A Prey Among Predators
In the Streets...
Clayton’s red-colored 1957 Chevrolet Bel Air rolls down the busy main road of the city.
Inside, Clayton is in the driver’s seat, maneuvering the thin, wide steering wheel. Brett is next to him in the passenger’s seat with his head out the window. Nolan sits in the back with wandering eyes.
“Turn right here!” Brett barks from outside the car.
Clayton switches on his blinker, peers to his right, and turns right into an empty road.
Brett settles back into the car to take another inhale of Nolan’s jacket. He then puts it down and sticks his head back out with eyes of resolve.
“Okay and then you’re gonna—”
Clayton slows down and pulls over to a stop.
Brett slips back inside and peers around, awfully confused. “Whoa, wait, what—”
“Pheromones.” His friend points ahead through the windshield. “I can’t go over there.” He drops his hand. “This is as far as I can go.”
Brett stares ahead, sensing the force tingling on his skin. “Oh yeah…”
“You said the bear is over there.”
He turns to him. “Yes, he is.”
“He must have pheromones.”
“I don’t think he does,” Nolan pipes up.
The two twist their bodies to peer behind their seats and look at him. Among the spacious back, Nolan appears small in the middle of the leather seats.
“He has never used them,” he continues. “He didn’t even use them on the penginmimis.”
Brett turns to Clayton. “He has a point. If he did have pheromones, he wouldn’t have let himself get caught like that.”
Clayton looks down in thought. “So someone that’s not him is using pheromones for no one to find him.”
“Or not. Could be a stranger using them for just this moment.”
Clayton glares at him as his ears stick back.
“Is there a road we can take to get to the other side, around this road?” Nolan asks.
Clayton faces the front, shifts gears, backs up, and makes a U-turn. Brett turns back to the front as well as the driver makes a right turn back onto the road.
“I can’t believe,” Brett exclaims, “there’re pheromones—out of all things—in Carter’s scent trail!” He gazes up and groans. “This is so frustrating!”
“And you think it’s a coincidence?” Clayton snaps at the windshield.
“Maybe it’s the police because they got him?” Nolan suggests.
Clayton makes a right turn onto another desolate road. “They should’ve notified me…” He pulls over on the side of the road and rolls to a halt.
“Nope.” He darts his eyes between his two passengers. “The pheromones cover this whole area.”
“Rats!” Brett bangs his fist on the leather seat.
Nolan knits his eyebrows. “So now what?”
“Can’t get through, that’s for sure…” Clayton backs up the car, makes a U-turn, and goes on the left-turn lane before stopping at the light.
“Do you think the police can’t find him because of the pheromones?” Brett looks at him.
“Most likely.” Clayton rolls up into the intersection after the light turns green.
Nolan scratches the back of his neck. “The police should have some sort of technology to combat pheromones though…”
“That too.” He keeps his eyes on the opposing traffic rushing parallel to him, crossing his path.
Brett narrows his eyes at him. “Are the police just bad trackers?”
“Yup.” Then at the last car zooming by, Clayton makes a left turn and continues driving down the main road.
“So what do we do?” Nolan flicks his eyes around with wariness.
“We keep looking.” Clayton glances to his left before changing lanes. “We have until tomorrow evening to find him.”
