Fear is pure. Forget revenge, guilt, despair and hate. Forget faith, compassion and forget love. They are tainted and superficial. Fear is all you really have. Only it has true power. It fuses the vertebrae, paralysing and crippling your futile limbs. The hollow sensation rushes over you, bringing up the bile of your own patheticness. All those happy memories you used for support aren’t there for you any more. Nothing else is present in your world. Stop telling yourself anything else can do that to you. Harry McAlester was afraid. And the Beast could smell it.
He turned the corner and collapsed in the garbage of the alleyway. What the hell was going on? His aged muscles throbbed with pain. Why was this happening to him? A nosebleed clotted on his grey moustache. He had only been returning to his car, when he was attacked by… this… no… by a madman. Some junkie, high on poisons, after money for the next moment of pleasure, that’s what it was. He knew he was being followed as soon as he left the office, and this creep was getting too close for comfort. As soon as he ran, so did the stalker. Hands grabbed at him, sharp hands. He thought he would be able to lose his assailant in the back streets, the same streets he had lurked on as a youth. Money had taken him away from these streets. But this drug-filth was fast, and knew the paths of the city as well as him. This addict wasn’t going to give up, this was a hunt, a hunt that wasn’t going to end with just a beating and robbery. Harry’s mundane but savoured life ran through his head and stomach. Nausea slowed his movements, his death-bringer bearing closer. Fear pumped adrenaline into his clotted veins, providing a desperately desired surge of energy to make a break, and this hidden crevice between crumbling buildings offered safety. Darkness was falling, and the shadows of the city cloaked the entrance to the alleyway, hiding its filth.
Why do you run? The words of the Beast entered Harry’s head directly, not needing to be heard. He looked up to see its silhouette forming where the alleyway met the street. I’m here to save you. Reality jolted back into him. Death was here for him. Harry cried out, but the city wasn’t listening. He backed away, fumbling through the rubbish; his eyes fixed on the faint red glow of the beast’s eyes. Looking into those burning coals caused Harry’s brain to rush. Its glare brought out dirty thoughts in his head, his own dirty thoughts. A bedroom door opening… I’m here to take those away. The Beast’s huge frame moved silently towards him. It appeared human-like from a distance, but as it got closer to the panicking pervert, it looked too big and distorted to be a man. This was no junkie. Harry was cornered; his legs stopped flaying about, after failing miserably to gain some sort of leverage for escape. It loomed over him. Hope was long gone. The streetlights picked up little of the features of this large black mass, but what was visible was not human. “What do you… how?” he managed to mumble, as the tears started.
Quiet now, it said as it bent down beside him, and took him up into
its lap. It cradled him like a baby. He offered no resistance. Fear had reduced
Harry McAlester, once a wealthy estate agent, to a whimpering mess that was
pissing itself. The Beast’s paw caressed his torso, each claw catching
on the threads of the designer suit. His terror fuelled its presence. One extended
finger tore the clothing and slid into soft belly. The whimpering’s large
manic eyes were still lost in those of the Beast, the mouth spelling out meaningless
gibberings. The claw ran from one side of him to the other, opening him up.
The Beast liked how fragile skin was, almost purring as entrails steamed in
the cold air. Its head moved slowly, its mouth opening, then closing on the
neck of its victim, sharp teeth slicing through flesh.
Here is your salvation.
"Salvation" blends the supernatural with horror in this alternative police thriller. Detective Inspector Jackson King is lost in his own world of alcohol and despair. Can a monstrous serial killer be his saviour?