I know these location points can change quickly, and the target can move out of range before any ground is made, but with the weather about to turn in a few hours, I take no time in charging through the back door and grabbing the jerry can full of fuel.
The heat of the midday sun causes my black clothing to heat up; I don’t mind, though. I quite enjoy the humidity summer brings, and the fact that a storm is on the horizon and will approach fast. The birds chirp high in the vibrant blue sky, and as I load the jerry can onto the quad bike and tie it down, sweat dripping from my eyebrows over my eyes, I take solace in the fact that the heavy predicted rains will somewhat extinguish the blazing inferno I’m about to create. If the storm passes us by though, I’ll have no choice but to flee and never come back. Well, until it’s safe to do so.
Flames are about to rise—hellish red flames. Morgan should appreciate this gesture, since it resembles the exact place she’ll be going once she’s dead. Hell, she’ll be Lucifer’s problem after all of this. I know he’ll do a much more thorough job of breaking her down than I did. The thought brings me comfort as I turn the key and the quad bike roars to life.
I head in the direction of Red, my soon-to-be-dead player, and as I do, I howl the sound of the wolf. The sound of my impending victory.
I zigzag between trees and hop mounds in my haste to get to Morgan, and even though I’m not going to be able to stick around for the grand finale due to the rapid speed of the blaze about to take place, I know that when I get back, her charred remains will be waiting. It’ll be worth every minute of the game we’ve played together. Even though this time the game didn’t go quite as planned, the memories will still cause electricity to sear through my chest and bring me the sensation of exhilaration I seek.
I’ve not chargrilled a Red yet, so the experience has me curious.
I stop my bike right where the GPS said she’d be. My heart leaps. I’m not surprised she’s not standing here—it’s a given that these things are off at least a small radius in any direction, and that she’s had time to move.
I unhook the jerry can from the back and lay it across my lap, positioning myself so that when I ride, the fuel will spill.
The atmosphere is power-driven. The smell of the petrol has adrenaline bulging my muscles. I feel each one twitch under my clothing when I twist the throttle and listen to the engine roar. I drive. I feel each glug of petrol exit the jerry can on my lap. The sight of it splattering to the ground below makes me drive faster. I’m circling one deliberate lap. “Here, mousey, mousey,” I laugh.
The stale air mixed with petrol keeps a smile plastered on my face, and as I pull to the left, I think back to Red Number Three and the moment I took her life. She fought so hard, but she never made it out of my underground cemetery, not as Morgan did.
“Please, please. Don’t. Don’t!” Donna’s on her knees, her hands held in prayer, begging for her life.
I don’t care to hear it, so I take my boot from the ground and hover it in the air.
“Please. Please let me go.”
“Who am I?” I say.
“I don’t know. I don’t know who you are.”
“Wrong answer.”
Crunch.
The sound of her jaw shattering from the impact of my swinging foot has me cracking my neck, followed by my fingers.
Blood sprays out from her mouth, and as she screams an ear-piercing scream from deep within her chest, I position myself on top of her, applying every bit of weight I have to her stomach.
Her eyes bulge before her chin points upwards and she struggles to draw air.
“Lights out, Red.” I smirk as I squeeze my hands around her neck and gaze into her shocked eyes.
Blood pools in the whites of her eyes, and I can’t help but think how stunning it looks around her blue irises. “You tried to rob me. You didn’t disclose you were a hooker and fucked around in my business. You wronged me, and you will pay.”
She tries to speak. She can’t.
“Save your energy, Red. I want this to last as long as it possibly can.”
Her lips change to the same colour as her eyes, and in this one moment, Donna is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. So much destruction covers her skin.
All the colour drains from her pale face before blood rushes to replace it with red. Her fingers are scratching at my gloves. She’s trying desperately to pry me off her, but she can’t because she's weak.
I laugh. I laugh so hard, spittle lands on her face.
She gurgles. I focus and watch as all the fear leaves her expression, and a peaceful acceptance takes its place.
“You can’t hurt anyone anymore. I’ll be sure to watch you rot.”
One final gurgle takes place, and then her hands drop away.
She’s gone.
The quad skids and for a split second, I lose control. “Stay focused,” I murmur.
I arrive back where I started, and when I pull off my gloves and hold the matches in my hand, I begin to whistle.
There’s something magical about the way the earth can light up with the strike of a single match, and as the dead leaves burn rapidly, I drive away. Each twist of my head over my shoulder shows me the flames rising, and this pleases me. Burn, baby, burn.
If only I could stay around to see it engulf Morgan in the blaze of glory I know it will be.
Morgan
I walk for what feels like hours; it’s more likely to have only been minutes because the passing of time eludes me.
I jump, panic, stop dead in my tracks, cower, fall, scream, run, and collapse, and I pant excessively when I can no longer move a muscle, and I’m laid out on the ground.
A terrifying darkness whisks me away, stealing my breath and sealing my eyes shut. I can’t escape it, so I don’t even try. Instead, I wait for the light, and when it comes, I’m instantly comforted. I’m drawn by it; homed by its glow. Its warmth wraps me up safely like a hand-knitted blanket. I never want to leave the light or the memories that play out while I’m in it, so I hold on to every moment.
And then it’s gone. The blanket is ripped away from me, as is the light. A force, much stronger than any I’ve ever experienced, tugs my limbs in different directions. I can’t see this force, or even touch it. It just exists.
The walls tumble down, and then I’m running barefoot through the bushland. My heartbeat pounds in my ears, and I cry, but I don’t dare stop running. My life is in danger because I’m being hunted like prey, and all I have left is this chance to escape. I know who’s chasing me now. I know it’s Falcon. It took me knocking myself out to put all the pieces together, and a dream to remember what once was.
I pass a tree, then another, but my limbs grow weak quickly, so I’m left to walk once more. Time moves like this in a loop, and I don’t know how much has been erased. I wish I still had the phone. I wish it wasn’t a piece of trash now littering the bush like I am. Why couldn’t the battery have lasted longer? Why? I could tell the detective where I believe I am now, and who has me. Falcon Sampson. I look to the solid blue sky above and try to make a judgement on what I see, only nothing has changed from before. So, does that mean time hasn’t moved at all? I walk sluggishly, my shoulders hunched, my head drooping, and before long I collapse, hitting the ground with an almighty thump that knocks the wind from my lungs. I catch my breath, then cry. I smother the noise I make with my hands, telling myself to be quiet because he moves like the wind, and I can’t hear his footsteps … He could be right behind me.
A fierce breeze whips up wildly, and instantly cools my skin. I roll onto my back and watch as sizeable black storm clouds invade the stunning blue sky, drifting in from my right.
It’s going to rain. I’m going to be relieved of my thirst, and the humidity that’s draining the vessel that homes my soul.
Excitement fills my veins just as electricity flashes above me in the sky.
But then the air smells and tastes like heat. It’s dry and sharp with the distinct acrid flavour that comes with the smell of burning wood. The dark storm clouds above glow a bright orange as black snow floats down like flurries onto my face.
“No, no, no,” I cry. That’s ash. The bush is on fire.