Night Run - My Deadly New Years Resolution

Night Run - My Deadly New Years Resolution

Joey tries to stop abruptly, but he slides on the wet leaves underneath his feet. Mud slicks his orange and grey Nike running shoes. The mud made it hard for his new running shoes to get traction, causing him to work twice as hard to keep his footing. He's a large man, extremely exhausted and this is not the terrain he'd expected to traverse. So he places a hand on the tree to stabilize himself. The heavyset man doubles over, expelling green thick mucus and saliva. Most of the fluid is expelled with ease, but some cling to his lips. He coughs and gasps for breath then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He’s not just heavy set with a few extra pounds. Joey is overweight and in no condition to be running himself to exhaustion like this. But his motivations are now life or death, do or die. His initial ambitions to lose weight and get healthy, his New Year’s revolution, would be the thing that got him killed. How could a single act of responsibility go so wrong? Now, he’s regretting the stupid decision of running on the wooded trail. But it was more than that. He'd decided to run after sundown. It wasn't because it was too hot to run during the day in sunny California. Nor was it because he couldn’t find the time to work out in the earlier hours of the day. His motivations for running after sunset were for other reasons. His reasons stem from low self-esteem. He chose to run in the dark because he didn’t want to be seen by someone he knew, especially his gorgeous neighbor Shawna. Not only is she pretty in the face, but Shawna also has a body to match. A body sculpted by countless hours of cross-fit, yoga, and runn​ing. There was no question of how he loved to look at her exterior. What man wouldn’t? But it’s her personality that attracted him and motivated him to do something he’d put off for too many years. She was always nice to him when they’d cross each other somewhere in the private housing community. He’d only moved in a month ago, and she was a welcoming neighbor. She’d come over, given him the lay of the land, and invited him to exercise with her. It would always be with a group work out, of course, but the invitation still made him feel uneasy in a good way. He didn’t know if she was teasing or setting the fat guy up for a prank that involved dumping pigs blood on him like in the movie Carrie. In either case, there was no way he’d be seen working out with this woman, as hot as she is, without getting in shape first. Even if her intentions were sincere others would gawk and snicker, he thought. So Joey decided to work out and run on his own. Tonight, he’s wondering if that decision would cost him his life.

Joey, still holding on to the tree for balance, looks out into the darkness and scans the woods. Echoing howls cuts through the night's mist-filled air of the forest—a wailing symphony of hungry wolves. Fear spikes and so does adrenalin. Joey's legs are quickly back in motion. Joey looks up through the trees and into the night sky trying to escape the howling pack of wolves. The dim light of the moon illuminated the mist—light refracting through tiny particles of water. Joey feels the mist tickle the skin of his face and arms. His sweat and the mist cools his body. He knows that he’d be freezing now if he didn’t have the extra layers of fat to keep him warm. The sound of rustling leaves and animal growls surround him. He musters up all that he has and focuses everything on his run. He must continue running if he is to live. Plant foot, push forward and breathe. Plant foot, push forward and breathe. He says the words to himself, as a cadence, to keep him moving. Plant foot, push... before he could finish his thought the ground gives underneath his weight. Four things happen in succession. First, he hears the wood give beneath his foot as he stomped down on the old tree bark, brittle with dry-rot, which lay in his path. His foot lodged itself inside the rotted bark then locked in place. Second, he heard the snap of bone as his forward momentum created a lever with his leg. How does the saying go? A body in motion stays in motion. This rang true as his knee joint buckled unnaturally and his shinbone splintered under the stress of the opposing force of body mass. He lets out a loud yelp at the pain.

Third, the ground shot up and slammed into his body. He felt as if someone reached down his throat and pulled the air right out of his lungs. It was that same chest constricting feeling you get after jumping into ice-cold water. His head smacks the ground hard, nearly knocking him unconscious. He gasps to breathe and frantically attempts to grab ​his broken leg. The sharp edges of bone cut through his skin like the blades of scissors through paper. It’s an instinctive move he regrets making. If you have a knife stuck in your leg the last thing you want to do is grab it by the hilt and stir it around like a spoon in gumbo. He grabbed the penetrating bone, making it cut and tear even more. Fourth, Joey cried out as pain rushed in and assaulted his nerve endings. He knew that he’d given away his position. The thing is, he was never as elusive​ as he thought he was--not even close. They could smell his scent in the air like a pie baking in the oven. His shout turned to a stifled wince. After hearing the wolves reply to his agonizing screams, he muted all sounds and movement as much as he could. Their prey is wounded he thought. He would be an easy kill now. He saw numerous pairs of eyes glowing amongst the trees. He imagined the horror of viciously being eating by a wild pack of dogs. Then he thinks of how he’d never get to hold or kiss Shawna. This was mostly for her and the hopes of something that would never be. Now he… A single howl comes from behind him, breaking his concentration. It’s the leader of the pack; nearly twice the size of all the rest. Not only is the wolf distinctively recognized by its size. It has another marker, the fur on its left ear is matted white like snow. It howls again then circles its prey. The alpha encourages more howls from the rest of the pack as it moves around to face Joey.

The dreadful cries come from all around. The sound associated with what most would think of as wolves howling at the moon were actually the animals communicating with one another. Joey is surrounded. His head darts left and right to the sounds of shuffling earth beyond the dark. The howls suddenly stop, and wolves slowly exit the shadows. Their heads ducked down in the approach while bearing fanged canine teeth. They move in with purpose, organized, snarling, foam dripping from their elongated jaws. The attack ostensibly coordinated. Toothy jaws snap at the air scented with his blood and fear. But these creatures of the night wanted more. The wolves wanted his meaty insides to quench their gullets. The closer they got, the more frenzied their actions. The growls and snapping teeth grew more violent. Joey’s bladder released but he'd never know it. He focused on the alpha that leapt towards him. Towards it's prey, it's soon to be kill, and presumably it's meal. The wolf flew through the air, arching up then down; growing bigger and more menacing as it fell towards its target. Time seemed to slow. His heart pounded in his chest. Joey threw his left arm up to shield himself. But he knew those sharp fangs would chew through his flesh like fried chicken. Feeling hopeless, he tilted his head and closed his eyes with the realization that his death was inevitable.

Joey’s situation is dyer. His right-hand​ feels along the ground searching for something; anything that he could use as a weapon. He did not want to die. If this were his time, he would go out fighting. His hand found something hard, something long and narrow. A broken branch lying on the ground. But his eyes were trained on the beast, coming down on him—hungry for the kill. He grabs hold of the branch, and in a singular motion, swung it around like a spear while observing what he’d pulled from the ground. The stick was long and stout. It had no razor-sharp tip on its end like a knife, but it could impale given the right amount of force. All he had to do was firmly propped the branch under his body for leverage. He placed his left hand further up the shaft of the branch. He pulled his makeshift​ spear up to a forty-five-degree angle then steadied it as much as he could. The wolf’s momentum and weight would do the rest. Just like it did to his leg. A body in motion stays in motion. Unlike with his broken leg, he’d be using this quote to his advantage. Newton’s law of motion was on his side now. The falling wolf was moments away from pouncing. Beyond mid-flight, it had no time to react to Joey’s sudden defensive posture. The wolves decent and gravity pulled it down onto the branch. Joey instinctively closed his eyes; a voluntary-involuntary​ action. The stick violently ripped through the wolves chest. The wolf let out a sharp yowl as the wood punctured flesh then made its way into the heart. The beast catapulted over Joey’s head and thudded to the ground.

Joey opened his eyes, surprised that he wasn’t dead just yet. There was an aching pain in his left arm. And it was bleeding from a couple of spots. He raised his arm closer to his face. It was mud-slicked​ with swirls of crimson. There were visible puncture wounds in the skin. He’d been bitten. He turned his arm. A row of bite marks on top and bottom. The bite was clean. It had just enough force to break the skin. It could’ve been so much worse he thought. He’d seen videos on TV of when animals attack. That show gave him a fresh perspective of how a wild animal could rip and tear human flesh and leave it torn and tattered as if it had been run through a wood chipper. He was glad this didn’t happen to him. It didn’t even hurt, he thought​. He felt a burning sensation like someone had rubbed jalapeños juices into the open wounds. But that was all. He no longer felt the excruciating pain of his broken leg either. Maybe he was in shock. He didn’t know if that was good or bad. Either way​, ​ he welcomed it, if just to be rid of the pain. And with no pun intended, he was not out of the woods yet. He looked out and noticed that the wolves were keeping their distance. A few wolves cautiously stepped back as the pack contemplated what to do next. The wolves in front of him stared at something behind Joey. He careened his head back to see what had them spooked.

A pale naked woman lay on the ground with the branch pierced through her chest. He pressed his eyes closed then squinted trying to make sure he was seeing what he was seeing. Joey turned his head and looked back out into the woods. The wolves were still there. He wasn’t seeing things. But this he already knew. There was no way this was an illusion. He was being chased by a pack of wolves. One of them attacked and he’d defended himself. But how did… He army crawled over to the woman and brushed the matted blonde hair from her face— Shawna. Confusion racked his brain. The wolves howled. That burning sensitive flared up in his veins again. It’s burning intensity ratcheted up as the howls grew louder and more chaotic. He rolled on his back as he felt the molten lava course throughout his veins. He kicked and bucked uncontrollably. Shawna was a lycanthrope and just before Joey forced a stake through her heart, leaving her dead in the mud, she’d bit him. Now the curse of the werewolf coursed through his veins. It was like hot pins and needles were working their way out of the tiny pores in his skin. Usually the virus worked its way into the system much slower. But tonight, there is a blue moon. The second full moon of the month. And Shawna was an old alpha making the venom in her bite multiple times more powerful. His head shook violently from side to side as he fought the searing pain and convulsions peppering his body like hundreds of bombs dropped from the sky. Joey blacked out, no longer able to withstand the assault that his body was being forced to endure.

The next morning Joey awoke as if snatched by a bungee cord, sitting straight up and gasping for breath. He patted his chest then ripped the covers away. His leg was not broken. Was it a dream? My… he looked his arm over as if he’d never seen it before. “Was I dreaming?” He turned to sit on the edge of the king size bed. His toes nearly touching the floor. “I had to be dreaming,” he said. And even though he said the words, he was still debating whether they were true. “But it felt so real!” He let out a long breath. “Wow, you need to stop watching those nature shows before bed.” He wiped his mouth then looked over at the clock on the nightstand. Saturday, 10:48am. Almost three hours later than he’d usually get up. But he felt like he could run a marathon. The exercise must really be paying off, he thought. He pushed himself up off the bed. As he planted his feet on the carpet, his toes squished in something wet under his feet. When he looked down, he saw a pool of blood and what looked like amputated fingers and toes. They were definitely not his. So, who's were they he thought. He stumbled out of the mess as if he was a football player doing tire runs. Joey slipped then crashed into the dresser knocking shit off in the process. His brain was a clumsy mess of rambling thoughts. There were no words to be said. After steading himself using the dresser, he pulled himself up and noticed his reflection in the mirror. He touched at his mouth. Dried up blood smeared his face around his lips. A healthy smattering of dark crimson colored blood swirled atop his pale skin. He looked like a child in a high chair was given a plate of spaghetti with red sauce. He felt as if he was watching himself from a television screen. Like he was in a dream or a boxing match getting hit with blows, one after the other. His arms and legs turned to noodles. Joey turned and slid down the dresser facing the bed. Another blow to the face; he had a front row seat to a body under the bed. He couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman it was so torn up. Then, the realization of it all played in his mind. What had happened in the woods on his run last night, the pack of wolves, the one he’d killed, his beautiful neighbor dead with the stake in her chest, him waking up feeling like a new man, the body parts at his feet, the blood on his face, and the body he now stared at under the bed--ripped to shreds. He knew that he was now apart of something primal and only believed as real in movies and tv shows. He was now a werewolf. And the first thing that came to mind after this realization was selfish and vain. He wondered if his metabolism would change to his advantage. And make it easier for him to finally loose the extra fifty pounds and successfully reach his New Year’s resolution.

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