Page 77 of Killer Clone

And that meant I was cut off from all my supplies. All my chargers were there, my sleeping bag, all my food.

What a mess.

Some bait that homeless guy turned out to be. I was like a fisherman who whipped out a line only to get the hook stuck in his own ass. After all I’d done, all I’d achieved up in Pennsylvania, to fail like this, to fail so badly, was just awful. It was humiliating.

The pain in my ankle wasn’t too bad. Maybe I could walk it off. That was what one of my coaches used to say whenever I stumbled during wind sprints.

“Walk it off.”

“Move your ass, pretty boy.”

“Pain is weakness leaving the body.”

So I’d get moving and the pain would kick in with each step. But it was a good kind of pain. The kind that made a person tough.

The kind that made a warrior.

A small stream ran through the forested area on the side of the train tracks. I scrambled down to wash the blood off my hands. It wasn’t all that homeless guy’s blood. Some of it was mine, too, from the bushes.

I shivered. The water was almost ice. It numbed my fingers, and I ran them, dripping, over my face.

But I needed to clean up. I must’ve looked crazy.

The cold water refreshed me. My time wasn’t done yet. I could still take them. I would take them. I was determined to finish what I started.

After sitting there for at least an hour, I watched the sun about to set. I knew I had to keep moving, to get away from the railway track. The Feds would stop the train as soon as they could and they’d find I wasn’t on it. They’d have dogs and whatnot running down the line looking for the place I’d leaped. Maybe even send up a helicopter to try to see more from the air.

I had to get some cover. I stood up and walked on. The pain wasn’t too bad. The cold probably helped. Like having an ice pack. But not just on my leg. I was cold all over. The numbness was welcome.

Adrenaline shot through me when I heard dogs barking in the distance. As I moved out of the forested area beside the tracks, I spotted a helicopter up ahead, sending out a beam of light through the encroaching darkness to find me. I was just in time.

It was nice to think I was that important.

And I was. I would be.

When I crossed the street onto a block filled with small town houses, a powerful pang of frustration shot through me. Dammit.

It wasn’t fair. I’d done so much. And now I’d come up short. Darkness was filling the sky. The sun had set. The moon would be up soon.

I couldn’t stand the idea that I might not get that bounty.

All that preparation. All that planning. I’d traveled so far to make it happen, and now bad luck had prevented me from reaching my goal.

How those Feds managed to find my hideout, I didn’t know. I knew they’d find it eventually. But I thought I had more time.

They worked fast. I had to give them that.

I came out onto a road. There were no lights except the glow through curtained windows and the flash of pictures moving on television sets. I must’ve looked real strange heading down that street.

The lights were brighter up ahead from some kind of convenience store, and next to it, a place offering barbecue ribs. The breeze picked up the smell and stuffed it up my nose. Made my mouth water. Two bucks. That was all I had in my pocket. If I used a credit card, they’d be onto me in a flash. I was dirty, hungry, and homeless.

My stomach screamed.

My rage boiled.

I was so close to claiming my prize. So close and yet so far away.

All I’d wanted to do was take that homeless guy back to my warehouse. I wouldn’t have killed him immediately. Rather, my plan had been to call the FBI and tell them where to find their prize. I’d send them a picture, and they’d come running. Of course they would. Like pigeons to old bread.

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