Being Hunted

by C A Gleason

  “He just twitched again . . . Whenever they move like that, it means they’re close.”

  “If he’d already molted, maybe.”

  “It’s about to rip its flesh off. I can tell. Aww, man, this is gonna be bad.”

  “Keep it together.”

  “I am. Just letting you know what’s going on by voicing my concerns, boss.”

  “And that’s appreciated, but don’t puss out on me.”

  “Fuck off.”

  Frox smirked. He was the only one Perry opened up to, and Perry on occasion talked to Frox as if he were a brother. Frox had no idea what their age difference was. They were close in age, but Perry could be younger or older. Frox had never asked. Perry treated everyone but Frox and Archard as if he were in charge of them, which he was, and his prickly honesty was intimidating to most. Likely perceived as arrogance. Perry was probably both intimidating and arrogant, but he was also reliable. The man had a work ethic close to Frox’s, which was why they worked so well together. Frox aimed the binoculars down at the cell, inspecting the inside for another sign of what Perry claimed to have seen.

  “All of you!” Perry shouted, causing Frox to flinch. “Keep your eyes open! On those trees in the distance!” Perry raised his assault rifle and did the same as those he commanded. “Was I right?” he said to Frox.

  “It’s still in one piece,” Frox said. “But not for long.”

  It. Easier to think of him that way now. And it was moving now. The familiar movement of a human was slowly becoming the unfamiliar movement of one of them struggling against the bonds of rope that held its arms together. The days of preparedness were finally paying off. After the creature shook violently for about thirty seconds, a pink mist spritzed from its face.

  “Told you.”

  “Do I seem surprised?”

  Perry scanned the distance, his trigger finger looped around the trigger. “Won’t take long to get its restraints off now.”

  It easily slipped out of its bonds, having lost the human pinky finger on both hands. Those fingers practically fell off immediately once a human molted. The thing seemed to react with disgust that any part of it was still human at all and started clawing at its face and body, ripping more flesh off itself with its newly emerged claws.

  The thing didn’t stop until every scrap and strand of who it had been was torn away, and the howl coming from it served a purpose. It let other Molters know prey was near. Different howls answered in the distance.

  “Shit, that was fast,” Perry said.

  Frox had no choice but to silently agree. The howls encouraged the newborn Molter to snarl and growl in the cell, like a homing beacon for others of its kind. The incoming Molters were somehow able to sense others of their kind and had already been searching for the creature who used to be a man named Otto. Now they knew exactly where to go.

  “I hate how this works,” Perry said.

  “Me too,” Frox said.

  Grips on guns tightened involuntarily all the way down the top of the fort. All that readiness quickly dissolved into a controlled panic when they heard what sounded like clothing ripping, a familiar noise to almost all of them.

  “Easy,” Perry said.

  Then there was another rip, somewhere deeper in the woods. The armed men and women all heard it because—other than Perry, who commanded them, and Frox, who was in charge—they were completely silent and knew exactly what the sound meant: an Infector bomb, the type of Molter filled with the spiderlike things capable of causing any human to molt.

  Why does sound travel so well in the forest? Frox scanned the clearing. “Great.”

  “Let me see,” Perry said, reaching for the binoculars. Frox pulled the strap over his head and handed them over. Perry raised them, quickly painting over the distance, and then pointed them at the cell. “Let me kill it.”

  “What’s the difference? It’s not going anywhere.”

  “Bullshit. It’s digging like a maniac.”

  “The longer it’s alive, the more it’ll draw in.”

  “They’re almost here anyway. It’s gonna get out, and then it’ll be one more we’re gonna have to kill. They’re coming. It can’t only be the noises they make that attracts others. It can’t be. They can smell each other or something.”

  “No shit.” Frox grabbed and aimed his automatic rifle, looking through the scope, planting the red dot within on the creature below.

  The Molter was hunched, strands of flesh and clothing hanging off it like shredded ribbons. It growled in frustration as it raked deep claws into the dirt over and over and over like a machine, scooping away mounds of earth and almost able to squeeze itself under the enclosure already. No doubt it was starving for its first kill and mysteriously drawing in more of its kind.

  There was a rustling through the snowy trees in the distance, as if a powerful wind had picked up, and Perry aimed his assault rifle and fired in a random direction. The muzzle flashed blindingly.

  “Cease fire!” Frox said.

  Perry took his finger off the trigger after discharging half a magazine. The echo of the gunshots shot past the walls of Fort Perry and seemed to ricochet back at them as if someone was returning fire. “I might have hit one or two.”

  “They know exactly where we are now,” Frox growled.

  “Isn’t that the point?”

  “No, we want them to go for the—”

  Perry suddenly heaved toward Frox and shoved him, then aimed at the Molter that landed near where he had just been standing and shot it until it disappeared below the part of the wall Frox almost tumbled over.

  It squirmed on the ground beneath them, its back probably broken from the fall, but Perry fired the last rounds of his magazine into it anyway, killing it. Then he pulled out the empty magazine, shoved in a loaded one, and yanked the charging handle.

  “Thanks,” Frox said.

  Perry grinned. “Those fuckers can jump.”

  “And climb. It came from behind us.”

  “It must have been a loner, a scout sent ahead. But it went for you.”

  That was disturbing. Of all the people to go after, it went for the leader of the fort? “Watch your six!” Frox yelled.

  The men and women were already aiming outward at all angles, each with a sector of fire that covered the entirety of the area surrounding Fort Perry, anticipating the battle that was only moments away. Those who weren’t about to be part of the fight, who actually lived at Fort Perry, were armed, too, but hiding within their tents.

  “Infectors!” somebody yelled from below. One of the spotters on the ground.

  The small creatures appeared, crawling across the snow as if they were trying to do it in slow motion to remain unseen. Then there were even more rips, as if Infector bombs were the second part of the offense after the scout that almost got to Frox with the specific purpose of dismantling a defensive position. Almost like a strategy.

  “I hate ’em,” Perry said.

  Infectors were already closer, skittering black shiny legs across white snow, still wet and steaming from recently erupting from inside the bodies of the many Infector bombs that had served their only purpose.

  The trees in the distance growled and snarled and howled, revealing glimpses of bulbous eyes, long teeth, and razor-sharp claws. Soon after, they hit the ground and rushed the fort. There were so many of them Frox didn’t even have to give the command to open fire.

  CHAPTER 11

  Doreen mentioned she’d join Jonah soon, but she stayed on the couch for a few more hours, and for some reason Jonah couldn’t get to sleep even though he was tired. He guessed he had a lot on his mind too. And he missed his woman. And he was worried. She’d been so upbeat lately. He didn’t want her to regress. Temporarily was fine; he could handle it, but he didn’t want her depression to be as it had been before. For her sake and theirs. All of theirs.

  When she finally slid into bed next to him, the smoothness of her legs touching his, Jonah’s anxiety was instantly reli
eved. He spoke quietly. “I’m not sure when, but I will get us to a new home, somewhere better in every way you can imagine, and when that happens I’ll get you pregnant as many times as you want. As long as it isn’t more than three.”

  She laughed quietly. Her humor was always welcomed. That or her smile. Jonah wished he could take her picture each time she did, collect her smiles and look at them whenever he was away from her.

  “We should sleep,” she said.

  “In a bit,” he said quietly. “I have a little more to say first.”

  If Doreen hadn’t lost the baby, who she’d named after her grandfather—she’d known he was a boy all along—things might be different. They would probably stay at the cabin for a lot longer than they planned going forward. Maybe even if Henry finally showed up. Sure Jonah had to go out almost daily to hunt down the creatures that were busily destroying humanity to protect his people, but that was likely going on everywhere else on the planet too.

  It was also likely that other places in the world, the other countries, were probably doing much worse, especially where the climates were warmer and where Molters thrived. It was simple math. There were far more humans near cities and other populated areas. Humans were required to mutate, but there weren’t any people around the cabin except them. And Jonah had destroyed most or all of the Behemoth cocoons in the immediate area. And potential Molters with them. Plus he was positive there weren’t very many ex-soldiers who were still alive accomplishing everything he did daily.

  The decision to raise a child wasn’t even an easy one to begin with, when everything was normal. If their child had been born, any changes of scenery would have had to happen after he reached a certain age, unless there was no choice. But Doreen hadn’t given birth, and because it was only the three of them, they could move somewhere else more easily than if they also had an infant to protect.

  The miscarriage could have killed Doreen, and that possibility—some women had complicated births—made Jonah feel like they needed to leave before it was too late. As if something terrible was going to happen if they stayed. He wasn’t sure why he thought that way. He knew the cabin was under his control. It was probably the uncertainty of the future. Once they moved to a place deemed safe, they could be even more prepared for the unforeseeable, plan contingencies for the worst.

  Isn’t that what you’ve done here?

  Between the move to wherever that may be, Jonah and Doreen could sure use a date night. On some beach somewhere, in the sun, without a care in the world. Dinner, too, and drinks at some great restaurant. That’d be nice. When they were together, she made him feel like they were the only couple on the planet. Somewhere nice with a great view would make their time together even more special. Sometimes Jonah wondered if they were the last couple on Earth. Sort of romantic actually.

  “Do you really think it’s possible?” Doreen whispered.

  Her voice brought him back to reality. Jonah got lost in thought so easily these days. The older he got, the more it happened. Probably because he spent so much time away and also because he had so much to figure out. “Is what possible?”

  “To find somewhere better?”

  Not that he needed to but Jonah considered it again, even though that question had ricocheted around the interior of his active mind more times than he could ever count. “Yeah, I do. But I would miss living here.”

  “Me too. It’s interesting how you’re often nostalgic about a place where you’ve lived.”

  “It is. Even ones you don’t like.”

  “Really?”

  “Being deployed to the desert was like living in an ashtray. But those sunsets were really something.”

  “I don’t want to get pregnant and be unmarried.”

  If he had just drank something, he would have choked. That’s what he loved about their conversations. They could be all over the place when it came down to subject, and the locations were unique to them alone. Currently in the dark and in their bed.

  “I realize things happen, but next time I want my pregnancy to be planned.”

  “So, you want to be Mrs. Browne?”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “Doreen Browne. How’s that sound to you?”

  “It sounds good. I like it.”

  “I want your dad to be at our wedding.”

  Her inhale sounded like a gasp but a pleasant one. She scooted closer and kissed him on the cheek. “You’ve been married before. So have I.”

  Jonah waited. “And?”

  “And we both aren’t anymore.”

  “I’m confused. I thought you wanted—”

  “I do . . . but I’m afraid.”

  “Of what?” he said as he tried to get a sense of her voice, unable to read into what she meant. “That it doesn’t work?”

  “Things change. Even the world around us. For some reason I’m afraid something like marriage doesn’t matter anymore.”

  Now Jonah was really confused. She was struggling a lot more than he knew. “It will matter for Heike and our other children one day.”

  “I go back and forth about it. I love the idea, but do you really think it’s important? With everything as it is?”

  “Definitely. Absolutely I do. Even more so. It’s one of the customs that makes us human and being human is what we have over those bloodsucking creatures. It’s like me washing my hands even after I take a p—go number one. Not behaving like animals makes us superior. That’s how I see it anyway.”

  He shouldn’t have brought them up. Their mention had no place during this particular conversation, but technically they had already been mentioned. The Molting was what Doreen was referring to.

  Wanting to change the subject even further, Jonah said, “I couldn’t think of us making that kind of commitment unless Henry gave me his blessing.”

  “I know he would.”

  “I want to hear it from him personally.”

  “You respect him.”

  “I do.”

  The year Henry had insisted they stay had elapsed well over a year ago. It had almost been two. Jonah didn’t want to upset Doreen—he never did—but he suspected the worst because Henry was missing. If it were in his power, he would have arrived at the cabin already, so it was obvious that something had gone wrong. It didn’t change their hope that he was all right, no matter Jonah’s misgivings, and he had meant everything he’d said to Doreen. It would be ideal for Jonah to get Henry’s blessing to marry his daughter and then shake his hand.

  Henry had also said he would find a safe place, and Jonah had believed him, but that might not even be possible anymore. It was one of the main reasons they remained at the cabin. Henry’s hope and vigilance were admirable, but if he was gone, then so was what he intended. The reality was that every decision was now Jonah’s.

  Moving on, figuring out where to go next, would eventually be his main mission. So far his main mission had been to keep the cabin clear of threats. The timing wasn’t right for such a drastic change. Not now. Not yet. It would be smarter to wait for spring, so that was what he planned on doing.

  As if reading his mind, Doreen said, “My father is a man of his word. If he says he’ll be here, he will.”

  They were communicating well right now, maybe because they were in bed and both so tired, and he didn’t want something to slip out that would make them take a step backward. He was a little fearful of saying the wrong thing. Doreen was very protective of her father, even though she’d spent many years of her life without him in it.

  Doreen’s parents had gotten a divorce when she was a little girl, and Henry had chosen a career in America. Even though Doreen was sensing his thoughts somehow, just as many women were able to sense what a man was thinking as if they possessed supernatural power, Jonah needed to be careful and not upset her.

  Being conflicted about many things wasn’t uncommon as of late. He knew they should leave the cabin at some point, but he didn’t know exactly when or where, and he wanted Doreen to be realistic ab
out her missing father. He also didn’t want her to be upset at him for stating the obvious, as if it were his fault. Not everything was worth getting into during one conversation.

  He wanted Doreen to see things his way, how they likely would never see Henry again. All Jonah’s hopes of him showing up and Jonah asking for his permission to marry his daughter were probably nothing but a fantasy. There were immediate tasks that required attention, and dwelling on fantasies was not one of them. Even though Jonah felt that way, there was still a little hope in there somewhere.

  “I want to take her hunting tomorrow,” Jonah said. “She may have to kill a Molter one day. On her own.”

  “What does hunting have to do with that?”

  “Nerves. Firing a weapon at a moving target. Think back to basic training. A little nerve-racking firing a weapon under pressure for the first time.”

  “Yes. Even for you?”

  “Yeah, but remember I was only twelve.”

  “What kind of animal would you hunt for?”

  “Not many options. Preferably a deer but probably a rabbit.”

  “Rabbits aren’t always moving.”

  “It’s more about following through with the killing. She needs to know how. She needs to be ready.”

  Jonah waited.

  “I want you to take a two-way radio with you when you go on missions from now on.”

  “Doreen—”

  “Shh. Because of what happened in the cave. Even though I know what they remind you of.”

  The sight of the two-way radios produced a nauseating, almost visceral response somewhere inside him, reminding him of when he’d thought Doreen’s life was in danger. They were the ones they’d used when Jonah went out on his burial missions. He would never forget what he had been doing at the exact moment he’d heard the panic in her voice.

  The snow had been falling hard, and he had just brushed his thumb over the hard plastic of the compass, wiping away the flurries enough to see the direction to the next fake burial site he would dig. He was just about to take the first step of the planned paces. Instead he needed to grab the radio and thumb the call button. When he asked what was wrong, something obviously was because Doreen just replied for him to come home.