The Hunted

by Mike Dellosso

  The light urged Caleb on; the woman's voice grew louder. But fear kept him pinned to the floor, hidden in his hole. The beast was out there. This was a trick, a ploy, an ambush.

  "Fear not."

  The deep voice was there again, intermingling with the woman's.

  "My dear child, fear not."

  The woman's voice called to him, his name-"Caleb."

  The light grew brighter, the voices louder, filling the darkness.

  "Surrender to Me. Let Me."

  "Caleb. Caleb."

  The beast wrinkled its nose and snarled again, batting at the air with its paw. It let out a puff of hot breath, crouched its hind end as if ready to pounce. Muscles rippled and contracted along the length of its thick torso.

  Then, as if some unseen hand had closed its mouth and stroked its nappy mane, it sat on its haunches and retracted its paws. Peace fell over the beast's face. It lifted its head and yawned, its tongue curling in its mouth like a blue ribbon. It then tilted its head to the left and blinked at Joe, eyelids meeting in the middle of the red and yellow orbs.

  Joe exhaled-he didn't even realize he had stopped breathing-and slumped his shoulders.

  BOOM! BOOM! BOOMBOOM! A volley of gunfire exploded from the top of the stairway, filling the cellar with thunder.

  Joe flinched, stumbled backward, and fell to the dirt. He saw the beast recoil, then roll onto its side.

  Its left flank was open and bleeding, a gaping wound.

  "Surrender."

  "Caleb."

  "Surrender to Me, child."

  I will.

  The light grew brighter still, blinding him until he had to squint to shield his eyes. A face appeared in the light, a familiar face, soft and caring, loving and peaceful, surrounded by light. It was the woman. Her mouth was moving, forming words that he now heard clearly: "Caleb. Caleb. Sweetie."

  The face sharpened, and a sense of recognition overwhelmed him with a rush of warmth and peace and emotion.

  Mom.

  Joe sat in the dirt, propped on one hand, watching as the beast's chest rose and fell, his own chest matching its rhythm. The thing lifted its gnarled head and looked at Joe. The yellow eye seemed to intensify with hatred for a brief second before the light in it waned like a dying bulb. Then it blinked once, slowly, and the broad chest fell for the last time.

  "Saunders? You OK?" A man's voice bounced down the stone steps.

  Joe climbed to his feet. His legs were wobbly, and he wasn't sure if they would support his weight. "Uh, yeah. I think so."

  He looked at the beast again. It was dead. Its lifeless body lay still on the dirt floor, blood pooling around it. "Josiah Walker's down here too. He's hurt bad. We need some light."

  Then, as if the OK had been given, men began pouring down the steps-Game Commission officers, state troopers, paramedics, some in uniform, some in civilian clothes, but all hurrying about, flashlights in hand, filling the dank cellar with light.

  Maggie had succeeded.

  Joe's legs finally gave out, and he would have collapsed if not for two state troopers holding him up. He turned and saw Josiah lying in the dirt. Three paramedics hovered over him, checking his vitals, splinting his arm. One held an oxygen mask over his mouth; another injected something into his arm.

  "C'mon, Joe," one of the troopers said. "Let's get you out of here." His big voice sounded familiar. Joe looked at the nameplate pinned above his right breast pocket: Patrick. Lieutenant Big Head.

  "You believe me now, Lieutenant?"

  Patrick furrowed his brow and frowned. "Yeah. I do."

  "How's Maggie?"

  "She was taken to Chambersburg Hospital. She'll be OK. Let's get you outside so the medics can take a look at you."

  CHAPTER 45

  OE SAT BESIDE Maggie's hospital bed and prayed. He'd been finding himself doing that a lot since the hunt, as he called it, two days ago. God seemed to be continuously on his mind of late, and he'd catch himself praying when he didn't even realize he was. And he'd spent a lot of that prayer time petitioning God on behalf of Maggie, interceding for her, begging God to save her.

  He loved her. It was that simple. After all they'd been through, after all the lies and cover-ups, he still loved her. Fact is, he'd never stopped loving her... and now realized he never would.

  He put his hand on Maggie's and prayed a silent prayer, asking God to touch her heart and renew her spirit.

  She stirred, let out a slight groan, and fluttered her eyelids open.

  Joe smiled and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "Hey, Mags. Good morning."

  She smiled back, a tired, worn smile. Her eyes were glassy, her head wrapped in a thick white bandage, lips cracked and dried.

  Joe had run into Dr. Houserman in Maggie's room and learned that she had suffered a severe concussion and skull fracture. When the paramedics brought her in, she had a blood clot on her brain from the blunt head trauma. Surgery was required to remove the clot and release the pressure on the brain. She'd be fine, though.

  Maggie licked her cracked lips. "Good morning." She looked at the water bottle on the rolling table by her bed. "Would you mind handing me the water?"

  Joe handed her the bottle, and she took a long sip. "Mm. I never thought lukewarm water would taste so good."

  "I'll go get you some ice," Joe said, starting to stand.

  "No. It's OK. Just sit with me awhile."

  Joe sat back down and patted Maggie's hand. "How are you feeling?"

  "My head feels like it's gonna pop, but other than that, not bad. Just really tired."

  Joe stroked Maggie's cheek with the back of his fingers.

  "Tell me," she said.

  "Tell you what?"

  "Tell me what happened. How long have I been out?"

  "Two days."

  Maggie sighed and blinked her eyes open wide. "Tell me what happened."

  Joe continued stroking her cheek. "After the hunt, the state police were crawling all over the woods and Stevie's trailer. They found Gary's body in the trunk of his cruiser. And..." He paused.

  "Tell me," Maggie prompted.

  Joe hesitated, then continued. "Andy's gone. So are Mike Kline, Barry Wagman, Dan Berwager, and two paramedics. They found Glen Sterner's body too. He was killed in his backyard. Your dad's fine. So are the Dinsmore boys. Josiah was attacked, but he's OK, awake and talking, anyway. Patrick said his guess is that Stevie couldn't have been responsible for any of the attacks. Whatever he was doing in that monster getup was all part of his illness."

  Tears filled Maggie's eyes. She tried to blink them away, but it was no use, so she allowed them to flow freely. "What was it?"

  Joe paused. An image of the beast flashed through his mind. How could he describe it? It wasn't what they had all thought it was, that was for sure. "It wasn't a lion... and it was, sort of. It's hard to put into words, you know? It was a monster. That's the best way to describe it." He paused again, satisfied with his answer and still far from satisfied. There were some things in this world that simply couldn't be put into words... if that thing was even of this world. "No one can figure out where it came from. Some state troopers were going through Stevie's trailer and found a paw and Philip Yates's old journal with all kinds of African witchdoctor stuff in it. I was just over to see Josiah; he has an interesting take on the whole thing."

  "Yeah? I'd like to hear it."

  "Some other time, Mags. You need your rest."

  Maggie grabbed Joe's hand and held it. "I'd like to hear it, Joe. Josiah may be an old coot, but I admire him. Tell me what he thinks."

  Joe sighed, then smiled at Maggie. "He thinks the beast or whatever was a manifestation of Stevie's obsession with revenge. And somehow Stevie was demonically controlling it. Something to do with the witchdoctor stuff. Think about it; everyone the monster attacked at first had somehow wronged Stevie in the past. Hopkins, Owen-"

  "I know," Maggie said. "Revenge. Just like Yates."

  "Revenge," Joe said.

  Magg
ie gave Joe's hand a weak squeeze. "And what about you? It attacked you and you never did anything to Stevie."

  "It attacked me but didn't harm me. It had nothing on me. Josiah thinks that after Stevie died, the beast was still controlled by dark powers and went on a hunting spree. Or maybe it was a demon. Maybe it was a devil lion, like Barry said."

  "And what do you think?"

  "I don't know. It's too much to take in right now. All I care is that it's over and you're safe. For now, I'll leave the theorizing to Josiah."

  "How's Caleb?"

  Joe gave a little chuckle. "He's awake, doing fine, and eating like a horse. Rosa should be able to take him home soon. He'll need a lot of physical and occupational therapy, but the doctor says he should be fine. He's a strong kid."

  Maggie hesitated and her face grew serious. "Joe, I need to tell you the truth-"

  "Shhh. Don't, Mags. I already know everything."

  "But you need-"

  Joe put his finger over her mouth. "Maggie, please don't. Really, I already know everything I need to know. I know about your family's past and all the secrets. I know about the cover-ups too. Cummings and Owen and Hopkins."

  "And about Gail Bauer?"

  "I know about the murder."

  "But there's more-"

  "Mags, really, we'll talk later, OK? We'll have plenty of time later."

  She sighed heavily. Her chin quivered as she fought back the sobs. "I'm sorry, Joe. I'm so sorry."

  Joe squeezed her hand and smiled at her. "I know you are, Mags." He paused, and for a moment, lost himself in her clouded eyes. A wave of emotion washed over him as memories of their past crashed through his mind. "I'll be with you," he said, tears puddling in his own eyes.

  Maggie bit her lower lip so hard it turned white.

  "I love you, Maggie. I always have and always will. I'm not going anywhere this time."

  Maggie released her lip and allowed silent sobs to shake her body. Joe put his cheek to hers.

  After she had cried all her tears, Maggie lifted Joe's head and held his face in her hands. "How?"

  "How what?"

  "How can you still love me?"

  Thank You, Joe prayed, knowing it was God who had prompted her to ask such a simple question, opening the door for him to share the wonder of His unconditional love.

  He took Maggie's hands in his, bent forward, and gently pressed his lips against hers. "My dear Maggie, let me tell you about a love I experienced... "