Tags
November 15th, 2007: Age 22
"Right. See ya soon." Bobby hung up the phone as you lounged on the couch watching T2. What? The Sarah Conner reference put you in the mood. Bobby walked into the living room with an odd look on his face. You quickly paused the movie. "What's up?" He sat down next to you. "Gordon Walker's dead." Every muscle in your body tensed hearing the name. "You know him?" You stared blankly ahead. "Yup."
"Look I don't know if he was your friend or something, but he did a real number to Sam and—"
"He's better off in the ground." With that you stood and walked to the bathroom. You placed your hands on the counter to steady your shaking body. You looked down at your left arm to the scar that ran along the inside of your forearm. Bringing the right hand over to run your fingers over it, you remembered.
December 4th, 2004: Age 19
It was your first week in California. Your heart raced as you were looking into different towns to find a case in. It was the first time since your mom and sister that you had this kind of freedom. No one to report to, no one sending you to a certain place, just you, your jeep, and your gun traveling the open road. You had been hunting for a good five years now (minus the year and a half you took off to go to U of A), and felt you had a steady foundation to go on. However, even with Bobby as a teacher, you were under no pretenses. You were going to start small and work from there. If you were taught one thing, it was to never overestimate yourself. That's why you felt that a string of animal attacks in a small town called Murrieta was a perfect match. A few vamps wouldn't be too hard to take out. You took out a map and found that from your current location of San Diego, it would be a straight shot to Murrieta if you just took the 15 North. Game on.
It took around an hour and fifteen minutes to finally arrive at the Comfort Inn and Suites. Wasting no time, you set up the room. It felt familiar as you placed your gun under your pillow and hung up all your flannels. You almost went to grab your phone to call Bobby and check in when you remembered. You were on your own here. Bobby still thought you were at the U of A and you really would prefer to keep it that way. You double-checked that your GPS was off and made a decision. Hopping in your jeep, you opened the glove compartment and dropped the phone in there, vowing to get a new one with a new number as soon as possible.
You were walking back to your motel room when a deep voice caused you to stop. "Excuse me, miss?" You turned and stared at the man who interrupted your step. African American, approximately six feet tall, fairly athletic, but with facial features that were oddly familiar looking. "Can I help you?"
"I'm sorry, but those tags you're wearing. I think they belonged to my father." You instinctually brought your hand up to cover the metal rectangles that dangled around your neck. You narrowed your eyes. "I highly doubt that. Unless you could read them from across the parking lot, they'd be indistinguishable. Have a nice day." You went to take another step. "My name is Gordon Walker. I know those are my fathers because when I was fourteen years old I snapped the chain and used an old fishhook to reassemble it. Right in that exact spot." Your eyes slowly followed where he pointed to a chink in the metal where a fishhook was indeed holding it together. You slowly lifted your head to look Gordon Walker in the eye. "You're Beth's older brother." His face went blank at hearing her name. "I think we'd better talk in private."
You'd agreed to meet Gordon at his stakeout to discuss a few things. You were still weary of him, but considering how close you and his sister had been, you'd decided to trust him. Still, your fingers itched to dial Bobby or even Ellen just to give them your location should things go sideways. However, you balled your hand in a fist and decided against it. There was no way you were jeopardizing your newfound freedom within the first week of having it. You focused on the road and drove the rest of the half hour to meet Gordon Walker.
Gordon let you in and you looked around. It was your typical hunter's setup; fairly messy, photos and case files pinned to the wall, and a closet full of flannels. Seemed like you and him were working the same case. You pointed to the article and turned to look at Gordon for an explanation. "Already took care of it. Two bloodsuckers stationed at the abandoned mill." You raised your eyebrows and nodded, impressed. He continued, "So, you knew Beth?" He sat at the kitchenette table, an unthreatening action. With his legs splayed out and elbow resting on the wood, he seemed very open and relaxed, leading to you believe this probably wasn't a trap. You relaxed your own shoulders…slightly. You then joined him and sighed. "Uh, yeah. We met at Camp. 1996 I think." He 'hmmd' as he took in the information. Bringing his gaze back to the tags around your neck, he spoke. "May I?"
"Of course." You took the chain off and let him examine them. He looked from the tags back to you. "How did you get these?" You shifted uncomfortably. "Well, it's kind of a long story."
"Well I just finished killing a vamp nest. I got time." You exhaled and reminisced.