Chrysalis by S.E. Harmon

Author:S.E. Harmon [Harmon, S.E.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-08-31T18:30:00+00:00

The chip in my neck was a problem. A big fucking problem.

I hustled down the street, suspicious of every shadow and every person that looked at me a little too long. As long as I had that glorified tracker inside of me, there was nowhere I could hide. No place I could run. It had to come out immediately.

I hated to stop moving even for a few minutes, but I took a chance and ducked into a corner store. I hustled down the aisles, grabbing a few items I could use as I went. A pack of razor blades, some antiseptic, and some bandages were first. A bottle of cheap vodka and a couple of candy bars joined them a minute later. As I hurried past a brightly lit case of sports drinks, I caught a glimpse of my reflection and winced.

I looked like hell. My jeans were torn and dirty, my knuckles abraded and speckled with blood. Nothing to do about any of that now. I headed for the front of the store. As I let the items tumble from my arms and haphazardly onto the checkout counter, I gave the clerk a reassuring smile.

She checked out my items, looking at me with wide eyes as she put them in the bag. I tapped my fingers on the counter, wondering what the nice version of “hurry the fuck up” was. I needed to get that bloody chip out of my neck. I couldn’t do that while Suzy Slow here tried to make a new Guinness World Record for ringing up someone’s purchases at the speed of sloth.

Unless she was one of them.

Christ, you’re going crazy. She couldn’t have been over eighteen years old and looked as sweet as pie. I stabbed my hands through my hair. I was just starting to see them everywhere, and they weren’t.

She finally gave me my total, and I dropped some crumped bills on the counter. A couple of them had a smear of blood on the edges. We stared at the money together for a few beats before she lifted her wide gaze to mine.

“Sorry,” I muttered. “Had a razor in my pocket.” I grabbed the two bags she’d set on the counter and hustled out of the store.

“I didn’t give you your change,” she called out.

“Keep it.” I might be new to this “on the run” business, but I was pretty sure you didn’t wait for change and a receipt.

I hustled down the street. I couldn’t look more suspicious if I tried, so I didn’t try to blend in. I spotted the black SUVs turning the corner a few seconds later, and I took off in a run, cursing as I cut through another back alley. I leaped a fence and then another, before spying the bus terminal.

I wound through the people in the busy station, ducking into the nearest bathroom I found. It was filthy and smelled strongly of urine, but it was empty, which was all that mattered. Wasting no time, I upended my bag into one of the dirty sinks.

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