Bloody Knives in My Leftovers

Chapter 13: Old Faces New Places

Panting, sweat pooling despite the frigid air surrounding her. It reminded her of the blissful night she spent.
Blue braids tangling with blonde hair and skin that smelled like fresh brownies and fear.

Oh how she missed her. Missed her stormy eyes, her little snort over some dumb joke, the way she looked at her like she was the only thing she ever wanted to see.

Biting her bottom lip she shakes her head and continues shoving, shoulder pressed into the cool metal of the truck. Stolen and stuck in white snow.

One final grunt and it lurches forward, finally free from its containment. Riley rushes to the drivers side, flinging open the door and clambering in.

Catching her breath she shoves the stolen keys and starts the car, muttering a 'yes!' when it grumbles to life.

Instantly she cranks the heat, sitting in someone's random driveway while she idly waits for the engine to warm and flood the car with hot air.

Riley leans back into the seat, head tipped back in exhaustion.

She had watched in horror as her girlfriend had been kidnapped, fled from the scene as soon as they had ransacked her apartment looking for her, withdrew every dollar to her name and had been on the run ever since.

Stopping briefly at cafes to throw up in bathrooms and wash tears and sweat from her face. It wasn't the first horrible road trip she had.

But this time she knew what to do, where to go.

Once her hands were decently thawed she set the truck in drive and peeled out of the driveway as fast as possible.

A light flurry of snow fell softly over the surrounding trees and road. Lost in the outskirts of town was illuminating her plan. One by one, the pieces fell into place.

She remembered the last trip like this, after the forest incident.

James driving with steely focus, Riley and Amy huddled close together in the back of the old SUV. Trembling, drowned in fear and coated in sweat.

Riley bites her lower lip, hands tightening on the steering wheel. Memories were blurring together as she remembered the fights, the promise, and the split.

This was not our fault.

Never speak of this again.

Don't look for me.

She had abided, kept her distance. Briefly wondered how they were faring, but never daring to step into their lives once more.

Now it seemed she had no choice.

She makes a hard left, careful of the ice threatening to flip her.

If the information had been right, James lived down in Florida now. Running his own weapons business under a new name: Trevor Kingston.

Amy? On the border of Canada in Minnesota working at some shitty ski resort as an instructor. She kept her old name, but was now newly wed with a shiny new surname.

Riley cringes, frowning tightly as she squeezes the leather on the wheel.

Success, family, happiness....moving on. It was something she had tried to master, tried to gain. Yet she never found the right way, the motivation to do so. All those images and memories still haunted every dream, turning them into gaudy nightmares.

It wasn't fair.

And she knew she was being unreasonable, knew she couldn't demand the same satisfaction that her old friends had. She was sure that if she had handled it better before things would be different. Blood wouldn't still stain her hands, gasoline wouldn't have a horrifying smell.

Shaking her head she inhales deeply, none of that mattered right now. What mattered was getting down to Florida and taking the next steps to make everything right again.

Get Bailey and Y/N back....kill those creepy fuckers.

All's well that ends well, right?

- - -

It turns out traveling across states on a minimum wage savings account wasn't as manageable as she convinced herself it would be.
After two nights of staying in the backseat of the car with nothing but the clothes on her back and a ratty throw blanket she was convinced this was her own personal hell.

The closer she got to Florida the more at ease she felt, weather rainy and cold...but warmer than the ice she endured on the drive down.

She bitterly stares down her mug, fingers tapping anxiously on the porcelain. She could barely bring herself to take a sip, despite ordering it over ten minutes ago.

The Waffle House was dingy, smelled of burnt eggs and overall pitiful selves crowded on countertops and stools.

She had pressed herself into a booth furthest away from the line cooks, quietly mumbled out an order for black coffee and had been left to her own devices.

Hunger was a cruel mistress, but with little cash left there wasn't even enough to foot this tiny bill.

Riley tightens the hood over her blonde locks and slides the mug away from her, scrambling to stand. The waitress from before looks over, eyebrow raised in slight suspicion that only deepened as she briskly made a beeline for the exit.

"Hey–!"

But Riley had already scooted out the door, unlocking the truck as fast as possible and swinging herself into the driver's seat.

The waitress, a bigger woman with a ridiculous beehive of a hairdo, was much too determined for a dark morning and followed right after her. She manages to reach the front of the car before Riley twists the key and reverses out of the parking lot as fast as possible without killing anyone.

She can hear the angry shouts of a middle aged woman, untipped and disgraced. She sighs.

She doesn't notice she's chewing her lip until the metallic sting of blood spreads over her tongue. She immediately coughs, licking back the taste and shuddering slightly.

A memory jumps to the front of her mind as the blood lingers. (Y/N), grumbling on a morning shift about an essay due much too soon. Riley had been curious, pouring coffee for the woman as she inquired about the topic.

'Cannibalism.' She answered with a shrug, taking her paper cup in two hands.

Riley sputters, looking shocked.

'W-Why that....specifically?' She fiddles with a wooden stirrer, catching a little gleam of genuine interest in her friends eyes.

'I think it's fascinating.'

The conversation had ended abruptly, interrupted by a customer demanding a refund. Riley had brushed off the weird comment, too busy with other things to linger on it for too long. But now....well her mind demanded an answer.

She pictured (Y/N), sitting on the couch with murderers. The tormentors that had chased Riley down. Pictured her dear friend eating breakfast with them, digging into their lives with grubby fingernails. But no, that wasn't fair. She could be locked in a cold basement, crying and shivering and waiting....waiting for Riley.

Steely determination clears her head and she tightens her hands around the steering wheel.

Riley was running out of money, and was in desperate need for a hot meal and shower. Exhaustion running her ragged. Yet she pushed forward, Florida not long in the distance.

- - - — – – —

'Welcome to Florida! The Sunshine State!'

A smiley sun wearing tinted shades waves at her, cartoon appearance and paint looking worse for wear.

'Fitting..' she thinks, eyes shifting back to the empty road.

It was nearly ten in the morning and she was so close she could taste it.

She had snagged a map from a local gas station and directions from a hungover cashier. Not to mention the black flip phone tucked into her coat pocket. Just enough minutes to make a difference.

Luckily, James' wouldn't be hard to find. He was well known in the northern part of Jacksonville for his superior stock and diligence.

It was surprising to hear that he opted to skip the military but perhaps it was the best choice, considering the irreparable trauma he had been through already. After all, why enlist when you could watch your closest friends be murdered in front of you.

Riley pulls into the nearest Walmart, about two miles away from James' shop. She would need to be ready for anything. Though she was pretty confident she would be able to get him to come with her. He was the best at seeing reason, even if it was reckless. And he would have the best plan for recruiting Amy. Old reliable James.

She sighs, putting the car in park and stripping out of her heavy winter coat. It was merely brisk in this part of Florida, not nearly as biting as North Carolina.

She kept her scarf though, in case someone came back to look for her.

She wraps it securely around the bottom of her face and gets out of the truck, hands tucked in her pockets. In and out was the goal.

It was surprisingly quiet, besides the occasional beeps from machines and casual chatter from locals. Giving Riley some ease about her situation.

She inquired about the camping section and hurried over, head down and mind swimming with half-baked plans.

Stuffing rope and other small survival needs into the waistband of her pants she picked up a small flashlight, a cover for the amount of things she was shoplifting. The batteries were barely holding on but it was good enough to ask for a discount and hurry the hell out of there.

She spins on her heel to leave the aisle, nearly knocking herself over as she collides with a chest.

"Shit-" her voice is muffled as she backs away from the stranger, hand clutching at her scarf.

"My bad," the voice is low, almost gruff. It's also familiar...her eyes dart up, locking onto a pair of stormy ones.

His face is the same, if anything a little warmer...as if years had finally treated him right. The scar that spreads across his nose bridge is faded, blonde hair curling around sharp ears. Freckles and a soft tan is a change from the cold pale boy she knew before, but it's pleasant...hopeful even. And now she had to tear it all away.

"Miss?" His voice is gentle, concern furrowing his brows as he looks down at her.

"James.." she breathes, fingers loosening on the broken flashlight.

He tenses, shoulders tightening harshly as his eyes narrow. All at once he's the teenager she remembered.

His eyes move over her once more, trying to determine how she could possibly know him. Riley tugs down her scarf, lips drawn into a tight and apologetic smile.

"Riley." His lips fall open a bit, a little stunned to see her...alive...and standing in front of him.

Then it twists, feet moving backward and head swiveling to look around the empty aisle. His voice drops to a low whisper, still not focusing completely on her.

"What are you doing here?" He mutters, acid tainting his tone.

She chews on her lower lip, contemplating if it's the right moment to drop a bomb on him. With a tentative sigh she reaches out and tugs his sleeve, dragging him to the end of the aisle.

"Don't freak out." She starts fidgeting with the bundle of rope.

He raises an eyebrow, "Freak o-"

"Three murderers are stalking me and they know about that summer with Dennis." She spits the words out, cutting him off and letting them linger in rancid air. Maybe she should have waited til lunch time.

He blinks, calibrating her word vomit. Then he turns and walks briskly away from her. He's exiting the aisle when Riley realizes he's making an escape. She stutters and chases after him.

"James! James, listen to me! Ja–"

He whips around, face tight and cold. "Stop calling me that."

It's silent, Riley's chest heaving as James glowers down at her.

She swallows, "R-right, Trevor." She corrects herself, his new name making his shoulders drop slightly. Then he nods and walks away again.

"W-wait!" Riley ignores the stares she's getting from other patrons and is hot on her old friend's tail, trying to get him to stop and listen to her.

He's nearing a beat up blue truck when Riley finally snaps.

"STOP WALKING AWAY FROM ME!!" Her voice is several octaves higher, desperation making her eyes sting as she runs in front of him, arms stretched wide.

She pants, tired from trying to keep up with his long strides. He's frowning, watching her display of weak authority.

Her brows furrow, hand dropping when she realizes he's not going to move anymore. "I need your help, James." She states firmly, green eyes locking with stormy blue. His frown deepens.

"I thought we made a deal." His hands are clenched into loose fists, obviously frustrated with the entire situation. Riley sucks in a shaky breath.

"We did." She nods, contemplating. "But this should make the exception list."

He opens his mouth to retort back when she cuts him off again. "I know where Amy is too."

He stares at her, lips parted. Seconds pass and anger clouds his eyes. "Are you seriously suggesting bringing Amy back into this mess? The girl who saw her brother with an ax through his head?!" His voice rises, making her flinch. His hands are tightly clenched now, but he watches as she deflates...and finally falls.

Riley sinks to her knees in the Walmart parking lot, tears quiet at first but building into whale-ish sobs. "I-I'm ss...soo sorry.." she wails, palms splayed into the gravel road.

She stays like this for a bit, a blubbering mess in front of her old classmate. Cheeks and eyes tinged pink and red, exhaustion eating at her whole body as she just falls lower and lower. All hope she had collected before slowly drained out of her.

"Riley." His voice is hesitant, tough even still.

She doesn't respond, shaking her head as blonde locks hang over her wet face.

"Riley." Sternness creeps back in, making her bawl a little harder.

"T-they too..ook her.." Sniffles interrupt her speech but James is smart.

"Took who, Riley?"

She peeks up, lips quivering. "Bailey.." Snot and tears leak down her face and she trembles.

James cocks his head, having never heard that name before. But seeing her in such a state of distress and knowing the fact that she only plays for one team, it's not hard to piece together.

"Your girlfriend?" He asks, double-checking that he has it right.

It takes her a moment but she nods.

He sighs, loudly. Glancing around he makes a decision.

"Get up. Grab your things from whatever car you came here with. I'll give you four minutes." And the fierce look in his eyes lets her know he isn't messing around.

She peels herself from the gravel, quickly looking around for the stolen truck as James shakes his head and maneuvers to his own car.

In exactly three and a half minutes Riley has her belongings bundled in her arms and sitting in the passenger seat of James' truck.

He's eerily stoic the whole ride, not even sparing her a glance as he navigates the roads. Riley clutches at her bag, fingers picking at the worn material.

It remains this way until a red light. James clears his throat, eyes finally shifting to her huddled form.

"You need to tell me everything."

And she does.

- - - — - - -

"Here." A white mug is set gently onto an old coffee table, James' eyes meeting Riley's.

"Thanks," she mutters, reaching for the cup of hot coffee. It was milky, just how she liked it in high school.

He sips from his own mug, faded blue and chipped.

"So these three.." he searches for a word, "..psychopaths.. Hunted you down after a year to get revenge on you..? For murdering Dennis?" He quirks an eyebrow, peeing at her from across the living room.

"No...I don't think it's revenge." She smoothes her fingers over the porcelain and shakes her head. "They sat in the bushes and watched me kill him. I think if they were affiliated they would have...helped." She grimaces, staring down into the mug.

"Right." He sets his drink down. "So they hunted you down and kidnapped your girlfriend and friend because...?"

Riley groans, leaning back into his couch and closing her eyes. "I don't know, James." She gnaws at the inside of her cheek.

He leans in, elbows resting on his knees. "I know you don't know, but I need something to work off here. Any hint as to who they could be?" He tilts his head, curls falling with him as he tries to meet her weary gaze.

"They were careful, never showing their faces. They used voice changers..." she chews on her thumb, nibbling off skin and nail.

He hums, leaning back and staring off into his kitchen.

Riley feels hopeless, thinking she had more information to give him and now just feeling like a useless victim. She racks her mind for something of use...and then it hits her.

"They keep talking about some...leader." James perks up, eyes snapping back to her, urging her to continue. She swallows.

"The same one Dennis kept referring to...Him." The brief mention of the nameless mastermind makes the air stiffen for a moment, James' brows furrowing harshly.

"The weird delusion Dennis was always babbling about?" He places a hand on his chin, scratching it while his lips pressed into a thin line.

"Yeah, they kept talking about him like...like a failed experiment."

Riley recounted when the freakishly tall man cornered her, shoulders shaking in silent laughter. She remembered him muttering something before he disappeared.

'Dennis didn't pass the test.'

She had discounted it before, thinking he was pushing her buttons, trying to get her to give in. He obviously knew too much. She frowns, still chewing at her fingers.

"They must have a motive..." James sighs, shaking his head and leaning in to grab her attention.

"Listen, I don't know how this could play out..." his eyes shine with determination, "But I know for this to finally end we need to catch them and snuff them out." His face is grim, making Riley shudder. It's not like she'd never killed anyone before...but this was...well she wasn't sure.

She nods, "I know. Listen I'm sorry for bringing you into this but chances are if they're after me–"

"They're after all of us." He follows, nodding back. "We need to get Amy."

Riley tenses, her ex-girlfriend's name making her relive memories she would rather suppress.

"You said you know where she is?" James prompts, back to drinking his coffee.

Riley reaches into the bag beside her, shaky fingers finding the road map and yanking it out. She slides the mug to the edge of the table and flattens the map onto the surface.

Her fingers trace a line from Florida all the way to Minnesota, where a location is circled in blue marker.

"Smart move on her part, real close to the border." He scrutinizes the map.

Riley lets him, falling back into the couch and keeping quiet. She knew he would be more useful in planning then she would be in her current state.

"Ok...Looks like we're in for quite the road trip."" He stands, not offering more of an explanation as to what he was thinking. Classic James.

"It's getting late, get some rest," he trails his eyes down her matted hair and dirty clothes, "..and there's a bathroom down the hall from the guest room."

She blushes, aware she was a complete mess.

"Right...thanks." Her words are meek, but he seems to appreciate them. He nods and collects the mugs, disappearing around the corner and into the kitchen.

Bath and bed sounded great.

And tomorrow... the start to the end. Finally.