Being Hunted

by C A Gleason

  A Behemoth—after its own cocooning period—lived in the lair and waited for its minions, the Molters, to turn into cocoons for it to drink. The transformation the Molters went through was triggered after they fed at least three or four times and usually on humans. After that, they liquefied to become what a Behemoth considered fine dining. The thought made Jonah shiver.

  After his eyes had adjusted enough in conjunction with the light he created, he shot the flashlight around quickly to see if it spurred a predator to move or, worse, launch at him. He painted the empty space before him with the cone-shaped beam—low, high, left, then right—doing his best not to miss an inch. It was similar to the movements he made with binoculars when trying to spot Behemoth cocoons forming from the ridges.

  Then he waited, noticing how many dust particulates shone wherever he aimed the flashlight. He wondered how much of it he was breathing in, concluded that it was at least a ton, and then wondered how healthy it was to breathe air that had been trapped for a long period of time. Since he didn’t know, he decided, with an accompanying grin, that it was harmless.

  While awaiting being attacked by a hungry pack, he also listened for any hint of them in case his initial scare tactic failed. It wasn’t as if the light from a flashlight was intimidating unless the flashlight itself was about to be used to knock somebody over the head. There was always the chance the Molters—possibly only a few feet away—were smarter than him and their stillness was a trick to spur him forward into a planned ambush.

  Intelligence was a trait he hoped they didn’t possess and never would. He hoped they relied on primitive instincts and that the possibility of them being smart was only another fear of his. What was somewhat reassuring was that, in his experience, Molters and Behemoths typically behaved like normal predators. They capitalized on opportunity, attacked with force, and didn’t lay traps.

  As he took careful steps forward, the cave looked to be even deeper and more spacious than he’d initially realized, and he prepared himself for it to be as far underground as the entire country. It never hurt to expect the unexpected. The surprising emanating warmth made it likely that the underground space could have been someone’s home, if it were accessible, and knowing that made exploring it worth the risk because there could be something of value within.

  Something else of value, he thought. Considering all they had, and in comparison to others, Jonah was sure they lived like royalty. But it could also very well be the dwelling of one or more of them, and they could still be inside, frozen in that suspended hibernation stasis. If that were the case, it would mean humans had lived nearby but also recently, hence his caution. It wasn’t as if a Behemoth had built the cabin. Jonah just didn’t know when there had been previous occupants.

  Molters were an easy kill when they were hibernating and even easier to kill while sleeping in a nest all piled on top of one another, each facing a different direction, ready to attack. One time Jonah had lobbed a grenade, and one of them had actually grabbed it—as if in defiance—and pulled it into the middle before they all erupted into bits and mist.

  Jonah had never seen any nests near the cabin, probably because there weren’t enough humans for them to prey upon. Nesting was likely something they did only while on more active hunting grounds. Even so, when dealing with them, it was wise to remember there were often more than one.

  If there were any nests in there, it could explain how Molters often appeared near the cabin. It was always unexpected and seemingly out of nowhere, which could mean there were more caves like one he was in. Whenever a Molter showed up inexplicably, Jonah took it rather personally because he worked so hard to eradicate them.

  They’re driven to find places like this.

  Being overly cautious—paranoid—was a trait of his, he knew, but it was one of the reasons he’d survived so long. And he had the military and all its training to thank also. Anyone could potentially be a foe, and anywhere could potentially lead to danger, no matter how safe it seemed. Enemies were always near. It was only a question of proximity. It was a hard fact to accept but one best to remember. Those who survived learned to avoid the enemy altogether or learned the best way to kill them. Jonah did his best to practice both.

  There was another shudder, and he held his breath for what seemed like an eternity. Dirt and rocks that made up the walls vibrated and shook, and the entrance suddenly disappeared from view as if a curtain had fallen across it, causing the light to vanish like a candle being blown out.

  “Shit.”

  The branches and rocks and everything else he should have cleared out of the way completely before entering had fallen over and were now blocking the exit. The only exit that he was aware of.

  Now that he was submerged in darkness again, the only light emanated from what he held in his hand, his hot breath filled the beam shooting from the flashlight, and he felt the cave suddenly get much cooler. He cursed again silently but then exhaled slowly, calming himself. The very thing he always feared—getting trapped somewhere and not being able to get back to his people—had happened.

  Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

  After clicking the flashlight off, he closed his eyes and waited a good five minutes. While he did that, he combated the images of dozens of claws reaching for him to get him down on the ground and hold him there while sharp teeth bit into his flesh to feed on his blood along with all the many other things anxious to feed on what was left of him.

  There was still only darkness when he opened his eyes again, but at least he could see shapes now. He could even make out the ground and the nearest wall made of rock. Faint light drew his sight to where the entrance had been. For some reason, seeing jagged lines of white made him feel warmer. Probably because it meant he could dig his way out when he had to. It might be difficult and zap his energy, but where there was light, there was a likely way out. The smart thing to do would be to start digging immediately. But why ruin the theme of the day? Also he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was actually going to discover something important.

  Look Doreen, Heike, I found an intact teleportation unit to get us out of here. Now if I can just locate the manual. The sound of his own snickering magnified within the rocky space. Give away your position, dummy. Smart.

  Although discovering something of worth wouldn’t change his predicament, it might make the trouble he was in worth it. He would just need to make it out alive. No matter what he found, he needed to find a way out soon. There wasn’t much daylight left. He should probably speed all of it up, do the searching, and then worry later. That way he could get back as soon as possible. He was already late, and he was pushing it by standing in place.

  And he needed to remember that just because he had a plan to get out didn’t mean that the plan would work. He had no idea how long it would take to dig his way through all the debris. Fortunately he was prepared. The entrenching tool, or e-tool as it was commonly called, a fold-up shovel, sure came in handy and usually when least expected. He had one in his backpack. He never would have guessed he would need to use one after he got kicked out of the military, and now he never went anywhere without one.

  The e-tool was not only for digging and could even be used to chop through branches if necessary, even though that might take well into the night when clearing as much debris as what blocked the cave entrance. Even if he didn’t have the e-tool, he had his machete. With night came the possibility of encountering the bloodsuckers, and he had only so much ammo. Except he knew that getting into trouble was often worth it.

  “Isn’t it just like you to push?” Jonah whispered to himself. “Why do you always gotta do that?”

  Without answering his own question as a lunatic might—also out loud—he decided to answer himself in his mind where there was plenty of room for almost crazy.

  Because there’s something in here. And pushing it is how you’ve survived so long.

  The only problem was he still found himself in danger on occasion, sometimes only temporaril
y, but temporary or not, it was long enough for terrible to happen. If he had only himself to worry about, that would be one thing, but Jonah wasn’t on his own anymore. He would make sure it was like that for the rest of his life.

  Plus, there had been too many times when he would not have discovered something important had he returned home early because he was tired or because it was easier than pushing it. Going past the state of comfortability was how the real work got done most of the time, and that was always well past the point of wanting to do it.

  And he still couldn’t shake that there was something nearby that he needed. He could sense it. He couldn’t be sure what that was until it was discovered, but he’d been doing this whole survival thing long enough to know that ignoring a weird blip on his radar would be a mistake. The place had served a purpose, and he needed to find out what that was. Hopefully that would lead him to what he was after.

  The obstacle was that he wouldn’t know what he was after until he found it. Sometimes it was just another board game to keep Heike from getting bored. Everything Jonah did was to better their lives, though, even the little things and even if it ended up killing him. Most likely his risky choices would only almost kill him, and fortunately he was in the best end-of-the-world shape he’d ever been in.

  Don’t laugh out loud at your own joke. That’s a one-way ticket to crazy town, just as Doreen says. Plus you’ll give away your position.

  Jonah successfully stifled the laugh that was bubbling to the surface, still under control but nearly spilling out anyway. The joke about going crazy was just that, a joke, a private one that he shared with Doreen because they were both aware that present circumstances were ideal for someone to lose their mind. He had been through enough—and unaccompanied long enough—to know that he wouldn’t go nuts easily. Hopefully it would not happen at all, but he was smart enough to remember how fragile humans could be. Whether he liked it or not, he was human, too, so he could eventually lose his mind just as others who had been secluded for too long, no matter how strong his will.

  If he lived to be an old man, there was no telling what illnesses might slow him down. He was confident in his physicality as long as he didn’t get seriously injured, but it was impossible to know the future of the mind. It wasn’t as if he could get checked out at the local doctor’s office. All of that equipment, the complex machines used to identify human ailments, were useless for the time being. Probably just collecting dust or even snow if the hospital were in Europe and there was a hole in the roof. It was hard to imagine there could be a place on earth that was warm with clear blue skies overhead because snow had been their world forever. This winter had been a long one.

  Because you’re in the German mountains.

  The present truth of his immediate predicament was that if he didn’t get back before nighttime, Doreen might go out searching for him, no matter how much he’d stressed not to if he went missing. She was always made aware of the general direction he was headed and would bring Heike along, too, for fear of leaving her behind. It would be too dangerous. He would do the same if he were in her shoes, not that he would allow Doreen to go out on missions by herself, but his deadline for concluding his search and finding a way out was dark.

  Doreen had been a soldier too. He hadn’t forgotten, and she could handle herself in any situation the world could throw at her, but to Jonah, she was his woman first. Protecting her and Heike was all that mattered to him. He would remember to have a discussion with her if something like this happened again. There needed to be a broad plan for his missions, always, encompassing when or if they went wrong, and a predetermined time for him to return was paramount.

  After that he was on his own, and she needed to understand that. He would make her promise him for the future. Hopefully it would never be necessary. He just had to think about it more. He would discuss it with her later. They would figure it out together. And when he got back today—realistically tonight, no matter his confidence, he would be probably be somewhat late—he would be honest with her and tell her what happened. That way they could discuss it, maybe even include Heike, and prepare so it wouldn’t happen again. But also prepare if it did. Jonah always did his best to stay motivated, especially considering his past.

  Staying motivated was one thing, but being overconfident was something very different, and that had gotten him into trouble before. No matter how much experience was under his belt, he should have anticipated a predicament such as this. He had been cautious for the most part, but that caution and keeping it in mind should have prevented it altogether.

  Suddenly he felt his old way of thinking creeping in, a growing depression, like his mind was tied to weights dropping to the bottom of a lake, but he zapped it away just as quickly. He did his best not to think that way anymore.

  “No time for it.”

  Reassured there was a way out, and relatively sure he wasn’t—presently—about to be attacked, no matter his fears, he clicked the flashlight back on and threw it around as he stepped forward onto the damp, rocky ground, finally catching a clear glimpse of the rear of the cave, or where he believed it to be. Squinting, he felt chills suddenly slither down his spine after he saw the slightest movement.

  Freezing in place so as not to draw attention to himself, in case it wasn’t only his imagination, he waited, and while he did, he hoped he’d been wrong. That it had been his imagination. But there was something off. He had seen something that glistened in a way that was familiar, in a way that tightened a trigger finger. It might be the reflection of melting snow or ice, which could have given the illusion of movement.

  One thing going for him was that it was completely silent—Molters made a lot of noise—so he ventured further inward. Establishing cleared territory, he aimed the flashlight deeper into the darkness. Then he froze again. Sometimes Jonah hated it when he was right.

  There were three of them.

  He passed the flashlight to his left hand, unzipped and reached within his jacket, and yanked the 9mm out of its holster, silencer already attached. Creeping closer he placed the flashlight over the pistol. Then he moved his finger inside the trigger guard and placed it on the trigger itself, ready to squeeze, and shoot what would sink its teeth into his flesh if they got the chance. Also if they were awake.

  Hanging upside down like others he’d seen, their knees were brought to their chests and their clawed hands and feet were pushed together, connecting them to the ceiling. He always thought it looked like they had attempted to touch their toes but had gotten frozen in place. He’d seen Molters that way before, but he’d just assumed it was because of the extremely low temperature. Still something seemed off about them somehow, but he wasn’t sure what.

  Then he noticed that one of them looked slightly different than the others. It had so many teeth that they even sprouted out the sides of its mouth, and its skin was green. Most Molters were pale. Was it deformed? He squinted, doing his best to see it clearly. It didn’t look to be. Instead it actually looked like a better, scarier, and improved version of what he knew.

  Were they evolving? He quickly realized that, yes, they were. Of course they were. Evolution was probably unavoidable considering how quickly they’d showed up in the first place. He just hoped a new strain wasn’t somehow deadlier than the others. Jonah had already assumed there were more strains but only because he was afraid of that possibility.

  All three remained completely motionless. They should have already turned into cocoons and liquefied, becoming food for a Behemoth, but they hadn’t. They were probably hibernating because when they did cocoon to become Behemoth food, they hung by their feet only and slowly transformed. Jonah shined the flashlight upward to inspect the residue pooled over the hands and feet.

  The substance that held them in place—typically when they cocooned until a Behemoth drank them—resembled hardened, clear glue, but Jonah rarely saw live Molters that way. Instinct aimed pistol and flashlight deeper into the darkness, and he hoped he would
n’t see giant legs scrambling toward him or hear a familiar hiss. Nothing, though.

  After aiming the light over every inch of the rear of the cave, he realized it was only him, the three Molters, and what looked like had once been a homeless camp. There were boxes, ones he would search through soon, some chairs, and sleeping bags thrown open as if whoever slept in them last had thrown them off during the middle of the night and in a hurry.

  People had definitely lived in here, but now they were likely the ones that had molted and were hanging from the ceiling. They might have been the ones who had lived at the cabin or even built it. Someone had planned on living there awhile. The tempered glass of the woodstove inside proved it, and the cabin and outhouse were obviously there before the Molting.

  Perhaps the Behemoth the Molters served had been killed? Would that interrupt the cocooning process for them? Maybe. What they had done at Henrytown—using remains to repel—had disrupted their natural lifecycle. Jonah had killed many Behemoths since arriving at the cabin, most of them the unborn that grew inside cocoons but a few adults as well. He didn’t know all the after effects. He could think about how and why there was no Behemoth later.

  Creeping as close to them as he felt comfortable, he shot the first Molter in the head. The silent crack of the silencer was almost as loud as a regular gunshot. The Molter didn’t even open its eyes. Blood oozed out of the hole in its head. Jonah was moving to the second Molter when he saw the third’s jaws open followed by its eyes beneath them. He quickly aimed and shot it second, extinguishing a low growl.

  His breath quickened as he aimed at the second Molter again, after seeing the third one die the same way as the first. He pressed the silencer to the head of the remaining Molter. It was the green one with no lips and all the extra teeth. Then he tapped against its skull until its eyes opened.

  “You’re not going to beat us.”

  It struggled against its natural binds, and just as it broke a clawed hand free, Jonah shot it. He took steps back as blood dripped from all three dead Molters, creating a steaming pool of it on the ground. His nose wrinkled from the awful stench of the mutated blood, somewhere between garbage and feces, he thought. They were a different species, something very alien to humans, and an enemy. Being a natural enemy was probably why they smelled so bad to him.