Homicidal By Design [Hector Escaton]

Chapter 9

Hector handed his canteen to the half-dead man, Teddy was his name. Well, he was less dead now that the Man in Black sacrificed Lawrence to give him a transfusion—now that was some fucked up shit. This had been a fucked-up day.

But, Hector figured, it wasn't the lawman's fault, and by the way the Man in Black mocked him, he wasn't exactly a willing participant. Lawrence had mentioned that Teddy was a friend of Wyatt, the same Wyatt that had led Armistice to him. He didn't seem like much of a friend anymore, though. Just based on the bludgeoning and tree-tying.

Hector didn't even know what he was doing there anymore. It wasn't that he was so abhorred by Lawrence's murder he needed to escape, he was just becoming more uneasy. What was he really doing there? Why? He found a necklace that he thought belonged to someone he knew. What did that even mean? And what if he spent all this time and she was dead? Or not real? Or didn't want to see him? They weren't together anymore, there had to be a reason for that... maybe they weren't even friends.

He grumbled and ran his hand through his hair. His gut instinct was pulling him back to Sweetwater, like he was a human homing pigeon. This path seemed like it was going to lead to a lot of crazy old prophets and even more questions.

Maybe he just didn't have the patience for this sort of journey of self-discovery or whatever bullshit the gringo had planted in his mind, but Hector had been expecting something more along the lines of instant gratification. All he was getting was question-dodging and snide chuckles from the old prune. Maybe he didn't know what he was looking for either, and just wanted Hector to suffer with him. And Teddy still looked like he was about to keel over.

Did he mention how fucked up that shit was?

"Appreciated." Teddy attempted to hand the bottle back with a shaking hand. Hector motioned for him to keep it. He had gotten over the fact that they were traditionally on opposite sides of the law a while ago, and they had sat in companionable silence. The Man in Black was nowhere to be seen.

Hector wasn't sure if he was happy the man was gone, or unnerved. Everything about him was unsettling, and now that the host knew he was capable of atrocities that he himself would save for a very select group of people, that feeling was amplified. Poor Lawrence. But he couldn't lose sight of what his goal was.

Pulling the key from one of the bullet compartments in his belt, he squeezed his fist and let the metal poke his skin. This was what he was here for, to try to make sense of his newfound drive for purpose.

"You won't find what you're looking for in that safe..." Hector mocked under his breath as he kicked the dirt. Stupid hijo de puta, how the hell did he know?

"Find what?"

Hector was startled out of his train of thought by the weak voice. Although his initial reaction was to scoff and play his comment off, he considered his lack of options. All he had was a necklace, a fuzzy memory of a woman he didn't know, and a crazy old man who was following a maze that may or may not exist. He literally had nothing to lose.

"I do not know. Your friend told me I would not find what I was looking for on my current path."

Teddy leaned his tired head back on the tree. He was getting his color back a little, even though he still looked like death warmed over. "Well, what is it that you're lookin' for?"

"I do not know. It is shrouded in mystery, just like the son of a bitch who got me here. I am just the idiot who is following him," Hector explained wearily.

They both nodded in silent understanding. Neither knew enough about their campmate-slash-jailer. "What's that you got there, if you don't mind me askin'?"