The Last of Her Kind Ch. 06

These questions and more ran through her head as she moved through the trees, listening for signs of humans or wildlife. Small animals became victims to her hunger as she ate her way across the forest, finally emerging near a small town.

Surrounded by prairie along the edges, she figured it would be best to sneak a ride. Sticking to the shadows where nobody would see her, she reassembled the chair and reluctantly backed her abdomen into it, her legs folding up. The fit was a bit tighter already, the result of a slightly swollen belly.

With a sigh, she put her glasses on, feeling her senses dull. Pulling her secret stash out of the chair, she realized that the slip of paper with Emily's coordinates was gone. The good news was that she had the numbers memorized, and she could only hope she had lost it somewhere it couldn't be found by her pursuers.

She was getting sloppy.

Pushing the faux joystick, she rolled through the middle of town, keeping an eye out for larger vehicles that she could sneak a ride on. This town wasn't too far from Interstate 84, and if she could hitch a ride on an unsuspecting semi-truck, she could cover ground much faster and get off somewhere in Oregon.

The wheelchair was a bit of an eyesore for the locals who eyed her with suspicion, but they were quick to look away when she met their gaze. While she felt fairly suspicious, this was still far preferable to strolling through town on eight legs.

Traffic seemed to pick up on the south side of town, and she slipped between a pair of buildings and watched the road. There was a large gas station near the edge of town with an attached diner. Looking at the sun, she figured it was at least a couple of hours until sunset. Rolling her eyes, she went back into town, trying to find somewhere to hide comfortably. There was an assortment of small shops with crisscrossing alleyways, and she wondered if she needed to just hunker down behind some boxes or a dumpster and pretend to be a vagrant. It had worked before, but this town was small enough that someone might realize that she was new here.

Her face broke into a smile at the sight of a bookstore on the corner. Grateful that the door was large enough for her chair, she rolled inside, the bell above her dinging, and immediately began browsing through a stack of books by the entrance.

Would she be able to read, once in Oregon? Was there any way for her to connect to the human world, or would she spend the rest of her days in isolation from the humans that fascinated her so? Frowning, it occurred to her that she had underestimated just how much her life would change. How often would Emily come to visit her? Would she bring gifts, such as books, to help Ana pass the time?

In safety lie isolation. In community, danger. Scowling, she wondered how hard it would be to lay a trap for the Order, maybe snap their heads off and leave their bodies in the woods somewhere. She could go back to her regular life, working at the library.

Then again, what about Darren? She rubbed her eyes and sniffed. What would have happened if she had let him come with her? For certain, they wouldn't have traveled nearly as far, and she also wondered if she would have consumed him in the night, desperate with hunger. Then again, if he had come with her to Oregon, then he could have been her link to the world, a constant reminder of the humanity that she strove for.

No. He deserved better than a life of solitude, away from his own kind. With the Order sniffing around her nest, they would likely question him, but he didn't know anything, not really. If anything, they would probably find him as much the victim as anybody else and just let him go with a tall tale that nobody would believe. If nothing else, humans were fairly predictable, and she would rest easier at night knowing that Darren was out there somewhere.

Picking up a romance novel, she traced her fingers across the body of the man on the front. He stood in the background, little more than a shadow, watching a woman in a black dress weep near the shore's edge. With her instinctive sex drive diminished, new feelings had come to the front. How did she feel about Darren now that she carried his brood? Clearly she had been using him, but now that she looked back on it, she couldn't help but miss his presence. Their faux dates had felt nice, giving her a strange sense of belonging that she had never encountered before.

She missed him.

It was a difficult admission to make, but now that he knew the truth about her, and seemed to accept it, her previous trepidation at his presence was gone and she could view him in a new light, a light that now cast him similarly to the man on the cover of the book she held. Romance novels had never held much appeal for her, but now she was curious. Looking at the stack, she wondered how many she could safely carry with her.

Distracted, she unrolled some of her cash, her eyes flicking to the stack of books and back to her hand. Was this what she should be spending her money on? It wasn't like she could simply make more, as that ship had clearly sailed. Later on, she would buy some human food from the diner to stall for additional time, waiting for the right truck to come along while munching on a burger or something else juicy. At the thought of burgers, her mind briefly flicked to Hannah at Mattie's.

Shaking her head, she collected a few of the more promising books and moved through the store. Her chair was too wide for a couple of the more stuffed aisles, and she let out a sigh of annoyance. Behind her, the bell over the door dinged, and she peered through a gap in the books to watch a young man in a hoodie step outside. Through the front window, she caught a glimpse of his face. It was pocked with scars, and he didn't appear to be either of the men who hunted her.

She let out a sigh of relief and resumed her shopping. She figured six books would be safe, then grabbed one more. Lucky number seven. She rolled through the shop some more, the squeak of her wheel her only companion. Satisfied that she had passed enough time, she paid for her books and left the store, and turned her attention to the diner.

It was still far too light out. Packing up the chair would take a couple of minutes, and she would need to make sure that her truck was parked away from the streetlights. She also needed to make sure it was going the right direction. Ending up in Wyoming would be bad news, especially if they got out on the plains.

Darren probably could have rented a truck or something, and let her sit comfortably in the cab. Or the bed. That wad of cash she had saved up would have easily purchased a used car or a van, and the two of them could have traveled in relative safety and comfort.

That was wishful thinking. Dreaming up alternatives to her current situation didn't change her reality, but in hindsight, it felt like she actually had some options. The truth of the matter was that she had no way of knowing how Darren would react to her true nature, but now that he knew, she was fantasizing about what could have been, squeezing the bag of books in her lap.

A figure stepped out of the alley, a gun held casually in one hand. Her pulse raced at his appearance, and she turned her head to look up and down the road. Nobody was out, and not a single car could be seen. It was the man she had seen leaving the bookstore. What did he want with her?

"Go," he told her, making his voice gruff on purpose. He waved the gun towards the alley and she saw that a wheeled dumpster was only a few feet away from them, and seemed to be where he wanted her to go. She had been so caught up in her own head that she hadn't been paying attention, and she dutifully wheeled around the corner, her nose wrinkling. This man didn't smell right. He was filthy, and likely hadn't had a shower in weeks. Maneuvering her chair around the corner, she saw that the building actually had a depression where the dumpster was usually stored. The greasy tracks on the ground told her that the man had pushed it to create a private alcove, and she was more than a little impressed. The thing looked heavy.

She was less impressed when she saw a second man step out from behind the alcove, a knife in his hand. They had set a simple but effective trap for her. The second man moved behind her where she couldn't see him.

"Please don't hurt me," she said, letting her voice tremble.

Though Stinky was the one with the gun, his hands shook, and he pointed the gun roughly at her head. When he lifted his arm, the loose sleeves of his shirt slid back to reveal track marks all along the inner edge. He was a junkie. "Give me your money and I won't."

"My money?" She couldn't believe it. He must have seen her pull the cash out of her pocket. Reluctantly, she held it out, and he snatched it from her.

"We could get some good money for the chair, too," the second man said.

"I can't walk without the chair." Ana looked over her shoulder. The second man was bald, with tattoos up his neck. "Please don't take it from me."

"We don't need the chair man, this is plenty." Stinky pocketed the cash and lowered the gun. "She's just a cripple."

"Please, I need it to—"

"Shut the fuck up!" Baldy stepped in and punched her across the face, her glasses flying across the alley.

That was a mistake.

Her senses came alive, and she could smell the blood traveling through their veins and smell the warmth of their breath. Logic and reason were replaced by the rage of instinct, and when Baldy grabbed her chair and tried to tilt her out, her abdomen expanded and blew the chair apart, scattering it into pieces across the alley. Rising up on all eight legs, she kicked Stinky in the chest, sending him flying across the alleyway, then spun around to face Baldy.

Baldy had gone white, but was still very much in the fight. He swung his knife at her, but his movements were too slow, and it was a simple matter to grab him by his temples and twist his head until it faced the wrong direction. Baldy went limp in her arms, and her fangs were out and ready to feed. However, when she drew close, she could smell the stink of drugs in his system, poison that she didn't dare imbibe. Disgusted, she dropped him.

A whimper from behind reminded her that Stinky was still there, and she grabbed one of his legs to drag him behind the alcove before anyone could see her. Holding him upside down, his shirt flipped inside out, revealing a gaunt frame covered in scars. He cried for his mother and she was about to break his neck too when a flash of silver caught her eyes.

A pair of dog tags fell from the junkie and landed on the cement with a clatter. Was the junkie in her arms a vet? She hesitated, her thoughts flipping back to Darren. Was this how he could have ended up? An addict, stealing from women in wheelchairs? The man dangling from her arms was openly weeping now, his face hidden by his jacket, so she swung him into the dumpster, his head smacking into the metal with a dull thud. He went limp, but was still breathing.

Her fangs retracted, and she looked around. After retrieving her cash, she stuffed Stinky in the dumpster, and then threw Baldy on top of him. With any luck, he would be too scared to say anything for fear of being accused of his friend's murder. Even if he did report that a spider woman had killed his buddy, the track marks on his arms would immediately discredit him.

Gathering up the pieces of her chair, she frowned. A few of the connecting pins had been bent, butthose she could fix quickly. However, more than a few had snapped in half entirely, meaning she had no good way to keep her chair together.

"Fuck." She threw one of the broken pins across the alley and did her best to push the chair back together. The pins were interchangeable, but there was now a weak seam on one side of the chair that threatened to pop open. Using some webbing, she lashed it into place before squeezing back inside. The webbing stretched, the wheel on that side tilting for a second before settling back in place.

Ana would have to be extra careful until she could replace the pins. A smirk crossed her face at the thought of trying to fix her chair. Once she was in Oregon, would she even need it again?

Distant thunder boomed overhead, and she looked into the sky. She could smell rain in the air and nearly taste the electricity. With a sigh, she slid her glasses back on, her world closing in around her. Maybe she needed to start thinking about what her life would be like if she could just be herself.

She crossed the road, her wheel squeaking even worse now. A car turned the corner, its lights briefly blinding her, then pulled into the diner parking lot.

It definitely wasn't Mattie's. Rolling up to the door, she was aware of eyes on her, and nobody bothered to hold the door open for her, so she pushed it with her free hand, then let it swing shut behind her. A disinterested woman in her forties led Ana to a free table, then picked up one of the chairs to let her in. It was a few minutes later before the same woman came back and set a glass of water in front of Ana.

"Know what you want?" she asked.

"I... haven't seen a menu yet."

The waitress rolled her eyes and peeled one off of a nearby table, pausing long enough to scrape food off of it using the back of a nearby chair, then tossed it onto the table. "Specials are on the back."

"Thank you." Ana shrunk down in her chair, holding her menu up. When the waitress was otherwise occupied, Ana traded places with one of the chairs so that she could keep her eye on the parking lot and the front door. She picked out a large steak, then skimmed over the menu some more. It was a long time before her waitress returned, but Ana was fine with it. She put in her order, the waitress lifting an eyebrow when Ana ordered the steak extra rare.

Ana drained the glass at her table and had it refilled a few minutes later. The diner was only a third full, but the occasional truck wandered off of the highway and parked in the lot. Ana made a note of what direction they came from. A couple of good candidates arrived, but it was still far too bright out to make a dash for it.

That, and her steak hadn't come yet. Her stomach growled, and she realized that the steak might be the only thing she got to eat for a while. It wasn't like she could knock on the roof of the truck and just ask the trucker to pull over so she could catch a deer. She was thirsty, too, and the waitress was now actively avoiding Ana's table.

Nearly thirty minutes passed before her steak arrived. The service was lacking, but Ana was hungry enough that she didn't care. She cut large pieces off and tried to avoid stuffing her mouth full, watchful eyes on the parking lot. Dusk was settling in, and a large white tractor trailer had just pulled into the lot. The driver was an older man who took off his hat and greeted the waitress warmly. Ana was glad to see that the waitress was an equal opportunity bitch, and was even more grateful when the man was seated at a booth that didn't look out the front windows.

Polishing off the last of her steak, she scanned the lot, planning her next move—when two men walked toward the front door, their long faces painted in exhaustion. Ana quickly threw some money on the table and wheeled toward the bathroom, desperate to remain unseen. Chancing a quick look over her shoulder, she saw that one had stopped to scrape something off his boots using the curb, and they hadn't seen her yet.

She pushed her way into the bathroom, locking the door behind her.

"Hold up." Cyrus paused to scrape dog shit off his boot. He hadn't been watching where he was going, his eyes scanning the area for tracks, only to step in a giant pile of shit.

They had lost her tracks on the edge of town, and Jeffrey surmised that she had changed back into her wheelchair. Luckily, it was a small town, and anybody who had been outside must have seen the wheelchair woman rolling through. They had tracked her to the bookstore and decided that the diner would be a good place to stop and get some food. Though their task was urgent, Cyrus knew that neither of them could go for much longer without something to eat and drink. It had been a long night, and they were both exhausted.

Jeffrey watched Cyrus scrape most of the shit off his shoe before opening the door and holding it for him. The diner was full of truck drivers and a few locals. They took an empty table by the front door and waited for someone to bring them menus. After a few minutes, Jeffrey looked around and grabbed a menu off of an empty table nearby.

"Don't feel like waiting forever for our fucking food," he grumbled. When the waitress finally swung by, she didn't say a word and just looked at the two of them expectantly.

"Some waters, a salad for me, and a burger for him." Cyrus grabbed the woman's wrist before she could take off. "Oh, and something else. Have you seen a woman in an electric wheelchair today? She's a friend of ours, and we were supposed to pick her up, but I think she gave us the wrong address."

The waitress looked at the two of them for several seconds as if making up her mind. "She's in the bathroom." The woman snapped up the menus and disappeared, leaving Jeffrey and Cyrus to turn toward the rear of the restaurant.

Out in the parking lot, the loud roar of a motorcycle passing by shook the windows.

"You've got to be shitting me." Jeffrey looked around. "If she's really back there, then..."

"Keep your voice down." Cyrus caught his partners eyes. "We can't start a fight here, there are too many people."

"No kidding. Someone could get hurt." Jeffrey set his blade up on the table. "However, if she doesn't know we're here, we can wait, maybe get a bite to eat, and then follow her."

"Get a bite to... how long do you think she's going to be in there?"

"I don't know. She probably has to get out of that chair to shit, right?" Jeffrey drummed his fingers impatiently, casting glances toward the bathroom. "How do you suppose she fits in that damned thing anyway?"

"You should ask her before you..." Cyrus dropped his voice, noticing that the trucker behind Jeffrey seemed to be paying attention. "We need a plan."

"Do you think she spotted us?"

"Maybe. Even if she did, what is she going to do? Wait us out?"

"Wouldn't mind that. Could eat our meal in peace, then go hang out outside until she decides the coast is clear." Jeffrey picked up the knife again and slid it into his sleeve.

"Seems a little silly to just hide in the bathroom. At some point, someone is going to notice..." Cyrus stood up, a thought suddenly occurring to him. How did she fit in her wheelchair? Her body seemed a lot larger than the chair itself, yet she made it work.

"Wait here." Cyrus crossed the restaurant, trying not to run, then pushed open the door to the men's bathroom. Turning the corner, he faced a row of urinals and a doorless stall. Looking above the urinals, he saw a small window had been opened for ventilation.

"Shit, shit, shit... "he muttered under his breath, exiting the bathroom and casting a look at Jeffrey. Jeffrey stood up and came toward him as Cyrus pushed open the door to the women's bathroom. Some patrons turned their heads to see what was going on, but it no longer mattered what they thought.

The women's bathroom stank of cigarette smoke and ammonia. There were three stalls along the wall, and a small window just above them. Cyrus squatted down, his eyes on the pair of wheels in the final stall.

He signaled to Jeffrey, who pulled the knife free. Cyrus readied his wand, swallowing the lump in his throat as he approached the last stall door and gave it a push. It was locked. With a hard kick, he dislodged the door to reveal the empty wheelchair, sagging against the wall. There was a giant hole in the back that was surrounded with little bits of webbing and some fabric.