Twin Moon - Chapter 218 - Smert'
Whiskey.
It was a small little town, spread out over a vast amount of land. However, the constant traffic and movement made it feel closed in and busy. People were actively moving around the streets, going in and out of buildings. All of them, just going about their day as if it was any other normal day. Little did they know there was danger hiding among them. I tried to blend in as much as I could, played myself off like a curious tourist. Though I think I stuck out like a sore thumb. I feel awkward around civilians. Their deluded sense freedom, and their complete obliviousness to the horrors of the world around them, it infuriates me. I don't want to be here any longer than I need to be. The longer I stay, the more risk there is of being noticed. And attention is not something I need. What I do need is a boat.
I made my way towards the water's edge. The buildings became more spread out and isolated the closer to the water I got. That worked to my advantage. Down by the shore I found a few boats, all of which were anchored far up on the beach. I am strong and could probably drag one down on my own. But there is no telling how much damage the rocks would cause to the boat. Plus, the point is to be inconspicuous. A small woman pulling a boat to the water on her own, is far from blending in. No. I need to find a boat already in the water. I strolled along the water's edge, pretending to pick up shells and throw rocks in the water. To anyone that may have been watching, I would look like a board teenager. But I was searching, scanning the waters both close in, and further out, trying to find an appropriate vessel. Far out on the horizon I spotted movement. It was a smaller looking fishing trawler, probably privately owned. It would be perfect.
I found a place out of sight to wait. I kept my eye on the boat as it slowly moved across the top of the water. A few hours off sunset, the boat started coming back in. I moved along the shoreline, in line with the boat, until it docked at a small wooden jetty. I watched as they unloaded a few buckets of fish and a smaller whale. I wonder if this is legal. Actually, I don’t care. I only want the boat. They can get back to hunting whatever it is they want after I'm gone. After a few more hours, they started to leave. Another hour later and they were all gone, except for just one man. I waited a little longer, but he didn’t leave. I'm out of patience and one human is an acceptable sacrifice.
I hid the bag and document case in a dried out sea log and then kicked off my shoes. As expected, the water was freezing. I waded in until I was waist deep and lowered myself the rest of the way in. I need to be quiet as to not raise alarm, and I need to be invisible. I swam further out so that I could approach from the rear of the vessel. I purposefully kept my arms and legs under the water, to one, stop from getting cold in the night air, and two, not make any splashing sounds. I swam up to the boat and circled around twice. I had only been in the water for roughly thirty minutes, but the cold was starting to bother me. I know I can last another two to three hours or so, but my fingers won't be very useful if I wait too long. I floated up to the rear of the boat and extended my claws. Using my claws as anchors, I climbed up the side of the boat and quietly plopped on the deck. I crouched down and scanned the area. There was a small hutch door in the middle of the deck, it was open, and a dim light was shining from inside it. Clattering and light banging sounds were echoing from deep inside the hull, indicating that was where the man is located. Keeping light on my feet, I did a quick check of the upper deck and the bridge. There was no one else here, just the man down below. I snuck down the stairs and followed the sounds of clattering and scraping. Whatever he was doing, he was not being gentle. I found him lying on his back with his head inside a cabinet. He was working on some kind of plumbing, whilst swearing like he was making money out of it.
I like this man, he was funny. He talked to himself as he worked on the pipes. Do civilians normally talk to themselves? The only humans I’ve delt with were hunters. So not your average everyday person. Which means I don’t exactly have anything to compare them too. In all my travels, I've steered clear of people as much as I could. There were rare occasions where I was forced to interact with them. Places like hotels, restaurants, airports. But outside of them serving me in some manner, I never just talked with one casually.
I hid silently for a moment watching the strange man work. He smelt of salt water and frustration. I have never heard someone curse so much. Even the brutes I grew up around didn’t curse this much. I found this old man fascinating. It was a pity he had to die. He threw his tool across the floor in frustration, and it came to land just in front of my hiding place. As he got up off the floor, wiping his greased hands on his faded and well-worn overalls, he spotted the tool on the ground. Then he spotted me standing above it.
“Kakogo cherta ty zdes' delayesh'?” (What the hell are you doing here?) he shouted angrily,
“Soydi s moyey lodki” (Get off my boat). He waved his hand at me and stomped over to where I stood. The old man had grey curly hair and a thick bushy grey beard to match. The dark skin around his slanted eyes were thick with wrinkles and looked like worn leather. I could tell he has worked hard for all of his life.
“YA skazal uyti” (I said leave) the man shouted and stood in front of me. He had his chest puffed out and his arms rigid at his sides. Due to how much taller he was, he looked down his nose at me with an angry scowl. I suppose he was trying to intimidate or scare me off. Unfortunately for him, he didn’t know who I was. I snapped my hand forward and tightly wrapped my fingers around his neck. Because of how tall he was, I had to lift my arm high over my head in order to lift him of the ground. His eyes went wide with shock, and he grabbed both hands around my wrist, trying to pull my grip free from his neck. His legs were flailing around under him, like he was looking for something to stand on, or trying to find his footing. It was a little amusing.
“Pomoshch'!” (Help!) he screamed at the top of his lungs. I put my finger over his mouth and shook my head,
“Shh” I hissed and smiled wickedly up at him,
“Chto ty?” (What are you?) he choked out, as he tried to pull at my grip again.
“Smert'” (Death) I answered him. He gasped and kicked his legs wildly. I pushed my claws through the tips of my fingers and buried them into the soft flesh of his neck. His warm blood spilled over my fingers and ran down my arm. He opened his mouth wide like he was about to scream, and I tightened my grip. I felt his windpipe crunch under my fingers. His mouth was still wide open, but no sound was coming out. His eyes turned bloodshot, and a trickle of blood ran down his chin. After a few seconds he stopped kicking and the spark of life left his eyes. I let his body drop to the floor with a heavy thud. I stood over him and listened carefully for signs of a heartbeat. He was dead.
I dragged the fisherman's body back up to the deck and pushed him over the railing. He splashed into the water and bobbed there for a minute before sinking under the surface and out of sight. I went back down to the hull and made sure that the things he was working on looked alright. I know a lot of things, but boats aren’t exactly my forte. The pipes were all clean and attached to one another. Nothing looked out of place, at least not to my untrained eye. I suppose I'll just have to see how I go. I headed up to the bridge and turned the engine over. It spluttered but kicked to life without issue. I guess that human was good with fixing boats. I ran back to shore to collect my bag and the map. I dropped them in the bridge and then pulled in the anchor and untied the ropes from the jetty, and away we went.
The instruments were basic and easy to read and understand. I set the course and let the boat do the rest of the work. I was still wet and also hungry, so I decided to check out the cabin. I found some dry clothes in a cupboard, they smelt like fishy sea water, mixed with old man smell, but they were better than being wet. So, I swallowed my distaste and pulled them on. It was a good decision. The jumper was very big on my small frame. It came down to just above my knees and the sleeves went far past my hands, but it was cozy, like wearing a giant woollen blanket. I hung up my clothes to dry and went in search of food. I struck gold in the gally. Cupboards filled with tinned fish, packet soup and crackers. I also snagged two bottles of booze. A half empty bottle of Praskoveyskiy Whiskey and an unopened bottle of premium Russian Vodka. Russia may have birthed some of the most brutal supernatural hunters I have ever come across, but they also birthed some of the best vodka I have ever tasted.
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