Runner: Book II of The Chosen

by Roh Morgon

  Table of Contents

  COVER

  TITLE PAGE

  COPYRIGHT

  PROLOGUE

  PART I - THE HITCHHIKER

  MONDAY

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  TUESDAY

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  WEDNESDAY

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  THURSDAY

  Chapter 9

  FRIDAY

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  SATURDAY

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  SUNDAY

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  PART II - THE CATALYST

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  PART III - THE DEVIL

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  RUNNER: BOOK II OF THE CHOSEN

  Copyright © 2017 by Roh Morgon

  All rights reserved.

  Published by Dark Dreams Publishing

  Cover design by Deranged Doctor Design

  Interior design by Roh Morgon

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, or incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental.

  Without limiting the rights under the copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced to a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.

  Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  DARK DREAMS PUBLISHING

  darkdreamspublishing.com

  eISBN-13: 978-0-9981581-4-3

  First electronic edition October 2017

  Produced in the United States of America

  június 9., hétfö

  Five hundred years has not been enough. Not nearly enough.

  Not enough to prepare me for this agony that is beginning to split every molecule in my body. The cells scream as they come apart, matching the wail ripping away my vocal cords. Fire races up and down my veins, and my skin smolders, preparing to ignite.

  I have driven her away yet again. And this time, I know it is forever.

  She will not come back to me.

  Not ever.

  For she has truly seen the evil within me, the evil I was cursed to bear, the evil from which I can never be free.

  With each mile she puts between us, I descend farther into the pits of hell, embraced by its flames and whispers of promised tortures.

  And I welcome it, all of it.

  Because without her, there is nothing else.

  There is no reason to go on.

  I am finished with this life.

  MONDAY

  CHAPTER 1

  My mind races along with the black BMW through the Wyoming darkness as the car screams northward away from Colorado. I try to direct my thoughts to the future, to anything that lies ahead of me. Because what lies behind me is a nightmare, and yet the most wonderful dream ever imagined.

  A dream that ended only hours ago with the death of a man and the near-birth of a monster.

  For that is what I nearly became.

  A monster.

  A true monster. One who kills for blood. One who kills humans for their blood.

  The horror of what I’ve done is spiked with my last images of that room—the gore-smeared wall, the crumpled body beneath it, the love of my life standing white-eyed and radiating waves of unfathomable power.

  And rage. Incredible rage.

  His cruel words echo in my head, inflicting punishment with every breath.

  “You killed him…

  “And now, you will have to kill again.”

  A green highway sign flashes by in the dark, its color reminding me of his piercing emerald eyes as they regained their normal hue, filled with anguish and regret and heartbroken love. They watched me back away from him, step by step, my hands smothering the horrified scream tearing from my throat.

  “No . . . ,” I cried as I reached behind me for the door.

  “No!” Nicolas roared as I ran for my car.

  But the fury with which he chased me was woven with devastating feelings of loss, of need, of desire that I will never forget.

  Nor will I forget how the last little bit of him in me shattered into nothingness, leaving me empty and all alone.

  An eternity of all alone.

  I can feel myself begin to tear apart again, and visualize the two halves of my body ripping away from one another, ragged and bloody. I don’t know how I can even drive when I’m torn in two, with one hand steering forward and the other trying to turn the car around and go back.

  Back to him.

  Glancing down, I expect to see blood pouring from the divide running through me, and am surprised my torso appears intact. But that must be only on the outside, as the gap on the inside feels as though it’s widening with every mile. It’s only a matter of time before my skin splits apart, and then maybe I will die so I no longer have to bear this pain.

  The tires thump, thump, thump, and I yank the steering wheel and bring the car back into the center of the lane. White dashes against black asphalt flicker past in a mesmerizing stream. I focus on it in an attempt to keep from thinking, from thinking anything at all.

  White, black. White, black. White…

  Something moves out of the darkness and onto the road ahead of me.

  Alarmed, I yank the wheel again, just in time to avoid hitting it.

  Was that a person?

  Pulling the car over to the side of the highway, I stop and look back.

  Was someone really there, or has my imagination truly gotten away from me?

  Or was it Nicolas?

  Panic shoots up my spine and I shift the BMW back into gear.

  Shuffling footsteps approach from the shoulder of the road behind me.

  Human footsteps.

  A bit of the tension drains away and I turn and look back to see a teenage girl nearing the car, holding her side. When she reaches the passenger door, she tries to open it, but it’s locked. Bending down, she peers into the window, her face painted in fear and hope. I push the unlock button.

  She pulls on the handle and carefully climbs in, slamming the door behind her.

  “Wow. Thanks for stopping. I thought you were gonna hit me back there.”

  I almost did.

  She grimaces as she settles into the seat, then offers me a tentative smile.

  I want to ask if she’s okay. But of course she’s not. She was in the middle of the highway in the middle of the night, and f
rom the looks of her, it wasn’t by choice.

  “My name’s Sandy. How far you goin’?” She tries to smooth her kinky blondish hair, a nervous movement she repeats several times. She’s petite, young, no more than eighteen or nineteen, but looks like she’s lived twice that.

  I know the feeling. My last five years seem like an entire lifetime.

  Her question still hangs in the air, unanswered. I force myself to respond.

  “Casper.”

  “Cool. That’s where I’m headed.” She smiles again, her freckles dancing across her cheeks, along with smears of dirt and what looks to be a bruise developing under one eye.

  Thank goodness I don’t smell any blood, at least on the outside. The beast slumbers inside me, safely drugged with the lifeblood of the man I murdered only a few hours before.

  The rest of her isn’t in any better shape than her face. Her arms are covered in more bruises. Her stained T-shirt is torn at the neck, and she’s probably been wearing those jeans for weeks. Or months. No jacket either. She must be freezing.

  Flipping on the heater, I glance in the mirror and pull back onto the road.

  “Nice car.” There’s a tremble in her voice that she bravely tries to hide with a shallow cough.

  “What happened? Are you okay?”

  “Oh, you know. Same old thing. A ride I took ended up costing a little more than I was willing to pay.”

  I look over at her, eyebrows raised.

  “I’m all right, other than the shiner I’m probably gonna have. But I left that trucker with a bruised set of balls. It’ll be awhile before he wants to use them again.” Her laugh chokes off with a gasp and she clenches her teeth, wincing as she massages her left side.

  Alarmed, I pull over to the shoulder and bring the car to a stop.

  “You don’t look ‘all right’ to me.”

  “No, I’m fine. Really. Must’ve bruised my ribs on the gear shift. They’re not broken. Just sore.”

  “Are you sure? Maybe you need go to a hospital.”

  “Naw. It’s nothing serious. Been through worse.” Her hand tugs on a curl. “It sucks, though. I didn’t have time to grab my backpack. It’s still in his truck.”

  I glance down at my black nightclub dress, the only clothing I currently own. I left everything else behind when I ran.

  She notices and a small frown creases her face as she takes in the partially torn straps and the dark splashes down the front.

  Her scrutiny sends a prickle across my skin. I check the mirror and hit the gas.

  Sure glad I cleaned up the blood smeared across my face and upper body at the last filling station.

  “Looks like you had a rough night, too.” Her mumbled words reach out, as though she’s seeking a connection, her voice underscored by loneliness and need. It’s the voice of an outsider.

  Like me.

  “A rough night?” I choke back a laugh. “Yeah, you could say that.”

  “Well, I hope you left whoever it was in worse shape than I left that jerkoff in his truck.”

  My jaw clenches. Her jerkoff was at least still breathing.

  “So… what’s your name?” she asks. “I mean, since we’re traveling partners, at least for a little while.”

  I take a deep breath, not really willing to give it, but then relent.

  “Sunny.”

  “Sunny? Huh. That’s worse than Sandy. Were your parents hippies or something?”

  Chuckling at the timeworn question, I experience a strange moment of candor with this kid.

  “Yeah. They actually named me Sunshine. Thank God they decided I didn’t need a middle name.”

  Sandy laughs, then grimaces. “Yeah, that could’ve been bad. Something like Rae or, oh, what about that one chick, Moon Beam, or something like that? Her dad was some rock star.”

  I glance at her, surprised that someone her age would know of Zappa.

  “Moon Unit Zappa. Her dad was Frank Zappa. He was pretty edgy for his time.” I’d grown up listening to my parents’ extensive music collection, which included every album that Frank Zappa had made. Moon was born in 1967, two years before me.

  “Moon… Unit? I mean, how could you do that to your kid? I had a bad enough time being called ‘Beach’ or ‘Dirt.’ I ’spose you had some stupid nicknames, too, huh?”

  Faint childhood memories rise to the surface, only to float away on a sea of red.

  “Not so much nicknames. But I did get hassled whenever it was raining or cloudy. Or when I was in a bad mood.” I grimly smile at the recollection of growing up with everyone always expecting me to be bright and happy, or asking why my hair was dark brown instead of yellow like the sun. If only they could see me now.

  “Sunny… yeah, I can imagine. Names are weird. People get these stupid ideas about you just based on your name.”

  Or find your name ironic, and their amusement is the first light you’ve found in five years of darkness. Bright emerald eyes suddenly flicker in the night sky above the road, and the realization I’ll never see them again crushes the air from my chest.

  Fighting back the bloodtears, I stare at the streaming lines on the asphalt and concentrate on the hunter’s cold stillness within me. When I once again feel dead inside, I drag my attention back to the girl.

  “Well, Sandy who is not a beach, why don’t you try to get some sleep? We’re still a couple hours from Casper, and a rest might do you good.”

  And I no longer have anything to say, especially to a human.

  “I dunno, I’m still a little amped. Besides, couldn’t you use someone to help you stay awake while you drive?”

  “No. I’m kind of a night owl. Go ahead, at least close your eyes. I’ll be all right. I’ll let you know when we get close to town.”

  “Well… okay. Maybe for a few minutes. But promise you’ll wake me up if you get sleepy, okay?”

  “Sure.”

  “All right. Just for a little while…” Sandy closes her eyes, and is sound asleep within a minute.

  Poor thing. She probably doesn’t feel safe enough to sleep around strangers very often.

  And I’m not exactly the safest thing for her to be with. How absurd.

  But she’s definitely good for me. At least for the time being. Focusing on her gives my mind an escape route from that other black and dangerous road it was following. The road to my own personal hell of loneliness. The road that threatened to make a U-turn at any moment.

  I look at her again. She’s cute, with a wide freckled nose and full lips, and a round face framed by that kinky, almost golden hair. Asleep, her peaceful expression makes her look even younger. She might as well have a target painted on her chest out here on the road.

  Her helplessness triggers something, and for once it’s not the hunter or the beast. A vague protective feeling trickles through me, an almost motherly feeling—something I’d nearly forgotten.

  Hopefully it will last long enough for me to see her safely on her way—before the beast awakens.

  And before its relentless hunger begins once again.

  CHAPTER 2

  We’re approaching the outskirts of Casper and I glance over at Sandy. Other than breathing very deeply, she hasn’t moved since she closed her eyes.

  “Sandy.” I keep my voice just above a whisper, hoping not to startle her too much.

  She jerks her head up, her body tense as she checks her surroundings.

  “What? Where are we?” She blinks her eyes several times, looking out at the brightly lit billboards flashing by.

  “We’re coming into Casper. Where did you need to go?”

  “Oh, well, uh, you can just drop me off at the next truck stop. I’ll catch another ride there.”

  Stunned, I look at her.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me. This time of night?” Anger edges into my voice. “Do you want a replay of your last ride?”

  She grits her teeth and, frowning, stares straight ahead.

  “Seriously. You don’t have any frien
ds or family here to stay with?” I try to gentle my tone.

  “Just take me to a truck stop, okay?”

  “No, I don’t think so. I’m going to find a motel and we can talk about it in the morning.”

  “I’m not willing to trade for a warm bed, if you catch my drift.” She crosses her arms and glares at me.

  Unable to help myself, I laugh. Warm, I am not. And I can’t tell her that I’m not attracted to her body, only what’s in it.

  “Look. I’m extremely private. You’ll have your own room. No strings attached.”

  She’s quiet for a moment.

  “For real? I mean, I can’t pay you back, at least for a while.”

  “You don’t have to pay me back at all. Consider it a donation to… to freedom.”

  “Freedom?”

  “Yeah. Yours. To make choices. To make the best ones you can without having to give up too much of yourself.”

  She says nothing as she studies my face.

  “Ya know, you’re pretty cool. Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “But I do have one favor to ask.” Hope lights up her face, matching that in her voice.

  “Okay.”

  “Would you mind, I mean, could we just go by the truck stop that’s at the next off-ramp? I just wanna see if that guy’s truck is there. I’d really like to get my backpack.”

  “What, do you think he’ll actually give it to you? After what happened?”

  “No. I was just gonna take it.”

  The exit sign looms out of the darkness. I swerve and get off the freeway.

  Sandy points to the truck parking and I slowly cruise by the first row. Reaching the end, I turn and drive along the next one.

  “There it is. The green one with the yellow trailer,” she says quietly.

  I pull past it, put the BMW in neutral and set the parking brake. Turning off the headlights, I leave the engine running.

  “Stay here. Let me check it out first. Okay?” I look pointedly at her.

  “Okay.”

  I get out and leave my door open with the interior lights off.

  Walking around to the driver’s side of the truck, I climb up the step, then pause and listen. There’s no sound of breathing inside. Grabbing the door handle, I give it a couple good yanks and break it off. The door swings open and I slip inside the cab.