Gregory Wallace ran down the street. His heart thundered in his chest and beneath it, his lungs were two balls of fire that threatened to incinerate him on the spot. He ran blind, not noticing where he was. The only thing he thought of was hiding. Not that is was an option. Not any more. They were too close to him.
The group, about sixteen in total, were closing the gap with every stride they took. Their cries rang in his ears and in spite of the panic that twisted his brain inside his skull, Gregory felt a chill wrap around him.
Gregory chanced a look over his shoulder. The leader of the group, a woman with fiery hair and pale skin roared at him. Her lips pulled back to reveal teeth that seemed to gleam in the overcast night air.
Gregory stumbled. His legs were moving too fast, trying to propel him away from the group at a speed he could not achieve. His feet caught in one another and he fell. The ground was hard; concrete or some sort of paving.
Gregory tried to rise, but they were upon him. They descended upon him, scratching and clawing at his flesh. It was then, as the moon emerged from behind the clouds, that he saw who they really were. Their skin was white, their flesh still open and weeping from when they had died. Their eyes bulged out of their heads and they all had but on thing on their mind. Gregory called out, but one of them grabbed his tongue and ripped it out of his mouth with one sharp pull.
Screaming, Gregory’s eyes sprang open, his body was covered with sweat. Yet before he could speak, before he could call out his remorse, the level was pulled and the serum entered his veins. Gregory Wallace was executed for his crimes at 20.06 hours. All 16 of his victims had at least one family member present.
None of them shed a tear.