Owen Blackwell's Arc

Chapter 2 of 2

Owen left the green tunnels with three names burning in his head. He picked the first one and walked all night to find him. The trail led out past the swamp flats, where the ground turned soft and the air smelled of rot. He found the man under a tall stone marker, half sunk in moss and black water. The carved face of the slab loomed over the body like a bad joke. The man was dead. Cold. A clean wound in his chest. Owen crouched and searched the pockets. He found a sticky lollipop wrapped in gold honey, half eaten, still tacky. An odd thing for a grown man to carry. A message, maybe. A signature. Owen did not know whose. He stood and saw it then, nailed to the stone above the corpse. A small square photo. A snarling man with a heavy paddle, squared off against a small dark ape. Someone had left it where Owen would find it. Someone knew he was coming. A pair of filthy green creatures scurried from the reeds, sniffing at the blood. Owen watched them tug at the dead man's sleeve. He pulled the photo loose and slid it into his coat. His first lead was gone. A hunter he could not see had moved first, and wanted him to know it. Owen walked back the way he came with two names left and a colder fear in his gut. The work had changed. He was not the only one circling this prey.