Page 22 of King of Lies (Mayhem Manuscripts Season One: 1nf3ction #6)

I moved on, keeping my footsteps quiet. Another door stood open on my right. I frowned at what lay beyond, pictures of various places staring back at me. No, not pictures. Pictures didn’t move, and there was definitely movement, the tree branches in one swaying in the breeze.

Most showed the forest. Another screen—because that’s what I realized they were—showed a stretch of road.

A familiar one. These weren’t pictures; they were live images.

Oz had cameras trained on all his little traps.

That’s how he’d known about the motorbike, and no doubt one of these screens showed the area where August and I had fallen prey to one of his traps. Sneaky little bastard.

I left the room after I’d gleaned everything I could from it.

Five more minutes of exploring brought me to a door leading to the courtyard.

Locked—but the keys I’d found came through, one of the larger ones fitting perfectly.

And then I was outside, the overgrown foliage suddenly seeming a lot less overgrown now I was out here.

From this outside vantage point, I could see plenty of the rooms had windows.

All Oz had to do was look out at the right time and he’d spot me.

Dropping to my stomach, I crawled forward on my elbows. I was relying on the grass doing enough to hide me. It took five minutes to reach the shed. Unlocked. Sloppy. I wasn’t about to go back and point it out to Oz, though. He’d figure it out once he realized I’d escaped.

Inside the shed, I almost laughed when I saw the bike.

Intuition for the win! It felt like days, not hours, since I’d last seen it.

August had promised me a map of his safe houses when I found it.

The thought occurred as I searched through all the storage compartments that it could be another lie. Why lie about that, though?

I found August’s stash from Birmingham first, filling my pockets with all the stuff he’d taken from the people there.

No suppressants. Of course not. They existed only in August’s imagination.

I’d just about given up when I found the folded piece of paper tucked into a corner.

A map. A rudimentary one that would take some working out, but at least one existed.

A large X marked the center, with smaller ones radiating out from it.

Now if only August had bothered to tell me what that was.

Was it his home? Did he even have one? During our brief acquaintance, he’d come across as something of a nomad.

But then he was the master of making people believe whatever he wanted, so it was impossible to tell.

What would I find if I went there? A community?

If they were anything like August, I’d be shot on sight.

By which reasoning, it would be far more sensible to avoid it.

Leaving the bike, I crawled back outside. The building showed no signs of life. No face at the window. Nothing. Although that didn’t mean I wasn’t being watched.

The gap between the buildings was only a few meters. More crawling. Two meters. One. Finally, I reached it. I kept crawling just to be on the safe side, elbow over elbow, head down. Every room might have its own vantage point, and there was no telling where Oz’s lab was.

At the end was a grassy clearing, and beyond it, woodland, the thick foliage the answer to my prayers. As long as I avoided any more booby traps, and kept an eye out for cameras, I’d be fine. And then as soon as I could, I’d get out of this area altogether.

Out of sight of the building, I scrambled to my feet and sprinted for the trees. There, I slowed, studying the ground carefully for anything amiss. Only when I’d put some distance between myself and the building did I lean against a tree to catch my breath.

I was out. Free. Thanks to August.

And you left him there.

I shut the disquieting thought down. He’d told me to. More than once. He’d instructed me not to look back, told me where to find the map, and encouraged me to seek vengeance. He’d even instructed me on what to do once I had it. Those were the words of a man who knew I’d do the sensible thing.

He saved you. You’d be dead if it weren’t for him. True. But I’d only needed saving because he’d put me in that position by dragging me on a wild goose chase so he could rob me.

He let you come in out of the rain. He had, and then he’d tied me to a radiator.

He gave you release. I snorted. He’d probably just wanted to see what my cock looked like.

You were the one who went for the sword that placed you both in Oz’s hands. He tried to warn you, but you wouldn’t listen. Well, life was cruel. Sometimes you didn’t get what you deserved. Though, in August’s case, I’m sure there was an argument for it being exactly what he deserved.

I had no weapons. Only an idiot would go back into that building for someone like August. He’d lied and lied, and even when he could have come clean, he hadn’t. If not for Oz testing his blood, I’d still be in the dark about his true status.

Immune! I should have known. He had that arrogance, the kind I’d only ever seen in people who believed they were genetically superior. I hadn’t met many, but it was always there—the absence of fear in their eyes that the rest of the population just couldn’t muster.

Yeah, he deserved whatever he got.

Go back for him.

As if.