Apex Predator

I opened my eyes to an upside-down steering wheel looking back at me, broken glass from the shattered windshield encrusting the inside of the car like glittering stars. I could feel my short hair barely brushing the ceiling down below me, my seat belt digging into my collarbone, the only thing keeping me from smashing into the inside ceiling of the car. 

I was hanging, upside down, in the driver’s seat of my crashed SUV.

The darkness of nighttime made it hard for me to get my bearings, so I resorted to fumbling with my hands for the latch to the seat belt. I managed to release it and crumbled into the ceiling like spaghetti, a tangle of limbs, and then weaseled my way out the driver’s side window.

I surged to my feet as soon as I felt dirt and grass beneath me and ran my hands over my body, examining it for damage, trying not to panic. I felt nothing seriously wrong and sighed with relief, falling to my knees, looking at the wrecked vehicle that was the only thing I had left of my old life. 

Nobody knows where they came from. But everybody remembers when. 

Those who remain have come up with thousands of theories; evolution, a science experiment gone wrong, God’s divine punishment for our near destruction of Earth. A byproduct of global warming, perhaps. Of course, nobody has been able to actually test these theories, considering the danger of the things that now roam across every continent around the globe. 

During the day, they’re practically invisible. With long, spindly limbs and the ability to change their skin color for camouflage, the only way to detect one during the daytime is by listening very closely; and even then, they are masters of stealth. If you’re close to one, chances are you’ll be dead before you can blink. With eyesight like an eagle and speed like a cheetah, their only weakness is their hearing; these things, these apex predators, are essentially deaf. 

I guess I should be thankful, considering the state of my ruined car, having no doubt made plenty of noise flipping over and over and tumbling into the ravine I now sat in.

Another thing to be thankful for is the rarity of these predators, these abominations. When these things first appeared, tumbling out of the forests of the world, the human population was thoroughly culled; I’d reckon about a third of us remained after their initial appearance. Your chances of running into one of these predators are very slim, but of course, with my sheer dumb luck I’ve run into quite a few. I’m just lucky like that.

Considering how often I’ve come across these things, I have my fair share of drawings, descriptions, and data on them. Like so many others, I’ve searched and searched for ways of eliminating them from the world entirely. In regard to killing them, it turns out a point-blank shotgun shell does wonders. And although I’ve collected so much data, poured years and years into researching these new phenomena, I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s best to go back to living life with some sort of normalcy.

Humanity is best at adapting to the situations it’s thrown into. While our population took a huge hit, we have begun to rebuild and repair what was broken; new cities are being erected all over the world. We have created weapons and organizations hell-bent and trained beyond belief in destroying these things, but it’s all been experimental. Every now and then, you’ll hear stories of small towns being wiped off the map, or groups of people found dead with their heads or other limbs missing. 

My luckiest break was finding a small wooden cabin in the mountains which I now call home, in the middle of a large clearing that gives an amazing view at the land below. It was a quaint little cabin, one that my old soul and young body could maintain well enough. It’s been a lonely few years, and every now and then I find myself reminiscing about my old life; fresh out of college, surrounded by family and friends, ready to make a difference in the world.

A slight rustling of the plant life around me broke me out of my reverie and I stood up, studying the wall of dirt in front of me that led up to the road I tumbled off of. I suddenly realized this was a dangerous place, next to a car with flashing lights during the pitch black of night, stuck stationary between two walls of dirt and rock. I glanced back at my car, having half the thought of attempting to flip it over, but I decided to just come back during the daytime when there was less possibility of danger. I examined the wall of dirt, looking for any handholds… And then I froze.

The rustling I heard above me began growing louder and louder, moving closer and closer to the top of the ravine. I fell into a crouch, holding my breath, eyes fixed above me. I knew that my shotgun was in the wrecked car, but I didn’t have time to race to it; I just had to sit there and pray that whatever was up there lost interest.

But it didn’t. A small, white head with black eyes popped over the edge of the dirt and peered down at me, and my heart sank. When uncamouflaged, these predators appeared white in color, but seeing a white one, not camouflaged at all, was almost impossible. The black eyes in the sunken white head was all I could see before it dipped out of sight, then a long, spindly hand reached down the dirt towards me.

I was frozen, unsure of what to do. Was this some kind of trick to get me to lower my guard, an easy meal for this thing? I had a vague sense that if I tried to dash towards my car, to my shotgun, it’d launch itself down here to slaughter me. I glanced around, trying to look for an easy way out other than the white hand in front of me, but I saw nothing.

So I grabbed the hand. 

In a flurry of speed, it yanked me out of the ravine and over the dirt wall, back onto the road. But by the time I gained my bearings, it was gone, leaving nothing behind but rustling leaves.

I just stood there for a moment, confused. Why…? It helped me? What were its motives? I was easy prey, trapped and unarmed, but it helped me. It was all white too, in the middle of the night. Surely masters of camouflage knew that being all white during nighttime was terrible, made you incredibly easy to spot. 

I had no time to worry about it. I had to make it to my cabin, where I knew I had plenty of weapons and ammo to protect myself in case it changed its mind. So I started to walk.

Before I knew it, I had quickened my pace to a brisk walk, then a jog, and then I was going at a full sprint. Luckily this road was fairly maintained for a mountain road, and I knew this path like the back of my hand, so I had no issues with the low visibility. I did have issues, however, with hearing constant rustling behind me. Even when I was sprinting for all I was worth, I thought I could see flashes of white to either side of me, like something was following me.

Suddenly I had an idea of what this thing’s plan was. Maybe it thought that by letting me live and following me, I’d lead it to more people, more food. 

It was about to be thoroughly disappointed.

I broke through the trees covering the entrance to my little safe haven and could finally see the wooden cabin in the middle of the clearing I loved so much. I knew I had enough ammunition in that cabin to blow this thing sky-high, so I dashed as fast as I could across the clearing and practically dove through the door, slamming it closed behind me. I locked it and braced myself against it, holding my breath, expecting the thing to come hurtling against the door after me.

But it didn’t. I could hear it stepping around, at first just outside the door, and then I could hear it thumping around the outside of the cabin. I knew better than to have open windows that these things could easily break through; I took out the windows and replaced them with solid wood years ago. 

This was my fortress, completely impenetrable.

All I had to do was wait this thing out until it moved on to find an easier, less armed meal.

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I had taken a small break from sitting in front of the door to grab a second shotgun, with plenty of ammo sitting next to me. I sat with my back against the opposite wall from the door, shotgun loose in my hands. It had been hours now, and I could just barely see light poking through the cracks of the door indicating the sun had begun to rise. And with the rising of the sun, my exhaustion began to rise also.

It hadn’t left. Every now and then I could hear it scratching and snuffling under the door, like some kind of dog-human hybrid. It sure made a lot of noise, stumbling around the cabin as if looking for an opening in its defenses, but it found none.

I had years to fortify this place. Albeit small and wooden, this cabin was solid as a place of defense; the wood was thick and well-placed, the foundations sturdy, even the electricity was steady. I recall feeling a twinge of guilt when I first stumbled upon this place, because it had looked brand new, but that guilt was swept away after remembering how much I had lost. To me, a brand-new cabin was nothing to replace what was gone from my life.

I was starting to lose my edge with each passing hour. I’d find myself nodding off from time to time, and my legs ached from running all the way here. And, unable to distract myself from my thoughts, I would ponder over what my life had been like so far.

Maybe I should just let it kill me. The temptation to open that door was growing and growing, until I’d have to force myself to look away from it. It’s not like anyone would miss me. It’d be a messy death, devoured at the hands of this thing, but at least it would be quick.

I stood up, pressing my lips together. I knew alcohol would dull my senses even more, but I feared for the worst if I was left alone with my thoughts any longer. 

So for the time remaining, I set a bottle of whiskey next to me and nursed it, eyes glued to the door, ears tuned to the snuffling and shuffling presence of the thing waiting to slaughter me outside. 

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By now, the sun was brightly shining through the cracks of the wooden door I had been staring at for so long, but the light swam in my vision. The large whiskey bottle I had beside me was long gone, and the shotgun was set beside me. I had grown accustomed to this thing’s presence. It grew still after a while, but every now and then it would make a sound, letting me know it was still there.

Sitting there. Waiting for me to make a mistake so it could carry me to Hell like the Grim Reaper. 

I stared down at my hands, calloused and dark from sun and hard work. All of that work to fortify this place, for nothing. All of that work to try and keep the people around me safe, for nothing.

I couldn’t wait any longer. I wanted to see my loved ones again.

I shot to my feet, swaying from drink and exhaustion, and strode towards the door. I unlocked it and swung it open, revealing this thing sitting outside my door like some kind of monk, looking almost… Peaceful. I had never seen one that sat still before. 

 It was still all white, and I was finally able to get a good look at it. Its small head hung between lanky shoulders, skinny arms much longer than its torso, legs stretched out as if bending them would’ve been impossible. Standing up, the thing would’ve been twice my size, but I wasn’t afraid.

Not anymore.

I spread my arms wide, looking for deliverance. “Kill me.”

It didn’t move, only studied me with small, beady black eyes.

“Do it!” I screamed, stepping fully into the light, out of my safe haven and onto the grass.

Still, it didn’t make a move. It only sat up, folding its legs under it and propping itself up on its arms, its black, empty stare fixed on me. 

After a brief moment, I swung around and strode back into the cabin, almost smacking into the doorway. If it wouldn’t kill me willingly, I would force it to.

I snatched up my shotgun and was in front of it again, pumping the gun swiftly and pressing the barrel against the thing’s head, directly between its eyes. And suddenly, something lit up those black eyes.

I had wondered why it was still white, why it hadn’t camouflaged itself, especially now that it was light outside. Now I knew. Something was broken inside, something that couldn’t be fixed.

And in that moment, two apex predators stared at each other, recognizing that each was broken in an irreparable way.

Somehow, for some reason, I lifted the barrel of my shotgun away from the creature, our gazes still locked on each other.

Then there was a rustling of leaves, a thudding of fast footsteps, and it was gone.