by Carlos King
PREY
The Hunt for Jade
By
Carlos King
http://carlosjking.blogspot.com
CHAPTER 1
During the spring of 2012, two men enter a Los Angeles Starbucks and scan through the numerous faces in search of an individual they’ve come an exceptionally long ways to see. The two men appear to be in their mid-thirties and both are of average height and build.
Prior to this day, the two men were successful leaders of their own respective business and each had their companies listed in the Fortune 500 rankings within the past year. And while the names of their true identities are unknown to any human walking the earth, for argument’s sake, they’ll be referred to as Zavior and Trent.
The serious demeanor of the two men helps to separate them from the rest of the regulars who frequent the renowned establishment, which is mostly comprised of young people who are studying, socializing or simply accessing the internet while enjoying their favorite beverage. The serious natures of the two men indicate they aren’t here for any of these reasons.
Wearing attire that has them both sticking out like a sore pair of thumbs, the two are dressed in expensive black suits, high-end accessories, and costly shoes that complete their ensemble. Their professional and highly successful look is anything but discrete in a room filled with wrinkled sweatshirts, cargo shorts and sandals.
Nevertheless, the oddest factor isn’t the costly clothes the men are wearing, it’s the fact that before today the two had no idea the other existed. They had only met up the previous day and yet, here they are, walking alongside each other like they’ve been acquainted for years.
The two men stand near the entrance, perusing the area until they spot the person they seek. The good-looking and well-groomed pair finally set their sights on a grungy male seated toward the far end of the café.
The late-twenties male is known by all the café’s employees as Louis Grant. It becomes noticeably clear that Louis is the complete opposite of his two sophisticated visitors. His unkempt beard and uncombed hair only add to already his sloppy look, while his dingy jeans and badly stained sweatshirt provide further proof that he could care less about his outwardly appearance.
The two men head in Louis’ direction, keeping a leisurely pace until they’re standing directly over his table. Preoccupied by his laptop, Louis fails to notice the two men’s ominous presence looming over him until he takes a break from staring at the screen and takes a sip from his Mocha Latte.
Startled by their unexpected company, Louis jerks back in a panic, spilling a good portion of his drink all over himself and the table.
“What the hell, guys? You tryna give me a heart attack or what?” Louis uses a napkin to soak up the small pool of coffee before it reaches his laptop.
The two mysterious men remain silent and continue to stare at Louis through the black tint of their sunglasses. The odd silence only leads to Louis feeling all the more uneasy.
Agitated, Louis rudely questions, “Who the hell are you guys, cops or something? What the hell you want?”
One of the men, who’ll be referred to as Zavior, removes his glasses and tucks them into his inner jacket pocket.
It is quickly discernible that Zavior has a natural characteristic about him that stands out from the other gentlemen that accompanies him. It’s a characteristic that implies to anyone who comes across the two, that of them both, he’s the one in charge. The oldest by only a small margin of years, the calm and charming Zavior develops a soft smile across his thin, red lips. He proceeds to take a seat at Louis’ table and engage him in conversation.
“You’re Louis Grant, right?” Zavior serenely asked. “We’re here to collect some important information. We were told you’d have it for us.”
“Information? I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, guy. You pigs must have me mixed up with somebody else. You guys need to scram. I’m a very busy man.” Louis sets his eyes on his laptop screen before passively dismissing the two men with a wave of his hand.
Picking up on Louis’ insubordinate tone, the other male who accompanies Zavior, who’ll be referred to as Trent, slams Louis’ laptop shut. While Zavior displays a more laid back and relaxed disposition, Trent doesn’t. Sharing none of his partner’s views on tact and subtly, Trent seemingly prefers a more hostile approach.
“Hey, man, what’s your problem?!” Louis ranted. “I was on the last page of one of those long-ass job assessment tests!”
Trent is well past the point of being annoyed with Louis. He releases an animal-like growl that hastily silences any further complaints Louis may have. Strangely, the growl exuded through Trent’s clinched teeth and curled lips sounded purely animalistic—unlike anything human vocal cords could ever produce.
The tension between Louis and Trent remains thick until Zavior steps in and calms his associate by gripping his shoulder.
“Relax, Trent.” Zavior smiled, turning his attention back to a bewildered Louis. “I’m sorry his behavior. He doesn’t have much patience when it comes to dealing with the human element. Me, on the other hand, I’m a bit more experienced when it comes to dealing with you useless bags of flesh.” Zavior folds his arms and leans in toward Louis. In a tranquil voice, Zavior instructed, “Louis, I want you to look me right in the eyes.”
Louis does so and is thrown into a state of utter fear when he notices Zavior’s eyes switch from a shade of light-brown to a deep, fiery-red and then back to light-brown.
Zavior leans in closer. “Now you have two choices here, Louis. You can either pretend to be smarter than the rest of your ignorant species and give us what we came for, and maybe we’ll allow you to keep breathing in this smog infested air or, you can keep playing games with us, which will lead to me ripping your head clean off before you have a chance to blink. You decide.”
Frightened out of his wits, Louis finally grasps his mind around the realization of who he’s dealing with. He immediately apologizes for his disrespectful attitude.
“I’m so sorry, sir! No one told me when you guys were coming! I didn’t know you were…well, you.”
While begging for forgiveness, Louis flips his laptop open and begins to pull up the information the two men want. He frantically presses the computer keys to speed up the laptop’s uploading process.
“It’ll only take me a second to pull up her file. I’m so sorry for the wait,” he nervously babbled. “Ah, here we go. Her name is Jade Harris and she’s from Crown Point, Indiana. She’s currently living in Terre Haute, IN, where she attends Indiana State University. She lives alone and works part-time at a discount clothing store. I can print you guys a map if you want.”
With his irritation peaking, Trent pounds his fist on the table, creating a resonating thud. “Just show us her damn picture! I’m tired of smelling your stench!”
Louis spins the laptop around. A picture of Jade Harris, as it appears on her Facebook profile, is shown. The two men now have a picture-perfect view of their target.
Zavior and Trent turn to one another and nod in acknowledgement. Zavior stands from the table and the two men prepare to leave, but as they’re doing so, Louis calls out to them.
“So we good, guys? I did good, right?” Louis asked, his demeanor like a child desperately seeking a pat on the back.
Zavior redirects his focus towards Louis and silently glares at him for a split-second before subtly changing his expression to a smile. Louis happily takes this as a sign of approval.
Zavior places a chair next to Louis and takes a seat, a vibrant smile still spread across his face. “Louis, have you ever heard the expression ‘Never make deals with the devil’?”
Confused, Louis reluctantly nods.
“Well…”—Zavior continued, leaning in close—“
that goes for demons, too.”
Zavior’s eyes change from light-brown to a solid black. An instant look of terror takes over Louis’ face as he tightly clinches the left side of his chest. Zavior keeps his dark eyes locked on Louis.
Smirking, Trent watches in amusement as Louis succumbs to the massive heart attack Zavior is forcing him to undergo. Within seconds, Louis’ pain is over. He exhales one last time before his head drops to the table.
Once Louis’ body goes limp, Zavior’s lifeless eyes return to their normal shade of brown. Zavior stands up, reaches into his jacket pocket for his glasses and casually places them back on.
The two men head towards the exit and composedly leave the cafe with the same coolness they arrived with. The café’s patrons are completely oblivious to what has just transpired.
CHAPTER 2
Shortly after Zavior and Trent exit the café they overhear the hair-raising screams of one of the waitresses.
The two men had hoped to be a good distance away from the café before anyone noticed Louis’ corpse. And even though this is a speed bump they didn’t anticipate, it’s one that Trent is more than happy to accommodate.
Trent stared at Zavior with an expression of restrained elation. It’s not clear what he was expecting Zavior to do or say, but Trent’s body language suggested he wanted to go back inside.
Zavior reluctantly nods.
Trent readily reacts by showcasing a lively grin. Like a rabid dog that’s just been unleashed, he eagerly charges back inside the cafe.
Not long after Trent re-entered the cafe did the blood-curdling cries from both men and women resonate out onto the streets. The high-pitch wails of torment brought the civilians walking along the sidewalks to a standstill, looking around in curiosity as they tried to pinpoint where the haunting sounds of suffering were originating.
While the people on the street grow anxious, Zavior maintains his nonchalant demeanor. Leaning against a street sign, he utilizes the spare time to clean his sunglasses.
All of a sudden, a massive explosion rips through the cafe, shattering its windows and launching the business’ front door clear across the street. The pedestrians are thrown into fits of frenzy and panic, scattering away from the blazing inferno like frightened ants.
Sustaining his unruffled manner, Zavior continues to relax against the street sign, unbothered by the commotion. He even takes time out to smile and wave at a few of the panicky people who ran by.
Shortly after the explosion, Trent emerges from the burning building with a look of pure satisfaction, calmly walking through the flickering flames.
Trent approaches Zavior, his clothes still smoldering from the extreme heat, but the dark-witted smile Trent carried signifies how ineffective the flames were against him.
“Are you through?” Zavior asked.
“That felt great,” Trent answered, grinning from ear to ear.
“You were supposed to go in there and quiet the place down so we could get out of here peacefully,” said Zavior. “You weren’t supposed to go in there and make an even bigger fuss. You just turned this place into ground zero.”
“What’s your point?” Trent responded with blatant disregard. “Let them come. We’ll take them out just as easily as I took out the others. What’re you so afraid of? You act as if any of these parasites have a chance against us.”
Insulted by Trent’s implication, Zavior aggressively marches up to his out-of-control partner.
“I’m not afraid of anything, understand?! We were sent here for one thing and one thing only and what you’re doing right now isn’t it. You know we’re not the only ones who were sent to this miserable place. The boss will reward the first hunters to bring the girl back or have you forgotten about her all ready?”
“And those who fail will be on his bad side for the rest of eternity…I get it, Zavior. I know why we’re here, okay? You don’t have to keep reminding me. Just try to keep in mind that we already know where the girl is. That alone puts us way ahead of the others.”
Zavior continues the dispute with his partner, stepping into the street and directly in the way of an oncoming car. The loud screech of braking tires fills the air. The car draws to within inches of hitting him, but Zavior doesn’t show the slightest sign of worry. If the driver would’ve noticed him just a second or so later, the clean-cut killer would’ve become a hood ornament.
Carrying on with him and Trent’s conversation, Zavior ignores the repeated horn honks that blared out from the vehicle. The driver of the car is irate and beginning to lose patience with the strange man who carelessly strolled out in front of his car. The driver is even more frustrated by the man’s audacity to remain in the middle of the street and casually carry on with a conversation like nothing’s wrong.
The driver of the car has had enough. He opens the door to his new-model Lexus and steps out. The driver’s a middle-aged man who wore attire that matched Zavior’s and Trent’s expensive taste to a T. Despite his graying hair and noticeable age lines, it was evident by the way his jacket sleeves wrapped around his arms that this was a well-built individual.
The upset driver aggressively made his way toward Zavior, shouting out obscenities. “What the hell’s your problem, moron?! Get the hell out of the road, jerk off!”
Zavior continues his discussion with Trent, paying the hostile driver no mind.
The fuming man yells, “Hey, psycho, I’m talking to you!”
The driver reaches out to grab Zavior’s shoulder. Just as his hand is about to connect Zavior turns around and stares directly into the driver’s narrowed eyes. The driver freezes up instantly.
“Shut your monkey ass up!” commanded Zavior, his eyes totally black. “From this point on, you don’t speak unless you’re told to. You’ll do what you’re told, when you’re told, how you’re told. Now get back in the car and stay there until I say otherwise.”
The once verbal driver has been turned into a shell of his former self. His face, once filled with anger and annoyance, is now as blank as a sheet of printing paper. Seemingly under a trance, the tamed driver gets back into his car with no resistance and silently waits for Zavior to issue his next command.
Zavior turns his attention back to Trent. “Look, Trent, you know I respect you. I’m not trying to boss you around or anything like that. I just want us to make the deadline.”
“I get—” Trent is interrupted by the blare of incoming sirens. Zavior and Trent look up the street and observe four police sedans speeding in their direction. Trent removes his sunglasses and tosses them to the ground, smirking with evil intent.
Already knowing what’s on Trent’s mind, Zavior tries to convince his partner to leave with him before the situation escalates. “Trent, no! We don’t have time for this!”
Trent ignores Zavior and focuses only on the approaching police cruisers. Trent’s eyes glaze over black and then turn searing red. A menacing air takes over.
Zavior tries again to calm Trent by stepping in front of him, pressing his hands firmly into Trent’s chest. “Trent, don’t do this! We weren’t sent here for this!”
Unfortunately, Zavior’s words fall onto deaf ears. Trent sidesteps Zavior and walks out into the middle of the street. He appears to be engaging the incoming officers.
Zavior calls off his efforts and makes his way back to the awaiting car he’s procured. He opens the backdoor and takes a seat. Reapplying his sunglasses, Zavior leans back into the comfortable leather upholstery of the fancy coupe and takes in a deep breath, releasing it slowly.
Standing at what they consider to be a safe distance away from the danger zone, onlookers watch as the police approach the man they believe is responsible for destroying the cafe and killing everyone inside it.
As the police cruisers near, Trent simultaneously lowers his head and lifts his arms, outstretching them so they’re evenly leveled with his shoulders. After holding this position for a brief number of seconds, Trent lifts his head up and makes it apparent to
all those watching that he’s far from being human.
Trent has summoned the dark forces that dwell within him and in doing so shades of his true identity begin to emerge through his human disguise. His skin begins to dehydrate and crack severely in a matter of seconds. Purplish-veins protrude throughout his face, neck and hands. His eyes burn with such intensity that a low-level of steam starts to emit from their dark-reddish hue.
When the squad cars are less than half a block away, Trent thrusts his hands forward, his palms facing the incoming cruisers. No one watching the spectacle knew what he was doing originally, but then the police sedans suddenly crash into what seemed to be an invisible barrier which was only meters away from where Trent was standing.
The cruisers impact with such force they’re nearly crumpled in half. With one car, two officers are ejected through its windshield; their broken bodies sprawled out over the smashed hood. And in spite of the incapacitated state of the injured officers, Trent is far from being done. He swiftly raises his hands above his head, causing all four vehicles to explode violently.
The powerful explosions lift each car several inches off the ground. The sound of twisting metal in addition to the powerful roar of the flames was deafening. A number of parts from the cars have taken to the air like rockets, only to return to the ground like small meteor fragments.
Deeply enjoying the mayhem he’s brought forth, Trent’s yearning for more bedlam has fully freed his inner demon. His fingernails have grown long and sharp and his hands and fingers have become elongated. Foam build ups have formed in both corners of his chapped lips. His teeth have turned razor sharp and an uncontrollable drool ran from his mouth, down his chin. Trent’s urge to kill has taken complete control.
He takes his monstrous eyes off the burning cars and trains them on the innocent citizens who were frantically running as far away from him as fast as they could. Ready to add more bodies to his murder list, Trent lowers his arm and prepares to raise them in the same manner he did before. Only this time he’s thwarted by Zavior, who calls out to him in a commanding voice that could easily be heard over the pandemonium of the fleeing crowd.
