The man had seen his opportunity for what it was. His last hope. If he hadn't taken the chance when it had presented itself to him then he was sure that he would have soon been in the clutches of the law. And he couldn't have that.
Oh no, he thought to himself blithely, we couldn't have that could we. That would never do. Not when I have so many plans...
Tittering to himself he stumbled forwards, a lightening-like bolt of pain shooting through his chest as he did so. Unperturbed by the excruciating agony as it radiated through him he found that if anything, it made him laugh harder.
They can't stop me! No one can. All these years taking crap from everyone… If they knew…. immortal… I'm immortal…I'll show them. I'll make them pay…
Unable to suppress the cackle which escaped his lips, he fell to the floor, the tearing pain that enveloped his body taking the energy which had thus far kept him walking.
His hands were still handcuffed firmly together and had impeded his progress more than he had expected. As a result he had made it only about thirty metres from the road, but he little cared.
Heaving breathless roars of silent laughter he struggled to his hands and knees, dropping his head down as he gasped for breath, thrashing like a wild animal. He knew no harm would come to him now. It simply couldn't.
Mark heard it before he saw it. The earth which was usually so dry and dusty had soaked up the rain from the overnight storm and was now saturated and cloying leaving heavy footprints scuffed in a trail through the claggy mud. The track had led a meandering path through the dirt and assorted sunburnt scraps of brush, and it took Mark only minutes to follow it through to the point at which he currently stood. And now a noise… A feral grunting that sliced through the air and cut its path to Mark's senses, conspicuous by its sheer incongruity to anything he had ever heard before.
The dull morning light cast an eerie glow across the almost empty plot of land. It had been bought some months previously by a property developer but had stood empty after a dispute between developers and environmental campaigners. Mark had never stepped foot on this land before. He had had no cause to and as such found himself uncertain.
Tipping his head toward the direction he believed the sound had come from Mark tried to ignore the shudder which ran through his body, unsure whether it had been elicited by the primeval wailing or by the distinct chill that ran through the usually hot LA air.
With caution he stepped forwards again, his feet sticking with surprising vigour to the gluey mud.
Mark saw him easily; kneeling in the dirt he seemed to be trying to crawl forwards on all fours making little progress with each shuddering movement.
Mark stopped on the spot on which he stood and stared at the sight before him.
It was pitiable. The anger which persisted in tainting Mark's senses like a bad taste abated slightly and he found a new sensation of disgust entering his consciousness as he looked on at the pathetic creature in front of him.
He felt no sorrow – he couldn't bring himself to offer even a shred of compassion to the man and he observed him now in almost apathetic passivity.
He had heard him approach but could do little to elude him. Clawing his fingers into the sodden earth he found great handfuls of mud squelched viscously through his hands as he tried to drag himself forwards, but he knew there was no use.
Conserve your energy, he thought. Bide your time…
The gruff hold pulled him up off his hands so he was balanced entirely on his knees. He allowed his head to roll backwards and he looked up at the inverted face of the white-haired man. His face was grim but determined.
I wonder… thought the man. I wonder why he has come, and not the young one?
Maybe, he reflected, maybe the young one is dead…
The notion penetrated his consciousness and surged through him like a rush of adrenaline.
Dead. And the other one must be by now too…
Two down…
Mark tried to haul the man to his feet but found it an impossible task. The man had allowed his body to go limp and he now hung corpse like, a dead weight in Mark's arms. Endeavouring to hold him up Mark resigned himself to dragging the man back to the car, walking backwards the entire way.
Groaning under the exertion Mark found the anger began to bubble again beneath his skin. He cursed the man silently, furious with himself for failing to protect his family.
Should never have happened! Mark thought ferociously unable to keep himself from falling into the trap of wondering why bad things persist in happening to such good people.
Pausing to take a breath Mark released his grip on the man, allowing him to drop back down onto the swampy floor. The rain was falling harder now and as it hit Mark's face it mingled with beads of perspiration that shimmered on his red face.
The few metres back to the car were taking Mark far longer than he had originally anticipated. He had a firm suspicion that the man had done his utmost to impede his progress, and whilst Mark was wiser than to have expected assistance he had thought that the man's condition would have prevented any intentional act of hindrance.
But he was obviously wrong.
The man writhed in the dirt, a strange smile playing on his lips. It reminded Mark of Steve when he was younger and had a secret he was longing to reveal, and Mark couldn't help but wonder what on earth was going on in the mind of the would-be murderer who appeared all but defeated.
With irrepressible interest Mark watched the man whilst he tried to regain his composure. He had worked in crime investigation for many years and had found he possessed an uncanny knack for getting into the psyche of criminals. Much to his own dismay, he had on numerous occasions had the unfortunate task of attempting to get into the minds of felons who had targeted himself, Steve and their friends. And in these cases it was particularly difficult to distance himself from the insanity which lurked in the dark, diseased recesses of the criminal mind.
Watching the man as he lolled carelessly in the dirt Mark observed behaviour he would clinically describe as psychotic
The man lolled carelessly in the dirt, arching his back and extending his neck to the fullest so his head was tipped flat to the heavens above. The enduring storm tainted the sky a mucky grey, and the man opened his mouth as if trying to capture the small pearls of precipitation that fell easily from the oppressive clouds. He ran his tongue appreciatively round his lips as if savouring the taste of the rainwater, flicking his eyes open and catching Mark's gaze in a brief moment of understanding.
He's not insane… Mark realised with absolute certainty. He knows exactly what he's doing. He's playing a game and he's enjoying every moment of it…
The man stretched his thin lips into a grotesque leer and began to laugh again; the high-pitched cackle that had assaulted his senses earlier in the hallway of his house.
A renewed flush of passionate fury flooded his veins, and Mark grabbed the man roughly, bringing an end to the laughter and eliciting a small yelp of pain.
Dragging him with every ounce of energy he possessed Mark finally found himself at the side of the road.
Staggering forward, Mark released his grip on the man again and stumbled onto the hard tarmac of the road, relieved to see the car and no apparent signs of any further trouble.
Ignoring the sudden increase in the intensity of the rain Mark stalked a path to the car and rapped heavily on the window.
Inside, Amanda jerked convulsively. Unable to stifle a scream she snapped her head up in a rush of fear, convinced she would be confronted with the gaunt face of the man who had attacked Jesse.
Much to her relief she instead found Mark's face peering intently into the car, his white hair plastered wetly over his forehead.
Breathing an uncompromised sigh of allayed tension Amanda flung a hand up to her chest, her heart beating palpably against her palm. She leant forwards and released the latch on the car door and Mark immediately pulled it open.
"Mark, where have you been? We need to get Jesse out of here, his…" Amanda's urgent pleas were cut off mid-sentence by Mark's vehement overtones.
"Help me get him in the car. We're taking him with us," he barked snappishly in a voice quite unlike his usual playful manner, gesturing over his shoulder at the crumpled form that lay in the road.
"What?" Amanda was truly baffled. Not only troubled by Mark's unusual gruffness but also at his seeming obsession in taking the man with them no matter what the cost.
"Whilst Jesse's been laying there dy…," she gulped. "Dying. You've been chasing after… after him!?"
There was a moment of steely silence during which Amanda and Mark eyed each other icily.
Amanda knew Mark's behaviour, and for that fact her own, was quite unlike their usual characters, and that the effects of exhaustion and worry were taking their toll. But she couldn't believe Mark would place his yearning for justice above the life of one his best friends.
Mark broke eye contact first. He turned his head away from Amanda's cool gaze and took a deep breath. The rain which continued to pound onto his body was starting to bite coldly into his flesh and he was beginning to lose his patience.
"Amanda, just do it ok? I'm not going to let him go free, and the sooner you help me, the sooner we can get out of here… Ok?" His tone left little doubt that he was serious, and even Mark himself knew he was being unreasonable.
Stunned slightly by Mark's absurd demands Amanda stared at him, bewildered. She was desperate for Mark to get in the car so they could leave, and through the sheer urgency of the situation she knew it would be simpler to go along with his demands than try to refute them.
"Ok. Just… just tell me what you want me to do, alright?" Her voice was soft, appeasing. She had no energy left to argue and reluctantly left Jesse under the watchful, albeit concussed, eye of Steve.
The man appeared to remain unconscious as Mark and Amanda dragged him to the car. He was forced with no particular care or attention back into the front passenger seat, and once Mark had taken his place in the back with Jesse and Steve, Amanda climbed grudgingly into the driver's seat.
For the umpteenth time in the past few hours Amanda found she was drenched to the skin, cold and spent she wanted nothing more than to be at home in bed, asleep and warm. Instead she found herself able to smell the stale odour that wafted pungently from the man beside her; rank and foetid she wrinkled her nose at the stench, a faint queasiness building again in the pit of her stomach. She was reluctant to sit in such close quarters to the man, not least because of the stench which pervaded the air around her, but because she had been unable to secure the man to anywhere near her satisfaction. The cuffs which still secured his wrists together would have been ideal to bind him firmly to the car so there would be no repeat of the accident which had driven the car off the road. But despite searching she had been unable to find the small key she needed to first remove the cuffs before again restraining him.
As a result Amanda now sat eyeing the man suspiciously, deeply uncomfortable but with no option but to do as she knew she must.
Without really thinking about it, Amanda reached behind her and pulled the seatbelt around her slender shoulder, securing it firmly across her waist.
Turning the key in the ignition the car sparked into life. With trembling hands Amanda switched the car into forward drive and gently pressing her foot to the accelerator she guided the car back onto the road and they continued down the highway.