Every day this monster pursues and we do what we can to escape and stay alive. So many of us have fallen behind and been devoured that we’re numb to attachment to each other; no one is safe, no one is guaranteed.

What would freedom be? A day where he leaves us alone. Where we can eat and sleep and be at peace. Where we don’t have to scream and cry and run.

We can smell him before we hear him. We can hear him before we see him. We can see him before he can see us. That’s the only advantage we have over him; our senses, and our ability to recognize his pattern.

Sleep is only something we can capture for a moment or two when we’re in a hole and we’ve posted one of our number on watch. He has devoured our watchmen before, and started tearing through our numbers before the rest woke and escaped. So anyone we post on watch, we say goodbye to them, for we know that it could be the last time.

It’s difficult to recall what life was like before we were pursued. Freedom from pursuit seems like an impossible dream, something we fantasize about. Maybe the monster is an alien, maybe a subterranean primordial beast, maybe something engineered by a malicious corporation. We can’t know, and we won’t live long enough to ask any questions.

The beast’s hunger seems endless, insatiable. It only eats humans, and we seem to be the last of them. If there are any others left, we haven’t found them.

Now comes the night, when we move as quickly as we can from forested area to valley to abandoned dwellings. We find food here and there; we have few moments of mirth and relaxation.

And then, it’s all over. The garage where we’re sleeping begins to shake, and our exit is blocked. He bounds through the entry and begins tearing through us. There’s nothing to do; nothing to fear anymore. I lie down on the ground and stretch out my arms. Freedom has come to me.