[woods ; open] i haven't nothing. i'm empty
Opening his eyes to a bit of a groggy feeling, Dexter just stared upward. ‘There are no woods like this around Miami.’ He rolled his head first one way, and then the other, taking note of everything being blanketed in white. “It also doesn’t snow.” And that was when it finally registered that he was cold. Of course he was. He was laying in the snow. He sat up and looked around a little more, surveying his surroundings. Force of habit. One of his better habits, to be sure. Dexter climbed to his feet and brushed some of the snow off the back of his pants. Didn’t much matter, though. The snow had pretty well soaked through.
It was pretty clear that Dexter wasn’t where he remembered being. He remembered that he’d be on his way to hunt for Arthur. He’d just put his things into his vehicle, and had been about to get in himself when- And then he was opening his eyes in the middle of the woods. He didn’t know where he was, or how he got there. He put his hand on his chest, over his heart. His heart was beating normally. He wasn’t worried about being in some unknown place, and having gotten there by means unknown. Were he a normal human being, he’d worry, he was sure. His heart would probably be pounding against the back of his ribs. But he was just a wolf in sheep’s clothing, so to speak. Normal people would worry and panic. He should worry. He should act worried. The only real concern that he had was that if he didn’t know where he was, then he didn’t know how to get to Arthur. If he couldn’t get to Arthur, then he couldn’t kill Arthur. ‘This could be a problem. I need to get to Arthur before he gets to someone else. Or before he leaves the State and I lose him forever.’
He didn’t bother trying to call out to anyone. He didn’t see much point. From the chill in the air, to the snow on the ground, he managed to deduce that he wasn’t in Florida any longer. ‘That means there’s no one I know to call out to. Anyone else probably wouldn’t want me to see them, or else they’d probably have been waiting for me to wake up. Maybe a bereaved loved one who somehow managed to find out that it was Miami Metro’s blood guy who dealt with their dearly departed murderer in a more than fitting fashion.’
If nothing else, he did pull out his cell phone, though. “Probably too far into the woods for-” No reception. Not even a flicker of the bar that once was. It brought him a strange sense of comfort, though, to know that the M99 was still nestled away safely in his pocket.
It was pretty clear that Dexter wasn’t where he remembered being. He remembered that he’d be on his way to hunt for Arthur. He’d just put his things into his vehicle, and had been about to get in himself when- And then he was opening his eyes in the middle of the woods. He didn’t know where he was, or how he got there. He put his hand on his chest, over his heart. His heart was beating normally. He wasn’t worried about being in some unknown place, and having gotten there by means unknown. Were he a normal human being, he’d worry, he was sure. His heart would probably be pounding against the back of his ribs. But he was just a wolf in sheep’s clothing, so to speak. Normal people would worry and panic. He should worry. He should act worried. The only real concern that he had was that if he didn’t know where he was, then he didn’t know how to get to Arthur. If he couldn’t get to Arthur, then he couldn’t kill Arthur. ‘This could be a problem. I need to get to Arthur before he gets to someone else. Or before he leaves the State and I lose him forever.’
He didn’t bother trying to call out to anyone. He didn’t see much point. From the chill in the air, to the snow on the ground, he managed to deduce that he wasn’t in Florida any longer. ‘That means there’s no one I know to call out to. Anyone else probably wouldn’t want me to see them, or else they’d probably have been waiting for me to wake up. Maybe a bereaved loved one who somehow managed to find out that it was Miami Metro’s blood guy who dealt with their dearly departed murderer in a more than fitting fashion.’
If nothing else, he did pull out his cell phone, though. “Probably too far into the woods for-” No reception. Not even a flicker of the bar that once was. It brought him a strange sense of comfort, though, to know that the M99 was still nestled away safely in his pocket.