The Rule of Three

Prologue

Three weeks without food…

Jack’s fevered mind chanted it like a Buddhist mantra, over and over. The proverbial rule of three. Problem was, Jack had no idea how long he’d been here.

When they scampered around, their bones and joints made strange, popping sounds. And when they came to harvest their human captives, their weird mouths made a sucking, smacking noise, like a child eating an ice cream on a hot day. Jack hated that sound. And the stench they exuded was disgusting, a rotten fruit smell. It reminded him of the Durian fruit he had tried once in a Thai market, in a happier time before hell had descended on Earth.

Three days without water…

The agony of the deep gash in Jack’s thigh kept him semi-conscious with moments of lucidity. Occasional screams cut through the warm damp air, jolting him fully conscious. His eyes would snap open and blink rapidly as he hoped that his predicament had changed, but the surrounding darkness and environment remained the same.

Jack was stuck fast to a wall with some sort of gluey membrane. He struggled against it in sheer terror and panic. He could only move his arms and legs a few measly inches, no matter how hard he fought. Each time he managed to stay awake for a few minutes, he would strain against his bonds, but whatever it was that held him, it had the strength of steel.

Three hours without shelter…

A humming sound in the background reminded Jack of high-powered electric lines, while the cold, damp hardness of concrete pushed into the back of his legs and head, chilling him to the bone. The constant scurrying, and the smacking sounds the creatures made, haunted his fragile psyche, making him flinch whenever he heard them. Never a religious man, Jack found himself praying to any higher power he could think of. There are no atheists in a foxhole. Well, what about down here in the dark?

Three minutes without air…

Twisting his left arm back and forth, and scraping skin off in the process, Jack could almost reach the valve of his water bladder. Miraculously, his hiking pack was still on his shoulders. With a final effort, Jack grasped the valve in his hand. Bending his arm and pushing his head as far forwards as he could, Jack was agonisingly close to that life-saving liquid. He bellowed in frustration.

A popping sound alerted Jack to the monsters’ approach. He cursed at his stupidity. Holding his breath and keeping his body rigid, Jack squeezed his eyes shut.

Not me not me not me not me…

The rotten fruit smell lingered as the creatures carried out their grotesque task. Jack kept his eyes closed and forced himself to breathe in shallow breaths. He listened as he heard a tearing sound, followed by the sickening thud of a body hitting the ground. The monsters clicked at each other in some sort of communication. Jack gritted his teeth and screamed in silent terror as the popping of their joints faded away.

Not me not me not me… it’s not me… it’s not me this time.