Float (gxg)

Cultivated (excerpt)

CULTIVATED (excerpt)

"We need to burn his face." He said calmly.

"You can't!" I screamed. "We can still help him, c'mon, come help me carry him."

He sneered at me and pushed me away from our partner's crumpled body. "It won't do any good if we get caught lugging 'round his body. The cops will find us and our clan will be discovered. I'm not gonna be responsible for exposing an ancient cult for some goddamn agent. Gimme the gasoline, there can't be anything identified."

I stood there, paralyzed from the extremities of secret-keeping unfolding before my eyes. He drenched the corpse of my friend in a sleek black liquid that slid down his body. It almost looked like he was twitching, or maybe that was just me. The loyal agent reached into his jacket for matches, maybe a lighter, but retreated from making the motion. Instead, he reached into the dead man's pockets for anything identifiable and tossed things towards me. His keys, wallet, and pieces of crumbled paper laid at my feet. My partner-that's all he was now, all he would be-finally fulfilled the movement he had put on pause. A single match struck its box, and the little flame quickly became a blaze of a fire that consumed the body. That's all it was now. A body.

Just...a body.

"Pick it up." He sounded bored. "We need to leave before we're caught."

I didn't move. I couldn't move.

"Hey, kid, let's move the fuck out of here. He's dead and you're an idiot for sticking around to watch him burn."

Why couldn't I move?

He grunted in annoyance and picked up the items to stash in my jeans pocket. "There." Then he hoisted me up on his shoulder. God, what was I anymore? "You're way too skinny, but it's lucky right now."

I was lifelessly heavy on his broad, boney shoulders. He grunted as he ran. My knees kept hitting his stomach but I could not find it in me to apologize. Apologizing, even thinking about, felt nauseating in the way that you thank someone for punching your friend in the face. Sure, the friend was gonna attack you and all, but they're still your friend and you kind of hate the stupid bystander who decided to play hero.

But my friend knew he was going to die at some point, the way all of the agents do, and the bystander wasn't any hero.

He ran us straight into the woods. Little twigs and leaves found a home in my hair and scratching my face. We zigzagged to the motorcycle we were left as an escape vehicle, which also came with a hiking backpack stuffed with food and a gun in a hidden compartment. The agent dropped me on my ass and slung his leg over the bike. I could tell he wanted to leave my sorry ass on the ground, but I was a witness and a criminal. There was always that chance of me spilling thousands of years of secrets to an official.

I made no move to get up and wipe the dirt off my pants. I simply looked at him.

"Henry."

"He's dead, okay? Pick yourself the fuck up, I'm done with you. I'm gonna tell the chief and he's not gonna take your shit anymore. Hell, I've only been on this one mission with you and I can't take your shit anymore."

I was still in a daze. "Henry."

He growled at me and got off the bike. He made a noise. He wasn't supposed to do that, they might find us. The agent lifted me by my shirt collar and slapped me. I winced, the pain making me tear up a little.

"Lousy fucker." He muttered darkly. I was placed in front of him on the bike but he made sure his hands were on the bars. I was trapped. "Slow us down again, and you'll end up just like Henry. I mean it."

He drove. I had no space to be comfortable. That privilege was revoked. Henry would've put his arm around my shoulder and told me this was for the greater good. Fires were the path to rejuvenation. Things like that. And I wouldn't feel so bad anymore. But what was I, now that the only comfort I had was burnt away? He was my rejuvenation. Without him, I was hardly alive in a place that reeked of death.

"What entrance are we taking?" I asked Frank while touching my cheek. I could almost feel the purple of the bruise.

Frank grunted, "The Hills one." He drove into the freeway. A few police cars whizzed past us on the opposite side. They were trying to get to the scene of the crime.

I frowned. "Why?"

"Because you lagged and that's the only option right now. We can't take the one in L.A., that's where the cops are coming from to find us. If we had a faster getaway, then we could. The chief ain't gonna be happy. Especially with me. I was in charge of both of you. Henry got himself killed, and you were being a pussy."

"Wasn't his fault." I murmured.

"What was that?"

He heard me, we both knew it. It was a trick of his to ask an inferior to repeat themselves. He was fucking famous for it. If I repeated, he could punish me in whatever way he wanted. He could assault, harass, rape, whatever. That was up to him. He was my superior. He couldn't do it now, of course. But when we went back to base, it was his choice to do it in public or private. Absolutely no one was allowed to intervene. Or they'd get worse than the original sucker.

"I said..." I let it hang, unsure of my next move. "I-I said it wasn't his fault."

Frank chuckled and made a sudden swerve. I clutched at his arm as a few cars behind us beeped in annoyance. "He wanted to save someone. We don't save. We are the saved. Do you even know who he saved, or, tried to?"

"I don't."

"It was some whore he was allowed to have. He broke the rules in engaging in a relationship with her. Bet you didn't know, did you? Didn't even tell his closest friend...how does that make ya feel, bud?"

I chose not to answer.

"What, you've got nothing to say to that?"

"How'd you know Henry had a relationship with her?"

"Wasn't that hard to find out. He got a small tattoo on his back with her name in Morse. Saw it when we changed into our gear. I didn't figure it out 'till now. He called her love. Didn't you hear?"

I shook my head. I was glad I didn't have to see his face.

"He deserved to die. If he didn't get himself killed, I would've definitely done the job myself."

"Stop!" I hissed. "Quit being a little bitch, that's my fucking friend you're talking about, and...and he died tonight." My eyes were beginning to water from the emotion and the dry wind hitting my face. "He died for her to live, and you go on and bully him like this."

One of his hands graphed the back of my neck. I gasped, tears sliding down my cheeks. "He was nothing, you understand? He was nothing, and that's not the type of person we need to have within our people. I'm starting to think you aren't, either." His hand began to squeeze.

"I-I am! I swear."

"Say he deserved to die."

My hands grasped at the hand around my neck. "But-"

"Say it!"

"He deserved to die." I sobbed. "He deserved to die."

His hand went back to the handle. I gasped, thankful for those awful words that had become my salvation.

"You're pathetic, kid." Frank made a disappointed clicking sound with his tongue. The agent got off the freeway and onto a dirt road. I could see the vague symbol signaling the Hills entrance.

I nodded, my eyes still wet. The wind blowing my hair back gave me the feeling of being pushed away. I briefly wondered what it was like to fly.

"You deserve to die, but you're gonna be saved anyways."

Should I continue this? I like the idea of doing it, but I'd like suggestions if possible. :D