Chaotic (sequel to Psychotic)

Chapter 9

The motel door slammed shut behind us like the bang of a shotgun unleashing impatient runners. Our nerves and panic struck throughout us with an alarming electricity, but we were not running toward some goal or for a piece of metal; we were just trying to get the hell away from there. 

The crisp air was sharp as I sucked it in, and it added to my awakening panic. After we were out of range, Rose voiced my thoughts. 

"What the hell was that?" She was quiet although her shocked tone implied yelling. 

I just shook my head, jaw clenched tight. I was fuming. "His aunt, his fucking aunt. This has got to be some kind of sick joke." I wanted to scream, but my voice remained harsh whispers. "God fucking dammit."

"You think she was talking to Ms. Hellman? On the phone?" Rose asked. 

"I can almost guarantee it." I tried disperse of my shock and think back to the conversation. She had been talking about James, that I was sure of. The institution, the "horrible criminals" who had murdered him, what else would she be speaking of? 

And that wasn't even the most troubling part. The worst of it all is that Ms. Hellman was the one she was speaking to. We had run miles and miles away, we were careful, we were cautious. I thought we had even gotten rid of her, even if just for a little while. 

But of course Wickendale continued to follow us. The warden was still right in that room, maybe not physically but there none the less. If Rose or I would have spoken a word, if that woman would have further acknowledged our presence, we would be done for.  And soon we will make more headlines. Soon they will find out Rose and I aren't dead, and soon our pictures will be everywhere. And that woman will recognize us. Then they'll be one step closer to locking us up again. God fucking dammit. 

ROSE'S POV 

Harry's features were hard, troubling thoughts running through his mind. And I knew just what about. Mine entertained similar unfortunate ideas. We had just encountered the aunt of the man we killed, and she didn't even know it. The thought was frightening, and even more so when I imagined a near future where she'll recognize us go straight to Ms. Hellman. 

We were both quiet with this as we walked along the sidewalk of the seemingly busier city. Maybe it was just my paranoid mind, or maybe we were reaching downtown, but the city looked as if it had gotten more crowded. As we walked buildings appeared, dozens of people filling in and out of them. Men going to work, a mother walking with her two children. Where yesterday we saw no more than a few people at a time, today it was as if the whole town has decided to go out. 

There were no woods or escape routes; just buildings along sidewalks. The urbanized area was full of activity, normal people with normal lives. I just hoped none of them found us familiar. 

But every car parked along the sidewalk, every person opening the door of a boutique, the boy selling newspapers at the corner, had eyes that seemed to linger on me and Harry for just a little too long. As if they had some kind of suspicion, no matter how vague or subtle. 

But I excused that idea. I do the same if someone is wearing something odd or has an interesting feature, stare for too long. However that did not mean I thought they were fugitives. Like the paper boy. He was no doubt innocent, but he caught my attention. Something about what he said. It wasn't exactly clear mixed with the busy sounds of the city, but I was able to make it out. "Extra extra! Woman murdered last night right here in Ashbury! Read all about it!" 

I stared at him for a little longer than I would most. Something about that news, about the employees phone call with Ms. Hellman, about my dream, culminated into one cloud of great dread. They hung over me with a certain weight, all giving me a bad feeling.  Obviously this murder didn't have anything to do with us, and I wasn't shocked by the news; it just added to my dark mood and made me want to leave this town.