The Carnivorous Vegan

Read The Carnivorous Vegan for Free Online

Book: Read The Carnivorous Vegan for Free Online
Authors: K.A. Merikan
"Stop right there! You! Yes, you by that bin! What do you think you're doing?"
    Aiden hoped that he managed to hide in the shadows, avoiding the harsh beam of light, but it looked like he had failed. Even worse, his long dreadlocks got caught in the hinges of the bin, and if he pulled any farther, it would leave bald spots on the side of his head.
    "Damn," he muttered and dropped the bag of freshly gathered produce. Some people called what he was doing 'freeganism', but that was just a lame, hipster term for it. He liked to call himself a 'gatherer'. Aiden was afraid that he might have just met a 'hunter'. A hunter who was about to enter the final stage of the chase.
    "Stay right there!" The stampeding footsteps echoed between the rubbish containers at the rear door of the supermarket, the bright torch light hovering all over Aiden like a pesky fly.
    "Oh, come on, mate." Aiden squinted and tried to pull out his dreadlocks. He really did feel like a fox, crushed in one of those inhumane traps. He couldn't help but feel sorry for the cauliflowers rolling around by his feet. They were perfectly good to eat, and now, he was second-wasting them. Aiden frowned when one of the pieces disappeared under a black shoe with a crunch, something he could see in detail in the white light of the now-unmoving torch.
    "Look at me." The guard stopped close enough for Aiden to smell his cologne. It was bitter and musky with a hint of spice.
    Aiden raised his hands in a gesture of peace. "Hey, it's not like I'm armed or anything." He squinted again, trying to see the guy, but all he could make out was his height and size. Being six feet tall, Aiden was still shorter than him. The guard had a slight Eastern European accent and was broader in the shoulders than Aiden. He huffed, switching off the torch.
    "I am arresting you for stealing from this property." A large hand fell on Aiden's arm, squeezing it with an air of authority.
    There was no use in struggling with his hair caught in the bloody bin hinges, so Aiden leaned against the bin. "Oh, really?"
    In the glow of the streetlights, he could finally get a look at the guard's face. It was always good to look into the predator's eyes.
    Ha. He even had the square jaw and strong brow line of a hunter.
    The guard pouted and cocked his eyebrow, studying Aiden as if he were some kind of freak of nature. The stud in Aiden's nose probably wasn't helping him look like a 'decent citizen', either. Now that Aiden's eyes got used to the dark again, he recognized that the predator's short-cropped hair had to be one of those washed-out colours, maybe dirty blond. Come to think of it, the guard was rather handsome, in a predatory kind of way.
    "Yes, really."
    "It's the bins, mate. Seriously, can't you give it a rest?" Aiden sighed, taking a quick glance at the guy from head to toe. He was dressed in a black set of trousers and shirt, with the store logo and "Security" printed below his left shoulder in bright yellow lettering.
    "I'm not saying it makes sense, but it still is stealing!" huffed the guard, pulling Aiden toward the entrance. "You're coming with me."
    "Ay! Wait! My hair's stuck." Aiden grabbed him by his arm and pulled back. "Where's your name tag, anyway?" He poked the guard's chest. Nice and firm. Getting into a friendly conversation was the best way out of most problems with the law.
    "It's here." The guard showed him a laminated card with his photograph and personal data.
    "Pavel Kost... How do you say your last name, Pavel?" Aiden gave him his door-to-door salesman smile.
    The guard frowned, but answered with something that sounded like "Kostshishevsky", only harsher. He crooked his head, watching Aiden's struggle with the bin. "Do you need a knife?"
    "No!" Aiden's eyes widened. "How about some help here, huh? Where's that last name from? Russian? Polish?" He tried to make conversation, even with the threat of his precious dreads being cut off. Of course, someone with short hair would never

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