Death seemed almost inevitable.
He felt them before he saw them. Their presence seemed to set off a million little alarms inside his head, imaginary red lights flashing danger, danger!
The air was suddenly cold, an icy coldness that was practically their trademark. The stench was unmistakable. The rotting stench of decay, of death, filled the air. It seemed to cloud his vision, chasing all thoughts from his mind. A suffocating, almost tangible smell. It enveloped him, chasing any thoughts from his mind until his brain felt like a swirly crystal ball, nothing more than thoughts swirling around in foggy mist. He tried to grasp one but it slipped from his grip. Only one thought came to him clearly, like a bright shard of glass against tarnished metal.
Keep running!
He did. The thought repeated itself in his head, and he concentrated on it, tried to get his mind off the Retsnom. His feet pounded harder against the pavement, going at what felt like a hundred miles per hour, his heart beating in the same rhythm. He felt the fear creeping up his spine but he knew he couldn’t give in, not when he was so close to escape. He pushed away the fear and concentrated on following Father. Father ran with a purpose, seeming to know exactly where to go. James followed blindly. He was panting heavily, the exhaustion finally catching up to him.
The clackety-clack of the Retsnops' footsteps seemed magnified to his ears, gunshots against the frozen stillness of the air. His chest tightened with fear and he clenched his hands into fists, willing the creatures to go away.
Must keep going… escape… so close…
They would kill him. Slaughter him. He imagined their claws, those silver knives on their hands, tearing into his skin while they laughed gleefully.
Ignore Retsnom… follow Father…
He heard their footsteps drawing closer, bringing his death.
Clackety-click… clickety-clack
The fear finally overwhelmed him, clenched him in its iron fist, yet his body shook uncontrollably, the shivers almost as violent as his beating heart. He shut his eyes like a barrier against them and kept running, truly blind now.
Left foot forward… Right foot forward… Just move! Go!
He couldn’t anymore. His body had frozen up, the fear acting as a toxin, paralyzing him. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter and was hit with a darkness inside his head that was so profound it almost drowned him, nearly pulled him into its empty grip. His head began to pound.
Run! Open your eyes, move your feet!
He screamed at himself inside, trying to connect the thoughts to the actions. His body was screaming at him, shaking so much he thought he would fall over. He squeezed his eyes shut so tight that he saw stars; his mouth opened wide but no sound came out. His hands clutched into tighter fists but his body refused to move.
He heard himself screaming, loud piercing shrieks that ripped through the air like pincers do to skin, and once again he imagined the knife- sharp pincers of the monsters latching on to him, tearing through his skin…
He screamed until his throat ached. The rotting smell was closer, the footsteps louder. Something touched him. His eyes flew open and suddenly his body came to life, twisting and jumping and slapping until sweat was pouring from his body and he was about to drop from exhaustion.
One down.
They swarmed around him, latching on to him with their spindly metal fingers, pulling at his hair. He kicked and fought with dwindling strength, and even when his arms refused to move and his legs fell from beneath him, he determinedly hit again and again. He heard the clash of his soft skin against their hard leather bodies, and his arm exploded with pain at each hit.
Two down.
Eventually his arms doggedly refused to obey him, and finally he felt the fight leave his body, despair settling in its place. A deep feeling of hopelessness filled his heart and he gazed into the creature’s eyes looking for even a shred of compassion.
The beast who stared back at him seemed to be the biggest of the lot, with leathery pink skin and a wolf-like snout. Its back was hunched like a camel’s; with four spindly arms sticking awkwardly out the front of its body. One eye had a large bruise beginning to spread across its face, and a trickle of blood dripped from one ear. A hooked metal claw extended towards him menacingly. He froze again, felt the cold fear begin to squeeze him, begin to trap him in place. He willed his body to jump up and fight.
Run! They aren’t doing anything, you can make a run for it! Go after Father!
The only thing that moved was his heart, thumping against his chest with the force of a hammer. He tried to even lift his head, but the paralyzing fear held him there, and that claw came closer and closer, the rotting stench stronger than ever.
Fleeting memories crossed his mind; the time he had gone fishing with Father, the first time he learnt to ride his bike. He wondered briefly if this was what it was like to see your whole life flash before your eyes, all in the second before death. He closed his eyes. The claw touched his cheek.
He was ready; he didn’t even flinch, only squeezed his eyes tighter and willed it to end.
“Kill me already!”
It took him a second to realize that the voice was his own.
“Don’t worry, we’ll do that eventually. Tell us first where your father is going. If you cooperate we’ll make your death less painful.”
The creature’s voice had a certain guttural quality to it, so low that it was almost a growl. Strangely enough, James felt no fear. All emotion had left him, leaving him feeling detached from his body, gone, separated from the rest of the world. He tried to open his mouth to tell them to go away. His muscles ached so much, shooting up fiery pain at the slightest twist. A deep heaviness began to come over his eyelids, a paralyzing blackness that promised to end everything. James wondered lazily if this was Death.
He began to slip away, slowly, falling more and more into the fuzzy blanket of darkness. Something told him to stay strong and hold on, but that voice was weak against the heaviness threatening to overwhelm him. He drifted lazily between this world and the Next, letting go slowly, each time slipping farther than before, until the warnings floating in his brain turned into a jumble of letters and meaningless phrases. The smell grew stronger all the while, and he wanted to push it away, but couldn’t find the strength. He heard, from what seemed to be miles above him, low guttural growls but he didn’t even bother to try and make out the words. His head hurt so much, the pain pounding against his skull, hitting his eardrums.
James finally lost his battle against the darkness.
. 
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