The Watcher

Evan "The nasty piece of work"

Evan Stanhope cut into his steak, tender enough not to need the serrated knife he'd been given and perfectly pink in the centre it melted in his mouth, he speared another neatly cut square and dragged it through the peppercorn sauce. His boss was pouring the last of the champagne into glasses "best order another" he slurred as he upended the bottle and placed it neck down in the ice bucket. Evan raised his hand and snapped his fingers as the waiter passed by ignoring the fleeting looking of distaste on the man's face as he called out "hey you, get us another bottle toot sweet." His colleagues laughed loudly and started banging the table chanting "another, another, another" a couple nearby turned to stare at them, disapproval radiating towards the noisy group. Evan stared back and when they didn't drop their gaze snapped "fuck off" before turning back to his meal. The waiter expertly popped the cork and filled their glasses before striding off eager to get away from them.

The noise level at the table rose, the men loudly talked about how much they earned, what car they drove and which private schools their children attended much to the annoyance of the other diners. Finally, the boss requested the bill, he threw down a gold card "stick it on there" he ordered before sending the dish round for everyone to add something for the tip, the only reason the staff and manager tolerated them was the generous sum left at the end of their meal. They knew it wasn't an altruistic gesture, the men just liked to display their wealth and an ostentatious tip was part of their image.

Outside the cold night air nipped at any exposed skin, the men stomped their feet and pulled their coats tighter "anyone for a nightcap?" called out Evan. A couple of the group declined and headed the opposite way while the rest swayed off in the direction of the high street. The cold air turned their breath white as they staggered along the empty road "I need a piss" shouted Evan, he glanced around until his gaze alighted on a dark alcove off the street. "I'm going down there, wait for me here." Evan stumbled off already fumbling with his fly, the area he'd headed to turned out to be at the back of a shop where they stored the bins. Looking around for the ideal place to go he noticed a slight movement to his left, squinting in the gloom he could just make out a figure. Pulling out his mobile phone he used the torch feature to see better and realised it was a homeless guy, wrapped up in a sleeping bag with only the top of his woolly hat poking out the top. Evan smirked to himself, he quickly pressed the screen opening up the camera and picking the video option, he gurned at the screen and whispered, "I've just found some nasty tramp sleeping in the rubbish." Turning the phone around he used his other hand to pull out his penis, ensuring he captured every moment he filmed himself as he released a stream of urine on the elderly rough sleeper. As he finished, stuffing himself back into his trousers and zipping up, the homeless man awoke "hey! Whatcha doing?" he called out, Evan shrugged "taking a piss" he retorted. "Did you just piss all over me?" the homeless guy was outraged, and Evan laughed "so what if I did?" Turning on his heel he jogged back to the street eager to show his friends the video, but they were nowhere to be seen. Irritated Evan was about to head off towards town to find them when he heard a noise behind him, thinking it might be the homeless guy Evan clenched his fists as he looked round. The street appeared to be empty, but he was sure he could still hear something, a pitter patter sound as though made by tiny feet running. Evan shivered, it was giving him the creeps, the sooner he got himself into town and found the others the better he thought. Shoving his cold hands into his pockets he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a small gold lighter, he thumbed it and in the glow of its light he swore he caught sight of something moving along the low wall by the pavement. Too much to drink, Evan rebuked himself for his overactive imagination, probably a cat he thought. He took a deep drag on the cigarette and started to walk briskly in the direction of the high street, he smoked as he walked eager to get to the bright lights of town and into the warmth of a pub. Something brushed his left leg and he stopped still and glanced down, as he did he felt the same sensation on his right leg, he flinched, it felt unpleasant as though he'd been touched by something greasy. Then the pain, it came from his right ankle, it shot up his leg and was then joined by the same pain from the left ankle. Evan was finding it hard to organise his thoughts by this point, his legs had given way and he'd tumbled to the ground. Instinctively he put his hand down and felt warm, sticky blood, he groaned loudly, it felt as though someone had cut him.

He laid back, his head was swimming, and he was struggling to focus, he wanted to shout for help but when he tried it was like his throat had seized up and nothing would come out. Something scuttled closer, actually it sounded like more than one something and they were so close he could smell the sourness of their breath and feel it's warmth on his face. He closed his eyes, scrunching them tight, not wanting to see what it was. Small, leathery hands grasped his arms and legs, he tried to struggle but he could barely move as though something had weighted him down. He felt himself moving, being dragged backwards, his heels scrapping against the floor as he tried to resist. They tugged him until he found himself back in the alcove where he'd urinated earlier on the homeless guy and then further back until they reached a hole in the wall. Evan dug deep and found the last of his reserves, with a force of willpower he managed to shake a hand free, clenching it into a fist he punched low and was rewarded when he felt wiry hair against his knuckles. He heard a sharp expelling of breath, an oomph and then the sound of one of them hitting something hard. Trying to build on the momentum he worked to free his other hand, the things were chattering angrily, a sound that set his teeth on edge like fingernails running down a chalk board. "oh no you don't" said a rasping voice coming from above him, he looked up and saw a toothless, hollow cheeked face, eyes glaring down at him from behind an overgrown grey beard. Evan realised it was the homeless guy, how ironic, he thought, earlier I was pissing on him and now he's going to save my life. That was Evan's last coherent thought before he was hit in the face by a large piece of wood and the world went black.

The first thing Evan noticed when he came round was that his nose felt four times its usual size and he was pretty sure it was broken, the dried blood coating his lower face obstructed his breathing, and he rasped loudly in the silence. His eyes acclimatised to the gloom until he could see that he was in a tunnel propped against a cold, hard wall and dampness seeped into his clothes. Somewhere further along the tunnel he could hear that awful scuttling noise and the chattering squeals of the things, he tried to move but he was secured to the wall with a chain. "You're awake then?" the rasping voice of the homeless man echoed off the walls and made it difficult to work out which direction it was coming from. The old man clicked his tongue, and the scuttling sound came closer, the creatures ran in a pack, small, leathery paws with long yellow claws scraped across the concrete. He shivered and tried to cringe back against the wall as they neared, he could make out small, shiny, black eyes set into brown wrinkled faces. They stopped as one and bared needle sharp, yellowing teeth, sat on their haunches they stared unblinking at him waiting. The old man clicked his tongue again and without hesitation they moved forward, running over Evan their sharp teeth tearing his flesh from the bone. Through the pain he heard another noise, a sloppy, lapping sound and he realised they were drinking his blood as it pooled around him. Evan closed his eyes, he wished for death, but he remained conscious and aware even when they'd moved up and started to rip his cheeks from his face.