Hector rummaged through his bag until he found it--the burner phone Colt had given him. At Garovel’s behest, he hadn’t taken it with him to Sescoria. The reaper had posited that if Colt were to call while they were in the capital, then there would be nothing Hector could do about it; therefore, it was better to leave it here in Brighton, where it would not get destroyed if things went badly. Certainly, one of the reaper’s more prophetic suggestions. Garovel had to remind him to recharge it as soon as he had returned home.
There was a single text message, received less than two minutes ago. Hector read it.
He immediately grabbed his bag and bolted out the door.
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Another row of cars blocked the way, and Colt was forced to turn again. Nearly an hour had passed since the clothing store, and he had been drawn into a losing game of cat and mouse. Much as he tried to find a way around, the minions were slowly forcing him toward the port.
He knew their plan, but there wasn’t much to be done about it. They obviously wanted to corner him against the water, where he would have nowhere left to run unless he intended to commandeer a boat; but if that were even an option, it would probably just be an even worse trap.
Colt just wanted to buy time for Hector. Delroy was nearly two hours away from Brighton. The kid had texted him back, but Colt hadn’t found the opportunity to stop and read it, much less reply. His hands were busy trying to prevent a car crash as he weaved his way through the streets.
He could often see a silver-white car in the rear-view mirror, along with a big, red hand waving hello from out of the driver’s side window. Colt would lose him, only to see the car reappear a few minutes later.
At length, he ran out of road. The Gulf of Emerson filled the horizon, and only a long shipyard lay between Colt and the turbulent waters.
A dark serial novel. Set in a modern fantasy world called Eleg. Mature language. Updates every night at midnight PST by ~400 words.