HUNTED Series

Chapter 2: Run, Reid, Run

Reid runs until his lungs threaten to cave in. Reid runs until his ankles lose their feeling. Reid runs, the flight of a terrified animal, flinging himself forward into the unknown because he has no other choice and simply isn't able to stop himself.

Reid runs until he can't anymore. His body betrays him at last, the exertion too much for his weakened state. He staggers to a halt in the near dark of the path, barely catching himself from falling over as his equilibrium rushes to keep up with the rest of him. He collapses forward, hands on knees. What is left of his lungs heaves for air. Adrenaline pours through his system, sharpening his senses, driving away the last of whatever drug his kidnappers gave him that dulled his mind.

At least he can think now. But he isn't sure that's a good thing. Especially when he looks up and finds himself so exposed. What the hell is he thinking? He ducks into the trees off the path, suddenly not sure if hiding is even an option. Did that kid try to hide? If so, it didn't work out so well for him. Reid's mind continues to spin with questions he has no way of answering. Still, they are more coherent than they were before his headlong dash.

Who was that boy? Where did he come from? More importantly, who killed him? And why was he left on the path?

As a warning. Reid's brain works that much out. Of course. But why warn him at all? If he is prey for something or someone, if this is some kind of sick game and he is the target, why tip him off?

They want me afraid. More fun for the hunter.

His mind refuses to accept it. He has to be overreacting. Stuff like this just doesn't happen in real life. It's way too Hollywood. Any second now someone will show up and flash a camera in his face and laugh, telling him how stupid he looked running from a movie prop. Reid shudders from the memory of the boy's entrails. No. That was real. Too real. It isn't possible. And yet, here he is, alone and abandoned in the dark, deep in a forest he knows nothing about, left there by two men who seemed to think his luck has run out. How do they know?

He's still in shock and fights the effects, knowing it is slowing him down, keeping him stupid, forcing him to react instead of doing what he needs to do to survive. He thanks his father silently in the dark for teaching him how to handle himself in the woods.

To a point. Good old Dad never mentioned being kidnapped, dumped and hunted in the wilderness survival boot camp he made Reid run through for two weeks every summer. It had been fun, then. This is most definitely nothing like that.

Still, his father's levelheaded nature wins through and shakes Reid into some kind of calm. Enough he is able to work some things out.

I need answers. But first, I need to find out where I am and if I can get away.

It isn't much of a plan, but it makes him feel a little better. Just the idea of acting settles his mind and helps him focus. Reid turns and looks up at the moon. First thing's first. Bearings and direction. If he can figure out which way is north, he will at least be able to pick a goal and follow it consistently. Lost In The Woods 101. Basics, really. Stuff he's known most of his life. But at the moment, those basics are the only lifeline he has to cling to. Not for the last time, Reid whispers another thank you to his dead father.

His eyes register a flicker in the trees across the path. It's only the barest of movements, but it freaks him out and forces him deeper into the surrounding forest. Reid struggles for calm. He needs to focus. Everything that happens from now on is important and if he doesn't keep it together, he will die. The kid with the empty gut and the rotting entrails convinced him of that.

The flicker gets closer. Just a brief shadow passing, something darker than night moving through the trees, weaving in and out of sight. At times it disappears for so long Reid is sure it's his imagination until it shows up again. He holds his breath and eases himself low to the ground, ignoring the scratches he gets from the underbrush and the risk of poison oak or ivy, keeping to the full shadows. Every movement crushes needles, stirs the dirt at his feet, filling his nose with the smell of the forest. He does his best to be silent. After all, it could be an animal. Tons of big cats and even bears in these woods, he's sure. He desperately tries to remember what his father told him about surviving animal attacks, all the while trying to convince himself it must be some sort of carnivorous predator looking for dinner.

For some reason, he's pretty sure it isn't.

When the flickering shadow emerges from the darkness and sets foot on the path, Reid softly exhales through his mouth in a combination of fear and relief. Not an animal then. A man, dressed all in black. Reid half wishes it was some kind of wild creature. On the other hand, if it were, he might have a harder time. A bear or a mountain lion could take him out with little chance of defending himself. There is hope he might escape from a man.

Reid watches the dark figure glide silently down the path, everything about him screaming predator and he suddenly wonders if he's right to think there is any escape from this enemy. The hunter's clothing is tight to his body, right down to a full hood that covers his head but leaves his pale face exposed. Reid doesn't see any weapons. He knows that means little. Besides, it's not the man's attire that freaks Reid out the most. It's the way he moves. Every motion is so fluid Reid shudders. There is no way a man can move like that, not even the best trained commando. There is an unnaturalness to it, more animal than human, but even beyond what a skulking cat could pull off.

Reid's panic takes him over for a heartbeat, screaming at him to get away. The man is a monster, has to be, something out of a horror novel or a scary movie, a creature that only looks like a man. Reid spends the next ten seconds being wrenched back and forth between his terror and his need to understand. He finally manages to wrestle himself back under control just as the hunter comes to a halt across from him.

Every cell in Reid's body demands he run, and now. He holds himself in check, his father's patient voice telling him over and over, never run from a predator. Always best to hide or play dead. Although supposedly making loud noises would do the trick as well, but somehow Reid doesn't think that will do him any good. The idea is so ludicrous he almost giggles from the stress. His skin vibrates with the agony of keeping still.

He has to tell himself over and over that this is just a man. Nothing special. Just very well trained. He has no way of knowing if he can outrun this hunter and hiding seems his best choice. Playing dead will only end with him being dead. Hiding is it. But his instincts are on fire and he desperately needs to put distance between them any way he can.

Sweat forms on Reid's upper lip, trickling down the corner of his mouth. Not thinking about it, he licks it away, eyes never leaving the man on the path. The dark head c***s to the side as Reid's tongue moves over his skin, as though hearing the near silent swipe of flesh on flesh. Reid freezes and holds his breath. No way. There is no way the man heard him. And yet, the dark figure turns further toward him and lifts his head. Reid hears snuffling. Impossible. Crazy. But it's the only explanation.

The man is searching for him by smell.

For a moment an irrational thought crosses Reid's mind as he crouches there in the darkness, watching the hunter come closer and closer. What if this man can help him? Reid is running only because of the boy he found. What if this man wasn't involved but is here to save him? Reid has no idea what is going on. Maybe if he cries out he will be saved. He catches himself as his weight shifts forward unbidden, his frantic mind searching for the logic in what is happening to him. He holds himself still and quiet again, battling his terror while he resists wiping the sweat from his face.

He'll hear me.

How, Reid hasn't a clue. But he knows it is true. And when the man's face turns toward the bushes where Reid hides, when he freezes on the path and focuses on Reid crouching in the shadows, though there is no way he should be able to spot anything in the heavy black, Reid is grateful he stilled that impulse.

This man is deadly. There is no question of that, no doubt. Trusting this man would be like handing himself over to the devil. For all Reid knows, that's exactly who the hunter is. And he is hunting. Everything about him yells it out loud despite his body's silence. There is no mistake, no misunderstanding.

And he knows Reid is there.

Run. He needs to run. But he is trapped in the underbrush. He can feel the prickle of thorns, the tug of the branches around him, as though the very forest has turned against him and will serve him up as a sacrifice to the hunter. Reid knows he might be able to escape deeper into the trees, but without light to see by he will most likely fall in his flight and be caught. He stays frozen, new indecision tearing him in half. He is unable to act as the man takes one sliding step closer, then another. It's like the battle between flight and terror cannot be won and Reid is caught in the middle with certain death only a breath away.

His heart is about to burst from it, he is certain. He needn't wait for the hunter to catch him. His own body might kill him first. But even while he thinks it, Reid is also sure of one more thing. If the man catches him, Reid will die. And no one will ever know.

Something starts out of the bushes further down the path. The sound is so sudden and loud in the stillness, Reid has to clamp both hands over his mouth to keep from crying out. His eyes immediately go to the source, expecting a deer or maybe a fox. Instead, he spots a skinny figure staggering onto the trail. It's a boy, about the same age as the other, the dead one on the tree. He stills like a terrified rabbit, face turned back toward Reid for a second before he tries to run.

He is clearly terrified.

Where the hell did he come from? Reid's mind can't keep up. Not so the hunter. The man is in liquid motion without hesitation, prey in hand before the boy is able to take a step.

"Please!" The kid's voice is high-pitched and catches at the end. "Please!" Reid can see him between the man's legs, sneakers beating useless time against the ground, small fists thumping against the hunter's chest, his struggles ignored. His face is just visible in the moonlight. He looks like he's dead already, skin ghostly pale where it isn't streaked with filth, eyes sunken pits of black in the dark. "Don't kill me, please!"

The man says something. At least, Reid thinks so. It sounds partway between words and a chuckle. But the hunter can't be laughing. Can't be. Not while his arm lifts, hand raising high above his head, his intent obvious. There is nothing funny about the way he holds his body, how he clutches the boy so tightly there is no escape. The edge of a knife shines silver in the moonlight.

Reid knows what is coming. Feels his own guts wrench in sympathy and fear as he remembers the coils of intestine, the black, gaping hole in the abdomen of another boy. It can't happen again, not here, not now. And if it does, he can't be there to watch.

Reid tries to hold back but his self-preservation is somehow overridden by his need to save the kid. He yells, surges forward, tries to get to them but he is too late as the knife descends with startling speed.

The boy screams, his cry driving Reid's panic to take over control of his mind. As the shriek ends abruptly, sighing to an endless gurgle, Reid spins and bolts down the path, instinct finally winning over valor, the sound of the strange boy's death urging him on.

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