Bogleech.com's 2017 Horror Write-off:
Submitted by Conner Burgess (email)
A group of 3 men made their way along the sidewalk, as the road was not passable due to remaining cars, nearly in pristine condition despite the time that had passed. They had split from the main party, a group totaling 20, to search this section of the town for hardware, electronics, or hobby stores; anywhere that may have a supply of usable electronic components.
Chester slung his shotgun over his shoulder. "Yeah, I don't think we'll have much luck, I just see houses that way."
"Got to agree on that one." Jim replied quietly, squinting to shield his eyes from the sun. "We could always grab some computers and scrap 'em."
"Gonna want to bring the cart around, then." Dave said. "I know I'm not carrying a desktop back up the street."
Jim took his radio to his ear, "Hey, Jim here, you guys finding anything good? Over." Jim thought he saw something move far down the street.
As responses came in, mostly negative, Jim asked the others with him if they could see something down the road.
"Looks like a dog to me." Dave said, peering through his rifle scope. A short moment later, he froze, and went pale. "Uhm, that ain't a fucking dog."
Chester looked through his binoculars, and got just enough of a look to see
it accelerate towards them before Jim took them to look for himself. Chester nudged Dave on the shoulder, "Shoot it already, you've got the rifle!"
Dave went down on a knee, to aim, but Jim grabbed him by his jacket and pulled him up and back, ushering the two to follow him. He said, with urgency,
"Don't shoot it, we don't even know what it is." They ran back the way they
had come, towards the others, and Jim once more put his radio to his ear.
All the while, that dog-like thing they had seen was approaching at a steady pace.
"There's some monster here, everyone get to the trucks now!" He just about put his radio back in his pocket, but added, "And patch me through to Stanley!"
Quietly, just above their breathing and their footfalls, and the shaking and rustling of their clothing and equipment, they could hear the clattering and scratching of clawed feet coming to a stop and changing direction, no doubt towards them.