The Price

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.