Despite the peace and serenity that is generally associated with silence, Darla found the absence of ambient sound to be unnervingly of the traveler folk who stopped to eat at Bacon and Hex all told wild stories of misadventure, each one linked by a single common thread. It was the silence, the stillness, that preceded their downfalls. A fool's paradise for those unable to recognize the subtle warning and a blaring alarm to those who did.
The exposed beach floor as the wave recede from the shore. The calm winds in the eye of a tornado. Every bird and insect stopping their collective song of chirps and chitters as a predator stalks someone through forest. They all existed in the few moments directly prior to utter devastation. It was this very silence, as if the whole world was holding its breath in anticipation, that Darla sensed all around her as she continued to walk. No noise from any of the home or business, no cars, no barking dogs, not even flapping wings or the cooing of pigeons. Then just like that, the silence was broken and the inevitable cataclysm began.
Clomp, clomp, clomp.
Footsteps. Slow and deliberate, now keeping pace behind her. She sped up a bit without turning around.
Clomp, clomp. Clomp, clomp. Clomp, clomp.
They were walking faster. It also sounded like… there were two sets of footsteps.
Clomp, clomp, clomp. Clomp, clomp, clomp.
They wanted her to hear them, wanted them to know they were behind her.
"Leave me alone!" Darla suddenly shouted.
Her entire facade of confidence completely fell apart and she ran, ran as fast as she could. But it wasn't enough. In the next instant, one of her pursuers tackled her to the ground, hard. It winded her, but she still kicked and flailed even as she gasped for air. She felt hands groping her all over and sheer panic flooded her senses. This wasn't happening. One hand grabbed at her jacket. Another pair locked onto her blouse and pulled. A final hand clamped over her mouth, trapping her again in terrible silence.
All that could be heard in that dark Zaun alley was muffled screams, grunting, and the commotion of an undying struggle against the purest evil. Then there was another sound. Something combined with the idling of a diesel engine and the low growl of a jaguar. As the fiends finally managed to subdue the poor waitress, the taller of the two was suddenly yanked backwards out of sight of his accomplice.
"Gerald?" the remaining assailant called out, turning to peer into the darkness behind him.
His momentary disinterest in Darla bought her all the time she needed. She reached up and jammed her sharp thumbnail into his eye and raked him across the face. He cried out as both of is hands flew to grab at his bloody, claw marked features just as some kind of tentacle wrapped around his rotund torso and pulled him away from her and into the shadows.
Darla stared, wide eyed. The man's yells quickly turned to bloodcurdling screams and she couldn't take it anymore. Yanking her clothes back into place, she ran down the remaining length of the alleyway and didn't stop until she reached her flat. This was it, she decided, her lungs heaving as she hurried home. She was getting out of freelance work. It may have been a thrill, sure. Darla could admit that. But never again. The young waitress felt especially bad for those two bozos she left back in that alley, the ones who'd 'attacked' her. Sad, because her co-actors would never get to spend the coin they were paid for their given roles.