Town of the Red flower

Along an empty forest road, A van raced in the dead of night. The driver, Byron. A man in his late thirties, middle build, and beard stubble.

Three hours ago Byron had a run-in with a hunter who was once his friend. He introduced Byron to his current job. At the time he was a college student who barely had any money to his name. All of it was wasted away on parties. Byron found out later it involved ghosts, vampires, witches, and other creatures of the night.

“It’s been ten years. Do you still think the world is against you? Here are some words of advice: monsters will get people like that, eventually.”

The man’s words echoed in Byron’s head. “What does he know! It’s his fault! I’m in this mess in the first place!”

Byron noticed the freeze burn scars on his hands. He remembered his ex-friend's scars on his body and the red marks that covered his arms and neck. Marks of being touched by the frigid Cold those monsters carry. That man was an experienced hunter but Byron was a tracker. Finding the location of those monsters with his job. The hunters did the rest, but Byron wasn’t spared.

He glanced at the passager seat a silver container shaped like a jar with a ring sealing the top. Something his ex-friend wouldn’t be needing. It would bring Byron more money than a monster’s location. His ticket to paying off his debt and have more than enough to start over.

"I can leave this job behind me."

He would've avoided driving in a forest at night. But the sooner he could cash in the hunt the better.

"I can leave this-"

The speedometer lowed. He pressed on the gas, but nothing. He did it again, still, nothing. It touched zero and his van came to a complete stop.

He hit the wheel."This can't be happening!"

A cold wind threatened to blow away his gray overcoat as he exited the van. Byron opened the hood and pulled out a little flashlight from his cargo pants. He checked the hood and the tires, but couldn't find the problem. He took out his radar then held it close to the car. It didn't respond.

He turned it to the silver container. It went up to three.

"At least it's still there."

He went back into his van to looked up the address and number of the nearest mechanic. Next to the front wheel, a red flower with petals in the shape of a star.

.

After Byron dropped off his van at the mechanics. He was on his way to the bank in the shopping plaza.

“I can leave this job behind me,” he mumbled.

Along the sidewalk, a little red-haired kid bumped into him. “Watch it!” Byron yelled.

“Sorry.” The kid said without looking back.

“Brat.”

When Byron got back to the garage the mechanic, Mike greeted him. His voice was loud and full of energy. ”Hey, so, there was some trouble with the fuel pump.”

“What was wrong with it?”

“Some Vines were squeezing the life out of it.”

“Vines?”Byron asked.

"Yeah, but There's still some tinkering to do here and there. We could fix it up. It’s better to be safe than sorry.”

At that point, Byron had stopped listening. He was getting a very strong feeling that he should leave town. He reached for his pocket then froze.

"Sir? Is something wrong?"

sweat ran down his forehead. "It's gone?!"

The Container. The container. He couldn't leave without it. This thought raced in Byron’s mind as got into his van. He stopped along the path he took on his way to the bank. While he searched he spotted the red-headed kid leaving the plaza.

Once again he got the desire to get out of town. He shook it off but before driving after the kid he shoved a gun into his pocket. Byron drove his van in front of the kid. They turned to run, but he rushed out and grabbed the red’s head by the arm.

"Hey! You have something that belongs to me!" Byron turned the kid around. A thin teenaged girly boy with a face like he had just gotten out of bed. He wore a sleeveless navy blue shirt and black jeans.

"Let go! I didn't do anything!" The boy struggled but Byron barely felt it.

He snatched the kid's bookbag and took out the container. "You- you opened it!?"

He couldn't believe it. This stupid kid. freed the banshee.

The kid reached for his bag only for Byron to grab the boy by the collar. "Where's the Banshee!?"

"Banshee?” The boy laughed. “You mean that little trick that came out of the jar.”

Byron tossed the kid onto the sidewalk. He went into his van with the bookbag.

"My bag!"

"I'm keeping this. If you want it back" He slammed the door and the van roared. “Then you better help me find it!”

"What? Wait, a minute!"

“What’s that thing?” The boy asked pointing to the SN rider on the van dashboard.

He took the bag out of pure anger and would have left the brat in the dust but he needed the boy. The kid was a locale he could be useful.

“What’s your name, mister?” The boy peeked at the radar Byron was holding. “What’s that thing?”

Byron shoved him into the front seat. “Byron. Shut up and stay still. This is going to help me find the banshee you freed.”

“Fine. Say I did free a Banshee. What is she going to do?”

He glared at the boy. “Listen, brat, its scream can cause your ears to bleed, it can curse you and your family until there’s no one left."

“Did she do something bad to you.? Is that why you hunted her?”

Byron snorted. “It’s a monster that shouldn’t exist. What other reason is there?”

He turned to the wheel and drove next to a building plastered with posters hanging in a row. He stared at it, then at his radar.

"It a movie theater." The boy said

"I can see that. Is there anything else?"

"The Popcorn's good."

"That's not what I meant! You’re trying my patients, brat. Do people come here or not!"

“Okay, okay. People go there all the time during the day.”

The Banshee wouldn't come here to hide, their kind of monster that stay away from people but he couldn't deny the reading he was getting.

"Stay here." He walked closer to the movie theater and checked his radar again. The reading was low.. “What? This better not be broke!”

Under Byron’s boots, red flowers grew.