Infested Read Free

breaking up into fragments which fanned out toward the
ground, and I was only looking at a small piece of sky. Some of those must have landed, I
deduced. I‘d love to find a meteorite. And
although I had no intention of deviating from my canoeing trip, I vouched to
keep a vigilant eye, in case I happened to spy one which had landed along the riverbank.
     
    The unprecedented meteor shower - or was it a storm? – distracted my
mind enough to put the smile back on my face and my eyes drifted shut as I was
lulled to sleep by the sound of something, fowl or fish, sploshing in the
margins.

 
    Three
     
    The following morning was much like the first; still, misty and fresh.
For a while I lay in my sleeping bag, warm and snug, until the urge to urinate
forced me out of my cocoon and into the day. As I fried eggs for breakfast I
marvelled at the memory of the cosmic display I’d been treated to and wondered
what might have caused it, eventually coming to the conclusion that it must
have been an asteroid or something breaking up in the atmosphere.
    Out of habit and curiosity, I dug my phone out of the bottom of the dry
bag and pressed the on button. Then I remembered I was a killer on the run and
before even the little start-up jingle had begun, I threw the phone as hard as
I could into the middle of the river. The tune had sounded the first two notes
before being silenced with a small ‘plop’ as the phone hit the water and sank
to its watery grave.
    “Shit.” For the briefest of moments I fretted about the length of time
still on the contract, then I shook my head and giggled at the absurdity of
it. If I didn’t pay, it would hardly be the greatest of my crimes and it wasn’t
important in the slightest. Nothing mattered anymore, other than making the
most of, and enjoying, what I assumed would be my final days of freedom. In a weird
kind of way it was liberating; unbound of the chains of duty or commitment to
anybody or anything, other than myself. It was easy to tell myself that even a
few days really living, being me, was worth all the shit which was bound to
come afterwards. Or maybe they wouldn’t catch me? Maybe, when the dust
settled I might be able to assume a new identity and start a new life afresh?
I needed to think about what I’d do if and when the police did have me cornered
though: Would I go with them peacefully to spend a life behind bars or would it
be best to end it there and then, and die happy? It was all stuff I needed to
work out, but not just yet, there was plenty of time for that.
     
    When I’d packed everything away and stowed it in the canoe, leaving my
sleeping bag and mat draped across the top to dry off in in the daytime sun, I
threw my muddy shoes just in front of the seat. Barefoot, I pushed the canoe
down the bank and nose first into the river before paddling out after it until
the water was half way up my shins. Mud squelched between my toes and when I
climbed into the canoe I tried to rinse it off as best I could before getting
comfortable and setting out for the day’s paddling.
    The river was flat calm and nothing stirred in the morning mist, save for
the occasional reed waggling gently in the flow. I paddled quietly, savouring
the stillness and pausing occasionally to roll a cigarette or to take a drink.
Always I was on the lookout for wildlife, hoping beyond all hope to spy an
otter going about its early morning business. The river had widened further
and so, until the sun began to burn off the mist, I could hardly make out the
banks on either side. Swans came gliding silently out of the white toward me,
cygnets in tow. They reared up when I approached, only to settle down when I
showed them little interest and they figured out I wasn’t a threat. Sometimes
a bird would squawk from the margins, what type I didn’t know, and occasionally
a fish would rise and ripple the surface of the water. All these things only
added to the tranquillity of the morning.
     
    As the day wore