by Joy Blood
My shoulder hurts bad. Mama pulled too hard this time. She took me to the hospital because I wouldn’t stop crying. The nice lady gave me something sweet on a stick. She called it a sucker. It was good, but I ate it too fast and now my tummy is grumbling. I wanted to ask for another but we left so fast I never got the chance.
It’s cold in Mommy’s car. She keeps complaining that her heater doesn’t work. I’m watching her now as she stands outside, arms curled close around her like I have mine. She is talking to a man who keeps looking back at me through the window. He’s in a suit, like the men in the commercials I see on the TV in Mommy’s room. He’s taller than Mommy too. A lot taller. “Get out of the car, Stevie,” Mommy tells me when she comes back and opens the door. She yanks on the arm that doesn't hurt, making it hurt too. “You are going to go with this man.”
“But I don’t want to, Mommy. I want to go home!” I struggle to pull away, but it only makes her more mad. She jerks again, like she did before, making more tears flow down my face.
“Shut up and go!” she shouts, “This is all your fault, Steven. If you wouldn’t have hurt your arm, I wouldn’t have to get rid of you. Now the cops will be coming to take you away and I won't get paid for you anymore,” she says, not making any sense. “Get out of the car!” she yells, and I cry harder as I crawl out of the car, wrapping my arms around myself. It’s cold, and I only have on my pajamas and the socks I got from the hospital.
“How old did you say?” the suit man asks.
“Four. He’s a little small—”
“I’m not much in the market for babies,” the man says, looking me over.
“Please, you have to take him. I need the money.”
“Fine. But you are only getting five. No more.” He reaches into his suit coat and grabs out an envelope. Mommy snatches it, then gets back in the car. I try to go after her, but the man grabs the back of my pajama shirt, holding me back.
“Mommy! Don't leave me!” I scream, but she doesn’t stop. “Please, Mommy! I’ll be good. It doesn’t hurt any more, Mommy! Please!” I cry, but it doesn’t bring her back, and it only makes the suit man mad.
“Shut up, boy,” he snaps, and pulls my arm, dragging me to another car before opening the door and tossing me inside. I land hard on my hurt arm and start to choke on my tears, but the man doesn’t care. He only yells at me to be quiet. I try my best by pressing my teeth into my bottom lip and end up biting a hole through. The same taste I get when Mommy hits me fills my mouth. I need to be quiet. If I’m good maybe Mommy will come back.
Chapter One
It had to be snow. My target couldn’t be living somewhere warm like a sandy beach in the Bahamas. He’s at the top of a mountain, covered in thick, white, fluffy snow. For years, this man has evaded us. His legacy had almost been forgotten until radio silence broke nearly two years ago. A hit was put on his head when word surfaced that his location had been discovered, but it wasn’t our men who got the contract. And because of that, he got the better of them and slipped through their cold, dead fingers.
Then, there was nothing.
Until three days ago, when a rumor spread about a drifter who had taken up residence in the middle of a remote forest in the dead of winter. It had to be him. Maybe traipsing up a mountain through three feet of snow is a little extreme for only a hunch, but when I heard the information, I knew, deep in my gut, it was him. It felt like him.
Wraith.
The man whose name precedes him. If he wanted you dead, you wouldn’t know until the bullet pierced your skull and you fell, lifeless, to the ground. Or if he was feeling more personal, the knife he used to slice your throat wouldn’t catch a glint of light before doing his bidding.
My snowshoes help me trudge through the freshly fallen snow, but it’s still hard to navigate through the forest. I have close to three more miles to go and only one hour left of sunlight. Last night, there was a thin mist of rain, giving the snow an inch of crunching ice. My feet break through the barrier before being sucked in by the quicksand-like snow underneath, slowing me down. The thought of a snowmobile is once again sounding like a good idea. I decided against it, since Wraith would hear it coming from miles away and anticipate it—anticipate me. The unlikeliness of one person on foot will be my ally. Hopefully.
The darkness shrouds me as the sun drops from the sky. I keep my knife close as I continue forward. The threat of predators, and not just my target, keeps me alert. Howling catches my ears, and I stop for just a moment, trying to pinpoint where it’s coming from. I hear it again, not far behind me. Gripping the handle tighter, I turn and scan the area, squinting my eyes to use the moonlight to my advantage. With the thick white blanket through the forest, the light bounces off just enough to allow me to see at least a hundred yards or so away.
Not catching any movement behind me, I decide to keep walking. Only a mile to go. I'm not going to get mauled by a pack of wolves before I get to him. Failure isn't an option. Master’s words echo in my ear.
“You will do it again and again, until your knuckles bleed and your bones ache. Push through the pain, it is only a figment of your imagination.”
Master liked my blood. Liked it when my hands could hardly move at the end of the day. Sometimes, I could barely feed myself from being so swollen and bruised. He made me eat from the floor once when he found me using my fingers instead of the provided fork. The plate went flying across the floor with a smack of his hand, leaving a trail of my food in its wake. “You will eat off the floor if you insist on eating like an animal.” I did as he said, getting to my knees and going for the first bite with my hand, only to have him slap it from my grip. “No! You will eat like a dog if you insist on acting like one,” he scolded, forcing my face down so I could reach the food with my mouth. My stomach growled for the small trail of lumpy porridge, so I ate, grateful for the sustenance.
Shaking my head from the memory, I take in a deep breath. Smoke. I'm close. The cabin has to be near. I quicken my pace, then rein it back in, not wanting to get overly confident. It leads to failure. And that…well, we already covered that.
The small glow of light barely comes into view through the sparsely covered forest. The higher up I get, the less trees cover the ground and more snow takes their place. With only a smattering here and there, the trees sag under weight of the snow, their tops glowing in the moonlight as if lighting my path to the cabin. I keep my movements slow, calculated. I want so much to take off the thick, tennis racket looking snowshoes, but know I will sink if I do so. Heel, toe. Heel, toe, I remind myself, preventing me from making noise as I push on. Knowing I can’t just walk up to the door, I find a place to lay low where I can fully see the cabin, but also stay hidden. I get comfortable, and there, I wait.
He will have to make himself known at some point, and when he does, I will strike.
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