Page 115 of Locke 2

He pressed on. No matter what, he would get to Locke.

He was prepared to die trying.

???

He didn’t know at what point he was aware he was being followed. Maybe it was the snap of a twig or two behind him, orthe way the forest suddenly went quiet, like nature could sense the darkness and held its breath to avoid its notice.

Jem’s steps slowed down. He tripped over his own feet and used a tree to steady himself. He’d made it to a clearing. There would be a hill. He’d only need to climb it and walk for a thousand fucking hours to find human life, but it was doable. He could do this—

The gunshot that whizzed past his ear was a tease.

A way to say, “hey, I fucking caught you!”

Jem dropped to the ground, cupping his bleeding ear and turned around. He watched wearily as the figure emerged from the trees, the green trench coat more symbolic than this doctor could ever know.

Did all creeps wear the fucking jacket? So, it wasn’t some kind of stereotype then?

The doctor was smiling broadly and glancing down at his watch. “Fifteen hours! And you’re injured. I’ve never seen a hunt go like that before. Never has someone flown over the edge and into the rapids and made it out. Congratulations!”

Jem was heaving for breath. He relaxed his back against the inclined earth. Just this fucking hill. He would have just needed this fucking hill. He stared at the doctor and brightly smiled back. “I’m a fighter.”

“Indeed, you are!” agreed the doctor. “It’s so much fun when the runners enjoy the game. I would have liked it if your girl had chosen that. I’ve never hunted two people down at the same time.” His teeth clenched with disappointment as he quietly added, “I came so close.”

This guy was a colourful shade of fucked up.

“So, she’s in the hole,” Jem said.

The doctor nodded, feigning seriousness. “She chose the boy.”

“Is the boy alive?”

“Does it matter? They’re both dead. She had a nasty fall. If she landed on her head, I’d say it exploded like a watermelon does when you smash it to the ground. Have you ever done that?”

Jem stared at the man, his face so cold, he couldn’t recognize his voice when he said. “You better hope she’s alive. Because the man that’s going to find you is going to tear you apart limb from limb.”

The doctor appeared unconcerned. “This always happens. These threats are always made. But no one ever comes for me. No one ever cares for the departed.” The doctor crouched before Jem, staring thoughtfully at him. “Who cared for that little boy?”

“She did.”

His brows came together. “And she’s a nobody. Only the lost care for the lost. Everyone else…they don’t want to feel emotions that make them uncomfortable. It’s an inconvenience to them.”

“So, you find these lost people and throw them in holes?” Jem wondered. “So that they can get hurt by sick fucks like you?”

“I just hunt,” the doctor explained. “I don’t touch them.”

“You think that makes you better?”

“No,” the doctor answered honestly. “It doesn’t. But these are my sins, and I’d take them over the people that visit those holes.”

Jem dropped his head back and shut his eyes. “Do you always talk this much?”

“Only to my runners.”

“I feel special.”

The doctor chuckled and stood back up. “Are you sure you can’t run a little more?”

Jem shook his head. “I’m not gonna be your entertainment, doc. Just get it over with.”

---