The Hunted

by Mike Dellosso

  Andy shrugged. "Beats me. Something flipped his switch. Poor guy."

  "So much for your lion king. Simba Whatchamacallit," Dan said.

  "Hey." It was Jason the paramedic again. "Hey, guys?"

  Andy held the radio to his mouth. "Oh, c'mon, Jase. Think of it as a nice walk in the woods."

  "Guys, there's something out here. Something's moving in the fog."

  "It's called wildlife." Andy looked at the other guys, rolled his eyes, and smiled. "You know, squirrels, chipmunks, rabbits. Hey, watch those rabbits. I hear they can get pretty vicious."

  There was a long pause. "Seriously, guys. There's something here. It's big. Circling us." Another pause. "We're getting out of here."

  Beads of sweat popped out on Andy's forehead. "No. Don't move. We'll come to you. How far have you walked so far?"

  "I-I don't know. It's getting closer. Can't see it. Fog's too thick."

  "Stay there," Andy said. His palms were starting to sweat now too. "We're coming." He released the talk button and turned to the others. "Get your guns."

  "You can't be serious," Barry said, tapping ashes from the end of his cigarette.

  Andy shouldered his rifle. "Remember when Joe asked if there were two?"

  Barry blew out a mouthful of smoke and picked up his gun. "Say no more."

  Jason came on again. "Are-are you coming?" His voice quaked with fear. "I don't-" There was a pause and only a faint static filled the radio's speaker. "Oh my-No!" Then footsteps running, rustling, snapping. Heavy breathing. "It's-Awww!"

  The radio went dead.

  Joe bent over, reached into the box, and grabbed Maggie's bound wrists. Seeing her in the hole, so frail, so scared, but so alive, brought a lump to his throat. His eyes blurred with tears, chin quivered. "Watch your head, Mags."

  Maggie sat up, and Joe pulled her to her feet. Her legs wobbled. Joe had to grab her under her arms to steady her. She looked up at him, and for a moment, they were alone in the world, just the two of them.

  Thank You, Father. Thank You.

  As soon as she was out, Joe wrapped his arms around her and squeezed. He wasn't prepared for the emotions that flooded him. He buried his face in her matted hair and let the tears come. "Maggie. Thank God. I thought I'd lost you again."

  Her thin frame shook in his arms as waves of sobs escaped through her nose.

  "It's OK," Joe said, stroking her hair. "You're safe now."

  Joe felt a nudge on his right side. Josiah was there, holding a pocketknife. "You gonna untie her?"

  Joe wiped the tears from Maggie's eyes, then slowly peeled the duct tape off her mouth. She grimaced from the pain as the tape tore away the top layer of skin. He then pulled the rag from her mouth.

  She tried to talk. Her lips moved, but all that came out was a dry wheeze. She reached for her throat with bound hands and swallowed hard.

  "I'll get some water," Josiah said and disappeared into the hallway.

  Joe cupped her face in his hands and wiped at her tears, smearing dirt across her cheeks. "Are you OK?"

  Maggie smiled and nodded. She looked a wreck. Dried blood matted her hair and flaked on her face. Dust and dirt smeared across her gaunt cheeks. And a red rectangle outlined her mouth where the tape had been.

  Joe stroked her hair and smiled. "You're beautiful, Maggie Gill."

  While Joe cut away the tape from her wrists and ankles, Josiah reappeared with a tall glass of water. Maggie took it from him and drained it in four huge gulps. She swallowed again and rubbed her throat.

  "We have to go," she said quietly. Her voice was raspy and raw. "Stevie's the beast. It was all a hoax. He tried to kill me, and he killed Gary."

  Joe looked at Josiah, then turned back to Maggie. "Gary's dead?"

  She nodded. "He came looking for me, and Stevie shot him. I think he ditched our cars in the pond along with Gary's body. I think he shot me too."

  "What? Where?" Joe looked her up and down.

  Maggie touched the back of her head and winced. "Here. It must not have penetrated the skull, though."

  Joe carefully parted her hair and saw a golf ball-sized lump and an inch-long gash. "I don't think he shot you, Mags. It looks like he hit you with something. We better get you to the hospital; you may have a concussion."

  "No." Maggie's voice was gaining strength, and she was adamant. "We have to stop him. He's going after Glen Sterner and the Dinsmore boys. Then my dad."

  Josiah put a hand on Maggie's shoulder. "Stevie's dead."

  Maggie looked confused. Her eyes flitted between Joe and Josiah. "What? When?"

  "I shot him," Joe said. "We were hunting what we thought was the lion, and it turned out to be Stevie in an elaborate Halloween costume."

  Maggie's eyes widened. "Where's Andy? Is he OK?"

  "He's fine," Joe said. "He stayed behind with Stevie's body and a few other guys to wait for the paramedics. He's fine." He put a hand on Maggie's arm and stroked it gently. "Everything's gonna be OK now."

  Maggie shook her head. Tears returned to her eyes. "No, it won't." She swallowed again and winced. "Joe, I did something awful."

  CHAPTER 41

  ASON!" ANDY HOLLERED into the radio. "Jason! Jase! Answer me." He released the talk button, waited a second-C'mon, Jase, answer, man-then pressed it again. "Jase! You there? Jase? This isn't funny."

  Nothing. Only dead air.

  Barry took another draw of his cigarette and looked at Mike; Mike looked at Dan, then all three looked at Andy. He was still holding the radio up to his mouth. "Jason. Jason. Come in, man. Jason?"

  Barry held his gun to his chest, cigarette teetering on the edge of his lips. "What's going on here?"

  "I don't like this," Mike said, picking up his rifle and clicking off the safety.

  "Me neither," Dan added. His face had gone white, and he fingered the trigger of his rifle as he stared into the fog.

  Andy clipped the radio to his belt. He was about to lose control of his team, and that wouldn't help them stay alive. And staying alive was the main objective now. Something was still out there. Joe was right; there were two. But if Stevie was the beast, what was out there? "Everybody calm down. We'll stick together and work our way out of here. Make sure your weapons are ready, but keep a cool head. We'll come back for him"-he motioned toward Stevie-"when the fog lifts. He's not going anywhere."

  The four men stuck close and began lightly stepping over and around fallen trees, broken branches, and tangled undergrowth. The fog was still oppressive, and visibility was still no more than fifteen, twenty feet, making progress slow and tense. They pushed ahead in silence.

  Andy allowed himself to fall behind the pack by a few feet. He needed to clear his head-watch, listen, sense. He was an experienced hunter, as were the others, but under these conditions-the fog and the unknown that lurked in it-experience alone did little to comfort him.

  When they had pushed a few hundred yards into the fog, Barry suddenly stopped and held up a hand. He pointed to his ear, then to the fog in front of them. They all stood motionless, listening, for a full minute before Mike whispered, "What are we doing?"

  Barry pointed in front of them again. "I heard something."

  "I didn't hear anything," Dan whispered.

  "Neither did I," Mike said.

  They all looked at Andy, who held up a hand. He heard it too.

  They stood like statues and listened to the silence, searching it for even the slightest sound-a leaf rustling, a branch moving, a twig snapping.

  Then, snap. They all jerked their heads forward and stared at the fog. It was faint, but definitely a twig breaking. The muted rustle of wet leaves then broke the silence.

  Andy's heart pounded. With sweaty hands he gripped his rifle, eyes scanning the fog, watching, waiting. It was all he could do.

  Barry raised his gun to eye level, and the others followed his lead.

  The sound had come from directly in front of them, just beyond the cover of fog.

  It was quiet again.
Too quiet. An eerie chill blew over Andy's skin.

  Then...

  Snap! Crunch.

  Something moved, a shadow, a phantomlike image sliced through the fog. There, then gone.

  Andy saw Barry jerk his gun a few inches to the left. "No-"

  BOOM!

  Boom!

  The sound of distant gunfire echoing off the Dark Hills startled Joe, and he jumped. "What was that?" He reached for his radio and remembered he'd turned it off. He pushed the power button, waited for the LCD screen to spring to life, then squeezed TALK. "Andy. What was that all about?"

  Boom! Boom! BoomBoom! More shots fired, more echoes.

  Joe yelled into the radio, "Andy! Can you hear me?"

  The radio crackled and squeaked. "Joe."

  BOOM! That came across the radio loud and clear.

  "Joe. Something's..." Andy's voice was breaking up. "Something's ... here."

  The radio fell silent.

  Something was circling them. Branches broke, twigs snapped, first in front, then to the right, then behind.

  Barry spun around, following the sound. Boom! He fired again and quickly slammed another shell into his shotgun.

  Leaves rustled in front of them again, and something moved. A ghostly shadow glided through the fog.

  To Andy's right, Dan was in a panic. His eyes were wide as baseballs, sweat trickled from his hairline, and his hands massaged the gun pressed against his shoulder. "It's out there, isn't it? It's gonna kill us."

  Andy stared at Dan, raised a hand, and kept his voice low. "Dan-"

  Dan shifted his weight from his right leg to his left and back again. "Well, I'm not going to wait around for it to kill me. If it's a hunt it wants, I'm the hunter." His voice was shaky. His hands continued to massage his gun as he pushed forward into the fog.

  "Dan," Andy said, straining to keep his voice low. "What are you doing? Get back here."

  Dan ignored him and disappeared into the fog.

  They all waited. A few seconds later there was a rustle of leaves, running footsteps. Dan hollered, fired his rifle-Boom!-then a terror-stricken scream sliced through the fog like an arrow.

  "Dan!" Barry screamed, panic shaking his voice. "Dan!"

  Dan shrieked again, a hideous howl that made Andy's blood run cold.

  Barry looked at Andy and Mike. "Well?"

  "Don't go after him," Andy said.

  Barry lifted his gun and turned away. "You gonna stop me? I'm goin' in."

  Andy reached for his arm, but it was too late. Barry had already disappeared into the fog.

  Andy cursed, gripped his gun tighter, and followed Barry into the unknown, leaving Mike standing by himself.

  Mike was paralyzed with fear, suffocating in the fog.

  His claustrophobia was acting up, and the weight of the fog pressing in around him was almost too much to bear. He wanted to scream, run, claw at his skin, shoot himself, anything to get out of there.

  Boom! Another shot rang through the air, bouncing off the ominous hills that overlooked the town.

  "Andy. Come in, Andy."

  The radio crackled. There was static, then the sound of footsteps, leaves, branches, hollering, a distant scream. Then silence again.

  Maggie was beside herself, frantic. "Joe, we have to help them!"

  "Joe!" Mike's voice screeched over the radio. "Joe! Help us. Please help us. It's gonna kill us all. I can't take it. I need to get out of here."

  Joe could tell by the edge in Mike's voice that he was about to lose it. "Mike? Mike? Are you listening to me?"

  Silence, heavy breathing, then, "Yes."

  "Mike, stay where you are, OK? Is anyone else around you?"

  "No. They all went after it. I think they're dead."

  Electricity ran down Joe's spine, and the hair on his nape stood on end. "Stay where you are, Mike. Don't go any farther. I'm coming for you."

  There was a moment of silence before Joe said, "Mike, you still there?"

  "Yeah."

  "Do you know where you are? How far you hiked from Stevie?"

  Pause. Labored breathing. "Uh, I don't know. Maybe a couple hundred yards, maybe three. I don't know. Can't tell for sure. I think we were heading due west."

  "OK. I'm coming. Hang in there. And maintain radio contact."

  "Yeah."

  Joe clipped the radio to his belt and turned to Maggie. Her face had gone pale. She seated herself on the sofa, held her hands to her chest, and gently rocked back and forth. "This is all my fault," she said. "Andy and Gary are dead, and it's my fault."

  Joe put both hands on her shoulders and looked her right in the eyes. "Maggie, listen to me. There will be time later for talk. Right now we need to act. Are you feeling well enough to make a few phone calls?"

  Maggie bit her lower lip and nodded.

  "Are you sure?"

  She nodded again.

  "Josiah and I"-he paused and looked at Josiah, who nodded his agreement-"Josiah and I are going to go get Mike-it's Mike Kline out there. I need you to call the state police and Game Commission and tell them we need some guys down here now. Tell them there's a man-eater in Yates Woods, it's killed several men already, and it's not about to stop. Then call an ambulance and get yourself to a hospital." He looked at her, meeting her eyes with his. "Can you do that?"

  There was fear in her eyes-intense fear. "Yes. State police. Game Commission. Ambulance."

  He turned to leave, but she caught his arm. "Wait!" He faced her and saw the tears that had welled up in her eyes. "Be careful, Joe. I can't lose you too."

  Joe knelt on one knee in front of her and put his hands on her knees. "Do you know what it is out there?"

  She shook her head and lost eye contact with him. "No, not exactly. I-I think it's a lion."

  Joe tightened his jaw. An image of a man-eating lion strutting through a tiny African village, the bloody and tattered clothes of his last victim hanging from his mouth, flashed into his mind. "OK. Make those phone calls as soon as we leave. We're gonna need those guys down here as soon as possible."

  Joe stood up, bent at the waist, and kissed Maggie on the forehead. "Do what you have to do." Then he turned to Josiah, who had already gathered the guns and was standing by the door. "You ready?"

  Josiah nodded. "Guns are loaded. Let's do this."

  The two men left the trailer and entered the woods, armed with one pump-action shotgun apiece, a compass, and the handheld radio-hardly a proper outfitting for hunting a lion, if that's what it really was.

  Joe unclipped his radio. "Mike. How ya doing, buddy?"

  "I-I'm still here. You coming?"

  "We're on our way. Keep your cool, OK? Don't do anything stupid."

  "O-OK."

  Joe clipped the radio back onto his belt. He tried to still the tremble in his hand and looked at Josiah.

  Josiah dipped his chin and met Joe's eyes. He lifted a hand and rested it on Joe's shoulder. "Don't fear, my friend. God's here with us. He'll guide us." He then talked to the Lord, beseeching Him to guide them, to lift the fog, to protect Mike, and to give them steady hands and a sure shot if the time came. "And, Lord," he prayed, "draw Maggie to Yourself-"

  "Joe?" It was Mike again. His voice was quiet, almost a whisper.

  Oh, no. Joe held the radio close to his mouth. A sick feeling crept into his stomach. "Mike, what is it?"

  "Something's here. I-I heard footsteps." His voice wavered with terror.

  Joe looked at Josiah, who was silently moving his lips. Praying. Good. "Hold still, Mike. Is your gun loaded and ready?"

  "Uh, yeah. But I only have two shells left." There was a brief pause, then, "Oh, oh, there it is again. It's in front of me."

  "We're coming, Mike."

  CHAPTER 42

  IKE STARED DOWN the barrel of his gun, watching the haze but seeing nothing, only hearing. A twig cracked, some leaves rustled ...

  Joe and Josiah ran through the woods, cutting blindly through the fog. Trees jumped out at them, fallen branches
rose out of the ground, shrubs and bushes reached for them. They ran, they dodged, they jumped, all the time keeping their eyes on the ground ten feet in front of them. Joe held his rifle in his left hand and the compass in his right. Josiah gripped his shotgun with both hands, one finger on the trigger at all times.

  Mike listened, his ears picking up every sound. Another rustle. Another crack. A low rhythmic hiss. Was that breathing? The sounds were moving to his right. He followed them with his eyes, with the barrel of his gun.

  Suddenly, the sounds ceased. He held his breath and listened. Through the dense silence he could still pick up the low hiss. It was a little to his right. Two o'clock.

  He let out his breath and rotated his shoulders. He pointed his gun at the sound, listening, separating the hiss from the rhythm of his own breathing and the thumping of his pulse.

  It was hidden by the fog, but it was there. He could almost see the sound. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. It was definitely the sound of breathing.

  He aimed his gun into the fog, sighting down the long barrel. It was now or never.

  Boom!

  Joe and Josiah both flinched and pulled up when the sound of gunfire ripped through the fog like a crack of thunder.

  Joe tore the radio from his belt. "Mike! Mike! Talk to me!"

  The radio crackled, and he could hear ragged breathing. "I-I think I hit it." Mike's voice was almost a whisper as it cracked and hissed over the radio. "Not sure, though. I need to reload."

  The radio went dead.

  Mike pumped his shotgun and stood still, stock against his shoulder, metal against his cheek, watching the fog on the other end of the barrel, listening. One more shot. Make it count. His eyes studied the gray haze until it became a blur. The only sound was the wheeze of his breathing. His asthma was kicking up.

  Snap.

  Mike froze, paralyzed by fear. His blood went cold, skin tingled. Every hair on his body prickled. It was right behind him, just feet away. Its breathing was barely distinguishable from his own, but it was so close he could feel the heat of its breath. He couldn't run; it would pounce on him before he even shifted his weight forward. And he had no time to spin around and get a shot off.