He sees it flit past the window. A moment later, a crash as the front door to the lobby is eviscerated, and a tinkling as shards of glass go skittering across the tiles. He’s in the staff room. He sees Lyle out the back window freeze, then get yanked down by the force of a sudden mass latching onto the nook between his neck and shoulder. A spurt of blood dashes up the hotel wall.
He bolts from the office and sprints across the lobby, shoes squeaking, heart pounding. He slides over the reception desk and feels frantically for the latch. He hears gnawing. The scuff of Lyle’s shoes kicking uselessly against the tiles. A click. The shotgun comes loose. He stands up.
The raptor turns from its prey and shrieks. He fires. The top of the raptor’s head explodes in a confetti of skull and gore.
Paddy Dobson
12th January 2022