He looked around himself, furtively, perhaps because he was still afraid of them from the night before.

Yet he wasn’t sure why, for he had beaten them, of that he was sure. Still, a chap can’t be too careful these days, he said to himself, almost out loud.

He came to the enclosed coach park now. By day it was as busy as hell, what with all the tourists, as well as quite a number of nosy folks, coming to see the damage that had been caused by the earthquake. They had been coming for years, he sneered to himself.

Bloody vultures.

“Darren, where aaare you?” The question, in its sing-song tones, echoed around the walls like a thousand banshees.

They knew he was here.

He had to keep on the move or they would come and the outcome, well, he dared not think about it. He’d already seen their handiwork and it was not nice.

The street ran down to the river in a stream of bright and shiny light, what with the rain on it and the orange glare of the sodium lamps and he ran down there, trying to be careful not to slip or trip or he might be done for.

He simply didn’t know if they had any idea where he was.

“We’re coming for youuu,” answered his question, “And we’re hungry.”

He moved more quickly and more carefully, for he did not know what form they might take this time round. There had been so many ways they found their prey,.

So creative were they in their hunting.

At the river, Darren sought out his objective. He scanned the breadth of the water very carefully indeed and finally saw what he was looking for. He was in luck and could see the opportunity.

The bridge looked clear, but he knew he would be much more exposed, for it was very brightly lit and, of course enclosed, even though it was very open at the ends.

He had no real choice though, for his salvation required him to take this risk. To stay was unthinkable and hopeless.

He made as careful an approach as he could and then ducked and dived along the first 50 meters, being careful to hide in the shadows of the struts that supported the huge girders.

Suddenly, up ahead, a light was approaching at speed, so he glued himself to the walls of the bridge to make himself as small as possible.

Just as the vehicle got parallel with him, it stopped.

From the darkened windows a long shiny tongue flickered as if it were seeking something. It came towards him and he cowered. That really is the word for it. He actually cowered and made himself very small.

He could smell the stench of the tongue as it got nearer and nearer to him in its quest for flesh. It knew there was something of interest in the tiny crevice where he was hiding.

The tongue flickered and twisted and stopped and started. Slowly then, it retracted and with shrieks, the vehicle drove off at speed. It had been a close thing and for a moment, Darren did not understand how he had escaped.

Then he himself noticed the smell beneath his feet. He looked down and saw the rotting carcases of a hundred tiny fish, putrid and slimy. He threw up as he realised he had been standing in that all this time.

Darren was nothing if not squeamish, and despite his desperate situation, he actually threw up. Would you believe it?

Then, the moment over and with the relief he felt, he nervously laughed – out loud – at the bizarreness of his meek response to the moment back there, when they almost had him, but for the stink of dead fish.

Now, he had to keep moving and stop dwelling on his good fortune. There was another four hundred meters to go to the end of the bridge, but that was not where his focus lay. He didn’t need to get to the end, but another hundred meters or so would do it.

Over to the left, he had seen the small barge approaching. Open at the back with what looked like a pile of trash, he reckoned that it would be going out to the island to deposit the load. And he knew that the island would be as safe as anywhere in the moment, for they did not care for anything rotting and smelling, as his and the fish experience had reinforced.

It was within fifty meters of the parapet when the alarm sounded back in the old town. Although it was a long way off, the sound of those sirens, with which he had become so familiar only a few days before, was enough to shred his already tattered nerves.

He began to count to himself as the barge approached and then he saw them, slithering towards him – from whence he had come.

He did not like the look of that.

“Nine, eight, seven…’ He looked back once more, they were much closer now and seemed to be moving much faster than he expected.

“Five, four, three…” Almost there. He tensed himself for the jump.

“Two, one…” A slimy tentacle grasped his ankle as he prepared to launch himself and he tripped.

Then there was another, and another and a fourth.

Before he was able to jump, he was caught, held and more were on him. Overwhelming.

Darren knew.

In that moment, he knew that he was doomed.