It was just as I reached the end of the path that I heard a noise.

    At first I thought it was an echo of my own steps off the nearby wall or maybe even an amorous couple taking advantage of the seclusion. But then I realized it was another set of footsteps. I walked faster. The other steps mirrored my own tempo. Then I slowed down and the clapping sound stopped abruptly, like a voice that had been silenced. With frantic breath, I hurried over to the steps, not wanting to look back and confirm my suspicions.

    The alley was empty, surprisingly devoid of trash like other large cities I’d been in. There was a garbage can up against one wall and I clumsily knocked up against it, the noise amplified in the narrow passageway like a clanging of cymbals in an auditorium. The set of files started to feel like dead weight in my hands and I thought about throwing them down to run faster. I couldn’t hear the other footsteps for a moment and thought maybe I had been imagining them, but then the staccato noise returned. I ran, gasping as I stumbled. Then I screamed as a black figure materialized out of the darkness ahead.