Chapter 43: Race against Time

*Nathaniel*

The thoughts that are usually so clear in my mind feel rushed and blurred like the buildings rushing by me. Scents, which I can usually separate and analyze, are now generalized for the components around me but heightened for detecting the walking vessels of blood called humans residing in their homes.

The cold doesn’t bother me. The possibility of being seen as I run along the roof does not even bother me. All my brain is capable of is reverting toward my base instincts of tracking down Benedict and locating Claire.

What few thoughts come through come in spurts, almost like telegraphic messages.

Run. Run faster. Anything new? Nothing. Keep going. Blood? Tear. Tear them up. Destroy. Find. Breathe. Anything new? Nothing. Keep going.

The basic intent, my directive, is so clear while everything else swirls around me like some kind of macabre impressionistic painting.