The Last Harmon [Complete]

Chapter 34

It was just after dawn when a Slayer tapped on our shoulders and motioned for us to get out of his way. Milasia almost punched him, but let it go due to exhaustion and we limped ourselves back to the waking camp.

Now, Milasia has literally vanished and I am sitting on a bench in the middle of a circle of tents, watching the humans as they ready themselves to brace the day. I'm off duty so the need for sleep is strong, too strong, and without warning my body flops downwards and I sprawl out on the bench completely.

+ + +

Prod. Prod.

"I think she's dead."

"She's not dead. Here."

Prod.

I feel the jab into my side and my eyes snap open with caution. I meet the faces of two boys who laugh and run away. I rub my eyes and sit up, blinking softly at the sun that's high at the top of the sky.

"The sleeping Slayer is finally alive," a voice says. I glance over to find a handsome, dark-haired man smiling at me as he washes a piece of clothing in a large bucket. "Is it really that boring here?"

Crap. I should say something, but in a Slayer-tone, I think to myself. But I don't want to be rude.

"There's nothing like a stick to the gut to wake you from a nap," I mutter, attempting to sound monotone.

"Yeah the kids here can get quite mischievous," he laughs. "They often get bored easily, that's why most of them tend to hang out at the beach all day."

"And you?" I say. "What fills your day? Apart from the need to smell nice."

He grins. "Whatever I feel like doing. That's the beauty of being in a refugee camp, right? I have choices. The funny thing is, I remember a time when I had a lot more choices."

"We all do," I say. Curious by this man, I decide to walk over to him. I'm not ignorant to the boring eyes of the Slayers around us, but I don't care what they think anymore. "What is your name?"

"River Jonson."

"The River Jonson? The author?"

He nods, his eyebrows furrowed. "Yeah, how did you-"

"I have read all of your books, I can't believe. . . I mean. . ." I swallow. Shit. "I've heard about you. I haven't read anything. Slayers don't read. . . books."

River chuckles. "It's alright. I won't tell anyone. I didn't even think humans read my books let alone. . . sorry, I didn't mean-"

"No, it's fine. Let's face it, I'm not human. I am half human, though. And that part, loved your books. I fell in love with The Strider, the character, Alex, she helped me more than you'll ever know."

The look on his face is just confusion. Pure confusion. I don't know how to change it, I should stop talking.

"Thanks," he mutters. "Woah, you're certainly different. We could have used a Slayer like you around here months ago."

"I'm told I'm one of a kind." I smile to myself, awkwardly looking anywhere else but his dazzling, green eyes. "I should probably go."

He takes a wet shirt and rinses it over the bucket, his thick arms tensing as he bites on his teeth and looks up at the sun. In that moment, I am transfixed.

"Hey, Dad, can I go play in the woods with Shaun?"

My bubble bursts at the arrival of David. He smiles at me and I stare back.