The man pauses and tilts his head as though listening.
I hold my breath. He can’t possibly know I’m here.
And if he does?
Has he lured me out here?
My heartbeat quickens. There’s no one here but him and me. No one will find me before my bones are picked clean by the vultures. I lick my dry lip and for a moment I consider turning back, taking his bike and weapons, and leaving him here.
The only good monster is a dead one. If I don’t take him out, it’s only a matter of time before he kills. Or comes after me.
But the more I kill, the more monsters find me.
My hand slides to the gun on my hip, but he’s out of range of the pistol and I don’t want to waste a bullet or give him time to pull his own tricks—every monster has them.
I squint, the setting sun stretching the landscape and bruising the sky. Then I see the brown, rickety thing he’s hunting. It looks like a deer crossed with a crocodile, brown and scaley with antlers. It probably has a mouthful of sharp teeth too.
I want to edge closer, but then I’ll be exposed.
The creature scuttles toward him and I hold my breath, not sure if he’ll befriend it or kill it. Or, hell, change into one.
He flicks his arm out and a chain wraps around the creature’s front legs. It topples over, then he’s on it. Silver winks and the creature scatters into the familiar inky dust.
I exhale and draw my gun as I run toward him. He turns and stands in one smooth motion, chain held double in one hand. I slow, the rocks skidding beneath my feet, but it’s too late to flee now. He’s seen me and will hunt me until one of us dies—that’s what the monsters do.
I get within range and lift the gun. It’s loaded with silver to kill his kind.
I have to make the bullets myself, which is a pain in the ass as I’m allergic and my fingers come up in welts, but worth it to see the monsters explode in ink and silver.
“Stop.” He shouts. His voice echoes over the barren landscape.
His chest is in my sights. My finger slides to the trigger. I’ve never killed one that looked so human. Or speaks English. None of them have ever spoken to me before, not in any language I understood, anyway. It’s enough to make me pause.
“Why should I let your kind live?”
“My kind?” he says.
“Monster. I saw your eyes gleam gold at the gas station.”
He smiles, the kind of smile that belongs on the hottest guy in the bar as he eyes me up from across the room. So he’s a pretty monster. That doesn’t change what he is, or what I have seen.
“True, but I think we are hunting the same thing, and I got here first.” He indicates to the dark smudge on the ground.
“I’m hunting you.” The gun is heavy in my hand.
“So do it.” He turns to make himself an easier target. “But it’s not easy to kill a man.”
“How many have you killed?” I need to know.
“Just one.”
“Bullshit.”
“That’s the truth. Monsters like the dannedd, I’ve lost count.”
I haven’t. When I kill him, it will bring my tally to thirty-six. But it is much harder to shoot a man shaped monster who can beg for his life. Not that he’s doing much begging or running or crying. Or any of the things I expect.
A tremor starts in my arm.
