Prey (Primal #1)

6

T he science school was a twenty-minute walk from Hallen Hall, and I had tracked the path three times so I didn’t get lost when it was time to start class. My enthusiasm was high, and my stomach was full of butterflies at the thought of studying marine biology and ecology. Judith pointed out Gotland University to me because of the highly regarded animal biology school, and part of the marine biology curriculum was field trips to the ocean, where we’d scuba dive and study marine life.

I studied the map of Gothenburg to find natural lakes, water holes, springs, creeks, and rivers. Unfortunately, there are only several creeks, a small lake on the edge of town surrounded by wealthy homes, and the ocean, a two-hour bus ride away. I’d already figured out which buses to take to get there.

Armed with a paper cup of coffee and a turkey sandwich I bought from the nearest café, I found my usual spot on the bleachers to watch students playing casual games on the field. I looked out for Cheetos but wasn’t surprised she wasn’t there because she was likely organizing my fake ID.

Then it occurred to me that there was a possibility she had screwed me over, and my fifty dollars had gone forever. I’d put that money aside to buy bus tickets to the ocean before class started, but now that idea was down the drain. I so needed to get a job.

The more I thought about it, reflecting on Cheetos, who did not give me her name or phone but took mine, the more I concluded that she might’ve played me. She didn’t look like the type of girl that would screw me over, but she also didn’t look like the type of girl that made fake IDs. But then, what did a thief and liar look like?

As every minute passed, while I drained my coffee, which was too weak and disappointing, I’d convinced myself that I was a victim of a fake ID scam. Damn, I needed the fifty dollars.

Luckily, Gothen Hall hosts free dinners every evening for freshmen and sophomores, so I should take advantage tonight and fill a plate with vegetables and meat. Bad coffee, turkey sandwiches, and Cheetos were hardly nutritious, and when I get a job, I’ll need a lot of energy to work and attend class.

Halfway through my turkey sandwich, my phone beeped from an anonymous number I assumed was Cheetos. Okay, maybe she wasn’t a scam artist.

A piercing scream cut through my thoughts, coming from the edge of the field. A group of students were walking across the field in fits of laughter over something that frightened them. I followed their stares and pointed fingers to the bleachers at the head of the field, but I couldn’t see what they were pointing at.

I kept my eyes on the bleachers as another group of students was startled when they looked at something underneath the canopy of the seats. It seemed someone was playing tricks on people just for fun. I stifled the surging jealousy of being alone while the group of friends shrieked in laughter.

Being alienated seemed a recurring theme at Gotland, and I hoped it didn’t continue. Even when I left the Student Job Search Center and walked past two of my roommates in Hallen Hall, I was about to say ‘hi’ when they made eye contact. But they glanced at me and then looked away. Immediately, my cheeks burned, and I wondered if Carly, the director at Hallen Hall, told them I was nuts after accusing her of sending someone into my room without my permission. Let’s not forget the crazy disappearance of the word TRAITOR from behind my door.

This was going to be a lonely year.

Another scream bled out from the bleachers, and this time, the guy scaring them emerged from behind the seats. He wore a Scream mask and acted alone, which was odd since trickster frat boys often moved in herds.

His freak face locked into my direction, and I assumed he was targeting the three girls sitting further along from me, and I leaned back so I didn’t block his view. The three girls had noticed him and laughed and jeered at his gall, whereas I was more fascinated by the interaction between him dressed as a horror figure and the reaction of everyone around him.

I pushed my glasses back against the bridge of my nose, feeling uncomfortable by his macabre face, unflinchingly gazing in this direction. His body remained frozen, arms hung by his side, and he ignored every student who reacted to him being there. I glanced back at the girls I assumed he was staring at and wondered why he was taking so much interest in them. But I deduced that because they were pretty and prettiness stroked the ego, and for some men, that was enough.

“Your ID,” Cheetos appeared before me, and my attention was drawn to more important things.

“I’m relieved,” I stated honestly. “I thought you might do a runner with my fifty.”

Her eyebrows dropped low over her eyes as if confused. “You put the order in only,” glanced at her phone, “two hours and forty-six minutes ago.”

“Okay, but that’s pretty quick. You didn’t tell me your name and just took my money, so I had no idea if you were for real,” I reasoned.

The girls moved away from their spot, running down the stairs, and I turned to check with the Scream guy, who was still watching with a penetrable freaky stare.

“Ew, who’s that?” Cheetos exclaimed, screwing her face up.

“Some frat guy trying to scare people for fun.” A shiver snaked down my spine when his face remained glued onto me, even after the girls had run down to the bottom of the stairs.

“Your name is Petra,” Cheetos informed me, taking out the laminated fake ID from her bag and handing it to me.

“Petra?” I cringed, inspecting the card, which showed a bad picture of me with a date of birth that perfectly fit me into the correct age range to apply for the kitchenhand job. “Why Petra?”

“Black,” she added.

“Why Petra Black?” I questioned, struggling to get used to a name that was so…not like me. Or maybe Cheetos saw me as a Petra.

She shrugged. “Why not? A name is just a name. You’re not to tell anyone where you got that ID.”

“I swear I won’t say a thing.”

“Because I’ll be taking you down with me for fraud,” she asserted, always keeping her eyes low.

“Wow, you’re quite the spitfire, aren’t you?” I joked, surprised by her ferventness.

Her expression remained blank, unaffected by my comment. “Have you ever had a fake ID before?”

“Ah, no,” I lied.

“Maybe you should rehearse fake information about yourself, like your parents' names and what street you were born, when you get asked random stuff during an interview. Your new ID has you born here in Gothenburg, so you might need to research the city.”

“Wait. How do you know that I’m not from here?” I asked out of curiosity whether I needed to adjust my demeanor so I didn’t appear like an outsider.

“Because you struggle to find your way around.” She hesitated to say more, then added, “I saw you in Stop & Shop earlier, and you seemed lost like you hadn’t been there before.”

“I’m from a little town called Luton, about a thousand miles away from here,” I told her, and she didn’t seem that interested, merely shrugging her shoulders again.

She turned and left without saying goodbye, which was her style. Once she was two seats below me, she stalled and glanced back. “That guy harassing you earlier…yeah, you should do something about that.”

I tensed, wondering how much she witnessed. “Do you have any ideas? I don’t suppose you have access to a hitman?” She gave me a funny look. “Joke. That was a joke.”

“I know,” she said abruptly, as if I were stupid. Admittedly, as I watched her leave, I grew fond of the strange girl with no name.

Naturally, I looked back at the guy in the Scream mask and was taken aback by him still staring at me. Again, I checked to see if his weird gaze was focused on someone else, who I happened to be in the way of, but there was no one there.

With growing discontent, I gathered my belongings and climbed down the steps opposite the masked man. Nerves prickling down my spine urged me to check if he was still there, and I swallowed over a lump in my throat when he seemed to have moved closer, perhaps following me, but stopped walking when I looked behind.

Losing sight of him when I walked behind the locker rooms, my head spun with a thousand scenarios of why he was doing that. Perhaps he saw me as an easy target to make fun of - a nerdy girl with no one to hide behind. It was moments like these that I wished Gunner was here. Like always, he’d sort out my bullies by threatening them with his fist or one of the many knives he collected. I wondered if he collected knives now.

That’s history, and I shouldn’t torture myself by returning to that place.

I heard footsteps walking behind me on the pavement, and when I turned back in fright, it was just a guy walking, swiping on his phone, barely looking where he was going. Basketballs bouncing on the pavement serenaded me as I stepped out into an outdoor court where a group of guys were shooting hoops.

I was lost again in this unfamiliar place, so I took out my phone to map my way back to Hallen Hall. Once I caught my bearings and realized it was better to backtrack, head to the sports field again, and go from there.

A tickling sensation on the back of my head urged me to touch my hair, assuming something was there. Nerves prickled all over me as nasally breathing brushed the back of my neck. I propelled forward away from his imposing figure and was startled when I came face to face with the Scream mask.

The guys on the basketball court laughed at my reaction, and impulsively, I reached for his mask to pull it off, but he stepped out of my reach, wagging his finger at me. My cheeks burned from the embarrassment of being mocked, but hot rage stormed my body, tensing my muscles.

“Asshole,” I fumed as he reached for my hair, and I smacked his arm away before hitting the ground running while yelling, “Stop following me, you creep. Demented coward pursuing a lone woman. I should call the campus police on your ass.”

Once I made it to the other side of the court, I checked to see if he followed and was relieved that he hadn’t moved. His peculiar head was tilted thoughtfully while his hand stroked his plastic chin mockingly to incite laughter from the basketball guys. As I ran, the guys jeered and cackled, wolf-whistling as I shot them my deepest scowl, adding to their laughter.

My enthusiasm for being at Gotland was quickly dying, replaced with hatred for everyone and everything. I had yet to have a single pleasurable moment since I got here with that prick, Shaun, and someone breaking into my room and leaving a message that may not be for me, but still, it hardly helped my nerves.

And now this?

I’d become the butt of some people’s jokes, and I hated it. Gotland was becoming a nightmare, and I hadn’t started class yet.