Dead Village by Gerry Tate Page B

everything that had gone on before. Now the large shadow in front had become much clearer. This creature that stood on the pathway of the forest was huge. And it was even bigger than the one they had dealt with before, when Dan Winters was with them.
    This creature was at least ten or eleven feet tall. Now he was sure it was waiting for him. He paused for a few moments, before bravely leaning his body out from behind the tree, and as he stared into the distance, another lightning bolt lit up the creepy lane.
    Only the surrounding swaying forest came into view. It was gone!
    Tully was aware of the large trees and hedges that stood menacingly in the foreground at either side.
    He tried to gauge the distance, and guess how long it would take him to sprint past this gauntlet of terror, out from the black frightening forest, and back into normality. He shook his head sadly.
    Because, up until this moment in time, Tully had loved the forest and everything about it. The smells and sounds of nature had become a major part of his reason to exist. A part of his soul, he believed. But nothing less was to be expected after so many years of living this kind of life that he had shared with his father. Now he swore that if he could get his ass safely out of there this one last time, then he would never venture into the forest again, ever.
    He would find something else to do and be happy with Francis. He would live the life that had eluded his father.
    The thunder crashed all around him as multiple bursts of lightning filled the sky and the ground seemed to shake. He became frightened at this awesome power which now surrounded him.
    The noise was almost deafening, and it felt to Tully that the world had finally come to its climax, and would burst into a trillion pieces right here from this very spot. He just didn’t want it to end here like this.
    *  *  *  *  *
    It would take him a full two to three minutes to reach his goal, he figured. That is if he ran full pelt. He hadn’t had a run for a long time, or even had a work out for that matter, and he wasn’t confident. As a schoolboy, he would run everywhere with no problems, but that was a long time ago.
    Fear however can do wonderful things for a person, and Tully believed his adrenaline would push him on.
    He would leave any access baggage behind, baggage that would only slow him down. He would have to travel light. He would disregard the shotgun, which he knew was no good to him now anyway. Not against this kind of power, he thought. Even his heavy coat would be left behind. Nothing would be allowed to stop him escaping the forest.
    He would wait for a long bolt of lightning, and then make his mad dash for freedom through the darkness.
    He wrapped the shotgun and his bag inside his coat, and hid them in deep inside some bushes beside the stump of an old tree. Now he was as ready as he was ever going to be.
    A fierce wind blew across the trees, almost shaking them from their foundations. I must go now, he thought.
    He began talking to himself. “Steady,” he said as the sky lit up. “Steady, stead…, run!”
    The flash of light died, and he was off. Even in the darkness there was just enough moon-light to guide him in the right direction. One minute, he thought as he raced on.
    His breathing was laboured now, and he felt his pounding heart pump like never before. His legs felt like lead. “Run Tully, run you bastard,” he coaxed himself loudly. He soon reached the point where he had first saw the silhouette of the creature. Then he was quickly passed. I’m going to bloody make It. Two minutes, he thought.
    Tully could see the village lights in the distance, and his second wind kicked in. Almost there, he thought, ignoring his faltering legs. I’m making it.
    Something tripped him, a stone, or a branch perhaps, and he crashed down heavily onto his chest. Dirt and rain soaked mud splashed up into his face. He cursed