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To Hunt, You Must Become [Part 2/?]
Mar. 18th, 2016 04:56 pmCHAPTER 2
Lydia ran. She ran farther and faster than she'd ever run before. It felt like she'd been running her whole life. No matter how far or how fast she ran, it never felt like far enough. She was sure they were coming after her. She was the last one left, after all. The last link in a chain of pain, suffering, and death. They couldn't afford to let her live. She'd already proven that she wouldn't cooperate.
Lydia felt a scream bubble up in her chest, trying to force its way up her throat. Her feet started moving, carrying her to where death surely awaited. No, she thought. Not here, not again. The scream erupted from her mouth, piercing in its intensity. And she knew nothing more.
When she came back to herself, she looked at her watch. Ten minutes. Not long, then. She'd had worse episodes, sometimes lasting for hours.
Her eyes slid to the scene in front of her. Taking in the horror in front of her, she nearly screamed again. Blood was everywhere, staining the walls, dripping through cracks on the floor. There were at least three bodies in the small room, possibly more. Lydia forced herself to remain calm and detached. These weren't people, not any more. Now, they were just piles of meat and bone, like you'd see in a butcher shop.
Lydia swallowed the bile in her throat. Eyes never leaving the carnage, she pulled the phone she'd picked up out of her pocket. She dialed 911, hands shaking.
“911, please state your emergency,” the voice on the line said.
“Yes,” Lydia said, her voice flat, “I'd like to report a murder.” She gave the address and details, and disconnected the call before the dispatcher could ask her name.
She looked down at the phone in her hand in disgust. Dammit. Now she'd have to get a new phone. It was damned difficult to find a phone without a GPS chip these days. But she couldn't afford to have a phone that was GPS enabled. They would find her, and kill her. Or worse, drag her back with them, kicking and screaming. On the other hand, it looked awfully odd to be the only person under forty who didn't have a smart phone permanently attached to their hand.
Oh, well. Lydia had weighed the risks of standing out in a crowd versus being tracked, and decided that if anyone asked any questions about why she was using such an antiquated piece of equipment, she could claim that her parents didn't trust modern technology and that it was the only phone they'd let her have.
Lydia heard sirens in the distance. Time to vacate, before the cops found her and started asking awkward questions. Questions that didn't have answers; not sane ones, anyway. She could just imagine them questioning her. No, officer, I didn't know the deceased. Why was I there? I don't know. I have this instinct sometimes. It draws me to where death is. No, I'm not making this up. Yes, of course I know this is a serious situation. Yes, sir. If I have any information, or I think of anything else, I will call you right away. Mentally, she scoffed. Yeah. That would go over swimmingly. Lydia turned and hurried away, in the opposite direction of the sirens.
Lydia ran. She ran farther and faster than she'd ever run before. It felt like she'd been running her whole life. No matter how far or how fast she ran, it never felt like far enough. She was sure they were coming after her. She was the last one left, after all. The last link in a chain of pain, suffering, and death. They couldn't afford to let her live. She'd already proven that she wouldn't cooperate.
Lydia felt a scream bubble up in her chest, trying to force its way up her throat. Her feet started moving, carrying her to where death surely awaited. No, she thought. Not here, not again. The scream erupted from her mouth, piercing in its intensity. And she knew nothing more.
When she came back to herself, she looked at her watch. Ten minutes. Not long, then. She'd had worse episodes, sometimes lasting for hours.
Her eyes slid to the scene in front of her. Taking in the horror in front of her, she nearly screamed again. Blood was everywhere, staining the walls, dripping through cracks on the floor. There were at least three bodies in the small room, possibly more. Lydia forced herself to remain calm and detached. These weren't people, not any more. Now, they were just piles of meat and bone, like you'd see in a butcher shop.
Lydia swallowed the bile in her throat. Eyes never leaving the carnage, she pulled the phone she'd picked up out of her pocket. She dialed 911, hands shaking.
“911, please state your emergency,” the voice on the line said.
“Yes,” Lydia said, her voice flat, “I'd like to report a murder.” She gave the address and details, and disconnected the call before the dispatcher could ask her name.
She looked down at the phone in her hand in disgust. Dammit. Now she'd have to get a new phone. It was damned difficult to find a phone without a GPS chip these days. But she couldn't afford to have a phone that was GPS enabled. They would find her, and kill her. Or worse, drag her back with them, kicking and screaming. On the other hand, it looked awfully odd to be the only person under forty who didn't have a smart phone permanently attached to their hand.
Oh, well. Lydia had weighed the risks of standing out in a crowd versus being tracked, and decided that if anyone asked any questions about why she was using such an antiquated piece of equipment, she could claim that her parents didn't trust modern technology and that it was the only phone they'd let her have.
Lydia heard sirens in the distance. Time to vacate, before the cops found her and started asking awkward questions. Questions that didn't have answers; not sane ones, anyway. She could just imagine them questioning her. No, officer, I didn't know the deceased. Why was I there? I don't know. I have this instinct sometimes. It draws me to where death is. No, I'm not making this up. Yes, of course I know this is a serious situation. Yes, sir. If I have any information, or I think of anything else, I will call you right away. Mentally, she scoffed. Yeah. That would go over swimmingly. Lydia turned and hurried away, in the opposite direction of the sirens.
