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Chapter One
Saylor
The fingertips of fear slowly pad up my neck.
I pause a second as I hold the pot of coffee over the customer’s cup before filling it up. I keep my smile in place, nodding my head as they thank me. I move on, never looking over my shoulder to where I know they are sitting.
They tried to mask their sick scent with cologne, as if that would hide them; I know their smell. There is a reason they haven’t caught me yet.
I laugh at the sweet older man who cracks a joke. He comes every day and sits in the same booth. He orders a bowl of oatmeal and coffee, no matter the time of day. He lectures me on a healthy diet every time. His wife died years ago, and now he sits here for hours, enjoying the noise of the diner.
I check my other full table, filling cups, still smiling, as if there isn’t a predator at my back.
I take an order and move towards the kitchen, picking up stray napkins and silverware. Ever so slowly, the kitchen comescloser. I walk through the swinging doors, hoping they don’t know my routine. I usually never go into the back to give the orders.
Today will be different.
“Sally, we have a live one,” I yell.
Sally knows the code word.
“Damn, girl. You don’t have to yell. Be patient.” Sally grabs the pen and paper she always keeps in her apron; turning her back on the open window that shows the tables in the diner, she starts writing. “Get some water. Have a seat for a minute, and I’ll get the next order to you as quickly as possible,” she shouts.
“Are they here?”she writes.
“Yes.”
“It was nice knowing you. You know the plan. You have very little time.”She nudges the paper back to me.
“I don’t want them to hurt you,”I write, worried for her.
“Don’t worry. I’ll burn the note. I’m a rabbit. Everyone knows we are crazy fuckers.”She looks at me with determination and sadness. “Get safe.”
I watch her burn the note on the stove and know I have run out of time.
I walk softly but quickly to the bathroom near the back door. I strip down to my skin, shoving my clothes behind the toilet. I reach up to the top shelf and bring down the sealed bag of new clothes. With shaking hands, I use alcohol wipes to rub down my skin everywhere I can reach and pull on the clothes. It won’t eliminate my scent, but it will camouflage it enough that I won’t leave a trail out the back door. Leaving the clothes behind that have soaked up my scent all day will distract them enough.
I hear Sally talking to me in the kitchen as if I’m sitting in front of her.
I don’t look back at her as I slip out of the bathroom and silently open the back door. I swallow thickly when I don’t senseor smell any shifter. Moving fast, I tie up my hair and add the baseball hat, pulling it low on my forehead.
I take a deep breath and run.
I run fast.
I run as if someone is trying to kill me.
I run as if someone is trying to kidnap me.
I run as if my whole life is at stake.
I run as if someone is trying to control me.
Because it’s all true.
I have to run four miles until I get to the car that Sally left for me. There is an envelope full of money and a backpack full of clothes. I have to get as far as I can from this little town.
This was the plan.
