The Remnants of Yesterday Read Online Free

the sound, rounding the corner in time to witness Clara being dragged backward into the darkness by a dark shape. She struggled and kicked, but could not break free.
    “Hey,” I shouted.
    The shape paused and turned toward me. I recognized the face in an instant.
    Walter.
    “Leave her alone.” I took off at a sprint, lowering my shoulder as I drew close. At the last moment I stepped around Clara and shot my arm out, clipping Walter under the chin, sending him spiraling backward. He let out a strangled gurgle and let go of Clara, who teetered for a moment before regaining her balance.
    “Come on.” I reached out and grabbed her arm, steering her away from Walter, all the while keeping him in my line of vision.
    He watched us, his mouth opening and closing as if he were trying to say something, but only guttural grunts escaped his lips. He jerked his head from side to side and brought his hands up, slapping at his face and skull, his fingers curling into his thinning hair and pulling on it. Just when I thought we might escape, Walter hunkered down and charged.
    “Run.” I pushed Clara back toward the rear of the convenience store and followed, all too aware of the maniac bearing down upon us. We reached the end of the alley. Clara turned the corner and made a dash for the rear door of the convenience store, but just as I was about to do the same Walter caught up with me.
    He hit me in the back, sending me staggering forward as his arms snaked around my waist. I twisted, attempting to pry myself free, but he was deceptively strong. Finally, as a last resort, I brought my arm back, ramming my elbow into his face. His nose splintered and hot blood sprayed my neck. He let out a high-pitched squeal and slackened his grip long enough for me to pull away and turn to face him.
    Walter was a mess. Blood poured from his ruined nose, trickling down his chin and onto his shirt. A mix of spittle and some kind of brown mush that looked suspiciously like dirt, fell from his mouth as he spewed a tirade of guttural grunts that bore little resemblance to speech. Judging from the brown stains on his hands I came to the conclusion that he had, at some point prior to attacking Clara, actually been eating dirt.
    I scanned the area for anything to use for a weapon. My eyes alighted on a stack of propane canisters next to the dumpster. Not perfect, but they would do.
    “What are you doing?” Clara lingered next to the door. “Get in here.”
    “Give me a moment.” Walter was eyeing me the way a person might look at a fat juicy steak.
    “Don’t be stupid.” Clara was frantic.
    “Hang on.” I backed up, edging toward the cylinders.
    Walter watched me for a moment, seemingly oblivious to the blood that was still flowing from his nose, and then he took a step forward.
    I could guess what was about to happen, and Walter did not disappoint. I ducked sideways at the same time he charged. The canisters were not far away. I reached them and snatched one up, grateful that they were empty, just as I suspected. If they had been full, there was no way I would have been able to hoist one, and my plan would have been ruined.
    Walter closed the distance between us with astonishing speed considering his girth and age. He lowered his head, intent upon ramming me. When he was less than two feet away, I swung the canister as hard and high as I could.
    Walter ran right into it.
    My aim was not great. As a means of self-defense, a propane tank is not the most graceful of instruments. Luckily my assailant was either too mad or too stupid to bother ducking. The canister bounced off his skull with a hollow thud. Walter’s head snapped to the side. He performed a perfect pirouette, and then his legs collapsed under him. The impact sent a wave of jarring pain up my arm and I lost my grip on the tank, which fell to the ground and rolled away, finally coming to rest near the back wall of the convenience store.
    Walter was down.
    I waited a moment, watching,