Locke 2 (Blackwater Boys #4)

Forty-Eight

Jem

H e had heard Kali’s screams as the darkness cloaked the skies. Jem had barely gotten far, but he heard her and knew she was being dragged to the hole. The sound of the door booming closed echoed across the quiet forest.

There was nothing more horrifying than that sound.

Jem couldn’t double back for her. He moved, a broken man, through the forest beside the road. He had the phone raised up every few minutes, desperate for a signal, but nothing came.

He needed to go down the mountain, and he was a fool to trek this close to the road—

CRACK!

The bullet that whizzed past him set his blood on fire.

He bolted, pain forgotten, wading deeper into the bush. He knew the doctor was behind him, fast approaching. Jem didn’t stop. He couldn’t. Not now.

Another bullet burst through the air, narrowly missing him and hitting the tree close to his head.

Fuck!

Jem didn’t stop, not even when he felt the familiar dip in the land. A dip that—

He tripped and tumbled down a steep hill.

His bones smashed along stumps and rocks as he fought desperately to slow down. He dug his heels into the ground, trying to slow down, but he couldn’t stop. His vision spun. The black sky, the black ground, the feel of leaves and sharp sticks, and brambles that tore through his arm that he shrieked in pain from.

And still, he didn’t stop.

He kept tumbling, and fear crawled up his being as the sound of rushing water hit him, and he let out a loud curse as his body suddenly soared over the edge. He closed his eyes—unsure of how long he was in the air, unsure if he was going to land and die—unsure of why it even mattered to try, before he crashed into the water.

The cold and current pulled him under.

He was going to drown.

He was going to die.

But neither fate claimed him.

The cold stunned him. The shock of it made him almost lose consciousness, but he kicked to the surface, fighting for his life. That wasn’t unusual. He’d been fighting for his life his entire fucking life. Since he was a little boy. Since he was a grown man. It was all he knew. Surviving, even when nothing mattered.

His body crashed into a cavernous wall, and he clung desperately, clawing his way up. It took everything in him. He pulled himself up, frozen and broken, every inch of him trembling. He collapsed on the ground and shut his eyes.

◆◆◆

Jem never dreamt.

He’d wondered about that. Obsessed about it. Thought perhaps he had no soul. Only soulless people didn’t dream. They just fed on misery, much like he must have done, though he had never feasted on it and enjoyed it. On the contrary, he would be happy never to inflict misery again, even to this fucking doctor that enjoyed watching him suffer.

Anyway, he never dreamt, but as he lay there, beside the mouth of a cave, he fell into a dream. In it he was a child, and he was trying to protect his sister. In it, he had to watch the horrors being done to her repeatedly, and there was nothing he could ever do. When he was young, he was too weak to fight against the monsters that played with him.

But in this dream, as he watched the horrors being done to her, Jem was not a little boy. He was a fully grown man, and he seemed all too aware of this.

I have superpowers , he thought in this dream because he was still a little boy but in a grown man’s body. I can stop them.

In this dream, the little boy in him who was in a very grown man’s body, lunged at the monsters and pulled them off his sister.

In this dream, he made them suffer and he feasted on their cries, for once enjoying the taste of misery.

◆◆◆

The phone was broken.

What a fucking surprise.

He tossed it in the river and carried on. If he couldn’t call his way out of this, he’d fucking walk out of here.

Nothing would stop him.

After a dream like that, rage fuelled Jem’s soul, muting the agony he was in.

One fucking step at a time, he told himself.

◆◆◆

He was aware of the blood he drenched the leaves in as he stumbled through the thick bush. He didn’t care. There would be no hiding his tracks. All he could hope for was outrunning this fucker and getting to a main road.

He sort of had an idea of where he was going. He recalled the map Kali had shown him. One thing Jem could do was commit shit to memory. It was sort of why he relived his horrors every fucking day. Because once he’d seen, it was there, in his brain, in a neat little photo album. Anyway, the map lived inside his brain, and he used it to navigate.

Hours slipped through his fingers.

Minutes were spent pausing to check on his wound. He’d had to cut his shirt and tie it around the wound. He wasn’t sure that was doing anything, but he’d seen it be done on Locke when that underworld doctor went around to fix him up.

At this point, Jem was aware he was going to bleed out. The sun was hidden behind clouds. He’d been on the run for a long fucking time. He was surprised he was still breathing.

He wasn’t trying to save himself.

He just needed to send word. To let Locke know of the hole. Locke was an impeccable hunter, but he hunted beings down and not holes in the ground.And even if he knew, what if he didn’t find Kali and the boy in time?

Jem couldn’t take the risk.

He moved, even when he didn’t think he could anymore. His lungs ached, and his body went cold. He wanted to stop a time or ten to sleep for a minute. Just one minute. A quick nap.

But then he thought of Kali, and the boy, and he couldn’t.

He pressed on. No matter what, he would get to Locke.

He was prepared to die trying.

◆◆◆

He didn’t know at what point he was aware he was being followed. Maybe it was the snap of a twig or two behind him, or the way the forest suddenly went quiet, like nature could sense the darkness and held its breath to avoid its notice.

Jem’s steps slowed down. He tripped over his own feet and used a tree to steady himself. He’d made it to a clearing. There would be a hill. He’d only need to climb it and walk for a thousand fucking hours to find human life, but it was doable. He could do this—

The gunshot that whizzed past his ear was a tease.

A way to say, “hey, I fucking caught you!”

Jem dropped to the ground, cupping his bleeding ear and turned around. He watched wearily as the figure emerged from the trees, the green trench coat more symbolic than this doctor could ever know.

Did all creeps wear the fucking jacket? So, it wasn’t some kind of stereotype then?

The doctor was smiling broadly and glancing down at his watch. “Fifteen hours! And you’re injured. I’ve never seen a hunt go like that before. Never has someone flown over the edge and into the rapids and made it out. Congratulations!”

Jem was heaving for breath. He relaxed his back against the inclined earth. Just this fucking hill. He would have just needed this fucking hill. He stared at the doctor and brightly smiled back. “I’m a fighter.”

“Indeed, you are!” agreed the doctor. “It’s so much fun when the runners enjoy the game. I would have liked it if your girl had chosen that. I’ve never hunted two people down at the same time.” His teeth clenched with disappointment as he quietly added, “I came so close.”

This guy was a colourful shade of fucked up.

“So, she’s in the hole,” Jem said.

The doctor nodded, feigning seriousness. “She chose the boy.”

“Is the boy alive?”

“Does it matter? They’re both dead. She had a nasty fall. If she landed on her head, I’d say it exploded like a watermelon does when you smash it to the ground. Have you ever done that?”

Jem stared at the man, his face so cold, he couldn’t recognize his voice when he said. “You better hope she’s alive. Because the man that’s going to find you is going to tear you apart limb from limb.”

The doctor appeared unconcerned. “This always happens. These threats are always made. But no one ever comes for me. No one ever cares for the departed.” The doctor crouched before Jem, staring thoughtfully at him. “Who cared for that little boy?”

“She did.”

His brows came together. “And she’s a nobody. Only the lost care for the lost. Everyone else…they don’t want to feel emotions that make them uncomfortable. It’s an inconvenience to them.”

“So, you find these lost people and throw them in holes?” Jem wondered. “So that they can get hurt by sick fucks like you?”

“I just hunt,” the doctor explained. “I don’t touch them.”

“You think that makes you better?”

“No,” the doctor answered honestly. “It doesn’t. But these are my sins, and I’d take them over the people that visit those holes.”

Jem dropped his head back and shut his eyes. “Do you always talk this much?”

“Only to my runners.”

“I feel special.”

The doctor chuckled and stood back up. “Are you sure you can’t run a little more?”

Jem shook his head. “I’m not gonna be your entertainment, doc. Just get it over with.”

But Jem wouldn’t let the doctor know there were tears building behind his eyes. That he was thinking of Locke, and only Locke when he was going to meet his end. He bled so much; he didn’t know how much of this shit was left in him. The world was dizzy, and he was going to pass out. It would probably be best he did pass out before the bullet fired into his skull.

“Sorry, Max,” he murmured faintly, cracking his eyes open once to look at the grey sky. “I’m so fucking sorry—”

A bullet fired through the air, and he jolted, waiting for the world to stop existing around him.

He waited and waited.

He hadn’t breathed.

Not even when he heard the body falling to the ground before him.

Jem didn’t move. He didn’t think this was really happening. There was such a stillness. He’d never understood that expression about the world standing still, but the world truly stood still in that very long moment.

Footsteps sounded out, moving toward him.

He still didn’t let a breath in.

Not until the black suit clouded his vision and dropped to his side.

Jem shouldn’t have been surprised.

All along, the masterful hunter, Locke, was hunting the hunter that was hunting Jem.

“Jem,” Locke spoke, anguished.

Jem focused his eyes on the face staring back at him. Tears fell from his eyes. He tried to speak, but nothing came out. There was so much he wanted to say, and he needed to hurry up, because he was dying.

“I’m sorry, Max,” he choked out. “I’m so fucking sorry for it all. Forgive me. Fucking forgive me.”

Locke’s hands came around Jem’s face, holding him. He ran his fingers along Jem’s cheeks, soothing him. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I do…I wanted to help that boy because I thought of him as you,” Jem stuttered out. “You needed someone to save you.”

Locke’s eyes rimmed red as he peered intently at Jem. He dropped down closer, whispering, “But you did save me, Jem. You rescued me from the hole.”

Jem’s being shook. Sobs wracked his body. But warmth covered him whole. Locke held him like a brother, whispering the same words.

“You rescued me, Jem, so hang in there. I’m going to get you out of here. Hang in there.”

“You did,” another voice spoke from behind them. Conor was here. They were both here. They had searched for him. Him. Jem. A misery upon their lives. A stain that didn’t deserve a second look. Conor’s voice was choked up. “Hang in there, Jem.”

“How…” Jem rasped. “How’d you find me…”

Locke’s lips spread in a dark smile. “If it bleeds, I can track it.”

Jem tried to smile, but his chest ached. “Kali…”

Locke nodded, his voice tight with longing. “Tell me where she is.”