Urban decay.

My apologies for the change - I'd accidentally posted an earlier draft.

As cold air pushed some of the drink aside, it dawned on me where my staggering had led: What was wrong with me? The park was a risky short cut during the day. At night, drunk, alone…

I turned to head back.

The man shaped silhouette was between me and the lit pavement.

My self protection training said: 'Run. Run, while you've got a head start.

But the eyes.

The course hadn't touched on muggers with glowing red eyes.....

....the shape was suddenly gone.....something hit me under the ribs.....

....on the mud. Face down. Taste of blood. Numb. Shock. No breath.

The scrawny shape, backlit against the moon, hauled me up one handed. A groggy attempt at an eye gouge was slapped aside - almost before my hand had moved.

I was thrown down again. The jawline extended, mouth opening absurdly far.

It hissed....

There was a distant crack, and a spray of something warm on my face. The red fireflys turned away from me. Hesitated.

Two more cracks. Two more sprays.

It vanished.....

*

I was lying on something hard. Pavement. Streetlight was on my face.

Must have passed out.

A hand felt inside my jacket, and my wallet and I-paper sheet were taken.

A face - straggly blonde hair around tired green eyes - swam into focus. Early forties, maybe. Pretty. Barrel of a  mag-rail rifle over her shoulder.

“You hearing?" She said.

I gurgled something.

"You got mugged.” She said. “Just nod"

I obliged.

"If they hear one of their experiments is here, they’ll burn the city, and everyone who's seen it. And I'll blame you for that.” Her pupils were very narrow. “Just nod.”

I obliged again.

She smiled at me. "You're OK kid."

Then she punched me professionally in the jaw.

*

I woke up in A&E, with a headache. The nurse wanted to know why the bruise on my upper arm was shaped like a hand, with two thumbs. What the dried green stuff all over me was.

I told her, honestly enough, that I didn't know. That all my stuff was gone.

Then I borrowed a sheet of I-paper, sent an e-mail to my landlord, and booked a ticket to a town out on the moors. My cousin lives there, and we're on good terms.

I waited until the Sun was well up.

I walked straight from the hospital to the monorail station.

My stuff could be picked up later. Or not at all.

 *

That was a year ago. People don't go into the city centre any more: There's a wall around it. A lot of it burned down, soon after I left.

I guess they found out, after all.

The news websites posted some garbage about terrorist attacks, and rioting. 

I hope the green eyed woman is OK.

But I'm not brave enough to find out.