was horrific.
As he was about to fall to his knees and cover his ears, a low pitched rumble, almost a ripping sound, started to rise above the other noise. Right in front of him, Ken saw a large pit opening in the ground, it wrenched itself open and lay there yawning, like a black-toothed split in the wooden floor on some ancient witch’s front porch. The pit seemed to stretch into eternity, it was enormous. The wave of terror, of blood and oil, didn’t miss a beat. It plunged into the gaping trench and took everything with it. In a single rush, all the pain and misery he had been so close to, was simply flushed into the earth. As the last of its filthy puddles slithered obscenely into the bottomless pit, slimed their way into nothingness, Ken was sure that he heard a long and wistful sigh.
Then the silence returned once more and he started to relax.
‘Perhaps it’s over now...’ he thought.
That would have been pleasant, but the arrival of pleasant things wasn’t to be on the menu tonight. Instead, a distant chorus of insane giggling and cackling started. The nightmare-inducing wail of madness began in a rising crescendo that knifed into his head, its distant noise forcing him to wrench his horrified eyes up and away from the silent pit. Ken looked into the distance to where the latest noise was howling for his attention.
The skyline was littered with dozens of wild dogs. A pack numbering in the hundreds was sprinting toward the trench. Turning to gaze down at the hole, Ken saw that it had now started to close, and rapidly so. The black door to hell had started making noises like a fighter jet makes on take-off, full afterburners on, shaking the earth with its pure power. An ear-splitting sound that thinly masks the fury and intent held within its fragile metal skin.
‘That’s the sound of freedom...boyyy!’
Those hollow words from yesterday echoed around Ken’s head.
As the trench reached its crescendo, he saw that the dogs howling across the sand were, in fact, hyenas. They were now only yards away. Their awful forms flew across the desert floor. Plumes of sand rose into the air as their powerful legs pumped them forward at an incredible rate, their rolling eyes focused upon the pit. Saliva flew in rancid streams from their gaping mouths. The reality of it struck him. ‘This is a race!’
A sick race held between the trench, which was trying to close, and the scavengers who were giving everything they had to make it into the pit before it slammed them out. He watched, transfixed, as the beasts hurled themselves into the rapidly diminishing mouth of oblivion. The most bizarre thing was that many of them wore suits, finely made suits, which shimmered and rippled as their huge shoulders bulged beneath the material. The beasts never hesitated in their charge, their tufted tails whipping in fury as they leapt into the darkness, yellow eyes blazing with a madness that lay far beyond any form of logic.
Ken began to notice that many of them had mouthfuls of money, a stream of paper notes fluttered in their slipstream. There was never to be any halting their headlong assault – yelping and giggling madly, they plunged into the void. He almost smelled their fetid rankness; it seemed to ooze from their very being.
Then, as quickly as it had started, it was over. The trench emitted one final mournful cry – Ken caught a glimpse of a single powerful tail being sucked into the ground – then they were gone, all of them: trench, oil-blood, insane slavering carnivores. One second they were there and in the next, gone. This time the silence was total. It surrounded him.
The desert’s warm breeze blew into his face; a small bird cart-wheeled above and flew into the sunset that was starting to form around him. Shaking his head, Ken sank to the ground, he let himself flop onto the desert floor, half-sat and half-lay there with his mind stuttering, disorganised thoughts tumbling through his head. ‘What the hell had
As he was about to fall to his knees and cover his ears, a low pitched rumble, almost a ripping sound, started to rise above the other noise. Right in front of him, Ken saw a large pit opening in the ground, it wrenched itself open and lay there yawning, like a black-toothed split in the wooden floor on some ancient witch’s front porch. The pit seemed to stretch into eternity, it was enormous. The wave of terror, of blood and oil, didn’t miss a beat. It plunged into the gaping trench and took everything with it. In a single rush, all the pain and misery he had been so close to, was simply flushed into the earth. As the last of its filthy puddles slithered obscenely into the bottomless pit, slimed their way into nothingness, Ken was sure that he heard a long and wistful sigh.
Then the silence returned once more and he started to relax.
‘Perhaps it’s over now...’ he thought.
That would have been pleasant, but the arrival of pleasant things wasn’t to be on the menu tonight. Instead, a distant chorus of insane giggling and cackling started. The nightmare-inducing wail of madness began in a rising crescendo that knifed into his head, its distant noise forcing him to wrench his horrified eyes up and away from the silent pit. Ken looked into the distance to where the latest noise was howling for his attention.
The skyline was littered with dozens of wild dogs. A pack numbering in the hundreds was sprinting toward the trench. Turning to gaze down at the hole, Ken saw that it had now started to close, and rapidly so. The black door to hell had started making noises like a fighter jet makes on take-off, full afterburners on, shaking the earth with its pure power. An ear-splitting sound that thinly masks the fury and intent held within its fragile metal skin.
‘That’s the sound of freedom...boyyy!’
Those hollow words from yesterday echoed around Ken’s head.
As the trench reached its crescendo, he saw that the dogs howling across the sand were, in fact, hyenas. They were now only yards away. Their awful forms flew across the desert floor. Plumes of sand rose into the air as their powerful legs pumped them forward at an incredible rate, their rolling eyes focused upon the pit. Saliva flew in rancid streams from their gaping mouths. The reality of it struck him. ‘This is a race!’
A sick race held between the trench, which was trying to close, and the scavengers who were giving everything they had to make it into the pit before it slammed them out. He watched, transfixed, as the beasts hurled themselves into the rapidly diminishing mouth of oblivion. The most bizarre thing was that many of them wore suits, finely made suits, which shimmered and rippled as their huge shoulders bulged beneath the material. The beasts never hesitated in their charge, their tufted tails whipping in fury as they leapt into the darkness, yellow eyes blazing with a madness that lay far beyond any form of logic.
Ken began to notice that many of them had mouthfuls of money, a stream of paper notes fluttered in their slipstream. There was never to be any halting their headlong assault – yelping and giggling madly, they plunged into the void. He almost smelled their fetid rankness; it seemed to ooze from their very being.
Then, as quickly as it had started, it was over. The trench emitted one final mournful cry – Ken caught a glimpse of a single powerful tail being sucked into the ground – then they were gone, all of them: trench, oil-blood, insane slavering carnivores. One second they were there and in the next, gone. This time the silence was total. It surrounded him.
The desert’s warm breeze blew into his face; a small bird cart-wheeled above and flew into the sunset that was starting to form around him. Shaking his head, Ken sank to the ground, he let himself flop onto the desert floor, half-sat and half-lay there with his mind stuttering, disorganised thoughts tumbling through his head. ‘What the hell had
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