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Lost Blood

He’s close; I can feel him right on my tail! I’m gonna have to take my chances!
I glance back at my pursuer and smile to myself. His kind are so easy to fool. He really thinks he’s going to win this. He has no idea what I’m capable of or what I’ve done in my past; only that I’ve run away from home in search of more power. He thinks that I have no training, that I am weak. He is a fool. Still though, I have to keep in mind that he could be dangerous, but chances are slim for him. Lucky for me I get the element of surprise. He is unsuspecting and I think it will be easy for me to make my move. He will be an easy kill.
I ready myself, take a deep breath, and make my attack.
Keeping in mind the fact that this man is about six inches taller than me I whirl around, drawing my knife out in front of me in one fluid motion. My pursuer didn’t even have enough time to slow down before my knife plunged into his chest. His clothes are surprisingly thick and I let out a soft grunt as I twist my knife into his chest, hearing his flesh tear. I hear the man gasp in surprise and before he has time to swing at me I swiftly circle around him and kick the back of his leg out from beneath him, sending him face down in the grass. I know from past experience that his injury might not be enough to kill him, so I stomp on the back of his head, hearing the satisfying crunch as his skull breaks and caves in. The man is silent and I think this fight was too easy for me.
The man must have still been young.
I think I need to be quicker next time; my attack took all of five seconds. Not quick enough. I have lived for an estimated one hundred years; I should be faster than I am.
I roll Tom Nelson onto his back and take my knife from his chest. The knife is bloody. Maybe I didn’t need to kick his skull in? I don’t care, he’s dead.
I wipe my knife on the grass, pull out my phone, and sit cross-legged on the ground. I need to call my boss. The others might not have finished yet, many of them are young, inexperienced. Scott and Eric have been living for only about twenty years. They were changed three years ago. I doubt if they’ll last one more in this organization.
I dial the number. It rings once, twice. Then he answers.
“Have you taken down number eleven?” he gets straight to it, no doubt trying to keep things brief.
“Yes, Master.” I reply.
“Good girl, report back to base as soon as you can. Sector A is almost finished.”
“Roger.” I hang up, simple as that.
I must say I am a little surprised. The kids he put into Sector A are young and didn’t have much training. I will have to congratulate them when I get back to base.
I stand and look at the man I have just killed. I know I must dispose of his body. I kneel down beside him, taste a little of his blood. Intoxicating. I feed and dispose of the rest of him, pushing him beneath a briar and covering him with soggy leaves. Sleep tight you sick b*****d.
I don’t even stop to feel sorry for the handsome man. What he’s done to others has been far worse, my attack was just a little rough housing compared to what his victims went through. He deserved what he got; he was a very sick man with a twisted sense of humor.
I start my journey back to base in a somewhat happy mood. I decide I want to sing. This was my only mission for today.
The walk back to my car is pleasant and sets me in a good mood. I think I will drive the speed limit today; I am in no hurry to get back to the warehouse. I climb into my old black 1996 Camaro and drive north through Garland. Wyoming is lovely this time of year. When summer fades into fall again Master says he and I will move to some-where warmer, like Florida or California. I wish to live on the coast somewhere.
My stomach growls and I decide I will stop for some Mc. Donald’s when I get into Powell. After all, my stomach can handle any garbage I put into it.


There is a sudden vibration and it is not my car, I am fairly sure of that. It takes me awhile to realize it’s my phone going off. Putting my Big Mac in my lap I fumble in my bag with one hand while keeping hold of the steering wheel with the other. My good mood has managed to last me this long.
“Hello?” I answer once I find my phone.
“Raven, change of plans. Go help Sector A over in Cody; I am counting on you to perform this rescue mission for me. I sent reinforcements in just a few moments ago but none to help the already wounded. I have no choice, my dear, I need your help most of all, getting those wounded men out of there is crucial. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Master.” I reply, gripping the steering wheel tighter.
“Good, good girl. They’re over at the rodeo. Be careful, it’s dangerous.”
“Roger.” We hang up.
Now I am concerned. I never get called in for group missions, even when men are scarce. Master has a special place in his heart for me, or that’s what he tells me. I’ve known him for quite awhile and know he would never lie to me, so I believe him.
The drive through Cody is long though I am nearly speeding. My knuckles are white from gripping the wheel too tightly. This is serious and I am locked into mission mode. I see a police car—hear the sirens first—begin to chase me. I fish my badge from out of my bag and crank down my window. I hold it out so the cop can see it; I’m in too big a hurry to stop for him. He must have seen it easy enough, because he turns off his siren and slows down. Sometimes I love my job.
I am near the rodeo; I can see the arena. My heightened senses give me a feel for how many men are out there, at least twenty, maybe more. I take a deep breath as I pull up to the arena and I find for the first time in a long time that I am nervous. For some reason Master thinks this mission is so important that he sends me, even with others already fighting. This intrigues me, especially when I realize that he doesn’t want me to fight, only to bring back the wounded.
This part confuses me. I turn off my car and sit for a minute to think. Of everyone in this organization I am one of the seven most capable. I can fight. So why not let me? Why send all these dorks to fight when Sector C is so much more capable? Wait, that doesn’t make sense. I’m in sector C, so does that mean he did send us…? I don’t know. All I know is that my mission is to save the wounded and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.