Sam actually missed the crude, sarcastic guitarist who had once owned the clothes on his back, despite how poorly he had been treated by him in the past. It was far too quiet now Jacko was no longer yelling in the thick accent that sometimes made him hard to understand. It was also weird not having Mike around, or Chavz, and even Skid had made his impression. Sam missed them all, and he could tell that Christie did too, but she was tired of crying and feeling sorry for herself. Now all she wanted to do was survive and so she was preparing to go on the run, with the hope that TJ would lose track of them and give up the chase somewhere along the way.
It didn't help that there were two separate parties after them now, what with Tommy and Aaron thrown into the mix. Granted they were after Sam first, but they had been a distant memory until their most recent encounter. Both TJ and the hunter duo wanted them dead, the question being who would make them suffer the most beforehand. Sam was convinced that TJ would put the most hurt on them, but he really didn't want to end up in a position where he could find out.
As Sam pondered the possibility of his own demise, a black car rolled into the street, slowly coasting to a stop just outside the apartment building where he was currently residing. The back end of the expensive looking vehicle was left halfway in the road, the driver parking crooked with the nose of the car barely over the edge of the curb. If that wasn't odd enough, the headlights were left on with the engine still running as the door opened and someone stepped out from inside.
Watching from his safe place on high, Sam observed as a large, smartly dressed man in a pristine suit emerged, adjusting his tie as he looked around. The dark skin of his shaven head seemed to glisten under the street light, his black goatee trimmed to perfection. The man clearly took pride in his appearance as he straightened his jacket to make sure that it was sitting straight on his shoulders. It was odd to see someone so well dressed in that part of the city, the atmosphere doused with suspicion. A feeling of unease crept in, leaving Sam frozen stiff, his face pressed up against the glass to get a better look. That feeling was only intensified as the man craned his neck to look upwards, his midnight eyes catching a glimpse of the awkward looking gawker on the window sill.
Sam found it impossible to look away as their eyes locked, fear rising up from deep within. Even the beast inside him wanted to cower and hide, letting him know that whoever this person was, he was a force to be reckoned with. The way Sam felt only seemed to escalate as he stared helplessly into dark orbs that seemed to draw him in like black holes.
Calling out with panic in his voice, Sam summoned his companion to the window. “Christie! Someone's here!” At least he hadn't lost the ability to speak, but he still couldn't turn his head to look away. His neck refused to move an inch and his eyelids wouldn't even blink, let alone close altogether.
It didn't take long for Christie to reach Sam, the palms of her hands flat against the glass as she leaned over him and tried to see down into the street. “Grab whatever you can, we need to go now!” The sheer terror in her words was enough to let him know that they were in serious trouble.
Sam desperately tried to move again, but he was still left paralysed. There was no chance of him moving on his own as long as the man in the suit maintained eye contact. Fortunately for him, Christie was there to solve that particular problem. Grabbing him by the shoulders, she used her might to pull his body away from the glass. As soon as Sam lost sight of the man’s face, he found that he had regained full control of his body as she pulled him in so close that their noses were almost touching.
Mouthing her words so Sam could read her lips, Christie spoke loud and clear enough for all to hear. “Sam! We need to go! Now!!!” She hadn't realised that he had been stuck there like a fly caught in spider’s web and was just trying to make sure that he understood the urgency of the situation.
Sam blinked a few times, clearing his head as he prepared himself for a quick exit. “Who is that?”
Christie barely had time to respond as she grabbed Sam’s hand in her vice like grip and yanked him towards the door. “A battle we can't win! He's way out of our league!”
They had only made it a few steps when the front door exploded in a shower of wood chips and splinters, as it was completely decimated by an unstoppable force. Shielding his face with his free hand, Sam could see the massive silhouette of someone in the hallway blocking the way out. It only took a second for him to realise that it was the same well dressed man from outside, his flawless skin as black as night as he glared at the pair of them with bloodshot eyes.
Before the debris even settled, Christie had pushed Sam towards the closest window, yelling at the top of her lungs in obvious terror. “Run, Sam! Run!!!” She didn't need to tell him twice as he barreled towards the opening, moving as fast as his legs would take him.
Sam hoped that Christie was close behind as he threw himself at the window pane without breaking his stride. The leap of faith sent him crashing through the thin sheet of glass and out into the open air beyond. Time slowed to a crawl, causing glass shards to hang in the air like floating diamonds, giving him the feeling that he was flying for just a second. That brief taste of freedom was soon interrupted by the inevitable fall, as his momentum ran short and his trajectory changed to send him plummeting down to the hard concrete below.
Acting on instinct, Sam shifted his body weight so his feet would hit the ground first as he tried to maximize his chances of survival. He was certain that the impact would hurt, but he would still make it to the street and start running in whatever direction his legs carried him. All he knew was that he had to escape, and he prayed to God that his companion was with him. After all, he wasn't sure how to survive without her. Without Christie by his side, he would surely be lost.
Chapter Seventeen: A most secret meeting.
Ducking under the police tape, Aaron could see the damage that had been wrought by whatever destructive force had broken into the apartment. The door had been torn from its hinges and shattered into a million pieces of splintered wood, with nothing left to show of what it had once been. He struggled to picture the type of being that had the strength to achieve such a feat, but imagined that they were truly a terrifying sight to behold.
The entire place looked as though it had been ransacked, the overturned coffee table and broken dishes telling only part of the tale. Discarded bottles and empty pizza boxes littered the floor, and the air itself was filled with the stench of old cigarettes and stale beer. It was hard to see whether or not there had been a struggle or if things had been stolen afterwards, as the living room already looked like a crack den. It left Aaron wondering what type of person could stomach living in such squalor without much care for personal hygiene or anything else for that matter. Jack Olsen was likely someone who had made more than his fair share of poor life choices.
Snapping the tape in half as he followed closely through the entryway, Tommy made sure that his presence was known. “Oh shit! What the fuck happened to the door?”
Feeling nervous in unfamiliar surroundings, Aaron spoke quietly, sounding distracted as he began to peer around the room. “I don't know, but there's not much of it left…”
In the corner of his eye, Aaron noticed the fluttering pages of a faded magazine that had been left on the floor, the glossy paper moving in a breeze that originated from the living room window. Making his way across the room, he could see that the glass of the window had been broken, as if something large had been thrown through it. The lack of shards on the blood stained rug showed that the window had been smashed outwards in the direction of the street and hadn't resulted from something coming in from outside.
As judgemental as always, Tommy shared his disgust of the living conditions as he proceeded with his own investigation, beginning a search of the far side of the room. “Either somethin’ went down here, or this dude was a real fuckin’ slob.”
Aaron nodded his head slowly, agreeing with his friend wholeheartedly. “I'd say a little of both.”<
br />
It was good to see Tommy acting more like himself again, but Aaron was still nervous about what would happen once they caught up with Christie. He was concerned that another face to face meeting could result in a mental breakdown, or that an error in judgement that could lead to his friend’s demise. It was a valid concern after what had happened during their last encounter, but he wasn't sure that he could do anything to prevent it.
The pair of them had already scoped out several apartments that belonged to the other band members of Entropy of the Heart, finding no leads as to Christie’s whereabouts, or any sign of the band members themselves. They had been notably absent at the club too, which made Aaron wonder if they had skipped town or if something had gone awry.
Jack Olsen was the final name on the list, and the patrol car waiting outside the front door of his building let them know that they had the right place, with someone having tipped the police off to some sort of disruption that had occurred earlier that same night. It hadn't been much of a challenge to sneak inside, as Aaron and Tommy had become quite adept at breaking and entering. A crowbar and a simple lesson in physics were more than enough to best the low end security offered by the back entrance located next to the dumpsters. After that it wasn't difficult at all to find the right place, with the missing door and yellow tape making it obvious which apartment had been occupied by the guitarist.
“Check this out, dude. It looks like it hurt.” Tommy crouched down low, reaching over with an open hand to dip his fingers into a large pool of blood that had been partially soaked up by the carpet.
The shape of the puddle was too neat to have resulted from a struggle, which meant that someone had suffered from some severe injuries and had been close to bleeding out. At least that would have been the case if they were human, but both Sam Mitchell and Christie Reece were anything but. A vampire low on blood would be ravenous and extremely dangerous, even more so than usual.
After pausing for a few seconds, Tommy lifted red fingertips up to his face in order to examine them closer, soon confirming his suspicions with a satisfied nod. “Blood’s still wet... Looks like they pissed someone off. That or you managed to clip Mitchell at the club.”
Aaron moved over to the broken window, sticking his head through the opening in order to look down at the street below. He could see the shards of glass on the pavement, liberally scattered over the concrete slabs that made up the uneven sidewalk. “It looks like they made a speedy get away, which means that someone or something other than us was after them. Something powerful enough to turn solid wood into sawdust.”
Annoyed by another missed opportunity, Tommy kicked over a nearby bottle, the contents of beer soaked cigarette butts spilling out over the floor. “Fuck! We're always one step behind!”
Aaron moved back from the window and turned to face his frustrated friend, the palms of his hands held out to try and soothe him. “Calm down, man, they can't have gotten that far. At least we know that they're still in the city.”
The scowl on Tommy's face let Aaron know that his words hadn't achieved the desired effect. “For now, but we need to pick up the damn pace if we're not the only ones chasing them... I can’t lose her again!”
Aaron agreed, but he was a little more level headed than his friend and Tommy’s choice of words weighed heavily on his mind. “We should go before the cops return. Don't worry though, we can still track them down first if we’re smart about it. They can't run from us forever.”
Tommy was still flustered, but he seemed to be somewhat reassured by the promise of finding their quarry. “Let's go before the trail gets cold. We have competition now and I fuckin’ hate losing!”
With so little left of the night, Aaron knew that Christie and Sam would have to find somewhere to lie low for the day, which gave him and Tommy an advantage that they couldn't afford to waste. However, that meant that whatever else was following them could take advantage of that temporary vulnerability too. Despite the additional pressure that had been applied by another party being thrown into the mix, he felt a renewed sense of hope due to the possibility of ending the hunt and finally getting out of the wretched hellhole that was Miami. Still, he couldn't help but wonder if there was anything left of his former friend.
Was it really true that Christie was gone and only the monster remained? Aaron found that he was starting to doubt himself, although he wouldn't admit it out loud. The line between his work and personal life had blurred and it was becoming increasingly difficult to differentiate between the two. Unfortunately for him, such uncertainty could spell the difference between life and death.
**********
Sam wasn’t entirely sure where Christie had taken him, but perhaps that was for the best. If he didn’t know where they were, then perhaps the man chasing them wouldn’t know either. They had fled from Jacko’s apartment, running halfway across town until they ended up in what he could only describe as the industrial district of the city.
The pair of them were hiding out in a dusty old warehouse, cowering behind some wooden crates that they had turned into a makeshift haven of sorts. Christie had found a thick, white tarp that she had pulled over the crates to act as a shelter from any sun rays that poked their way through the dirt caked windows. It wouldn’t be comfortable, but at least they could get some much needed rest. The shelter wouldn’t be enough to protect them indefinitely, but perhaps their little hideout could buy them enough time to make it through the harsh light of day and back into the night.
Resting his back against the side of one of the crates, Sam had sat himself on the floor across from Christie, his arms hugging his knees. He watched his companion in silence as she typed away on her phone, the light from the screen illuminating her face and allowing him the opportunity to admire her. Her hair was a mess and her makeup had long faded, but this is how he preferred to see her, in all her natural beauty.
Christie furrowed her brow as she concentrated on what she was writing, her nose scrunching up as she thought hard about what to say. All she had told him was that she might have a way to get them out of their current predicament by contacting a dear friend. Whoever they were, she claimed that they might be able to help them out, but she refused to go into specifics.
It wasn't until Christie had finished her message that she noticed Sam staring, managing a weak smile as she too felt drained by the daylight hours. He had been waiting patiently for her to finish, biding his time until he could ask the question that had been burning a hole in his head. “Who was that guy? I’ve never felt anything like it.”
Her faint smile was wiped from her face and replaced by the grim expression of defeat. “Akoni. He’s TJ’s right hand man and if he's after us, we're really screwed. I hear they call him the Huntsman… and if his reputation is anything to go by, they call him that for a reason.”
The name sounded foreign, but Sam couldn't place its origin. He remembered Christie mentioning him once before, so the sobering look that she gave him as she slid her phone back into her pocket only served to boost his curiosity. “What is he though? Is he a vampire like us?”
She shook her head slowly, maintaining eye contact. “I don't know… I've only seen him once before when he took Skid's tongue, but I've heard stories of what he's capable of. All I know for sure is that he’s extremely dangerous.”
Sam pondered for a moment, leaning back further to place his head against the hard surface behind him. He tried to think of ways to escape the city, but all of them were impossible without the cover of night. He didn't like feeling like a sitting duck, left vulnerable and waiting to be killed, but he had to wait until it was safe enough for Christie to go outside. He knew that he could survive out there for a time, but he couldn't leave her behind and wouldn't risk her going up in flames.
It was Sam who eventually spoke, turning his head to look back at Christie again. “So what should we do next?”
Christie idly rested a hand on the outline of the phone in her pocket. “We wait for a reply,
or failing that we find some transport and a way out of here. How do you feel about California?”
Sam realised that he didn't really have an opinion of the far Western State, having never thought about actually venturing that far before. He shrugged his shoulders, expressing neither excitement nor apathy for the suggestion. “Sure, what's a little more sunshine... What else is out there for us?”
It seemed that she didn't really have an answer herself, replying with a question instead. “A fresh start?”
A smirk flashed across Sam’s face. “It's been a while since I had one of those.”
Christie returned a similar look, the corners of her mouth curling into a wild grin the likes of which he hadn't seen since the drive back from Canada. It was good to see her smiling again, without it being forced. “Thanks, Sam.”
Reaching over from where he sat, Sam placed a hand on Christie’s leg. “Don’t mention it. I'm always here when you need me.”
No more words were exchanged between the two while they enjoyed the peace and quiet of each other’s company. It was a pleasant change to simply exist for a little while, without being chased or having to fight for their lives. The last couple of nights had been hectic to say the least, with the promise of more to come. For now, they would need to build their strength, taking turns to keep watch as the other rested. There was no telling how long it would take for either the human hunters or the Huntsman known as Akoni to find them, but Sam at least hoped to have a few more hours of down time first. Just a few more hours before they would have to face death once more. It wasn't too much to ask for, was it?
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