Prey: A Firm Course of Action
A/N: I'm in Las Vegas right now, and it's like a billion degrees, so all I have to do is write. And so, write I do!
Disclaimer: I'm not the author, I have no rights to any book, and I'm not trying to make a profit.
No one knows how to act, sometimes. Situations beyond our control can scare us, make us question the course of action we are currently upon. Tom, still mourning, was finding himself staggered by a world of possibilities and overwhelmed by his sudden change in situation. David was facing a livid uncle, yelling at him for several reasons, and he had no idea what to do to rectify the situation. Amanda was sitting in a rapidly cooling bathtub, wondering what her next move would be, and if there even was a next move that she could make.
People are confused, at times. It is understandable. What do they do? They move on, in the only way they know how. Tom closed his eyes, and clicked the mouse. David made a promise to himself, and became resolved.
Amanda got out of the tub, a new determination in her eyes. She would do as she'd always done, which was to go about business. If anyone got in her way, she would...well, she would think about that when she got there. David could pose a problem, with his showing up at inopportune moments, but she was sure that she could evade him. And if she couldn't manage... Well, wasn't it possible to convince humans that vampires weren't always horrible? It worked for Edward Cullen. Perhaps she could ally him to her cause. Amanda stopped her train of thought, sending it off the tracks in a screech of sparks and flame, with all the coals spilling over the side and the conductor clinging for his life onto the door.
What was she thinking?
There she was, Amanda Post, jumping to conclusions.
Who said that he was following her anyways?
No one.
Was it possible that it could have been complete coincidence for him to be where she was twice? Not more, not less?
Indeed, yes.
Why did she think she think he would be dogging her every step, following her into dingy alleys and darkened places while she did her work?
Extreme paranoia.
She was perfectly safe in the city, walking around town, killing vampires and sneaking off to the sewers, park, or wherever to hunt. It was still odd for Amanda to think of hunting in a way that didn't refer to rednecks with shotguns and deerheads on the wall. But it also sounded extremely appealing.
Not for the first time, Amanda thought about how wonderful it would be to go into a real forest, filled with bears and stags and moose and...
She hit herself on the head. Now she was hungry, and therefore good for nothing. "Great. I can't go outside or kill vampires or anything. Freaking bloodlust will consume me..." She trailed off, frustrated by her weakness.
Sighing, Amanda sat down on the bed. "How easily stopped I am," she mused. "As a human, I was more of a...force. No one could really stop me." she smiled, wondering slightly at her extreme ability to maneuver situations. But then her mind returned to the present. "Now, I am bound by thirst, and the always-present fear of discovery. I'm not doing any good- I'm" her brow furrowed. "I'm hiding! I'm a quivering little vampire in an abandoned apartment, worrying if a human is following me." She stood up, pulling on a jacket and some socks and shoes.
She had vampires to kill, and she was not going to let any human boy sway her in the course of her quest.
Amanda resumed her Lawyer look, and proceeded down the stairs of the building.
Amanda was, once more, confident. She didn't need knives, she didn't need to worry about anyone else. She was herself, and she was a vampire hunter.
A small smile graced her lips as she made her way out of the lobby.
Did she have a clue what she was doing?
Absolutely not.
But she would just have to find out.
A/N: Ah, Amanda. If only you knew. My main thought when I was making this chapter was simply, "Get on with it! You started writing about Amanda last December!" This was a bit of a transitory chapter- you don't see much going on. I would appreciate any feedback- like always, my style is affected by my mood, and isn't necessarily consistent. But then again, neither is the world, or any one life- I suppose it is actually an accurate thing. Still, I would be happy to hear how absolutely awful this was.