Page 64Running out

There were voices outside, people probably surprised and wondering about the shot. There was no time to stay here and feel sorry for myself, a gunshot simply made too much of a noise and a mess to ignore. They weren't close-by though, I had a little time. The wound didn't bleed past my hand. With my other hand, I ripped a small bit of my shirt and pressed it into the hole the bullet made. That hurt.

My thoughts were racing now, aflame with the pain, danger and lack of time. When I bend over to pick up the box I came here for, the bit of cloth stayed put, which gave me a little bit of hope that I could get out of here without leaving a real trace. Tearing the bottom parts of my pants, I shielded my hands and wiped the metal structure as I climbed my way up again. There would be no trace left to find me. At least, I didn't think they'd track elbow-prints.

Climbing up to the roof was surprisingly easy and fast. My conscious mind had taken a backseat as my feral mind, the huntress, made its way out of there with as little effort as possible. Once on the roof, I took long leaps to the waterline, keeping to the shadows as much as possible. It was easy enough, the people were gathering at the entrance to the warehouse, not assuming anyone had gotten out already. It was admirable, in a way, that my more instinctive mind did take into account the positioning and line of sight of cameras, people and even buildings when I moved.

Like watching a movie.

I left the compound behind me in more or less the time it took me to write those paragraphs. Once out there I felt the need, the thirst for blood growing so strongly. It didn't feel like one person, drained fully, would be enough. But I had to keep it in check. I had to retain my humanity somewhat. It wasn't my right to kill, to take a life.

A homeless guy was the unlucky target of my thirst.

He wasn't too far from the district I just left, but far away enough and drunk enough not to realize what happened. It all was so fast that he never even woke up from his drunken stupor. His blood was foul.

When my teeth pierced his neck, I was almost vomiting with the odors that my nose was pressed into. Sweat, urine, feces, cleaning alcohol and his blood. But even that couldn't redeem it. His blood was thin, unhealthy and tasted like cardboard soaked in gasoline. But it was blood. My body could use it

The nastiness of his smell and blood made it easier to refrain myself from killing him. My body was already mending, I felt the blood rushing through me like never before, but it wasn't enough. I needed something better, healthier, fuller. Preferably someone big with lots of thick blood. With the box still in hand and feeling only marginally better, I started walking fast to the business district. The wound in my side stopped bleeding, even when I removed the cloth I pressed in it. Still, I felt the alien object in my body, slowly being pushed out. Hopefully rather sooner than later.

It didn't take me long to find someone else to feed on. It would be the third of tonight, but far enough apart not to be a problem. It was a fat businessman. It wasn't often I'd even considered using that term for someone, but this guy was huge. His hips were almost twice the width of his shoulders and he was waggling like a penguin when he walked. Again I didn't make any introduction and just approached him fast from behind and sucked.

In clear sight.

In hindsight it wasn't a very clever thing to do, but I was lucky enough to notice how the street was void of other people those moments. His blood, however, was full of people. It seemed he truly was a salesman, carrying in him so many short memories of shaking people's hands, talking to them, making the sale. So strange that, of all the things I'd done that night, it still stood out among my other memories.

I didn't take as much as I thought of him. He did notice something, but all he saw when he turned around was a running girl in the distance. No clarity, no details. Just a shade in the night.

I went home after that.

Back home, I'm not sure what the first thing I did was. My mind partly shut down as if to give my body a chance to repair. It was an hour and a half later when I 'came to' and realized I still had to deliver the item. I checked the box for my blood. Completely clean, a stroke of luck I didn't appreciate until much later. The phone in my pocket felt heavy and strange to me, but I managed to get it and called the number. It disconnected immediately after one ring, but it wouldn't be long until I got a reply.

While I was deciding to take a shower or not, a sliver of pain pierced my body. The bullet was moving more now. Being pushed out, back through the hole it was pushed in. My muscles and nerves were crying at me as the metal passed. My hand wanted to reach in but I stopped myself, the bullet was almost out. Just before it left my body I heard the phone buzz with a message. Not now though, first I wanted to get the bullet fully out. I closed my eyes and let my body press it out of there, my fingers only there to catch it when it came out.

Which it, finally, did.

It was very misshapen, only recognizable as a bullet if you'd seen one inside someone before. It just looked like a ball of lead that had been randomly deformed by an icepick and a grater. But, it was out.

Some blood flowed gently, to clean the wound, but it didn't worry me. The alien object was gone, the defiler in my temple had been removed.

My body would heal.

Her beautiful body.