Poet Anderson ...Of Nightmares Read Online Free Page B

Poet Anderson ...Of Nightmares
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he had to get by him. He had to be fast.
    Poet began to charge forward knowing he’d be no match for the horrible creature in front of him, but there was space. If he could get the beast to jump, he could slide along the floor and make it. But that was a big fucking if.
    He ran, waiting for exactly the right time, though he worried it wouldn’t come. And then, just as he was in leaping distance, the monster reared up and jumped, his spiked back colliding with the roof, cutting through the metal as he hurtled toward Poet. It would have crushed him. But Poet moved as fast as he could, becoming a blur like Sketch had. He dropped down and slid under the creature, popping up on the other side.
    Stunned that he’d actually pulled it off, Poet stared for a moment too long. The monster crashed down on the floor of the train, its claws tearing through the exact spot where Poet had been standing. The beast roared when it realized it had come up short, and turned its massive head to train its red eyes on Poet.
    Poet cursed and started running to the other side of the train. He’d run out of room soon, and then what?
    There was a rumble, and at first Poet thought it was the beast, closer than ever. But he looked to his side and saw a man on a motorcycle racing alongside the platform next to the stopped train. Only he wasn’t riding a regular bike: it was a jet-powered monocycle—a vehicle with beat-up metal slapped onto one oversized spinning tire, blue flames spitting out of the engine. The man turned his head as he passed Poet and nodded. He disappeared past the next set of windows, and Poet wanted to scream for him to stop. To help.
    Poet darted for the exit, squeezing his fingers into the rubber between the doors. He grunted as he pulled, afraid he’d never get the doors open in time. The car shook as the beast neared, closing in for the kill. Finally, Poet got his hands in and peeled back the doors, leaping through before they slammed closed behind him. Without hesitation, he ran, hearing the monster slamming against the doors to break out after him.
    Poet’s shoes slipped on the concrete, but near the end of the platform, he saw the man skid out on his cycle, swinging around to look back at him. The monocycle idled, and Poet shot ahead faster, hoping to make it before the man left. And then behind him, Poet felt a breeze, followed by a sharp burn across his back. He screamed out, off balance as he stumbled a few steps. He heard the roar of the cycle just ahead.
    Don’t leave me , he thought wildly. In a blur, he was running strong again. The man was heading straight for him. On Poet’s left, the subway car, broken and cut up, pulled away from the platform with a loud screech. The man was getting closer, his head downcast like he would ride right through Poet. But then inches in front of Poet’s sneakers, the man skidded again, blackening the concrete, and swung the monocycle around.
    â€œGet on,” he said in a deep voice. Poet didn’t have time to hesitate. He could feel blood running down the back of his shirt, the burn of the creature’s scratch. He hopped on the cycle, turning to look at the monster racing toward them. They’d never make it.
    The man revved the engine, the inside of the tire spun, blue light emanated from heated sparks, and then the cycle shot forward. Poet could feel the heat of the flames from the engine, and he leaned forward against the man. They moved toward the tunnel where the subway train had disappeared, but there was no way off the platform—no stairwells or doors. Poet looked around and realized they were trapped.
    â€œUse your gun,” the man said. “We need to get deeper now that the creature’s found you.” He motioned toward the monster and Poet turned to find it was getting closer.
    â€œBut I don’t have a gun!” he shouted.
    â€œThen make one,” the man ordered, his gruff voice holding a hint of an

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