[ WP ] In a photo booth ...

They were being hunted. 
 
 Scurrying from cover the pair moved, boots softly scraping against the dirty tile. The interior of the mall, long abandoned since the Arrival had fallen to time and decay. Dead leaves blanketed the skylights where they were n't broken, where years of rain and snow had cracked the concrete and allowed weeds to grow in the gaps and forgotten flower beds. Stores half shuttered lined the hall, their windows shattered and their displays looted. Piles of electronics littered the ground, their screens a spider web of cracks and chipped glass. The two passed a lonely jewelry store, its contents long pillaged by some enterprising scavenger. 
 
 The older one glanced behind his shoulder, listening as the noise grew steadily closer. The younger, her face pale and thin with hunger, was too afraid to look back. Instead she pushed on, careful to step over the fields of broken glass and spilled diamonds. Behind them, perhaps three or four hundred yards, something crashed to the ground, clattering and ringing across the floor. 
 
 Hilary Flint swore noiselessly, his hand switching off his rifle's safety. He gestured towards an exit, its faded light never to glow again. *This way. * 
 
 The pair hurried, their cloaks brushing against a rusting bench and bloodstained stroller. But then a roar loud and terrible tore through the air, sending moth-eaten banners swaying and knocking over a precariously perched pile of cut crystal. 
 
 *'' Son of a bitch...'' * Flint murmured, and grabbed a hold of Faith and physically shoved her into a nearby store, its riot gate half-shut by a long length of chain. `` Mask on, kid, quick!'' 
 
 Faith Alathir obeyed his hissed orders, scrambling to put on her gas mask. Her fair features vanished behind a black plastic mask, its visor tinted from view. Flint pulled his own on, the harsh rubber smell filling his nose and lungs. The filters were twenty years old, and brown from use. Whispering prayers to gods he did n't believe he hoped his plan would work. 
 
 Reaching into his pack Flint pulled out a bottle, its contents gurgling within. He unscrewed the cap, and tipped a measure of the liquid inside to soak a rag. This he wiped over Faith, carefully making sure the stuff coated her coat and head. He followed it by dousing himself with the rest of the bottle, the gold tinged fluid dribbling over his green cloak. It was small mercy they were wearing their masks for this, Flint mused. Otherwise they'd be gagging from the noxious stench. 
 
 The creature did not bother to be silent, its claws scratching against the chipped and faded tile, its heavy, reeking breaths like bellows in the gloom. Knocking over abandoned strollers stained with blood and swiping at the newspapers crumbling on the ground the beast hunted, its forked tongue tasting the air like a serpent's. Sharp spines ran down its length, the quills a pale, translucent red. Its scaly hide was black as a nightmare and its eye burned a terrible yellow. Rows of narrow fangs dripped caustic venom, the splatter sizzling on the tile. 
 
 Cruel talons tested themselves, clicking against one another in anticipation of prey. The beast gave a low growl, like granite grinding against granite, and hurried its prowling pace. Its knew its prey was close. 
 
 They heard the monster's approach, felt each of its clawed feet shake the tiled floor. The buzzing whine of flies followed in its wake, the disgusting insects attracted to the rotten meat clinging to its fangs and hide along with the promise of more carrion. Flint's rifle was aimed between the narrow gap in the riot his finger resting on the trigger. He could get the first shot off, but he'd be dead before he'd get the second one off. And he knew it. 
 
 The beast grew closer, its feral breaths louder. Faith sat crouched bravely behind a counter top, her hand forming some complex pattern Flint could n't recognize. Instead he aimed down the rifle's barrel, the narrow bead fixed just above the rusting chain. A shadow long and narrow threw itself across the floor. A jagged maw stretching towards the entrance... and Hell broke loose.
