Dark Side of the Wall

"You can't run forever." whispered an elderly man shuffling past me in his walker.

      "I'll try my best," I said heavy breathing.

      He caught a whiff of me and his eyes rolled back. "Smells like shit."

      It's always the sweat that gives me away.

      I am the disgusting half-breed they loved to hate, half-like them, and half-human. They believe I should be fighting along with them, the way the sacred scriptures said. They say all demons were created by the same vines. However, I am sacrilegious to the dark angel's cause. My allegiance laid with my government, and because of this, I was a threat to them. I was something that was better off dead to them. 

      My phone rang while I was running my usual weekly half-marathon at the park.

      It's Ricky from the office probably tracking my every movement.

      "Boss, is everything OK?"

      "Everything's fine here, Ricky."

      "Why are you breathing hard then?"

      "Hey. Easy, I'm 5 km in and pushing forty-five."

      "It's just... I'm catching activity in your area, nothing too powerful, but it doesn't hurt to be cautious. You never know."

      "It's just an old man," I said. "Grumpy ole' fuck, but harmless nonetheless."

      "Listen to me, Boss."

      "No, I'm hanging up and finishing my run. Don't call me til after twelve."

      I clicked him away.

      I turned back to the old man and watched the droopy eyes of the body he utilized. "Hmph." he chuckled with his passive-aggressive smile hiding the real carnassials over his fake human dentures. He shook his head and continued. He was an oldschool demon who minded his own business, some of them lived amongst us and hid in plain sight.

      I kept running to sustain my sanity, and it helped drown away the horrors of my career path. The world was an unforgivable place filled with creatures that could cause mass hysteria. It was my job to take care of those who lived amongst us who sought to harm or control us and keep the secret alive. There has been a growing concern with the creatures from the other side of the spectrum becoming more and more violent. They give those that live harmoniously amongst us a bad name.

      I kept my running to finish my 21 total kilometer run, part of my strict discipline for the week and nothing would stop me.

      These comfortable foamed-soled shoes were gifts from my wife, whom I admired. They were amongst my favorite things to enjoy. I ran past the baseball field and placed my foot on a bench to tie double bunny ears into my shoes. I took glances out at the field.

      Shit, another one. I took a deep breath and spotted a familiar beast. Though he was in disguise, as a child of all types. He swung around the rails of the jungle gym before landing on a patch of grass. That child's former name was The Butcher of Saint Petersburg, who killed at least 12 men in his prime. His eyes looked almost lifeless in disguise, the color of faded artificial blue from cheap contacts. I'm surprised this place had so many in disguise, but, their population is growing exponentially.

      I jogged over to get a closer look keeping my hand in my fanny pack where I held my protection. He turned back and caught me staring.

      It didn't take him long to figure out who I was.

      His eyes were wide when he grabbed his phone to make a call with shaken hands. A few minutes later, my phone rang. It's Ricky again.  

      "Boss. Stand down."

      "What the hell are you saying?"

      "Boss. The Butcher just called the department. He is an informant now. He's helped bring down the biggest demonic threats to our country in the last few years. Please do not confront him. He is officially reformed according to the United Nations, People's Republic and Russian Federation and any other superpower in this world."

      "Do you realize how he looks right now?"

      "I'm aware, sir."

      "It's creepy."

      It's the body he chose. His way of staying under the radar. Technically at 500 years, he's still a child in his world."

      "I don't like it."

      "I know, but please don't pursue this one, sir. This guy is far above our pay grade."

      The agency was a joke. I shook my head and sprinted past the 6th km mark, past the baseball field, past the old pine trees, and tried to forget about the monster I saw. Instead, I listened to my favorite playlist, American jazz music and instrumentals.

      Sometimes when my body struggles, I push myself harder and fixate on counting the cracks on the sidewalks to try and go further before stopping. I enjoyed watching the wildlife too. Before I hit the 8th-kilometer mark, I had already seen a turf war between two squirrels over a piece of pinecone. I had counted three shiba-inu dogs that resembled their introverted owners, two golden retrievers, one of which briefly escaped to lunge at a girl's ice cream cone, and a rare greyhound dog.

      The greyhound's owner resembled him, long and slender with an unusually perfect posture. I could sense he was a monster too, but one who was peaceful. He tilted his head up and greeted me with a handshake.

      "A pleasure."

      "I see you here every week." He said. "It's a lovely morning, isn't it?"

      I nodded. "Certainly is," I said. "Better weather than back home?"

      "Oh no question" he smiled. "Hell can get unbearable around this time."

      I shook my head and jogged away until I saw someone I recognized.

      A woman named Gloria stopped me at the 9.6 km mark. Her hair was still moist and freshly washed which left a trail of peach conditioner. She was someone I frequently ran into for the last few months during runs and enjoyed greeting each week.

      "Back at it early this time?" she said.

      "You know it. It's nice to see you this week!"

      Gloria was a nice single mother of two who lived nearby. I am usually very observant person when I run, so small details never get lost on me.

      There was another guy that took my interest, he had a shaved head with a green military backpack. He locked eyes and tilted his chin down. He was no monster underneath either, but he seemed to be interested in me judging by the number of times he'd turn over for a peek.

      After the next lap around the park, I tried to say Hello to get him to react.

      "That's a great backpack," I said. "Is it Swiss?"

      He grunted and continued without giving me the time of day.

      I turn around and see someone running after me.

      I take precautions and reach my hand in my fanny pack. Inside there is an agency-issued high-voltage pulse gun, strong enough to incapacitate any monster, I've come across.

      "Hey! Right here, bro!" Another man yells over.

      I am puzzled for a moment before I see the ball bouncing over and I realize he wants me to kick his soccer ball back to him.

      The man with the green backpack stops in his tracks to watch.

      I kick the ball back and keep running, now I'm 12 km in feeling progressively more tired. The shin splints are returning in full.

      Passing the 13th km mark, my body is starting to feel heavier now, like lifting each leg is harder all of a sudden. There's the chest pains that emerge, typical after long runs. The more I keep running, the more observant and paranoid I seem to get of my body and things around me.  

     Gloria comes by around again, she mumbles something I don't quite catch, and I just smile and nod. She says it again, and I realize I have my headphones on.

      "Sorry, I didn't catch that."

      "Haha, It's alright." she wiped the sweat from her forehead. "There's a lovely hiking place about ten miles from here. We can go next Saturday if you're up for it. You can buy me some coffee afterward if you'd like."

      "Ah, that sounds nice, Gloria. I'd love to, but, I have plans with the wife."

      "Ah...' She says, feeling embarrassed. "Well, have a lovely rest of your day.

      "Likewise."

      I continued on breathing deep, I am feeling dehydrated. My intrusive thoughts are telling me to call it a day and let loose, watching a new horror flick streaming with a hot cup of coffee and a biscotti sounds a lot better than this. I think of letting my ankle heal while I lay down browsing and watching sitcoms with the wife. It's my first real wall. But, I fight the temptations and keep on going after a little stretch break.

      After 18th km, I find myself almost too weak to get up, I sit on a bench hidden around the bathroom stalls and begin to feel my eyelids getting heavier. The nice tall thin man with the greyhound is checking up on me. "Everything OK, pop?"

      "Hey!" I smiled. "The runs got me a little out of breath, that's all."

      "S'okay, it happens to the best of us," he said. He's still standing over me.

      "You deserve a good rest now, pop. You've done your best," he said, his demeanor changed. The greyhound started gnarling, and I could smell his saliva, sickly with demon toxins. "The world needs a good balance now, humans have grown too powerful." My eyes were barely open, I couldn't even lift my chin. I looked down at the wall mans feet and watched as his peachy-colored avatar's skin unraveled down like a softly wrinkled blanket.

      "Heh, so this is how I go?"    

      I leaned back into the bench and watched the tall lanky demon in his birthday suit of blistered-red coarse skin, his jaws agape and ready to gobble me up like Thanksgiving turkey.

      Then he stops in his tracks and yells.     

      "G-ggggooddddaammnit!! Fucking maim the fuck out of you, meatbags!" He squirmed.

      The bald man with the green backpack held out an agency-issued pulse gun to the demon. I inspected the logo on the weapon. He works for my agency. He quickly stands over me to inject me with the cure for whatever was swimming through my system. It is an almost instant reaction to feeling normal again.

      "Sir, I am sorry. Lost your tail for a second."

      "At ease," I said. "It's my own damn fault." I said, placing my hand on his shoulder. "When did you start?"

      Ricky is calling again. It's the first of the last 10 missed calls I answered.

      "Boss!!?"

      "I'm okay. I'm okay, you can breathe."

      "I nearly shit myself. Are you okay?"

      "Yeah, the new guy saved me. Put in a good word for him on the next performance evaluation." I walked away from the bench and kept at it, talking to Ricky through my headphones.

      "Where are you going, sir?"

      "Finishing this run."

      While I'm on the 19th km, I am struggling and the pain around my body seems to hurt more, but no excuses, it's just my lack of discipline. The new guy is jogging close behind me now.

      "Ricky, how did you know?"

      "You wouldn't believe it, sir. It was the Butcher that clued us in, he felt his presence around the park. Told me to keep an eye out so I alerted your tail."

      "I didn't... " I huffed. "Ask for a tail. Anyways , have I lost my touch?"

      "Not at all, Boss. He's one of those demons that mask it well."

      "Thank you, Ricky. Call you later." I hang up on Ricky and my mind goes back to run-mode.

      The least I can do is finish the half-marathon when I almost died back there.

      I push through while my thighs feel hard like granite.

     I can already imagine tomorrow's going to be one of those read-a-book days where I beg my wife for some take-out.

      During my last lap, I choose a random person headed the same direction to pass and pretend they're my prolific Olympic rivals, and sprint the last few feet while listening to this Kate Bush song for encouragement. Even the leg cramps can't stop me now. My legs ARE Buckling now but, I massage them the best I can before having to quickly pull my hand away from the agonizing pins and needles. I can feel the tendons on my feet, they feel like the skin is extracted from the muscles. So I limped and dragged my way past the 21 km mark ecstatically while the new recruit followed nervously behind.