood, looking at her. Its veiny, slitted eyes studied her, reminding her of an Amazon python. It seemed to be thinking. The beast huffed in a breath, its nostrils flaring. Then it lifted the corners of its mouth in a hungry smile.

“Don't. Please,” Camila whispered. Could it understand her?

The beast’s smile widened. It lunged.

Camila dove sideways. The beast's matted body plowed into her left shoulder. Her chin smacked into the shelves. Blood burst into her mouth as she scrambled away from his massive girth. Claws scraped the floor, searching for her. She scampered back and banged into the corner. Nowhere to go.

A paw curled around her ankle and dragged her backward.

“No!” she screamed.

Her hands scrambled on the floor as it drug her toward its rancid open mouth. Her fingers locked on the metal shelving and latched on. If she could only hold on…

The beast tugged and the shelf toppled down on them.

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