by Lauren Algeo
Apparently there’s no one she needs to tell that she’s leaving town for a couple of weeks, which makes me feel sad. She’d already left her work after Lucy’s death and has no immediate family or friends to tell. No neighbours she’s that close to. She must have been shut up in the house for weeks, alone in her grief. At least I had Marcus trying to look after me.
I’m not sure how she’ll react when she hears a hiker again but at least she’ll have us with her for support. God knows what it would have been like if she’d stumbled across another one in the future with no clue as to what they are and what she was hearing. I was a wreck after my second encounter. Fingers crossed she can get through this.
What’s that saying, a lot can happen in a day? Try a whole shit load in one afternoon! We found a hiker, killed it, and are now in a motel room in Windsor. How’s that for unbelievable?
We set off earlier in Ellen’s car (which she’d completely forgotten about until we were heading to the bus stop). She’s got a silver Subaru Outback and it’s a lot more convenient than public transport.
The plan was to drive along the I-91 and stop at every large town along the route to check for hiker activity. We hadn’t been on the Interstate long when Ellen felt a hiker. That’s right, not heard one, felt one. Just like Georgie. The only problem was that she was driving at the time and she nearly crashed the car. She’d swerved across the lane suddenly, onto the hard shoulder, and screeched to a stop. Mitch was stunned but I could see something was very wrong. She was on the verge of a panic attack and it took a minute to calm her down enough to say that the hiker had taken her by surprise.
That shocked me this time. There had been no hint of a whisper in my mind yet she said she could feel it somehow. The same pressure in her stomach that she’d experienced that day on the trail with Lucy. I’m not certain how she and Georgie could sense them when I can’t. My earlier theory still stands that maybe women are more receptive to them – an emotional or hormonal thing perhaps? Does that sound too sexist?
I didn’t say it to Ellen at the time, as she was deathly pale, but her having that ability as well is a great asset for us. She was determined to find the hiker she’d sensed, despite her obvious fear and we drove around Yalesville trying to pick it up again, with me at the wheel this time. The moment we got close enough to hear it was a male hiker, Ellen’s composure crumpled. Her tears were enough to tell me that it was the same one who’d killed Lucy. The guilt at putting her in that situation so soon flooded my body and I gave her a tight hug to try and take the pain away. Hearing that same voice in her head again must have been awful.
Ellen wasn’t ready to face it all yet so I turned the car around to take us away from him. We’d only gone a couple of miles when she insisted we go back and track him down. She didn’t want anyone else to have to go through what Lucy had. I have to admire her strength; I was far more of a mess when I started out.
The hiker was at a reservoir and had a male victim under his spell. He was persuading him to go into the water and put an end to his troubles. There was no time to wait around and monitor the situation, this man was clearly about to drown himself in the reservoir.
We quickly decided that Mitch should wait in the car, in case we needed a quick getaway, while Ellen and myself found the hiker. We took the tranquiliser gun with the loaded insulin dart. The protective part of me didn’t want to take Ellen anywhere near that thing but I needed her shooting ability (I’m all too aware of how much I rely on other people for this skill). She was the only one who could hit the hiker in the neck from a fair distance away.
The victim was an overweight man in a yellow t-shirt and we saw him standing ankle deep in the water as we crept through the surrounding trees. We came up behind the hiker, who was watching the man from the shadows. He was facing away from us and in the gloom there was no chance of Ellen making an accurate hit. It was pretty reckless of me, looking back now, but I made the snap decision to act as a decoy.
I ran for the water before Ellen could protest and tried to pull the man back to the bank. I hoped it would draw the hiker out from the trees but he stayed where he was. The guy in the yellow t-shirt snapped out of his mental trance and tried to attack me, thinking I had something to do with the voice in his head, and I was forced to punch him away. He was knocked unconscious and the hiker immediately focussed on my mind.
He was furious at me for interrupting his kill and wanted to find out who I was. I couldn’t keep him at bay while trying to drag the man’s lead-like body to the shallows so he wouldn’t drown. The hiker had successfully penetrated the top layer of my mind when he ventured fully into the open. I was beginning to panic then Ellen hit her mark. The hiker staggered suddenly, clutching at his neck, and dropped to his knees. I managed to get the unconscious man safely out of the water while the hiker was down.
It only took minutes for the hiker to die of the insulin overdose. He passed out immediately then his breathing slowed until it stopped completely. Ellen looked shocked by the whole thing and vomited beside him. She did unbelievably well to make such an accurate shot, especially with the added pressure of who she was aiming at. Somehow she managed to keep her emotions in check. We left the hiker’s body there and went back to Mitch.
Now we know for sure that insulin works, they want to go back to Philly and get some more from Mitch’s place, but I’ve persuaded them to stick to the original plan and stay on the road for a couple of weeks. It’s not only that I don’t want to go back to Philly yet with the Grand there, it’s that I don’t think the insulin is enough. We need to find more methods that work and have a whole arsenal of weapons to use against them. We can’t risk a repeat of the Grand’s house.
The other thing is that the insulin killed that hiker too quickly. I know that should be a good thing but it’s not. With the meningitis and rabies, we had a window of time in which to interrogate the hikers. We need to question one to find out exactly where the Grand is, and how he’s still alive. It’s more dangerous that way of course, but it’s necessary for the bigger picture.
The Grand will already know that one of his children died today. We’ve put an hour’s drive between us and the reservoir so we should be safe. I’m hoping he won’t know it was me; that I walked out of his house alive and am still trying to kill him.
We’ve been at the motel for a couple of hours. I offered to book two rooms so Ellen could have some privacy but she insisted on sharing with us. After everything she’s been through today, I’m not surprised she didn’t want to be alone tonight. That was a lot to experience in one afternoon. I paid for a ‘family’ room but it turns out it’s only got two beds: one double and one single. I’m going to sleep on the sofa.
Those stirrings of attraction I mentioned earlier have been growing all day. I’ve been trying desperately to ignore them but I find myself darting little looks Ellen’s way. My gaze lingers too long on the profile of her face, or the curve of her lips. I’m ashamed to admit that I’ve wondered what it would be like to kiss her. Even the thought of it sends hot guilt coursing through my body. I can’t be attracted to someone else; it feels too much like I’m cheating.
I know Karen has been gone for a few years although it doesn’t feel like that for me. I can’t just move on from the woman I loved – I still feel married. These longings are confusing me so much. I wonder if other widowers think like this at some point?
To be honest, Ellen’s the only woman I’ve been around in a long time. My body is probably just reacting to the female presence and I’m mistaking it for something else… although it never happened with Georgie. God no, of course it didn’t. I could never have seen her as anything other than a child. But Ellen is a grown woman, and a very beautiful one… What the hell is wrong with me?
My heart is actually racing right now. Ellen is going to be sleeping right across the room from me. She and Mitch are getting ready for bed and paying me no attention yet I still feel embarrassed. What if one of them reads this? I’ve shown M
itch some entries before so I’ll have to make sure this journal stays hidden now. I think I’d shrivel up with shame if they did see this.
What would Ellen say if she knew I’d been looking at her that way? She’d probably leave immediately. It’s the worst possible timing and situation for these thoughts. She’d never be attracted to me anyway; I’m not exactly a catch. She can’t find out. I’ll have to be more careful about what I write down in here in future. Consider this the end of the matter.
3rd February 2012
It’s nearly 2am and I’m alone for the night. Things are moving so fast here that I can barely get my head straight. I’m not sure if it’s because there are extra people with me, or that I’m on a tight deadline, but I can’t keep up.
At this moment, I’m stalking a female hiker, who’s currently asleep behind a dumpster at the end of an alley. Mitch and Ellen are at a nearby motel getting some rest while I watch her, and they’re waiting for an important delivery: snake venom for our next attempted kill.
I’m sure you’re wondering how we went from insulin two days ago to snake venom. We left Windsor with the intention of driving more inland, crossing Massachusetts and the New York state, down to Pennsylvania via the Interstates. We researched with newspapers and the laptop for a few hours on the way and Ellen came across an interesting story.
There was a young woman in Long Meadow, Massachusetts who’d been bludgeoned to death by one of her friends. The victim’s name was Paige and her friend Amelia had been arrested for her murder. She claimed she’d acted in self-defence after she confronted Paige about an affair with her boyfriend. It sounded like one of those jealous lover scenarios that hikers are so fond of and both girls came from families with a lot of money.
We drove to the town where it happened and did some more digging. It turns out Paige’s dad is dying in hospital and her mother is no longer part of their lives so she and her brother were the heirs to daddy’s fortune. Now her brother is the sole heir. He’s called James and a problem teen, according to stories we found online. It sounds sick but it’s possible that he hired a hiker to kill his sister so he would inherit the entire fortune.
We wanted to start looking for the hiker involved immediately but we needed to come up with a new way of killing it first. Ellen had the brilliant idea of trying snake venom to poison it. The only problem was getting hold of it. We’d ruled out zoos, labs and universities before Mitch twigged that venom could be sold as a powder. He’s got a dodgy friend back in Philly who’s tried every drug going and he bought some powdered snake venom from India a while back. Luckily he’s still got a couple of grams left and is having it couriered to the motel overnight – which is the delivery that Mitch and Ellen are waiting for.
We picked up the hiker herself early this afternoon and she’s been busy since. She was whispering to a male victim, whose wife had recently left him. I thought this would be a straightforward suicide but when we located them, they were at a shopping mall. The hiker kept muttering that ‘people won’t know what’s hit them’ and I began to get worried. There shouldn’t have been anyone else involved in the kill.
The hiker had gone quiet by the time we parked the car and that concerned me more. We didn’t have any weapons to use against her yet Ellen was desperate to help. We settled on waiting for the persuading to start again. Mitch went to use the toilets and all hell broke loose. People began to pour out of the mall, screaming and crying, and there was a faint sound of shattering glass. Ellen and I ran inside to find Mitch as smoke drifted out. The male vessel was acting out whatever the hiker’s plan was.
Mitch found us and said the guy was smashing shop windows and setting fires with a can of petrol. I sent them both back to the car and out of the choking smoke while I went to hunt down the man. I caught a glimpse of him rounding the corridor and when I got there, the hiker was standing right beside him. I’ve never seen that before; they usually keep their distance. This one was dressed in a short-sleeved black dress and barefoot in the broken glass. She was whispering seductively into the man’s ear rather than in his mind. That was why it had gone quiet.
Before I could do anything to intervene, the man had doused himself in petrol and ignited his lighter. I was reminded of the horrific time I’d set that hiker on fire. The smell of burning flesh was the same. The man didn’t make a sound as his body burned. Even now, when I close my eyes, I can see the bright flames. It’s an extremely painful, unpleasant way to go. That poor man.
I sprinted away from there before the hiker saw me and met Mitch and Ellen back by the car. We drove around the building, away from the police, fire engines and panicked crowds, and picked up the hiker as she left by a side exit. It was the first time Mitch had actually seen one and he was amazed by how normal she looked – apart from the dark eyes and bare feet.
We followed her for a while and she surprised me again by going into a bar. I haven’t seen that before either – these American hikers don’t seem to be doing anything by the book. Against my protective instinct, I let Ellen go into the bar to use the bathroom and check on the hiker. When she came out she told us the hiker was just sitting there, looking as though she was listening to something. Maybe she was picking through all the minds around her.
She didn’t stay in the bar long then she walked around for another hour before disappearing down this alley. That’s when I sent Mitch and Ellen back to the motel for the night while I keep track of her on foot. They’re due to call me once they get the venom delivery in the morning to find out where I am.
The hiker hasn’t emerged since and it’s been three hours so I presume she’s asleep. I would try and nap myself but without Ellen’s ability to sense her, I won’t know if the hiker makes a move. She could disappear while I’m fast asleep. I thought writing in here would keep me alert but I still feel exhausted.
It’s strange to be temporarily alone. Even though I’ve only had the company of Mitch and Ellen for a few days, it seems like longer. Having the two of them constantly talking around me takes my mind off Georgie a little. Just not entirely. There’s a constant feeling that if I drop my guard and let all of my emotions come rushing to the surface, I’ll drown under the weight of them. Instead, I let them trickle out slowly; a few moments of anger here, a quick cry in the bathroom there. I couldn’t keep going if I dealt with them fully. The dam needs to stay in place until the Grand is officially, irreparably dead.
There’s a deeper pain that I’ve been doing my best to ignore for the past few days. The anniversary of Karen’s death is next week – three long years since she was taken from me. Coping with that on top of everything else is beyond me so I’m trying not to think about it. I should replace this current chain of memories with happier ones. My happiest one.
I haven’t told you much about our wedding day. That’s my safe place in my mind. It wasn’t a spectacular day in terms of grandeur, like you see in some crazily expensive weddings, but it was perfect to me.
We’d booked an old converted barn out in Kent for the service and reception. It was a small event with about fifty people – the ones closest to us who we actually wanted there. My aunt and uncle came from America and a couple of my cousins but that was it from my family. There was more of a showing from Karen’s family with Sue, several aunts, uncles, cousins, a couple of her cousin’s children, and one grandmother. Other than that it was our close friends and a few work colleagues.
We got married on the second Saturday of May and luckily the weather was dry and bright for us. Marcus was my best man and Trudy was Karen’s bridesmaid. Ella wasn’t even a thought back then so we had Karen’s cousin’s daughter as a flower girl.
I knew the hardest part of the day for Karen was walking down the aisle without her father. She’d asked his brother to give her away instead. That’s the moment I go back to when I need to escape everything: Karen walking towards me along the small aisle between the chairs. Her shining eyes locked on mine.
She was more beautiful that day than
she ever had been. Her hair was swept up from her face and secured with a diamond tiara. She had a veil draped down her back, and make-up that flushed her cheeks and made her look so alive. Her dress was ivory coloured with two thin straps and a nipped in waist. It trailed out a little behind her but wasn’t too big. I’d seen some huge, puffy ones in the bridal magazines that littered our house in the run up to the wedding but I knew hers would be nothing like that. She looked elegant and happy.
I had a lump in my throat as she joined me in front of the registrar and getting my vows out was a bit of a struggle. Karen was perfectly calm once she got to me though, smiling and excited after a nervy walk down the aisle. She’d never really liked being the centre of attention and you can’t help but be in the spotlight on your wedding day. The service was fairly quick and we all had Champagne outside in the gardens after, before the photos. That’s when the one in my wallet was taken. Out in the sunshine, with a light gust of wind blowing Karen’s veil. When we were at our happiest.
Most of the day was a blur after that, with talking, laughing and dancing, three courses of food and plenty of wine. Sue said a few words in place of Karen’s dad and some tears were shed. I did a short toast as well but Marcus’s speech was the best one. He’d filmed interviews with our friends and colleagues before the wedding to make a film of my most embarrassing moments to show on the day. They included the time I’d drunkenly fallen into a guy from work’s pond at a summer BBQ, the day I’d ripped my trousers during a police chase and arrested the suspect with my bright yellow boxers on display, and one I’d almost forgotten, where Marcus and I had gone on holiday to Majorca back in our first year of training and drifted so far out to sea in a pedalo that we had to be rescued by boat. I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so much in such a short space of time.