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Reaching into my back pocket, I pulled out the bottle and the syringe, smiling a bit to myself as I stuck it, sucked up the liquid, tapped out the air.
Funny thing about owning large animals like donkeys, sometimes you found yourself in possession of things like horse tranquilizers. Legally.
Of course they never assumed you’d use them to subdue a human being.
But what they didn’t know wouldn’t offend their delicate sensibilities.
I wasn’t entirely sure on the dose, and felt a stab of concern as I dragged the body into the trunk of his car just in case, worried that he might just drift away peacefully in his sleep before I got to have some fun with him.
Luckily, by the time I returned with my truck, transferring his body into the backseat, he was still breathing.
As the drive dragged on, nothing but the sound of the world whooshing by, the shift started to happen.
It was old, familiar.
Dark.
Hollow.
Anything that made me remotely human slipped away, replaced by this cold-blooded, hardened creature. One who felt not only satisfaction about what he had to do, but actual glee.
It was a chilling thing to feel the anticipation coursing through my veins, making the hair prickle up on my arms, the back of my neck.
By the time my truck broke into the Pine Barrens, my fingers were itching to close around the knife in my duffle bag.
It was pitch black when I couldn’t drive anymore, had to pull my truck over.
Had I planned for this, I’d have had a wheelbarrow.
Unconscious bodies were heavy. Especially those of full-grown men. It didn’t matter how strong you are, after a mile or two, your arms would get wobbly, you’d be sweating through your clothes, huffing hard under the weight.
Carrying someone over long distances was a recipe for disaster.
Luckily, though, my truck came equipped with many things. Flashlights, batteries, water, food, blankets, various tools, rope, scissors, and, best of all, a tarp. Mostly, it served to protect the truck bed when it was loaded down with food and supplies if a rainstorm hit, but it would also serve well as a makeshift structure if I found myself needing to camp out somewhere. And, best of all, dragging a body took a fuckuva lot less effort than carrying one.
I put it flat, slapped his body down on it, grabbed a few more of the supplies, tucking them into pockets, then making my way through the woods.
I lived deep.
Deeper than almost anyone would travel.
But, as a whole, my life was quiet in a literal way. No one would hear me even if they were in the woods for some reason.
But screams carried.
It was how I’d first heard Meadow.
It was how I heard the other women.
Or even some of the parties when someone was tripping out of control.
And the screams Vincent Westcourt was about to be making as soon as he rose from his beauty rest? Yeah, they were going to carry. I was going to see to it.
Grabbing the edges of the tarp, I started our trek further inward, head up, watching the stars, a low whistle coming out from between my lips – some old cadence chant – as we went.
It wasn’t until I was a good two hours from my home that my friend was starting to stir. And, well, we were deep enough.
Even if he did scream, even if someone did hear, even if they decided to come in, they wouldn’t find their way to the spot until long after the fun was done, until I had already cleaned up my mess.
Finn might have been the professional at it.
But I was pretty damn good myself.
Especially in a place like this where there was no one to oversee, where carpets didn’t need to be replaced, drywall didn’t need to be changed out, everything didn’t need to be bleached away.
Grabbing the rope, I wrapped his wrists, taking pride in a skill I hadn’t lost. Finished, I tossed the long end over a low hanging tree branch, jumping up to grab it off the other side, then pulling.
Up up up.
Watching a mostly unconscious body being pulled up by the arms looked a lot like a corpse coming back to life. They sit up then get to their feet, then start to dangle.
I got him about two and a half feet off the ground before tying him off.
I’d thought the ripping pain in his shoulders would be enough to drag him out of his drug-induced sleep. The irony of that wasn’t lost on me either.
He’d taken Meadow.
He’d drugged her.
I’d taken him.
I’d drugged him.
Those horse tranqs worked wonders.
I had to invest in some more.
Not that I intended to be doing a helluva lot more killing, but, hey, you never really know, do you?
“Wake up, sunshine,” I growled, flipping my knife into my palm and reaching upward, slicing a gash through his eyebrow.
