Shatterproof: Things Aren't As They Should Be
It seemed so unreal.
The first one leapt at me and I stood frozen, staring at its dark, drooling jaws. This wasn't – couldn't – be real…
"Leslie – shoot!"
It was like he'd kicked me in the backside and time sped up. I had my gun in front of me, pumping rounds into the ugly, shadowy creature. It twisted in the air as my bullets sank into its weird flesh. Collin shoved me, hard, and I staggered to keep my balance. The creature I'd shot landed where I'd been standing. It shivered and twitched on the path.
Collin roared, and I looked to see him grab one of the demons in a bear hug. It's claws shredded his shirt, leaving deep purple welts on his skin. Collin growled, an inhuman sound, and his mouth transformed before my eyes into something long and toothy. I watched in horror as he latched onto the demon and began to do what I could only describe as drink. The demon writhed and grew pale in his grasp, and its cries were like glass on metal.
I'd known Collin was different since that moment in the college hall. No 'normal' guy could heal himself like he'd done. And now the proof of his strangeness was right in front of me.
There was no way Collin was normal – but what the Hell was he?
Something latched onto my sore arm and started to drag me off the path. I screamed and fought, trying to turn so I could get a shot at my attacker but it kept turning just out of my sight. Sharp pain burned its way up my arm. I clawed at the ground, kicking and scrabbling in the dirt.
Collin threw the dead demon husk to the side and it broke apart like dust. Collin gnashed his abnormal teeth, and bounded toward me. He growled again, launching himself at my attacker. I screamed as he tore the demon from my arm.
They went down in the bushes. I fought the urge to cover my ears against their noise, scooting myself back in the dirt. My sprained arm hung limp, but my good hand clung to my pistol as I levered myself upright. I focused the sights on the bushes as I started moving away. This was just… too damn surreal.
Collin – normal looking aside from the myriad cuts, scratches, and bruises – emerged from the brush. He wiped his mouth off on his sleeve.
"We need to move," he said, approaching me. My gun's sight picture wavered across his chest.
"What the Hell are you?" I stammered. "I need to know." A little voice in my head reminded me that I'd asked him that question before an not gotten a satisfactory answer.
He threw his hands up in disgust. "I never should have agreed to this," he muttered. He kicked at the still-twitching demon corpse, the one I'd shot. "Look," he said. "I'll play your twenty questions, but we can't stay here. So let's go. We have to regroup."
We stared at each other for a moment. "Spill it," I ordered. "Right now or I'm not going another step."
"Great. You don't trust me."
"No. I just need something to help me process THAT." I gestured to the pile of demon dust.
"Fine." He sighed. "Can I talk while we're moving?" he asked.
* * *
(This piece is part of an ongoing serial story. You can catch up on the plot via the Serials page. If you liked this work, please consider purchasing one of my other stories, or some of my music for your collection. 
