A Hunter By Any Name

by Sheila Wireman

  Immediately after thinking that I gave myself a mental kicking myself in the ass. The resupply was only getting started and I was already jinxing it.

  It was 2 am and even the Rent-A-Cops would question me jogging around the gated community if they spotted me. The only hope I had was that I successfully looked like a house wife out for a run and the housewives around here were condescending bitches. Otherwise they would be on me quicker than flies on shit.

  I did not jog directly to the red BMW that was parked at the community center. I wasn’t sure if anyone would have questioned why it had been sitting there all day or not. It could have attracted attention. Instead I jogged past the community center and down the block. I would have preferred to jog all the way around the block and circle back. But the houses in this gated community had some seriously large lots. Around the block would have been a good mile. The Rent-A-Cops could spot me.

  I had a much longer than normal internal debate over the situation before I came to the decision to double at the end of the block. I was afraid that I was making the decision to double back because I was tired and therefore being lazy. This was the second all-nighter I had pulled and the cat nap I dared to take earlier had not been nearly long enough. There was no way I was going to allow myself to take a short cut because I was tired. Short cuts led to death.

  In the end I decided the smartest plan was to double back. Jog straight to the car and get the hell out of here.

  Thankfully, I did not even spot a Rent-A-Cop at the gate leading out of the community. They didn’t care if you left. All the effort was spent keeping you out.

  Chapter 5

  I jumped when the alarm on the little pink battery operated clock went off. Normally I wake up instantly but held still. I would examine my surroundings to make sure nothing had changed before I moved. But this time I was startled awake and sat up before I froze and let all my senses examine my surroundings. I was in Grand Junction Colorado in a Walmart parking lot. I had parked here for nap while I waited for the store to become busier.

  I didn’t like shopping for resupplies when a store was empty or at a start of a shift. At the start of a shift the cashiers were fresh and their minds were not dulled yet from the monotony of their jobs. Bored cashiers looked for stimulation by interacting and examining what the customers were buying. No, I wanted a frazzled rude casher, thank you very much.

  There was nothing outside or inside of the Equinox that was suspicious but that didn’t mean that there was nothing dangerous. The most dangerous things in life were exceptionally gifted at seeming unsuspicious. I liked to think I was a prime example of this. At least I put a lot of planning and effort into it. I continued examining the cars parked around me and the few customers walking by until I thought it was safe to start moving. I readjusted the sword that was digging into my left side. The knife on my right thigh was still in place and didn’t need adjusting.

  I had resupplied so many times that my mind and body wanted to go on autopilot. I forced myself to admit that I was also mentally and physically tired. I was pushing 30 and I just couldn’t go without sleep like I use to. It was Sunday morning and I had gotten 6 hours of sleep since I woke up Thursday morning but I needed to stay sharp and focus.

  The people around me would be the most dangerous. At each of my stops today I would examine every one around me and compare them to the ones I had seen a previous stops to make sure that no one was following me. Also, at the same time I needed to change everything about me in a specific order so that nothing would could link the past me with the future me that I needed to become.

  This is why I had packed with meticulous care BEFORE I engaged the coven of wizards in Wilmington. I had compartmentalized everything into bags and boxes, which would be discarded at specific times and never all in the same place. The only thing that would stay the same was my weapons and I had learned to trust them. I might not know what the symbols and patterns etched into the blades meant but I could feel the power that the blades held. So far they had not betrayed me and I got the impression that as long as I stayed in The Goddess’s good graces they would continue to protect me.

  I stretched as I got out of the car and used the stretch to adjust the sling holding my sword in place. I liked the sword hanging down my left side and the handle slightly to the front under my left boob. The sling was loose enough for me to grab with my left hand and angle it away from my boob when I withdrew the sword from the sling. I had practiced this A LOT and it was second nature. No way was I cutting my boob.

  Originally, I tried to strap the sword on my back so that I could reach over my shoulder and pull it out, just like they did in the movies. The first time I had tried it the sharp blade sliced right through the lovely leather sheath that had come with the sword. Yep, I was a newb and I have the scars to prove it. But not on my boob and that was important.

  I stretched again and let the movement hide my fingers as they danced through the air around the sword. My fingertips tingled when they touched the energy of the spell that kept my weapons concealed. The spell felt powerful and strong, eventually it would weaken and need to be recast but it was good for now. It had been years since I happened to come across a wizard strong enough to see through my concealment spell. I said a silent prayer to The Goddess to allow my lucky streak to continue for a while longer.

  Most of my spells I used had come out of a nasty book I took from a dead wizard in Texas along the coast. Yes, he was dead. I know for a fact because I had cut off his head after a particularly nasty fight. I had a scar on my right shoulder and left thigh that could attest to how nasty the fight had been.

  Most of the spells from the book I won’t touch with a ten foot pole but a few had been useful ones. He had more spells than any other wizard I have fought to date. Plus the fire bolts he shot at me were vicious, I have a burn scar on my stomach that proved it.

  Just for the record, no I am not a witch. To the best of my knowledge, which is limited to what I have discovered and experienced on my own in the last 14 years, there are no female witches. The best women can hope for is to be Wiccan and have a small resource of spells at their fingertips. The difference between being a Wiccan and a wizard are that Wiccans honor The Goddess and live by her rules. Witches and wizards live only to gain power by any means necessary. It is my personal theory that the image of the witch came about because wives became the fall guys, or girls as the case may be, for their husbands.

  That is why I call all the people I hunt wizards. Long ago I just started expecting the people I hunt to all be men. Maybe that wasn’t a good thing. Maybe it made me grow complacent and put me in danger. Maybe someday I would actually find a female witch. But I thought those maybes were right up there with the “maybe someday I will fall in love, get married, buy a house and have kids.” In other words a snowball’s chance in hell.

  I sighed with fatigue and shook the negative thoughts out of my head as I walked toward the Walmart door. I needed to stay sharp. This was my life. This is what I did. It was a job that most desperately needed doing and I have never run across anyone competing for it. I had become extremely competent at killing wizards over the years. It had been literally a baptismal by fire after my first unsuccessful attempt to burn my first wizard I tried to kill.

  What it worked in the stories?

  In real life I got a seriously pissed off wizard that had come storming out of the burning house after me. Thankfully, the ineptitude of my attempt had caused him to underestimate me. He got to close without thinking. I had lobbed off his head with my sword.

  Yea, yea, we already covered the fact that I was a newb back then.

  The trip into Walmart was quick. I only allowed myself to become distracted for a quick second during which I eyed the donut cases with lust. In the end I bought a container of precut watermelon, yogurt, cashews, garbage bags, Clorox wipes, a pair of thin white gloves, a package of underwear, two sports bras and a pillow.

  I try to save my money and buy all m
y clothes second hand. But, NO, I am NOT buying second hand underwear. I know there is the whole karma thing going on. You get back what you give times 3, yada, yada, yada. I was spending stolen money on new underclothes. But I guess I always pictured Karma as a punk ass Goth girl in black clothes, a nose ring and black high topped thick soled ass kicker boots with lots of buckles.

  Karma would understand me not wearing used underclothing. The pillow was just plain smart – head lice, bed bugs – need I say more?

  There was a clothing drop off box in the Walmart parking lot which I would not allow myself to use. Instead I drove to a clothing drop off box at a strip mall down the street. I threw in a garbage bag of freshly laundered clothes. That left me with only the clothes on my back which I had selected for their plain nondescript appearance. The polo shirt I wore was nice enough to be slightly upscale and was Aqua. Aqua was such a good color, not really blue and not really green. People generally remembered primary colors the best and when they couldn’t recall a specific color their mind always reached for the primary ones.

  After that drove around the city in search of a thrift store all the while wishing there was still such a thing as pay phones with phone books still. The first second hand store I found was too upscale and the clothes were not plain enough. I passed it by. Finally, I found a Salvation Army Thrift Store. Perfect for what I needed.

  I bought just the necessities to get me through the next week until I got a new identity and the dart decided where I would be going. I bought a pair of jeans, a pair of shorts, 3 shirts and a belt. The belt was a necessity because the jeans were too big. I could handle baggy jeans but not tight jeans. Tight jeans hampered your movements and fighting. I also bought 2 blankets and a brown alarm clock to replace my pink one.

  Guess what else? Grand Junction Colorado has an REI. I love REI stores they are the best thing since sliced bread. They have the absolute best socks and running shoes. The icing on the cake is that the staff is friendly and helpful but at the same time they don’t really give a shit. They were just going through the motions, especially on a busy 3 day holiday weekend like this one.

  I did have a hard time with the running shoes. The bright bold colors that were the new trend in women’s running shoes just stood out too much. I made a lame excuse to the worker that the shoes were too narrow. He brought me the comparable size in a men’s shoes that were a much more muted color I bought two pairs. I snagged thick running socks to fill in the extra width when the worker wasn’t looking.

  Before you ask, No there were no common shoppers between the Salvation Army and the REI store. The clientele could not have been more bipolar. The Salvation Army had been full of plump dowdy middle aged mothers some of whom had lethargic children in tow. REI was full of physically fit Yuppy Puppies.

  What? Don’t tell me you don’t think that terming a whole generation of people Yuppies sounds like you are naming a breed of dogs. You have thought it you just don’t want to admit it. Yuppy Puppies are the children of Yuppies. They are obsessed with physical fitness, health, and upscale clothing. Which is why yoga is so popular. Yoga is all three rolled into one. Plus it makes the aging Yuppie Puppies feel young again because they are so flexible.

  Next I needed a dumpster to dispose of my personal and old sleeping items. So off I went in search of the industrial part. Now then you might think that an apartment complex – sorry my bad - an apartment community would be a better choice to find a dumpster but you would be wrong. When you throw a bunch of people in supper close living quarters they become very territorial over their personal and community space. You are just wishing for trouble by going into an apartment community where you don’t belong.

  Once I thought there was a wizard targeting an apartment community in Seattle Washington. It turned out to be a territorial neighbor. He had decided everyone that encroached on his personal parking place by walking in it even when it was empty needed to be killed. Take my advice and stay away from apartment communities.

  Thankfully Grand Junction’s industrial part of town was as predictable as most. Just drive to where two major interstates connect and get off at the first exit. Jackpot! I found a dumpster behind a nondescript metal building that was totally deserted. Gotta love three day holiday weekends.

  I stripped down and got dressed in my new clothes. I even changed my bra, underwear, shoes and socks. I cringing when the second hand clothes touched my skin. I really hated not washing them first but that would have added at least two hours to my day. No, I needed to get in and get out.

  I put the clothes I had taken off in a garbage bag that contained my old pillow and blankets and then threw it into the dumpster. Next, I threw the box with all my personal hygiene items in the dumpster, toothbrush, toothpaste, shampoo, soap, etc. You name it and it went in the dumpster. I took the tags off my second new bra and took the rest of the new underwear out of the package. I put the tags in a bag and threw them in the dumpster. I put the new and used clothes and blankets I had just bought in a garbage bag and sealed it up tight and put it into the Equinox. Now all that was left was the one box labeled Personal Bathroom, my bag of new clothes, white gloves and the Clorox wipes. Oh and I can’t forget about the map and dart, the makers of my destiny.

  I knew the industrial complex would have have cameras but I wasn’t too worried. If anyone reviewed the tape, which I doubted they would, it would probably be a guy. A guy would be more interested in my stripping act then the illegal dumping of items in the dumpster. It was highly unlikely anything I dumped would lead them to where I had been. Nothing would lead them to where I was going because even I didn’t know where I was going yet.

  I didn’t care about the license plate or vehicle information because in a few hours those would be out of my life as well. Not to mention that the license plate belonged to a different Equinox and was in no way connected to me. It was even a South Carolina plate, close enough to North Carolina to not be out of place when I was there but would throw someone looking at my back trail a curve ball.

  I got in the vehicle and drove off thinking about my next step. Normally, I would have stashed my weapons and clothes in the middle of nowhere, like a state park. Then I would have ditched the vehicle some place where I could take a bus or walk to a car lot to buy a car. Last, I would drive to pick up my stashed weapons.

  I didn’t like stashing my weapons outside of the vehicle but I thought that if anyone was following me they would likely stay with the vehicle I was driving and not check out what I stashed. The only complication would be if more than one person was following me. Then they would separate and my weapons would be lost. Well except for my sword and knife that I wore at all times.

  When I had driven into town on I-70 earlier that morning I had noticed signs for the McInnis Canyon National Park. Usually I would have jumped all over the national park to stash my stuff. But for once the holiday was throwing a monkey wrench in my plans. There would be families flocking to the park to camp and hike. No, I need to come up with a different idea then a national or state park. I got in the Equinox and drove off thinking about a new plan.

  So here I was left with a dilemma on where to stash my stuff. I am a big fan of not being predictable so in the end I decided to do something I had never done before. I decided to leave the weapons in the vehicle and come back for them. But first I found a self-serve car wash. I pulled up next to the vacuums and got busy. I put on the white gloves and vacuumed and wiped down every inch of the Equinox. While I was wiping the dash I took off the bobble head cat and put it in my purse. I also peeled off the cat stickers on the dash and stuck them together in a ball and put them in my purse as well. I also kept the pink alarm clock and put that in my purse as well. When I was done on the inside I threw away the leftover wet wipes and then washed the outside spotless.

  I left the white gloves on and drove to the residential neighborhood I had spotted earlier in the day. I drove around until I found a street with a lot of vehicles already parked on it. I gr
abbed the purse out of the front seat and locked the doors. Then I took off the gloves and tucked them into the purse. As I walked down the road I saw at least two houses throwing parties. Perfect. No one would question an out of state vehicle parked on the road.

  It was getting to be somewhat late in the day before I got to the small used car dealership. But that would work to my advantage. The salesmen would be pushing to hit their end of month quota and irritated at working a holiday weekend all at once. They would be more than happy to sell a car to a women paying full price in cash and look the other way when she drove it off the lot with no tags or insurance.

  One hour later after I had flirted shamelessly with a young car salesman I left the lot in a 2006 dark Blue Honda CR-V that cost me $6000 plus a $100 bill slipped to the car salesman for a temporary plate. I put on the white gloves when I turned down the street where I had parked the Equinox. I pulled up next to it and used the key fobs to open both hatches. I got out and quickly threw the few things left in the Equinox into the CR-V and closed the hatch to the Equinox. I grabbed the license plate on the Equinox and ripped it off. Double sided carpet tape was a very handy invention. I threw the keys to the Equinox on the ground and hoped someone found them and took it for a joy ride before disposing of it somewhere else.

  Chapter 6

  As I drove away from Grand Junction Colorado I was on high alert. This was the trickiest part of my resupply and the most critical.

  I still had not yet completely given up my old identity but had started to collect items that would be a part of my new identity so for the next couple of hours my past and present self would be linked.

  To fully understand why this was dangerous you need to understand magic. The Goddess is the producer of magic. The Goddess is female and she loves everything and everyone fully and completely, until you piss her off. The quickest way to piss her off is to harm something she loves. That is why the number one rule in magic is the Law of Threes. Everything you do will come back to you times three. Also, because The Goddess is a female entity she is motivated by relationships and spirituality. She cares who you are and what makes you who you are.