27. Chase
CHASE
I have to get out of here.
The same thought has been playing through my mind on an endless loop ever since I was purchased at that ridiculous auction and hauled off here.
To a fucking animal shelter to be locked up and caged like I’m a dog in a chain-link pen that’s three feet wide and five feet long.
I can barely take two steps in it, though at least I can stand.
There’s another guy two cages down who did something to piss off our monster owner, and there’s a chain-link barrier across the top of his cage so that he can’t even stand up.
Fucking Aliana would laugh at the irony of this situation since she always called me a dog. Or she would have before. Back when the world made sense and she seemed to get off on being angry at me all the time.
My mind floats over to the way her eyelids used to lower and give her a hooded, sultry look right before she’d insult me. I used to jerk off to that look once upon a time. Back when I used to think her disdain for me was the biggest problem I had.
What I wouldn’t give to see her angry face one more time.
I feel almost nostalgic for her bitter words, her caustic tone, those gorgeous lips.
I huff out a sigh and grab the metal water bowl from the floor.
After lifting it to my mouth, I drink down the water, which only tastes a hint metallic today—as opposed to yesterday, when it was so rust-colored that I ended up throwing it out.
I gulp down the entire bowl, ignoring the fact that it expands my shrunken stomach and gives me a sloshy feeling.
I need hydration if I’m going to try to escape.
Once the bowl is empty, I set it down carefully on the cement floor, glancing around at the other inhabitants to see if they’re paying any attention to me.
A guy named Jim, who’s got red hair and so many freckles it’s hard for me to make out his facial expressions, is lying on his back on the floor, knees bent and feet propped on the ground while he throws a tennis ball in the air and catches it.
He does this all day. Every day. Endlessly.
If he ever bothered to try to escape, he’d probably make a great juggler.
Next to him is an emaciated older woman named Georgia. She’s been on a hunger strike for three days ever since the monster who owns us—some tongue they call the Empty Man—came and possessed the huge dude in the cage next to her. Darnell, I think his name is. Or was .
She’d screamed as Darnell’s back had arched and he’d stiffened. Then, his entire posture had changed. He’d gone from a slouched-over guy to someone with poise, gravitas. Someone who leaned back on one leg and surveyed a room coolly.
It was eerie to watch that monster inside Darnell’s body.
Georgia had thrown herself against the cage, screaming for the monster to stop, to give Darnell back to her.
The Empty Man hadn’t so much as glanced in her direction, but headed off with a walk that was calm and collected and reminded me of an old gangster movie that the general would sometimes show at the campsite—I can’t remember what it’s called.
Darnell hasn’t been back. I don’t think he ever will be.
Georgia says the Empty Man is one of the most powerful monsters alive, but I think that’s wishful talk on her part because she doesn’t want to acknowledge that Darnell’s dead as fuck.
I can’t be certain that monster hasn’t come back to check on us, because Jim says he makes lights flicker whenever he’s not possessing someone.
The lights always seem to flicker here, and I can’t tell if that’s because the lines are powered by surges of magic or if he’s running some damned generator or whatnot.
I really don’t give a shit how he runs this place.
Because I’m about to get out.
Darnell’s cage was right next to mine, and he left behind a gift.
His own water bowl. He’d been sharpening the edge of it for months.
I used to hear him grinding the edge against the cement at night when he thought we were all asleep.
I’m not sure if he meant to make a knife to cut his own throat or if he planned to use the thing the way that I do… for digging.
Either way, it’s my best hope of getting out of here. The ground outside in our little dog run is hard as shit. It’s lined with a brick wall that’s far too high and too smooth to scale. But if I can dig under…
I glance around one more time, checking the lights to ensure the hum of electricity is steady as a bumblebee.
Since no one so much as glances my way, I crawl outside through the narrow doggie door, twisting my shoulders diagonally so I can squeeze through.
Once I’m out on the putrid-smelling grass, the scent of our “toilet” corner wafting over to me, I crawl into the opening meant for Darnell.
The Terror that keeps us trapped doesn’t seem to give a damn about us visiting one another or what we do with our bodies when he’s not using them.
That works out for me, because I’d like to remove my body from his list of operational vehicles.
Thinking back to the last time he slid into my body and tried to shove aside my mind makes me shudder. It felt like I was doused in cold slime. And he’d been quite annoyed when I hadn’t let him steer the ship however he wanted.
But he might have been going off to slaughter other rebels. Or fuck a monster. Or who the hell knows?
I was not okay with any of it.
I grab Darnell’s water dish, ignoring Georgia’s outraged, “Hey!” as I crawl back outside. It’s still light out, and according to everyone shut up in there, light is the best time to try to make a break for it.
The Empty Man likes to come when it’s dark.
I crawl all the way over to the wall, then kneel beside it and run my fingers along the base of the structure.
I search for a spot where the stones feel loose or the ground has give, anything that might help me get away.
Finally, I find a spot where the bottom stone seems to have lost some of the cement gluing it to the rest. The huge black rectangle looks like it might fall loose if I dig around it.
That would make this whole fucking process a lot faster.
Of course, that stone has to be near the pile of our shit that’s attracting flies and maggots.
Fuck it. It’s worth a few hours of gagging.
I bring the sharp edge of the bowl down to the grass and push down, using my upper body weight to make it sink a few inches.
I scoop out a couple more handfuls of dirt, making a divot in the ground.
Then I toss it onto the shit pile. Who knows?
Maybe I’ll cover it enough to dampen the smell.
It’s not like I’ll be able to hide my escape anyway.
I set to work underneath the bright light of the afternoon sun, quickly working up a sweat. I strip off my T-shirt when I get too hot but set it aside carefully. I’ll probably need it while on the run.
Georgia and Tim both crawl out to the run at different points to check on me, but neither of them offers to help. Neither stays. Both retreat back to their cages.
I think the Empty Man might have broken them.
I won’t let that be me.
I dig harder, wondering about the monster who bought Aliana.
Goddammit. I wish she’d have gotten away during that stupid little distraction I created before the auction, when I attacked those night visions so the humans could get away.
The chances were slim to none, I know, but I still fucking wish.
I hope the monsters haven’t broken her the way those humans behind me are—they’re cowed by fear. That was always one of the things I admired most about Aliana. She’s fearless. Even when she faced off against me.
God, she’s beautiful. Those fiery blue eyes and those tits…
She’d been the one.
I’d known it. But she hadn’t. And I hadn’t been ready to settle down. A tiny part of me fills with a pool of nostalgic regret for what could have been. But then another part of me is glad it never came to anything. Because that would make everything that happened so much worse.
As if it isn’t already bad enough.
That fucking mission was a disaster from the start. We should have had twice as many people just to run perimeter checks. We should have made some IEDs and set them out in the street.
But people had fallen ill. A virus had everyone worried. And we’d gone in underprepared. It had all unraveled so quickly. One mistake after another. One bad decision after the next…
Regret tugs at me.
I break from digging to rub a hand across the sweat beading on my forehead. I pull my head out of my ass, out of a stupid memory that I’m wasting time mulling over when I should be planning my next steps.
I lean back against the wall to take a break, using my shirt to swipe at the perspiration on my pecs.
Shit, it’s warm this afternoon. Muggy. I crack my neck and glance at the hole I’ve dug so far.
I’ve got a decent two-foot span on my side of the wall.
I’ve found the base of the cement footing for the stone structure underground.
It’s probably time to start tunneling underneath it.
I give myself one last sigh and stretch my arms overhead before grabbing that metal bowl and kneeling again in the dirt. I plunge the bowl into the fresh earth…and my body stiffens. My back arches. My fingers curl even harder into the dish they hold.
Ice-cold slime oozes across my brain, and panic shoots off bright red flares. I mentally flail and punch but to no effect.
A cold, hard laugh rumbles through my lungs. A laugh that doesn’t belong to me. My head swivels down in a movement I’ve never done in my life as the Empty Man possesses me.
“Pretty Boy,” he says, stealing my voice to scold me. “Were you trying to leave me?”
I try to shout, but I can’t control my own vocal cords. I can simply think hotly, Yeah, asshole.
He sighs. “I understand it gets boring here. I do. But guess what? You won’t be bored anymore.”
He drops the bowl and stands, clapping my palms together and dusting off any remaining dirt. He doesn’t bother to put my shirt back on as he strides over to the wall with a jaunty step and a whistle.
What the fuck are you doing? I growl internally at him, trying to wrest away control of my body. I don’t want to fucking end up like Darnell.
“Darnell?” He sighs. “Well, that was an unfortunate accident. Had some unruly Eights, you see. But don’t worry. We aren’t going where I went with him.” His tone brightens maniacally. “We’re going to go see our girl.”