Page 10 of Deviant

“I deserve a little fun,” he adds. “I’ll see that she’s punished, but I want to play first.”

I shouldn’t do it.

I shouldn’t give a fuck either way, but the thought strikes me and I let it take hold before I can consider the consequences.

Anthony is like me, a monster dressed up in a smart suit. We’re constrained, controlled, we get to occasionally feast on the nice little morsels dropped in front of us but even then, those feasts have a limit. Those feasts are under their terms.

It’s satisfying enough at the time, but it doesn’t fully scratch the itch.

And it lingers. It festers.

“Let’s both of us have a little fun then.” I declare. “Let’s make a wager. Whoever catches the bitch, can keep her.”

“Fine.” Anthony cuts across me, his eyes lighting up because he obviously loves the chase as much as I do, and adding a little competitiveness to this will only make it that more enticing.

“And…” I add.

He pauses, his eyes not moving from the photo before us. “And what?”

“The loser pays the fee.”

“What?” he snaps.

Oh, we both know the Senate will demand a fee when we don’t produce her head as proof. But to make the loser pay the ten million will certainly add insult to injury, especially when I’ll be the one enjoying my prize and he’ll be the one coughing up the dough.

He grunts out, straightening his jacket. “Alright,” he says as though such an act can magically fix his sudden dip in self-confidence. “Loser pays the fee.”

I watch him leave with a genuine smile on my face.

“We need to find out who her source is.” Conrad says as soon as the door shuts. He’s right of course. It’s as necessary as hunting this woman down. There’s a snitch in our ranks and we need to root them out.

But my mind already feels distracted, I pick up the photograph, and look at my new quarry in more depth.

If I lose, it won’t be the money that bothers me, ten million is neither here nor there. But to lose this opportunity, to lose the chance to beat a fellow reaper, yeah, that’ll sting for quite a while.

As the morning light pours in through the trees, I rub my eyes and try to relive the stiffness in my bones.

I rode all night, or at least for as long as I could manage, and then, when I thought I might just fall off from exhaustion and crash, I hunkered down, made a makeshift shelter and slept on the hard ground like an animal.

Leaves stick to my face.

Bits of stone and twigs poke into my back.

I used my bag as pillow, but that seems to have resulted in jarring my neck.

With a groan, I get up, stretch as best I can then pick up my bag and toss it over my shoulder. In a few weeks I can maybe risk staying in a motel, but right now I need to get as faraway from the city as possible. And to ensure that, I have to move about unseen, unnoticed, as a complete ghost.

I’ve got a woolly hat on, and as I readjust it, I say a silent thanks to my past self for thinking of grabbing it. The warmth it’s providing right now feels like a miracle.

With a deep sigh, I grab my stuff, forcing my legs to work. I have to keep moving. I have to get further away.

With every turn of the wheels, my legs protest. My back throbs as I curl up over the handlebars. But I know this will be nothing compared to what they do to me.

If I’m smart, if I’m careful Icando this, I can make for the countryside, for the hills, somewhere far from human inhabitants and I can live there, I can build a shelter, make traps, become a proper hermit. Yes, it’ll be tough, yes, I’ll probably struggle for a while, but I’ll be alive, and more importantly, I’ll be safe.

I just have to take this one step at a time.

Focus on getting far away first. Then I can consider next steps.

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