Pacific Ocean, 201 miles off the Oregon coast

May 12th, 2019

My name is Marianne Alexandra Paine, and I do not fear death. At this moment I am calm, awaiting the dreaded specter at any moment, and even wishing it would show sooner rather than later in whatever form my death will take. I know that I will welcome it, because quite simply, at this point, it is inevitable. I’ve done everything I could to keep my charge safe, and still it’s not enough. The young boy is just as dangerous as they said he was, and getting him away from others might not be enough.

I tried, oh did I try. Stealing the yacht upon which I stand is the least of my worries at this point, especially since the boy is, at the moment, about as unstable as I’ve ever seen him. The rest of the crew that joined me on this mission are dead, as they were unable to cope with the boy and what he’s capable of. It sounds like a movie, doesn’t it? A child being able to take down hardened soldiers, mercenaries even, should never be possible in the real world.

But we don’t know half of what’s possible in this world, no matter what we think we know. We guess at a lot of things, and we hope and pray that rest of the world as we know it makes sense. As I stand here on the bow of the ship, watching the sun go down for what will probably be the last time in my life, I can’t help but be calm. I did my job, I took the money, and I did the absolute best I could do. Those people lying dead in the engine room weren’t my friends, they were my co-workers, people I only trusted enough to get the job done.

They trusted me, and they paid for it.

Right now the boy is locked away, bound up, and knocked out with the last of the sedative we brought along. The door to the bathroom we left him in is barred and locked, but that won’t last too long. Even his bindings will take him minimal time to slip through once he’s awake. And given that he burned through nearly half the supply of sedatives that we had before we were a hundred miles out what little he was given only a short time ago won’t last that long.

I’m going to die, but I’m going to go out my way at least, with one last game of hide and seek. The monitor that I’m wearing on my hip is attuned to the one that’s in the bathroom, so at the very least I’ll have a headstart once he gets free, assuming he’s not smart enough to look for the damned thing where I hid it. Once the boy gets loose and runs amok he’s not always the thinking being he is when he’s calm. But even the creature he becomes seems capable of abstract thought, so this final game I’m about to play is going to be something more than just hide and seek, or even search and destroy.

It’s going to be more like a tiger stalking a heavily-armed gerbil. It sounds funny, but it’s way more accurate.

(to be continued)

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