The
yacht was docked and gently swaying with the waves and the early evening breeze
brought some respite from the heat of the day, causing a gentle echo of sail
lines ringing off masts. He scanned the
other boats along the marina. Most were
unoccupied but those that weren’t were too far away to care. He usually liked the solitude here.
“Jim,
no one cares enough about you to want to hurt you.” Tom finished his drink and wiggled the glass
over his head.
“Of
course they do. Everyone hates me for
who I am and what I have.” A girl
arrived and topped up Tom’s glass, she glanced at Jim's. A minimal finger wag was enough to for her to
turn around and leave.
“I
don’t.” Tom said sipping the cool wine.
“Well
I know you don’t hate me.”
“No,
I meant I don’t hate you for who you are and what you have, I hate because you’re a pain in the ass.”
Jim
slipped his sunglasses to the end of his nose.
“Yeah, but I’m a rich pain in the ass.”
His grin was wide for effect.
“Yeah,
that’s true. But let’s not focus on the
adjective in this case. Seriously though, you don’t actually believe you are
being….what did you say….’hunted’?”
“I do.
And it’s not as crazy as it sounds.”
“That’s
not saying much Jim. Cos it sounds off
the wall mental.”
Jim
sipped at his drink. He stared back at Tom. He was wondering if he should have told him
any of this. Tom knew him long enough to
be able to talk back to him like this, but he still got annoyed when he
did. Power and money had given him a force
field. It was a barrier that shielded
him from negative comments. People
seemed to believe that because he had money, he had superpowers. To criticise him was to risk losing their
place on his coattails. He hated it and
hated them.
He
looked around. He felt cold, but it
didn’t seem to be caused by the weather.
“Yeah, I know.
I just can’t shake the feeling.
I’ve been just on edge I suppose.”
“Yes. Now can we just get drunk and drop this whole
stupid business. The girls will be —”
There
was a loud crash from the galley, followed by a scream and further sounds of
shattering glass and splintering wood.
Jim
jumped to his feet. “Oh no.”
“Stop
it Jim.”
Something
rolled along the deck. The sound became
more pronounced in the aftermath of the earlier racket. It had a rhythmic cadence to it as it crept
towards Tom.
“It’s
got a dent in it.” Tom showed Jim the
source of the rolling noise. “And why do
you have canned soup here anyway.”
“Because
I can’t cook, and is that really what you are most concerned with right now?”
Tom
looked into the fear frozen face of Jim.
“Ah Jim, relax, it’s just Gloria.
She probable slipped and knocked over something.”
“No. I’m telling you. Something is trying to kill me.”
“Something?” Tom looked from Jim to the galley and
back. “What the hell are you talking
about?”
“Something
or someone, I don’t know.” Tom’s eyes
were as wide as poker chips.
The
doors leading to the deck shattered.
They burst outward from the point the creature touched them and spread
to the edges in a ripple of shards and twigs.
The creature took a lumbering step towards them and stopped. It seemed to take up more space than its
physical presence, as if its shadow had mass.
The two men itched to cover their noses but were afraid to move as the
stench crawled its way into them.
“So,
here we are.” Said a mild voice. It didn’t fit the beast.
Jim
looked to Tom in confusion, but Tom was rigid, a wet patch around his
groin. He sounded like he was trying to
talk or scream but his voice was fighting against letting him.
A
slight man walked around from behind the beast and strode calmly towards Jim.
“You
owe me.”
Jim
started to nod, but caught himself. “I
don’t know what you mean.”
The
smile from the little man didn’t even have a hint of warmth in it. It contained pleasure, but only for
himself.
“We
made a deal, didn’t we.”
“What
did you do to Gloria?”
“She’s
fine.”
The
amount of time that passed between the can of soup striking the little man’s
head and the creature reaching Tom was practically non-existent. It began peeling Tom apart. He was lifted in one of its hands as the
other one ripped away parts of him, his torso was cracked and snapped into a
damp red bundle and dropped in a sticky mess to the deck.
The
little man rubbed his temple but never looked.
“You owe me.”
“What
do you want? Anything! I promise!”
“That’s
more like it.” The man said.
“I
want you. I own you.” The man pointed to the beast. “That one is done now.”
Jim looked at the giant of hair and bone, it seemed to be sagging.
“I
need a new one.”
The
beast wasn’t actually shrinking but still seemed to becoming less of
itself. It was still there, but it held
less of a presence. The little man
smiled at Jim.
Jim felt it deep inside
himself. It wasn’t a pain, more of a
pressure. He felt himself stretch and
solidify at the same time. He suddenly
understood and looked at the creature one last time. He heard snapping of his bones as they
reshaped and reformed. The pain began
now, not a physical pain, but one of loss.
His life was over. His new life
was about to begin.
