Becoming Darkness

The Thrill of the Hunt

Ned burrowed the shovel into the earth and hoisted the load over his shoulder. The dirt rained down in the center of the cellar floor and he turned, scraping it into the growing pile in the corner. "Quttin' time," he mumbled and then cracked open a water bottle and slid slowly to the ground. In five gulps he'd consumed half the liquid.

Surveying his work, he grunted with satisfaction.

His gaze paused at the shovel and the corners of his mouth curled into a grin. The foray last night had been extremely successful.

Wanting to wait until the house's occupants would likely be in bed (or perhaps passed out on the couch) he had time to kill. His first order of business was to locate the garage door opener button (mounted next to the door-a no-brainer), then he turned his attention to the motorcycles, selecting the one that was clearly a newer model. Careful not to make a sound, Ned turned the bike around so it faced the driveway, checked the fuel level, and even located a half-full gas can to top off the tank.

As he familiarized himself with the bike's controls, quickly grasping the operating procedure, a flash of bitter resentment burned in his stomach. His skills had been completely wasted while working for Honey's father. But the man had wanted to ensure his future "grandchild" was taken care of properly and insisted that Ned work for him.

Manual labor at the docks.

What a frickin' waste.

That he made a good income didn't really matter since Honey spent the money as fast as it came in. Ned had cleared out their savings account before leaving town, pocketing a mere one hundred and twenty dollars. Truthfully, he'd been surprised there was any money left.

But Honey always had plastic. And that was how he discovered where she'd stayed that first night. With her "lay of the month," as Ned had come to think of the guys his wife cheated with. Of course Honey and the dude were gone by the time he'd arrived at the hotel. His next inquiry into the credit card history failed - apparently the company had been alerted not to give him any information. The guy Honey was with must've thought of that-he couldn't imagine her having the idea.

He wasn't sure how to follow her after that, which is why he ended up wasted at the bar. But then he crashed and fate had seen fit to offer him help. His first reaction to Manitou's offer was to refuse-while he spent time here, she'd be getting farther away-but the being seemed confident about finding his wife. And Ned had no other course of action. Who knows, perhaps Honey and the a-hole were shacked up somewhere nearby, assuming there was no way to track them down.

My, my, they were in for a surprise. Ned's face stretched into a wicked grin.

He'd see to it that Honey suffered. But he'd execute his plan behind the scenes. She was going to run into a string of bad luck, accidents, and technical difficulties. Her life was going to suck big-time. She'd regret ever leaving him.

Last night in the garage he'd been musing over how awful he would make Honey's life when he heard a noise from inside the house. He pressed himself against the wall behind the edge of a shelving unit, but judging by the regular rhythm of the creaks and the way the sound faded, Ned deduced that someone had ascended the stairs. Somewhere the plumbing groaned, and then the house grew silent. Even the muted drone of the television was gone.

By that time, Ned's exploration of the garage had turned up a case of water, a large box of granola bars, and a plastic canister of pretzels. He couldn't believe his good fortune. Again, fate had smiled upon him. He'd bundled up as much as he could and strapped it onto the back of the motorcycle.

Although he was ready to go, Ned remained still, his senses attuned to the house. When he felt enough time had passed for a person to fall asleep, he pushed himself from the wall. Two steps away a muffled rumble from inside the house stopped him in his tracks. The sound came again. And again. Suddenly Ned's face split into a grin. The dude was snoring; it was definitely time to go.

Next came the tricky part of his plan. He couldn't be in two places at the same time, so he had to hit the garage door button and then hop onto the motorcycle and start it. Adrenaline coursed through his body, quickening his pulse. He broke into a crooked smile, his finger poised on the button.

Jabbing it with his finger, Ned dashed to the dirt bike, flinging his leg over the seat while twisting the key in the ignition. The engine cranked and sputtered. Heart hammering, he squeezed the throttle and tried again. He had no idea if the bike was operational or not. The engine roared to life and Ned shifted. As the motor faltered and stalled, he heard his pulse pounding in his ears.

A manic laugh bubbled up, stimulated by the chance of getting caught. Cool air swirled in from the completely open garage door as Ned worked the throttle lever again. This time, when the engine caught, he quickly gunned it a few times, letting it warm up a bit. No use in trying to be quiet now. Letting out a whoop, he popped the clutch and cranked the accelerator. The machine jumped forward and shot down the driveway.

Ned grinned at the gray cellar wall in front of him, recalling the excitement of the ride back here. He stopped to pick up the tied bundle he'd left near the farm, stuffing it under one arm and riding one-handed. Upon arrival, he tossed his supplies into the cellar and then stowed the dirt bike behind the stone chimney and covered it with brush. Still jazzed on adrenaline, Ned had munched a granola bar and then began digging the tunnel.

Tonight he had some spying to do and then he needed to go back out and find some kind of tarp to transport the dirt out of the tunnel as it got longer. Though it wouldn't compare to the thrill of taking the motorcycle, he still looked forward to sneaking around.

As the sun rose on the world above him, Ned emptied the water bottle, then settled against the small pile of dirt and closed his eyes. A smirk lingered at the corners of his mouth as he drifted to sleep.

Seemed he was good at being bad. Who knew?