Adapt (I)

TJR Garcia © 2020

SCARLET

The rest of the day flies by. My last periods are consumed by Physics, Math and Extension Math. It is a great day, all in all. And I don’t have another class with Boe. I do, however, catch him staring at me across the school yard. He watches me as I chat with Caron about her day. She whines about my lack of interest in boys and defend myself with my focus on my studies. Every time I glance across the grassy field, that is shadowed with cottonwoods, I see his intent eyes locked on me. He doesn’t bother to look away, which is unsettling. Caron pulls my attention back with talk of a party. Parties don’t interest me, nor do I have fun at them, but Caron is always insistent that I must attend them.

“Really?” I whine, allowing every bit of disapproval I feel leak into my voice.

“Yup,” she garbles around a bite of her sandwich. I can smell the mayonnaise on it which makes me feel nauseous.

I pick at a blade of grass. “Caron, you know how much I love a party,” I grumble, sarcastically. “But I really think I am going to miss this one.”

She isn’t even phased by my routine rejection. “Don’t worry, this one is just a quiet thing. I think only people from our school will be there.”

I roll my eyes. Parties around here always started as ‘something small’. Then, someone from a different school would get an invite, and soon the news spreads around the whole hundred-mile radius. And then the losers from college there as well, turning the night into a disaster.

She stuffs the last bite of her sandwich into her mouth and packs away the other half. I don’t think I have ever seen her finish a full meal. That is probably why she is the kind of super model slight that had all the girls in the school starving themselves half to death to obtain. I am different to her. I have no illusions about my figure. I am muscly. The kind of figure that some would say too bulky for a woman. I have curves in all the right places but couple my abrasive personality with my five-foot-three stature and my ability to bench press one hundred and ten kilograms with ease and you end up with person far too intimidating for most people to get along with. Caron is different though. Caron has a way of seeing your personality before your physical appearance. I think that she saw the lost child behind my eyes before she saw my defined deltoids and decided that I needed a friend. Unfortunately for her, she hasn’t been able to get rid of me since then.

With one graceful motion, Caron is to her feet, holding her hand out for me to help me up. I take it and lift myself from the cool grass with much less grace than her.

“I know you don’t really like parties Scar, but I would appreciate it if you came.” She gives me a half smile, knowing that I will cave, no matter what I thought on the subject. “And I will owe you a favour if you do.” She adds, to quench her guilt.

I roll my eyes again and nodded. “Fine.”

She lets out a small squeal, showing me that she is pleased with my choice. “Great! Okay well I have to get to class early and set up for my presentation. I’ll text you tonight!” She pecks me on the cheek and runs off across the school grounds to her business psychology class. I watch her leave, but in the corner of my eye I see Boe still intent on me. He sits on a picnic table that is placed under one of the cotton woods for shade. He doesn’t have any food or a phone in his hands. He just watches me. When my eyes meet his he smiles a small knowing smile. I don’t return it. I stalk off to my next class, knowing that I should have confronted him there and then. For all my bravado in everything else I do in life, I am too chicken to confront this hunter.

As I walk away from him, I have a thought. I mentally check in with my markings to make sure that I am right. My markings on my back have always alerted me to other hunters in the past. I shiver, remembering the tingling feeling that washes over my markings whenever I had meet another hunter. Yet for some reason in the classroom and out here I didn’t feel that icy burn telling me an enemy is nearby. Not even a cool breeze. Just the tingle that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, telling me he is like me. Somehow on a fundamental level I know he is a hunter, but he isn’t like any other hunter I have met before.

***

After school I trade my skinny jeans for a pair of sweats and load Phoenix into the back of my Jeep. Phoenix pants and whimpers the whole way to the beach, eager to get out and run.

I stop my car at the beach entrance; shift it into four-wheel drive and ease onto the semi-dry sand. It is low tide and very few people are on the beach due to in climate weather, giving me plenty of room to drive. Phoenix lets out a small bark of anticipation.

Half way up the beach I spin the Jeep around to face the water. I am barely out the door before Phoenix scrambles his way out onto the soft sand. He runs up and down the dunes, chasing crabs and cocking his leg on every strand of grass. Meanwhile, I get out the local Newspaper to examine the latest kill.

The headline alone is a red flag.

“Local Girl Found Decapitated.”

I sigh. I know who is doing this. I don’t know his name, but I do know that he lives in a compound on the other side of town. God knows how many times I have tried to break in or draw him out so that I can end the deaths.

Phoenix lets out a low growl. I look up to see a figure jogging down the beach. He wears a black t-shirt and black gym shorts, making it easy to spot him against the white sand.

I lean my forehead on my palm. This is just not my day.

Phoenix gallops over to Boe and sniffs his feet as he runs. Satisfied, Phoenix begins to dance around him. Eventually Boe stops and gives Phoenix a scratch behind the ear. I whistle Phoenix and he comes racing back, almost bowling me over.

“Good on ya, buddy.” I whisper in annoyance. “Now I have to talk to him.”

“Nice dog!” Boe yells, still a good fifty feet away.

I close my eyes for a second, trying to steady myself.

“Yeah. He can be pretty savage, given the right command.” I say as I pat Phoenix’s head. He circles and sits tight against my leg. Phoenix might be a a goofball but he is a guard dog at heart.

“I’m sure.” Boe says in a light tone but stops about ten feet away. Sweat runs down his brow, trailing his hard jawline. Now that he is closer, I notice the sweat drenching his shirt as well, clinging to the grooves of his defined torso.

I swallow, and then realize I am gawking. I turn my gaze to the waves. “Look, I am sure that you are good at what you do, Boe, but whatever the reason you are here, I’m sure I can handle it.” I say, half hinting that he might be here to take over my hunt.

He nods, still a bit winded from his run. “I can respect that.” He gestures to the newspaper in my hands. “Maybe I can help you.”

I screw my nose up. My fists are clenching as it is. I have never been able to be around a hunter for this long and I’m not sure I should push it. I would probably stab him if we worked a full hunt together. “I work better alone.”

“And I work better, regardless.” He says in a way that seems both helpful and taunting.

My brows pull together, and I bring my attention back from the waves to his face. “Excuse me? I have handled myself for the past eleven years.”

“I have a hundred per cent success rate.” Again, with this back handed taunting tone. How does he do that?

I laugh, a forced huff of irritated amusement. “So do I. I’m pretty sure that the only hunters that don’t are dead.”

His eyes search mine, raising the hairs on the back of my neck. His brows lift questioningly.

I cross my arms. “Just let me finish my hunt and you can go onto bigger and better things.”

It is his turn to screw his nose up. “I can’t. I have been assigned this job. I have to show HQ the evidence of completion.”

My jaw clenches and my arms starts to shake. “Look, I don’t work well with other hunters.”

He nods. “I know.”

“No, you don’t get it. I’m not even sure how I am able to stand being within this proximity to you. How am I supposed to hunt with you?”

He chews on his lip. “You weren’t really supposed to. You were supposed to give me your findings and I’ll finish the job.”

This time I really do laugh. Phoenix lets out a bark of agreement. “I don’t think so. Go and sell your girl’s scout cookies to someone else.”

He runs a hand threw his hair and smiles slightly. “How about we talk about this over lunch?”

Is he trying to flirt? I would find that funny if it weren’t for the thoughts of violence running through my head. “Are you deaf? Or stupid? I said I can’t stand to be around you.”

His smile widens. “I think that would change if you got to know me.”

I laugh in attempt to play it off, but it catches in my throat. My restraint is starting to wear thin.

“Rain check.” I turn to get in my car.

Hands grab my shoulders, pulling me backward. Instantly, my right elbow swings back and into one of the ridges in his abdomen. A whoosh of air escapes his lungs. Whilst I have the advantage, I pivot and front kick him in the same place. He buckles for a second but recovers quickly.

All restraint is gone. The anger that I have been keeping at bay now controls me. I pull out my dagger from my waistband and twist it in my palm so that it is at a backswing angle. Boe comes at me again, tucked in for a tackle. My knee connects with his nose before he has a chance to see it coming. I grab a clump of his hair with my other hand and knee him again for good luck. He straightens and lands a hook to my jaw. It was nothing compared to the roundhouse kick I then land on his kidneys. He lets out a cry of pain and falls to his knees.

I grab the collar of his shirt and press the blade of my dagger against his neck.

“Listen. This is my territory. Stay out of it and I will stay out of yours. I don’t want to kill you, but I will.” I pause, watching his wide eyes for understanding. “And if you ever come at me again, I’ll...” I notice the scaring on his chest.

Over the time that I have been hunting I have only learnt a few things about hunters in general. There were three types of hunters, all determined by the location of their markings. The tree of life, scarred into my back, means that I can’t go swimming without a sun shirt, and that I am a Mark. I am designed to be the assassin; the one that delivers the final blow. So, I am stronger, quicker and more tactically minded than the average hunter. Scars running down the neck and right arm mean that you are a Page, with an inherent ability to research the lore surrounding the creatures we hunt, providing the other hunters with knowledge about their enemy. A hunter with the markings on their chest is a Tracker, with heightened sight, smell and hearing, they are usually strong enough to fend off a monster, but not enough to take one down.

I blink and let go of Boe’s collar. “You’re only a Tracker. What are you doing here hunting by yourself?”

He doesn’t respond for a second, still dazed from the hard hits. “I...” he coughs, then starts to push up from the ground. “That’s none of your business.”

My face is a question mark, but I quickly let go of it. I must leave.

“Whatever. Phoenix, in the car.” I hold open the door for Phoenix who had been sitting patiently as I dusted with Boe. I jump into my car and wind down the window to speak. “Leave town, or I will show you that I wasn’t kidding about my dog, and he isn’t as merciful as I am.”

Boe just stands there, scowling. I don’t wait for a response; I just drive back down the beach and continue my way home.