The Predator and The Prey

by K. C. Sivils

  He spotted a slender woman walking away from him. His pulse quickened as she turned down a side street by the well-known local eatery named Joe’s. It was the prey. He had no doubt.

  The Cowboy accelerated and took the turn quickly. She was nowhere to be seen. It didn’t surprise him. Excited she was playing the game so well, he slowly moved the Hovertron down the road. He pulled over to the side of the road and parked.

  Exiting the car, he scanned the area carefully. He checked his pockets for his tools of the hunt. Assured he was fully equipped, he shut the door to the hover car and gripping his cane in the middle of its shaft with his right hand he tapped the palm of his left with the curved handle.

  She was close. His senses became heightened. His vision became sharper. He could smell the vile scents of the road, the stench of urine and frozen garbage most people would never notice. He could hear every sound despite the whistling of the wind as it blew over him.

  "Oh, where are you my pretty? Where are you?" he called softly.

  I FINALLY WENT AND got something to eat. It helped. As I sat waiting for a second time it occurred to me I'd been so worried about the hearing and everything else I'd forgotten to put out a bulletin on the Hovertron. I'd have to limit it to the Southeast and Southwest Sections of Capital City. No need to add to what I was sure would be a suspension when the dust settled from the day's fiasco of a show trial. I was in enough hot water. Ticking off another entitled wealthy individual at this stage would be foolish, even by my standards.

  In less than five minutes, I had the word out. Every beat cop would be on the look out, and the computers in the two southern sections of the city were scanning the CCTV databanks for any sighting of the expensive car.

  My nerves were about to play out when a doctor emerged and looked around. He looked tired. A look that worried me.

  “Are you here about Detective Josephson?” he asked.

  “I’m his partner,” I responded. “Did he make it?”

  He smiled at me. Relief swept over me like a welcome wave of warm water.

  “He won’t be walking for awhile. I had to install a new hip and do extensive skin grafts. Fortunately for him, I spent the early years of my practice as a doctor as a flight surgeon with the Space Marines. This is not the first time I’ve done this exact procedure. At least it will look pretty normal when he’s done healing.”

  "Thanks, doc. I've had enough bad news for awhile. I'm glad to hear he's going to be okay."

  He tilted his head to the side, staring at my eye. I knew what he was thinking.

  “Doc, it’s okay. Seriously.”

  “Inspector?”

  “Sullivan, I’m sorry.”

  “From one Space Marine to another, I can do better than the butcher who replaced your eye and implanted your regenerative grafts.”

  "And from one Space Marine to another, I like my new eye. I'm used to it. As for the scar, in my line of work, it helps to look a little scary."

  He smiled and nodded.

  “If you change your mind, let me know. I’m Dr. Derek Mueller.”

  “I’ll remember. Can I see my partner?”

  "Not for awhile. I've sedated him heavily, so he won't move or awaken for the next twenty-four hours. I want the graft implants to take root and make a good start on regenerating new tissue before he starts scratching. In the meantime, Inspector, I think you could use some sleep."

  Dr. Mueller turned and left. If it weren’t for the Cowboy, I would have followed his advice.

  “YOU IDIOT,” GOVERNOR Rankin screamed. Even Markeson flinched.

  “How was I supposed to know the man had a video camera for an eye,” Devereaux protested in fear.

  “And you,” the Governor snarled, turning to face Markeson. “How did you let this get this far!”

  “Don’t yell at me,” Markeson snarled back. “I told you we’d have to clean some things up. Like you, I didn’t think it would include him,” Markeson added, tilting his head in the direction of the anxious Devereaux.

  “What are you saying,” the panicky elitist squeaked.

  Markeson and the Governor both glared at the man, disgusted at his whining.

  “Is this necessary,” Mayor Xue asked calmly.

  “Now look here,” Devereaux complained, “I didn't bring this Sullivan here to Beta Prime. We were promised an incompetent would be assigned to Capital City. Instead, we get some cop with a cybernetic eye who records everything he sees! How is that my fault? Rankin, you’re the one who deals with the off planet issues! Markeson, you assured everyone this Sullivan would be easy for you to handle! Now you want to blame me?”

  “So we all got fooled,” Rankin replied coldly. “But you were stupid enough to have a stimhead working on the run out to the Rim Worlds. You handled the shipping. You were the idiot who brought your precious Melanie to Beta Prime. I would be willing to bet it was even her idea for the punk to grab her to get more money out of you.”

  "Now I have a mess to clean up," Markeson said evenly. Turning his back on Devereaux, he looked at the two politicians. “I don’t want O’Brian to be difficult about this. I tell the three guys on the tribunal to call it a righteous shoot. Order Sullivan to take two weeks paid and see the in house shrink for counseling. Call it exigent circumstances due to untreated PTSD from his earlier shooting.”

  Xue looked at his partners and nodded. He spoke in a cautious, thoughtful tone. “What about the Cowboy? He ties all of us together. We must think of the financial aspects of our situation. Not so much the money, but covering the trail of the transactions and the transfers of credits.”

  “He was good. Very good,” Markeson acknowledged. “I couldn’t find any traces, though he emptied the last deposit out of my account. He’s going to run. My guess is he’s already off planet.”

  “That’s only a temporary solution,” Rankin stated. “It solves the problem for the moment. What happens if he gets caught off world?”

  “He won’t. It will cost, but I can have him vanished.” Markeson smiled. “One of the advantages of being a cop is you know some bad people. I have several in mind who would be happy to solve the problem for us.”

  Rankin and Xue looked at each other and nodded. The decision was made.

  “What do we do with him?” Rankin said, jerking his head toward the now quivering Devereaux.

  “Make it look like suicide.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  FROM HER HIDING SPOT, Sarah spotted the predator. Glancing at his feet, Sarah noticed he was wearing Cowboy boots. It was him, the animal who’d killed Anna and little Lucy before running over Toby. Silently, she stepped away from the wall of the converted shipping container and moved away from the predator, toward the dim lights of the main hover way into which the side street ran. He had come to hunt her.

  She'd moved no more than three or four meters when the predator stopped. His heightened senses told him she was present. Turning quickly to look over his shoulder, the Cowboy spotted Sarah. Without hesitation, she turned and ran toward the lights of the hover way.

  Pleased he had found her, the Cowboy pursued. With just under twelve hours remaining, he might have a little time to treat the prey with the attention she deserved.

  He ran as quickly he could, rounded the corner and took in the sights ahead. She had vanished again. Her ploy did not ruffle him. He smiled and paused for a moment, allowing his mind to clear and his senses heighten. The prey could not have gone far. She had shown an ability to blend in with her surroundings. He simply had to be aware of his senses and he would find her.

  Setting a moderate pace, the Cowboy began making his way down the sidewalk, listening, smelling and looking for his prey. He had found her. Now it was a matter of time. He would pursue the prey until she tired. Fatigue had defeated many a prey animal. She would make the one mistake, and when she did, he would be there.

  Sarah watched from the other side of the street as the Cowboy confidently made his way down the sidewalk, searching for
her. It was evident watching the predator that he did not rely on sight alone when he hunted. Her chest tightened as she moved in the opposite direction, her fear mounting. This one was different from the others who had hunted her. He would not relent. He couldn’t. It was his nature to kill.

  I WAVED AT ALICE AS I made my way to my regular table. My muscles were sore from being so tense all day. I guess that's to be expected. My career was in the balance and some rich, elitist moron planned to trash it. Now that it was done, I didn't care what happened. The medicine had been found but at a price. Josephson would survive, and a bent cop had been uncovered.

  Another person whose injuries I was responsible for.

  I looked around, more out of habit than anything else, to observe the other patron’s in Joe’s. Father Nathan came in. His normal demeanor was gone, to put it plain and simple, he looked angry. He spotted me and made a beeline for me.

  “Good evening Father.”

  “I heard about Josephson. I’m glad he’s going to be okay.”

  I nodded in agreement as the priest sat down across from me.

  “Sully, I need to talk to you about something.”

  This sounded ominous.

  “Father, please tell me nobody else either of us knows got hurt today.”

  He smiled for a second and shook his head.

  “No, nothing like that. More like somebody needs to get hurt.”

  “Father, please tell me you aren’t going to do something stupid?”

  “Not stupid. Necessary.”

  “Not tonight, Father. Not tonight you don’t. I need a break before I have to put you behind bars.”

  “Sully, I want your help.”

  I couldn’t believe my ears. Did he think I was bent?

  “Father, I’m not sure I’m liking what I’m hearing. You don’t need to do something stupid. What about those street kids you’ve been making headway with? What about the people who go to your church? You just can’t go and hurt somebody because you want to.”

  “Sure I can. I’m more than capable you know,” Father Nathan snapped back at me.

  "Why don't you tell me who it is you want hurt, and I'll look into it?"

  "The kids have a "boss" who runs them. He's got some kind of abusive hold over them. In order for me to get them off the streets, this cancer has to be dealt with. I don't want to break the hold he has on my kids only for him to go and trap another group. This man, whoever he is, is evil."

  “You don’t know his identity,” I stated simply.

  “No, and the kids are too terrified of him to tell me who he is. That’s why I need your help. You find out who this guy is and I’ll handle it from there.”

  I looked at my friend. He was serious.

  “Father, what makes you think you can handle this guy? He’s a thug, and if he isn’t, he has thugs who work for him and provide security for his business.”

  “I wasn’t always a priest.”

  "I'm sure you weren't," I replied. I didn't like the tone of my friend's voice and what he was implying.

  “I’ve done a lot in my life that I’m ashamed of. I can’t begin to tell you the list of things I’ve done that I must atone for.”

  “Father, this isn’t how atonement works, but I think you know that.”

  “I’ll seek forgiveness later.”

  “Father, you’ll do no such thing. You’re going to leave this to me. It’s my job to catch guys like this, not yours. Somebody has to take care of those kids. That’s your job. Let me do mine.”

  Father Nathan stared at me. It was not a comfortable moment.

  “Okay. I’ll give you some time. But if you can’t find the boss, I’m dealing with the problem.”

  I stared back. I'd just learned something about my new friend. He had a past, and I'd have to look into that past. For his own good.

  "Let's get something to eat. We'll talk about this later. I've had a long day Father. It would be good to relax and eat dinner with a friend.

  MARKESON HURRIED OUT of the precinct. He’d finished what he’d come to do. For once, he almost felt guilty. Almost. Bland had been a good employee. A decent enough cop to be respected by the other officers, making it easy for him to do the jobs Markeson assigned to him.

  Of course, somebody had to take the fall for the two mine guard's deaths, and it certainly wasn't going to be Markeson. So Bland would have to do. What troubled Markeson was he’d have to kill Bland when he arrested him. It was the only way to make sure the Sergeant didn’t talk.

  Sullivan would find the evidence he’d planted. If the good Inspector didn’t, then Markeson would find the evidence himself. The more he thought about it; the more Markeson decided that would be the best course of action. It would keep Sullivan from poking around where he didn't need to any more than he already had.

  Tired from the stress of the day, which had been a complete and total fiasco, Markeson decided he deserved a night on the town. In the nice part of town. He pulled his personal hover car onto the on ramp to the hoverway and accelerated. Within minutes he was en route to the Northeast section of Capital City. He had a nice bar and grill in mind along with a certain, attractive and skilled lady for hire. She would go a long way to help him forget the disastrous day.

  Next time, Governor Rankin and May Xue would listen to him. This all could have been avoided. They had brought him in after they'd set up their scheme. Too bad the financier was an egomaniac, and the key player was a psychopathic killer.

  His comm sounded. Markeson pulled it out and glanced at it, quickly reading the message. He sighed in disgust as he took the off ramp toward his destination. He’d have to settle for dinner and a couple of cold ones. Devereaux’s suicide had taken place ahead of schedule.

  ONLY TWELVE HOURS REMAINED. Pressure to find her, the special prey, was mounting. The Cowboy had never felt the rage so intensely before. The prey was leading him on a merry chase, and he was growing weary of it. He wanted time alone with her before the end.

  Spotting his special prey had become easy enough. Catching her was the problem. The prey was exceptionally skilled at evading him once she realized he had spotted her. She was extremely fast for a prey animal and skilled at slipping down side streets to disappear or escape capture.

  Several times she had been within his grasp only to slip away. Were it not for the deadline he would have enjoyed her futile games at escaping him. Now she simply enraged him. A change of tactics would be necessary.

  Abandoning his hunt on foot, the Cowboy retrieved his Hovertron. His prey might be able to slip down a side street or run into an alleyway and evade him on foot. She couldn’t escape the Hovertron. If necessary, he would run her down. It wasn’t as critical for witnesses to be avoided. He would be gone soon, traveling to another world and assuming another identity.

  I COULDN’T SLEEP. IT hurt to see Father Nathan ready to toss away all the potential for good he could do for our part of Capital City. The religious part was okay I guess, but he did real things to help people who needed help. He liked to bend my ear about how that was “real religion,” putting your faith into action.

  That was what worried me about our conversation. He wasn’t one of those say one thing and do another religious types. I’m pretty sure the good Father lives his life in line with all that stuff he says is true. Not perfect mind you, just a good example for the rest of the religious people and us heathens too.

  I felt bad about not having taken the time to look into who the boss was running the pickpocket ring in our neighborhoods. It was my job after all. Now he was ready to hunt down whoever the boss is and do serious physical harm. Most people take a look at a priest and figure that guy’s pretty helpless in a fight.

  I've seen enough bad actors and real tough guys to take one look at Father Nathan and know to leave well enough alone. He had a past, that was for certain, and it included violence against his fellow man. Something had changed him though, and it was a change for the better.

  Me? I don’t
know. I’m responsible for too many other people getting hurt one way or another. How do you find redemption for that? Josephson was lying in a hospital because he followed my orders. A mining foreman was dead because he talked to me. My mystery girl turns out to be the sister of a victim I let get murdered because I hesitated to pull the trigger.

  Tough guy, that's what they say about me. Sully will clean things up. Right. I get rid of a bunch of corrupt cops and crooked politicians, and they move me along somewhere else to do it all again. In the process, people get hurt. The same people I’m trying to help, to protect.

  I got up. It was no use trying to sleep anymore. Not with my mind racing. The issue of the stolen melanothorazine might have been resolved, but there was still a serial killer loose. My new friends had troubles because of me. Then there’s my mystery girl.

  More than anything else, I was frightened for her. I’d already let so much pain come into her life. At least I had if she was telling the truth about her dead sister. Running the video of that awful moment again had been painful. I had avoided it for a long time. There’s no denying though my mystery girl looks like a twin for the girl I let die because I didn’t pull the trigger.

  Sleep wasn't going to come. I decided a long walk in the cold air would do me some good. I had to wind down from the hearing, and I needed to clear my mind if I was going to catch the Cowboy. I didn't want the blood of another victim on my hands.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  I WAS STARTING TO THINK my brilliant idea of walking about in the cold was not too smart. I'd forgotten my gloves, and the fingers of my right hand were letting me know about it. At least with my left hand, I could turn down the pain receptors. The sun would rise in about an hour. I'd have to report back to the hearing to learn what my fate would be.