He threw himself against the door and screamed. The mechanical roar of the monster echoed off the buildings. He pounded on the door and begged for someone, anyone, please. Nobody answered even as the machine rounded the corner. He hit the pavement again. His socks rubbed against his blisters like sandpaper. He leant down to rip his shoes and socks off as he ran, hopping on one foot then the other. He left them in the middle of the road. An intersection came up and he slowed down to listen. When he was sure he couldn’t hear it the man doubled over and tried to catch his breath. He gasped and coughed, but before he could get his air back that awful rumble started up. He couldn’t remember how many times he repeated this cycle. Run, beg for help, …show more content…
He saw a face in a ground level window and limped over. When he got there the curtain fluttered closed so he wound up and punched the window. Shards of glass erupted around his knuckles and sliced through his skin. Hot pain stoked his panicked rage into a firestorm. “Let me in,” he screamed. He put his bloody fingers through the hole he’d created and started ripping chunks of glass out. He made enough room to get his arm in and he let himself hope. His blood pounded in his ears but that glimmer hope numbed the pain. He pushed his shoulder against the glass, buckling it inward. Now there was room to put his head in. The curtain slid back, revealing that face he’d seen from the street. She had pale skin and sad eyes, and she rolled the lattice-like bars across her window with one smooth movement. The metal knocked his wrist and the man recoiled before she could slam his fingers against the window pane. She locked the grate and closed the curtains …show more content…
The street eater made a violent squeal as his weight pushed it deeper into the road. Big belches of exhaust shot out and somewhere inside the machine a gear slipped and caught. More eyes peaked out to watch him climb. The man left bloody handprints on fat gears, and sometimes his toes slipped between gaps that threatened to take the whole foot. As he climbed that hope started to come back. He reached the bottom of one of those big, gray pipes and grabbed it. The metal was hot, and he grit his teeth and forced himself to hold on. He hauled himself up onto the backbone of the monster. Below, the street eater munched up the ground he’d been standing on and they passed the broken window with the bars across it. The man took a deep breath. The air tasted like gasoline and charcoal. He turned to look behind the monster, and all the hope that had built up in him shattered. There was nothing behind them. There was no sidewalk, no tarmac, and no yellow line. People stood in their doorways, one step from falling in. He sat down hard and clung to the street eater. His shoulder throbbed. His hand stung. The blisters on his heels ached in time with his pulse. Where the street had been there was now a hole that went all the way