Page 18 of The Misfits
As birds begin their early morning chirping, I commence my countdown. When my tongue flattens against my front teeth to pronounce the ‘th’ in three, Claudia pushes off her feet. She charges for the tree line barely visible in the dark conditions, her strides as chaotic as my pulse.
I wait for her to join one of the many stars dancing in front of my eyes before returning my focus to Lee. He holds his hands out in front of his body when he spots the murderous demon hiding behind my sparkling baby blues. “Hey, come on, Dexter. You said you’d let me live if I called off the warning.”
“No.” I shake my head so rapidly my brain rattles. Although the hammering of my brain against my skull is painful, I’m grateful to learn it isn’t all sludge. “I said ‘Imightlet you live.’” My ear touches my shoulder when I shrug. “I lied.”
He stupidly smiles, believing a friendly approach will reduce the severity of his punishment. It does—somewhat. I gun him down in cold blood instead of removing his stomach via his throat as I threatened earlier tonight. That’s more due to lack of time than respect.
He wears a bullet hole well. It does wonders to the deep crinkle in the middle of his brows.
Just as Lee’s lifeless body slumps to my feet, a commotion inside Meadow Fields gains my attention. I was so caught up watching the life fade from Lee’s eyes, I neglected to notice we have company.
The guard’s pudgy midsection slows his steps as he races toward me. He is decked out in full riot gear—three-sizes-too-small helmet and all.
I laugh. With my mind still gooey from the substances Lee forced down my throat, I either laugh or go on a rampage.
Revenge will always exceed my need to be entertained.
After firing off four shots, my aim dismal, I push off my feet and head in the direction Claudia fled. If my mind wasn’t hazed by drugs, I would have taken more than one gun. Alas, I’m not close to being smart when my brain is on fire.
Wet grass coats my bare feet as I charge across the soaked ground. The heavens have opened up, one God happy to assist another with his escape.
That’s not surprising. Gods stick together when it is for the greater good.
I’m halfway to the edge of the woods when the burn inside my skull drops a few inches. Something shreds through my body, and the downpour of rain is unable to cool its unexpected arrival.
I make it another few feet before the agony scorching my lower back buckles my knees. The pain is intense, but it is nothing compared to the fury coursing through my veins from my body not responding to the prompts of my brain.
I don’t give up when I am down. I thrive under pressure.
With the strength of ten men, I stand to my feet then spin around to face the person responsible for the seeping hole in my back. The man chasing me startles, as surprised by my presence as I am by his. He balks so rigidly his helmet falls off his head.
“Not who you were expecting?” I ask, my usually deep voice huffy and breathless.
Bryce shakes his head, certain the sedatives Lee gave me would have taken down an elephant.
It’s a pity he underestimated me.
It is also a shame I’m five seconds away from passing out from substantial blood loss. The wound in my back is gushing. It is soaking my shirt more swiftly than the thunderous sky above my head.
Noticing I am injured, Bryce steps closer. “Drop the weapon, Dexter, and we’ll pretend tonight never happened.”
My manic laughter smears my teeth with blood. “Your partner’s last meal was lead, so there’s no way we can pretend this never happened.”
I don’t know if it’s a lack of oxygen to my brain or the sedatives, but Bryce doesn’t seem the least bit concerned about the death of his colleague. If anything, he looks pleased.
“Lee got what was coming to him.”
Shockingly, Bryce nods in agreement.
“Now you’re going to get the same.”
With my body in the process of shutting down, it takes a mammoth effort to lift my gun, and even when I do, I’m too late. Bryce is pointing an assault rifle at my heart. His finger is already on the trigger. I won’t fire off a single round before I’m gunned down, but at least I won’t die a coward.
Just as my finger yanks back the trigger, Bryce’s gun falls from his hands. He stumbles forward while clutching the back of his head. The tiniest sliver of silver behind his left shoulder is my only clue to the cause of his wobbling steps.
As blood oozes from his mouth like a tap, Claudia rears back her weapon of choice for the second time. This time around, the impact of her shovel to the back of his head is so firm, the life in his eyes vacates before he hits the drenched grass like a bag of shit.
I stare at Claudia in awe and in all honesty, turned on as fuck. She just took down a man three times her weight and double her width wearing a floral dress and a smile.
