by Riley Ashby
“You awake, Colby?”
I nodded, but my head didn’t move. I blinked again. Whatever he gave me, it was a paralytic, and fucking with my brain to boot. I struggled to keep my eyes open rather than let them fall closed and go back to sleep.
“I’m gonna give you something to wake you up.”
I waited, expecting the prick of a needle somewhere on my body, but I never felt it, only felt the rush of blood as it returned feeling to my body, and suddenly I was sitting up straight and gasping for breath. The voice in my head, whoever had been whispering at the back of my brain, disappeared like water down the drain. Or maybe it was just overpowered by the pain, rushing back to remind me that I was lucky to be alive. If she’d hooked that blade around an artery, I’d be in a body bag right now.
“What the fuck was that?”
“You have to move quick. I don’t know how much time you have.” He shouldered his backpack, surely stuffed full of clothing, money, and of course weapons. “Don’t make me regret dragging you out of there instead of Vin. I saved your life, remember that. Keep your head low, use those brains I know you’ve got stored away somewhere, and they won’t find you.”
“You’re leaving.” I should have known. He’d take Esther and run, and leave me to my own devices. Really, I should have been glad I was here at all. By all rights he should have saved our boss—and his best friend. Esther’s father. Some part of his black little heart must have felt bad for me, writhing in pain in Gunner’s basement, and he chose my life over Vin’s freedom. “Thanks, I guess.”
I reached my right arm around my chest to feel where the little whore had cut me, and immediately jerked away at the pain. The entire left side of my body throbbed. I never got a look at the wound before I blacked out, but based on how widespread the pain was, I knew it had to take up a lot of real estate. At the very least, she didn’t seem to have damaged any muscles, at least not too severely. I could still move, and that meant a lot.
“You’re stitched up.” Jonah cleared his throat. I squinted at him in the low light of the room. Had he been crying? “Don’t press your luck with any strenuous activity.”
“Like running from the Feds?” That had to be his idea of a joke.
He ignored me. “You get out of the state, maybe you’ll be okay. If you get caught and snitch on me, I’ll open you up all over the courtroom floor.”
Jonah had threatened my life enough times over the past several years that this particular threat didn’t bother me much, especially given that I’d nearly expired not six hours earlier.
“Good luck. Esther too.”
His face twisted into something monstrous, betraying an unspeakable pain, but he turned away to hide it. “Same to you.”
Then he was gone, a gust of cold air rushing into the room in the wake of the slammed door.
Once I was alone, I took several minutes to catch my breath. Struggling against the pain made sweat break out on my forehead. I closed my eyes and focused, collecting every burning ache into a ball of white-hot suffering that I buried deep inside myself. Pain was all mind over matter, and I’d had plenty of experience pushing aside both physical and mental afflictions. The world didn’t stop turning just because I got a little cut up. There was always a predator on my tail, and I didn’t have the luxury of suffering.
My pain under control, I stood and looked around the room. A pay-by-the-hour motel, by the looks of the cheap bedspread and garish wallpaper. For a moment, I flashed back to the house where my life had taken the first turn on the path that had brought me here—peeling paint, crooked photographs, rotting food strewn across the floor. One dead body on the ground, then two, the second still warm with fresh bruises forming around its throat. Years later, I still occasionally rose from a deep slumber with my hands clenched around the blanket, as if to kill her and exact my revenge all over again.
A mirror hung on the wall next to a TV that looked as though it belonged in the 1980s. My face was still a mess from when Gunner—the traitor—had sucker-punched me a few days ago, but that was the least of my concerns now. I examined the blood smeared across my neck and torso, hastily wiped away by whoever had done my stitches. A giant white gauze pad covered half my left side, held in place by surgical tape. I could only turn my torso a few degrees without pain, and pushing past it caused new flecks of blood to soak through the gauze pad. Shit. I was being held together by Elmer’s glue.
Jonah had left me a go bag, at least. A black pack identical to his sat on the chair near the window, curtains drawn against the early morning light. I rifled through a few thousand in cash, a bottle of antibiotics—I wouldn’t take those unless I had to—a couple sets of clothes, a .22 with an extra magazine, a pair of handcuffs for some reason, and a keychain with a single key on it. My ride out of here.
I peeked through the window to get a feel for my surroundings. We were close to The Slaughterhouse—too close. He wasn’t kidding when he said I had to get moving. If the Feds were looking for us, they’d be hitting up the motels soon. They had to know I was injured based on the amount of blood I lost in Gunner’s basement. If they hadn’t yet run DNA to get my name, they would soon. I could practically hear them jeering, excited to finally have a lead on me. I’d evaded capture for years thanks to Vin’s protection. Without him to shelter me, it was open season on Colby Jennings.
There were no other windows in the hotel room, so it looked as though the door was my only way out. The car was parked across the lot, but it was early enough that no one else was around, and I made it across and into the driver’s seat without seeing another person. My new ride was ancient—a Ford Contour with a stick shift and windows you had to roll down with a crank. Honest to God, I could have bought a better car with a part time movie theater job. But it didn’t sputter when I turned the ignition, and it had a full tank of gas. I could make it work.
Like hell you can. You’ll be dead before sundown.
My head was throbbing, and every step with my left foot sent hellfire up my side. That had to be the reason for this voice in my head. I'd get out of the area, then stop for some food, and maybe he’d go away. I turned on the radio and flipped to the news. What had happened while I was out? Was Vin in custody, or had Gunner been bluffing about his backup being on the way? I consoled myself with thoughts of him pale and dead on the floor of that basement by the time help arrived. Poor little Quinn sobbing over his body. The image brought a smile to my face as I pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road. No matter the shape I was then, it wasn't half as bad as whatever she must be going through. I let the thought comfort me as I drove directly into the sun.
Acknowledgements
Entropy is the book I’ve wanted to write my entire life. For years I watched the same story play out in my head over and over again, afraid to put it on paper for fear of what people would think.
It’s lived up to every one of my expectations. I hope it met yours, too.
Also by Riley Ashby
The Endgame Series
King
Rook
Bishop
Knight
The Sacrificial Duet
Reckoning
Atonement
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Playlist
‘Delicate’ - Taylor Swift
‘Deep Blue Sea’ - Missio
‘Ivy’ - Taylor Swift
‘Clementine’ - Halsey
‘Him & I’- Halsey and G-Eazy
‘Am I Wrong’ - Nico & Vinz
‘Surrender’ - WALK THE MOON
‘We Found Love’ - Rihanna
‘Hanging by a Moment’ - Lifehouse