Page 30 of War Games

She clenches her jaw again, and this time, I don’t wait for her to change the topic or throw teenage bullshit my way. I dig into my pocket and pull out my wallet before fishing out a couple hundred dollars. “Hotels are expensive and you’ll burn through this in days,” I tell her, placing the cash on the ground in front of me, knowing damn well she’s not going to try and get any closer. “There’s a lot of holiday homes down near the lake. Try and find one of them instead—an empty one, preferably with no security system. Once you’ve secured a home, take yourself grocery shopping. Bread, milk, cereal. All the necessities.”

“I . . . I don’t know how to cook.”

I nod. “You should be able to find frozen, ready-made meals in the grocery store. You just put them in the microwave. If you try to eat takeout each night, you’ll run out of cash.”

She nods again, only this time, she drops her gaze, and instead of seeing a cunning young killer, I see nothing but a lost little girl. “Shadow,” I say, demanding her attention again. She lifts her gaze back to me, and if I thought there was any way she’d let me help her further, I would offer everything I have. “If you’re in trouble, you come to me. Do you understand?”

“I can handle myself,” she argues.

“You can barely feed yourself,” I remind her. “There will come a time in the coming weeks when these games start running out of contenders, and you’ll find yourself with a target on your back. You’re just a kid, Shadow. I don’t want to see your name listed among those who’ve been eliminated.”

“You won’t.”

“See to it that I don’t.”

And with that, I back up a few steps, leaving the cash in the middle of the street before finally turning and walking away. Then, just before I reach the alley where the brothers just brutally killed Sharkbait, I turn back and stare up the street, relieved when I see no sign of Shadow or the cash on the asphalt.

11

SIREN

We’re ten days into War Games, and I’m itching to get a few more kills under my belt, but now that so many of us have been eliminated, the game is getting harder. The weak ones have been sniffed out, leaving us with only ten, including me. We’re officially halfway through, but something tells me that each day, the stakes are going to rise. It’s been nothing more than a vacation so far, but the contenders are starting to get antsy now that the FBI found some DNA evidence that links Sharkbait’s death to The Boneyard Slayer. Things are going to move fast and be messy from here out.

Sharkbait’s body was found dismembered in an alleyway a few nights ago, and since then, everybody has been laying low, but not anymore. I’m sick of sitting by and waiting for something to happen. It seems that everybody is waiting for others to make a move, and so far, nobody is doing shit. They’ve gotten too comfortable, wanting to bide their time until the final few days in the hopes that someone else will do all the dirty work and theycan swoop in at the last minute and take the win. But I’m not about to let that happen.

Tonight, I’m rocking the boat.

Giddiness pulses through me as I follow Eagle through the streets of Blue Springs. It’s clear why she hasn’t been taken out already. She’s good, more than just a strong contender in the games, and taking her out now is nothing more than a power move. By this point in the competition, everybody should have more than enough information on the other contenders to know who and what they stand for. They should know about their kills, what their style is, and how they even landed their ass in a game like this. They know who their biggest competition is and who they need to watch their backs around.

Eagle is the underdog. There’s nothing mysterious about her or how she made a name for herself in the industry. As far as her reputation suggests, she’s a sure shot. She never misses a target. She makes clean, precise kills. She’s someone to watch, and maybe given another few years, she might have even managed to steal my crown. The only thing she lacks is experience.

Taking her life tonight will rattle the other contenders. I’m making a move they won’t expect, eliminating a player who’d otherwise be here until the very end. When someone steps outside their comfort zone and doesn’t act as expected, it leaves them unsteady. I don’t like predictability; that’s when people end up dead, and I won’t be just another number forgotten about after War Games.

Eagle reminds me of myself, and while I expect her to put up the kind of fight that will engage my mind in ways that others like The Boston Maneater or 343 could never even begin to understand, actually taking the final blow to end her life will be bittersweet. I don’t know what’s gotten into me today, but for whatever reason, I feel heavy about this one. Maybe it’s because Eagle and I could have been amazing friends in another life. Ifthings were different, or if we’d met outside of this bullshit, I just know we would have hit it off and swapped war stories while annihilating a bottle of tequila.

Shit.

I need to focus.

I caught wind of Eagle a few nights ago after she made an attempt on Gasoline. However, in true Gasoline style, the building went up in flames and she slipped away. Eagle didn’t get out of that one unscathed, and having no other choice, she broke into the local veterinary hospital to steal all the first aid she could get her hands on. It was a colossal mistake, but after I almost scalped myself earlier in the games, I no longer feel it’s my duty to judge people for their fuck ups. We’re all desperate, and none of us are thinking straight.

There are two separate bandages wrapped around her left arm, and I can only imagine how much that must hurt. I haven’t had to deal with burns before, but I know women like Eagle, and they only succumb to first aid when the pain is almost too much to bear. This will make things interesting, but I pride myself on being fair. If I need to subdue her, it’ll be done without targeting her injuries.

From the way she leads me through the streets, she’s more than clocked me behind her and is attempting to lead me to a location she’s already checked out. It doesn’t matter though. She can lead me wherever the hell she wants. I’ve done my research on this town, and I know it better than the back of my hand. There’s nowhere she can lead me where I won’t have the upper hand.

Eagle takes a left, and her plan becomes clear. The local butcher.

Fucking disgusting.

A meat locker isn’t exactly somewhere I wish to spend any of my time, but I applaud her creativity. I just hope this isn’t whereshe’s been crashing at night. However, I’m grateful that this is purely the butcher store and not actually the local abattoir. I can handle a lot of things, but a slaughterhouse is not one of them.

Just as I suspected, Eagle slips in through the back of the butcher store, and my stomach begins to cramp at just the thought of walking in there after her, but I do what I have to do and take the plunge.

As I follow her inside, I look left and right before walking through the door, expecting her to jump out at me at any chance. Instead, I find her standing dead center of the butcher’s large human-sized refrigerator.

“You’re following me,” she states, her sharp stare locked on me as the smell of fresh meat assaults my senses and makes my cramping stomach begin to turn.

“Yes.”

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