The moment you understood what you had become, you knew that you would have to make certain sacrifices in order to maintain your undead existence. The Beast needed to be fed, after all.
But there were limits, and this was yours. You and Julian didn't even need to say anything. You just threw the water back in the Tracker and drove off. You dumped the plastic jugs a few miles up the road.
After a long silence, Julian said, "The thing about our masters is they don't actually have very long memories. All us neonates look sort of alike to them. We'll keep our heads down for a few years. If anyone asks, we'll say we got run off by, I don't know, werewolves or Anarchs or something."
"We still don't have any money," you reminded the Assamite.
"Well, it's going to be a bad fucking couple of years, Tomumy," Julian said.
It wasn't actually that bad for Julian, though. A few months later, Julian got his money, though you never learned how. Something to do with venture capital interested in the software he was developing? Anyway, one night he just disappeared, leaving you with the Geo Tracker, a stack of CDs with file names written on them in blue Sharpie, and instructions to deliver them to an industrial park in Austin. You looked up his new company, 2100X, which was apparently located in Denver. But you could never find an address or a contact number. And that's been your life ever since.
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