AllFreeNovel
Share Us
But this is the story of us.
He’s blinded by fear, while I see possibilities. I see what we could’ve been.
I flag down a rusty, smog-spewing bus on the two-lane road, heading into town. I speak Spanish but pretend not to. I don’t want to talk to anyone right now. I just want to hold it together and get through what comes next: forgetting Hudson Ulysses Ferris.
Huff
My eyes fly open the moment I hear the front door close. I rush to the window and spot River hopping on one foot, trying to get her pink Converse on.
I run to the door and stop, my hand twitching with the urge to twist the knob. I want to tell her not to go. I want to say I’ll do whatever it takes to carve out a space for us in this world, but I can’t do it. She’ll always be collateral damage waiting to happen.
I drop my hand from the doorknob and return to the window, watching River disappear up the muddy path. I know she’ll be okay. Her future is bright because she’s bright.
Me? I’ve got another path to take.
I glance over my shoulder at the back door. “You know what you have to do, Huff,” I tell myself.
I go outside and grab my fishing rod. Time to kill stuff.
CHAPTER NINE
I’ve finally worked my way up to a small boar. It screamed. It bled all over my jeans. I may have cried a little. Fine, I sobbed like a complete jackass, but at least I finished the job.
I then dressed the animal, following a video I watched online, and dropped the pig with an old man about a mile up the road who has a smokehouse. He doesn’t know me, and I don’t know him, but his jerky is legendary around here. I figured if anyone would know what to do with the meat, it would be him.
All I can say is that I have a new appreciation for all the slices of peperoni I’ve eaten on my pizzas over the course of my life. Meat isn’t just a product found in a grocery store. It had a life once. Not a new fact for me, but it never felt real until now. Weird, I know.
Also weird? I haven’t heard any news about Morris. Maybe it’s been harder than he thought to perfect the formula. In any case, I’ve appreciated this extra time to hone my murder skills.
I’ve also been texting with Kyle for a few weeks, trying to set up a visit with Mom and Dad. I want to explain, face-to-face, my choice to end my life. Not that they’ll ever understand, but I want them to at least hear my reasoning. After I kill Morris, I can’t fall into the wrong hands.
Of course, Kyle doesn’t know what I’m planning. Only River knows.
River…I sigh. Kyle didn’t say much about her visit other than he made sure no one followed her and that he had no choice but to let her see me.She plays a mean game of hardball,he’d texted.
Don’t I know it.
It’s the end of the day, and I’ve read through my list of new medical studies related to the “Morris survivors.” Nothing helpful. I’ve also been keeping tabs on all the conspiracy theories about the Eiffel Tower’s perma-flame. (Act of God? Gimmick to entice tourism? Vandalism?) People aren’t buying it’s related to a movie.
Good for them.Always question what you hear in the news.
Finally, I finish the last few chapters of an ebook I got onThe History of Genetic Mutations: Man’s Experimental Chemicals.Pretty frightening stuff, though, now I understand that Morris’s work was based on almost a hundred years of nutjobs trying to create superhumans. World War I was kind of the kickoff to a never-ending science experiment. The question is, what was a company like MJP, which makes sports drinks and performance-enhancing supplements, doing with Morris? Why hire him?
His online bio, which was circulated by almost every news site last year, shows he wasn’t a food scientist. His areas of expertise are chemistry and molecular biology. So if MJP employed him for product development, they were trying to create more than protein shakes. They were up to something, and Morris was helping them. Until he hit a breakthrough.
His sister, Keni, once told me that Morris was fired after he experimented with his new “supplement” on people, but I also heard the rub had to do with the fact that Morris wouldn’t share his formula with MJP. They fired him for it, and he branched out on his own, planning to open his own company. Dealing his deadly street drug was his version of raising capital.
I open my email and see there’s an alert from one of the science weirdos I follow on Substack. He’s obsessed with Morris.
What? LA is being held hostage for five billion dollars?
I read on, and the author of the article says that an inside source claims the same insane chemist who killed “all those college students” with his heart-exploding drug last year has poisoned the city’s drinking water.
My mouth drops open.
I grab my cell and dial Kyle, who answers immediately.
“Why are you calling? What happened?”
