WEAK-WILLED AND THE BEAST

At that moment, the only thing that was in Dax's mind as a survival instinct was only one:

RUN

He quickly scampered to his feet, adrenaline wrenching him upright, his left leg not siding with him here, as the pain from it was too much. But nevertheless, he endured and started a lopsided run. 

The beast was fast, and now that Dax was running, it could feel him, his vibration, his panicked breath, and it could hear his leg hitting hard on the blood-slicked ground

Leaping with its four limbs forward, with paws that were long and sharp, each paw like a twin-edged dagger, carving fissures into the earth. It made for Dax, who by now had not yet even gotten too far due to his fractured leg.

Dax could feel it approaching, his breath now too fast, hinging in his lungs. The fear in him wasn't something he had ever felt before. his heart drumming furiously against the walls of his throat, and thick ice ran down his spine. He turned at intervals to see how far the beast was.

But the beast, like a grotesque predator now fully attuned to Daxon's fleeing pulse. had covered the distance between them, and had hit off the streetlight pole that Dax had rested his back on earlier, trotting impulsively and snarling furiously.

With a force that caused dents across the floor, it launched.

Daxon turned just in time to see a flash, a blur of claws and malevolence, before he was hurled sideways, smashing through the glass pane of a derelict house. He spiralled violently across the room and crashed to the floor in a storm of debris and pain.

The beast's fist-hand had made contact with his side forcefully and had launched him into the blighted building.

He sprawled, broken and bruised, on a carpet of glass shards, blood seeping from his mouth. His body was doused in pain. He raised his head slowly as he coughed out a mouthful of blood.

He held his hand on the floor, anchoring himself upward, his face scarred badly, and his clothes now flayed and torn. He bent his head back down, looking at his own blood as it seeped onto the floor from his mouth like a crimson ribbon trickling from his lips.

He looked down at himself, blood pooling beneath him from a wound in his stomach...He grimaced. 

"... Just got worse," 

A jagged shard, nearly eight inches long, had embedded itself in his abdomen. With a stifled groan, he yanked it out, clenching his jaw as molten pain erupted through him. Blood gushed, but he pressed a trembling hand against the wound, slowing the flow.

Slowly, he looked around inside the building he was in. Beside him to the right was a counter. The glass that should have blocked off behind the counter from where he stood was no longer there.

He was clearly inside a bank, or should he say what was left of it. As quiet as he could, he crawled behind the counter where the bankers normally stood to serve customers and rested his back on the short wall there.

With a horrible groan, he clenched his left hand back around the perforated area at his stomach.

Blood was still gushing out, but at least the flow had reduced. His eyes were very heavy, and he just stayed quiet.

And just within minutes, he heard the sound of rattling glass. The glass he had shattered with his body had helped him know when the beast had entered as well. It let out a guttural, low breath that rolled across Daxon's body like a heatwave, triggering every ounce of dread within him. He was really fidgeting badly.

He shut his eyes tightly and rubbed his hand across them.

An idea had hit him, a very stupid one, possibly suicidal. It might not be so good, but it might be the only idea that made sense right now.

Since the beast was drawn by sound, he needed to create one to lure it in a different direction, something like a diversion, and then maybe, just maybe, do something very stupid. He just hoped it would work.

Now casting a look around, he needed something heavy, or something that was able to make a sound real enough to draw the beast's attention from him.

And by his right was a fire extinguisher tank, the red paint around it seemed worn out. Quietly, since he wouldn't want the beast to know where he was, he gently shoved himself across the floor. At that instant, it felt like the sound made by his cloths across the floor was too loud.

He bit his lip to keep from wincing and reached for the extinguisher. Thoughts ran through his head, maybe it was a bad idea. Maybe he should just let the beast leave. But then how sure was he that the beast would not find him? It had a very loud sense of perception.

And staying hidden was not the risk he was willing to take. Though the plan he had was more dangerous, at least it was a fighting chance.

He held the counter and pulled himself up gently. First, he peeked. A loud yell nearly escaped his mouth, just five feet away was the beast from the counter. But he held himself together.

Right now, he needed to act fast, because once the beast turned, it would perceive his scent and then tear him apart. Quickly, With a flick of his wrist, he threw the red cylindrical extinguisher in his hand toward the left. With a metallic clank, it landed, just in time before the beast could turn toward the counter.

Snarling angrily, the beast turned forcefully at the sound. But it didn't rush there. It crouched slowly, placing its four limbs on the floor as it moved toward the noise with terrifying precision.

Daxon knew that this thing was going to haunt his dreams for eternity. He had seen it real close before, but that time he was barely clinging to life. Though now he felt like his life was going to leave him real soon, his eyes were clearer, he had seen it clearly for the first time.

The beast had sharp horns on its ugly, eyeless face. It had two pairs of slits where the nose should have been. But the most terrifying thing on its big head was a maw stretched wide, revealing rows of fangs, some short, some long, all drenched in a thick, foul-smelling slime.

Its fur was erect, and from what Dax knew about erected fur or hair in creatures, it meant they were angry and alert. Therefore, whatever he was going to do, and however he would execute his idea, he needed to be very smart, fast, and quiet.

If only he had a sword or a thumber gun like the lady who had come to help back at his house, he would have at least stood a better chance at fighting the beast.

The beast was now edging closer to the place where the fire extinguisher had rolled to, slowly and ready to pounce.

Daxon himself climbed onto the counter. He just hoped that his left leg would help him make a good jump. Calmly, he leaned forward, clearing his mind. He made to jump. But then he hinged... frightened... almost losing his stance and falling off the counter, as he let out a forceful breath.

That made the beast stop in its tracks… toward the fire extinguisher and slowly it turned to the place the sound hard come from.

"Damn it"