Page 85 of The Butterfly Killer

There was a reason he didn’t. A reason that kept his head buried in Roman’s neck like a coward burying his nose in the sand.

He wasn’t quite asleep when Roman stopped. He was on the cusp of sleep, drowsy and in a state of dreaming. It was the first time in a very long time that he wasn’t haunted by horrible memories when he closed his eyes. This state of thinking kept him in the mountains where he watched nature unfold beautifully. Somewhere in the distance he thought he heard running water. He imagined it was a large waterfall.

But when he looked around them, he saw it was no more than Roman pouring a cup of old coffee onto the ground.

Marcus was no longer slung on Roman’s back. He was in the car, lying in the backseat with a blanket thrown over him. It smelled like powdery rose perfume.

Roman had the driver door ajar. The overhead light was on as it was night time. The forest was all consuming. Marcus wrapped the blanket tighter around him. He could deal with the smell. He’d get used to it. He didn’t think he would get used to the trees that looked like people watching them through the thin windshield.

Roman straightened and tossed the empty paper cup onto the floorboard. He slammed the door shut. He spotted Marcus out of the corner of his eye and turned to look at him properly.

He didn’t need to say anything. Marcus knew what was expected of him: complete obedience.

They held gazes for a moment. The minute wasn’t up before Roman looked away. He turned to face forward. He turned the overhead light off and then started the car. It sputtered like it was on its last breath.

Now Marcus wondered if Roman had left the car down the mountainous terrain because it couldn’t handle the slope or if it had been giving him trouble before then.

He didn’t ask as Roman reversed out from the sparse woods. There wasn’t really a road he was following. Somehow he made it out of this part of the woods and made it onto a path carved out by other cars years before them.

Marcus stayed awake surprisingly. The blanket was warm, comforting, even with the old lady smell that made his nose burn. He twisted so he was on his side and watched Roman drive.

The faint glow of the headlights washed over the sharp points of his face. His nose wasn’t small and it wasn’t broad either. A nice medium that fit his face perfectly. He looked paler than he usually did. His complexion was naturally bronze, but now it was washed out by either the cold wind or the artificial lights.

Marcus, lost in a bleary state, thought how ironic it was that the Butterfly Killer was being chased by someone who was just like them. Roman’s cannibalism should have been frightening. Marcus should have felt some sort of apprehension about it.

But all Marcus could feel as he was in the high state of sleepiness was “finally”.

That cunt was going to get what they deserved.

Marcus did end up falling asleep. It didn’t feel like any time had passed when he woke again. He stared at the ceiling, watching as an occasional car went by. There were only a few every ten minutes or so, but then they became more frequent the closer they became to town he assumed.

He sat up a little. He felt more refreshed than he’d been in days. That wasn’t saying much since he’d been sleeping in the recliner and before that stress kept him up most times in the thin bed. The backseat wasn’t going to do his back any favors, not when he had to scrunch himself up.

The radio was on. It was playing some kind of western audio play.

“—stick ‘em up, Louise. Your brother is good as dead.”

“Even dead, he’s still more man than you’ll ever be!”

There was multiple gunshots. Marcus jumped as each one popped right after the other. If he wasn’t awake, he’d now be.

“Louise had picked up her dead brother’s hand which still clutched his pistol. She unloaded the last two rounds straight into the heart of her betrothed,” the narrator, said.

Marcus was disappointed when the narrator ended the program with a promise to air the next episode next week. Two minutes of dialogue and he was already hooked to know why Louise’s fiancee had killed her brother and where the story was heading.

He was so engrossed with the story he hadn’t realized he was leaning on the passenger seat, staring at the radio as if that would make it easier for him to hear.

It was Roman’s chuckle that roused him from his deep concentration.

“Liked that, did you?”

Marcus’s face flushed. He didn’t know why. Roman hadn’t said anything vulgar, but it felt as if he had.

“It sounded interesting.” He forced himself to look at Roman.

Roman wasn’t looking back at him. His eyes were on the road. Responsible. Safe. It seemed he didn’t have a death wish or that he was unstable.

Marcus had come across many people in his field of work that fit that description. Though, most of the time they were working alongside him.

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