"Who the. . ."

Neil turned around fully, his eyes settling on a subtle blue light in the factory. He frowned; the last shift had been over a few hours ago and he could've sworn that they were the last to leave.

It was hazardous enough working with highly reactive chemicals, but doing it at night would be absolute lunacy, unless you were one of those special agents who were standing outside.

He had talked to some of the workers during the tour, who had dutifully informed them about the happenings. The fifth floor had gotten very strange within the last few months apparently, until that one day when the workers were dragged off.

Government officials raided the place, detaining and questioning them relentlessly, even when they had told them that the workers had strayed into the forest behind.

The machinery used to pack the liquids was checked time and again, the systems scanned and the area patrolled at night. The agents refused to give him any information, dark shades masking their eyes.

"It's classified," they said, shutting down any further questioning.

Neil opened the door of the side entrance and snuck in, shoes hardly making a sound against the tiled floor. The polished reception desk in the main hall and the vase kept on it dimly reflected the blue light, making it easier for him navigate his surroundings.

His heart skipped a beat when he saw illumination on the fifth floor ceiling and the stairs stretching downwards.

"Could be thieves. . ." Neil muttered to himself, dreading the idea. He knew that he was seriously under prepared; the intruders could be armed with guns or grenades for breaking in.

The very thought of being held at gunpoint increased his breathing rate; he really wanted to see his family again.

But, he couldn't risk damage to the property. Even though the factory and the village seemed to be far from safe, the machinery, the skilled laborers and the raw materials made it promising. It was too good a deal to be thrown away, according to Helga.

Neil sighed in defeat; he had to check it out. Slowly, with a wailing knee he managed to walk upstairs.

He kept his eyes peeled on each step for chipped tiles and slippery water puddles. The blue light faded once in intensity and he began to suspect it being moonlight.

As he made his way upwards, a small shuffling sound from the second floor attracted his attention. He paused briefly, squinting to get a better view of the corridor, but all he saw was darkness.

"Hello?"

His voice echoed down the dark hallway, inciting nothing.

He shrugged it off as a result of his hyperactive imagination and extended his foot to take another step.

A fearsome hiss and the flicker of a black tongue prevented him from inviting further trouble. He reeled back, clutching the rusted rails as he watched the grass snake slither down, pulling its long tail behind it.

His heart rates were high, his face pale and his panting broke the silence of the night. He immediately covered his mouth to muffle his breaths.

The third floor did not favor his troubled mind either, with the plastic bags floating around like wandering clouds and the papers scrambling around the floor in circles.

He suddenly saw something dart in the shadows from the corners of his eyes. He swore that he had heard a soft bark.

By the time Neil approached the room where the bleach packing took place, his nerves were strained beyond normal. The light flitted from there, and cast eerie shadows on the marble floor below.

He looked in, ears alert to any sound, and sweat covering his face. The light came from down the product packing and assembly line. Bottles of chemicals shone on it, motionless, and awaiting their packaging.

Cobwebs wove between them, glimmering silver in the light and drums of various substances stood sentinel with torn hazard symbols on them. He noticed that most of the bottles were damaged; some on the conveyor, some fallen down, spilling their contents in shimmering pools.

The man scratched his head in utter confusion.

Why would someone sabotage the bottles unless they–

His thoughts were interrupted by a loud screech, it sounded like somebody was dragging one of the metal barrels. He grabbed hold of the tiny plastic flashlight in his pocket and inched forward, one step at a time.

On the other end, he could see someone standing on the conveyor belt. As he moved forward, a strong odor hit his nose.

Carelessly, he took a step forward, his feet landing on a wet rubber glove. The flashlight was torn away from his hand as he grabbed the edge of the machine nearby to keep himself upright.

The someone was jumping on the bottles, crushing them with a huge crunch and leaning forward, about to dip two hands into the spillage.

"Hey." Neil cried, "DO NOT dip your hands into that, it'll–"

He froze. The someone turned around, shifting its weight from one leg to the other. They were not any man's.

It looked like an unholy chimera of a fox, a wolf and a kangaroo.

Its face was furred, with shining brown eyes and had two long ears, twitching nervously. Two long strong legs balanced a lithe body and two muscular arms. The tail was one long bushy appendage, whisking the pool of spirits below.

Neil blinked. The creature had drenched itself in concentrated bleach. Any other organism would've been reduced to carcass.

His first impulse was to scream and run, yet he couldn't take his eyes off the terribly fascinating beast. He stayed there, motionless as his primitive instincts kicked in, rooting him to the spot.

Four men, had this thing killed. Four men with families to look after. Two were fighting for their lives in the ICU.

His breath came out in soft whispers and he could hear his own heart throbbing in his ears.

The creature looked at him, inquisitiveness evident in its eyes. As it moved forward, it slipped in the pool. It fell, with its body crashing into the barrels nearby, the impact shaking the very ground he stood upon, causing him to move a bit backward.

He wanted to run. He so badly wanted to scream and run.

As he watched, metal barrels near the creature fell on it in quick succession, pinning the thing and trapping it underneath the weight. Blood seeped from a tear on its head, where the rough edges had hit it.

It cried in pain, wailed to be precise, thrashing under the barrels, till finally it surrendered to muscular fatigue, motionless in a pool of blood.

The cries reminded him of his own dog, as it lay in death throes in his arms after a car accident.

This thing had mauled off humans like they were rabbits. Yet, he felt slightly relieved, now that it was immobile.

I should run.

Run.

Run!

But.

Neil found himself thinking in a way different from any normal human being faced with similar circumstances. Something about the creature made him stop. He wasn't sure what; perhaps it was the canine body shape, or the calmness it had in the presence of a human, or the overall docile behavior.

Or the fact that it had stopped when he had asked it to.

This thing is too thin! Those workers looked twice as heavy as it is. How can this toothpick of a creature drag them off?

Wait.

It's looking at me.

He wondered whether he should save this thing and reluctantly crept closer; the tail swished aggressively in response. He noticed a small circular wound on its outstretched arm.

A bullet wound.

"Hey there, big guy. Let me help you, yeah?", he said reaching out, with his voice pleasant and soothing. Though unsure, the creature moved backward and tried its best to jerk its arm away, failing miserably and causing more pain. Neil grabbed a pair of gloves lying nearby and examined the wound.

The thing had managed to remove the bullet but the wound still bled. He looked around for the first aid kit. After finding one in the room nearby, he returned and began to dress the injury.

The creature moaned in protest. He smiled and rebuked, "Bleach is a good disinfectant, but if you put the concentrated stuff on your hands, you might end up disinfecting your arms off yourself."

It murmured and kept silent. An hour later, the creature pulled the dressing off. He saw that the wound was completely healed.

Accelerated healing? Wow.

It looked at him with eyes that shone with intelligence, which seemed to consider him for a second. He slowly lifted each barrel off, one by one before moving to a safe distance and watching it.

It sat upright, licking its wounds and timidly stared at Neil's extended hands, shy to react at first, and moving back when he tried to stroke its muzzle.

Sniffing his palm, it seemed to realize the friend it had in Neil, and gently crooned. He laughed and scratched behind his ears, encouraged by the sign of the ears pointing forward, a sign of full attention and possibly kinship.

Crying in joy, the thing rubbed itself against his arm, affectionately and licked his nose. Neil couldn't help but pet it.

You poor thing, must've bit them in self defense. Like my dog Han used to bite the postman. It took the doctors twelve stitches to cover a bite one time.

You understand human speech, don't you?

He was about to talk to it when the creature suddenly reeled back. Sniffing the air, its ears perked and its eyes scanned the whole area. The night was noisy now, sounds of terrified nocturnal creatures filling the air.

Neil heard the sound of something like a rattle being shaken.

Followed by the smell of something burning.

The creature let out a terrified cry. It clutched its long neck in defense and slowly limped towards the window. Looking at him with pining eyes, the beast whimpered, as if it were telling him to run.

Neil crouched, realizing that there was something going on. The rattling turned into swishing and was nearing them. The full moon shone outside the window.

The thing looked at it and let out a full throated howl which echoed down the mountains. It jumped out of the window, without any further delay and bolted into the forest, disappearing in the dark foliage.

"Wait," he cried as he ran down the corridor, out of the factory and into the forest, following it.