Hunted

Hunted

As his foot hit the base plate, setting off the trap, Colin screamed in agony as the traps teeth, gouged into his ankle with the force of two hundred pounds per square inch. The pain was instant, his nerve endings sending the message to his central nervous system within a fraction of a second. The violent and intense shock waves hit Colin before he hit the floor.

On his back lying on the forest floor Colin squealed like a pig, banging the floor with his fists, in reaction to the pain and also in frustration. Colin blinked away the tears in his eyes the best he could and sat up. Looking down at his foot he saw the trap. Colin thought it looked like one of those gruesome old bear traps he had seen many times on TV shows and old movies. But he did not dwell on these thoughts. His main concern was whether he could free himself, and whether he could still run? If he could not run he would be dead very soon. He did not have much time.

Bending his knees, he reached down and grabbed the trap, one jaw in each hand and pulled. His flesh made a squishing sound as he forced the teeth loose of their grip. Colin was sweating more now, than when he had been running and it dripped into his eyes stinging his sight and forcing rapid blinking. Colin wanted to rub his eyes, but he needed to keep his grip on the trap. As he managed to get the jaws open wide enough he gently eased his bloody foot up and out of danger. Letting go of the trap, it snapped ferociously shut with a loud clink. Colin rolled onto his side. The pain was slightly less now, but still agonising. He could feel his whole leg pulsing as the pain travelled up his leg in constant waves, like a constant SOS message being relayed over and over again. Colin wondered if he could run on his mangled bloody ankle. He wondered if he could even stand on it? It did not feel good.

In the dark silence of the forest Colin heard his motivation, his pursuer crashing through the undergrowth. If he could not run he would be dead.

Colin got himself into a press up position and using his arms pushed himself up so he was kneeling. He kept all the weight on his right knee, not daring to place any weight on his mangled left ankle yet. Putting some weight on his left knew he pulled his right foot forward and pushing up with just the strength of his right leg he managed to get upright. He wobbled precariously on his good leg, arms out to his side like wings, steadying himself.

The sound of his pursuer grew closer.

Placing his left foot on the ground he slowly dispersed his weight across both legs. The pain was immense, but bearable. Colin stepped forward with his left leg. Colin cried as his ankle snapped beneath his weight and he fell to the floor.

A few hundred yards away he heard his death coming as his best friend Rufus crashed through the undergrowth.

Colin wiped his eyes dry and dragged himself along the floor. He knew it was pointless to hide. He could not hide from Rufus. He was going to die. Rufus was going to kill him. He reached a tree and pushed himself up. Sitting there, his back against the trunk, legs spread out before him, he waited.Seconds later Rufus joined him. Colin could not see him, but he could hear him. About twenty yards out Rufus was circling him, watching him. Colin could hear him as he slowly trampled around him, brushing through the ferns and snapping twigs. Hell, he could even hear his breathing.

“What you waiting for then Rufus?” Colin croaked. “Come on then you bastard! Get it over with you murdering, piece of shit!”

Colin jerked his head to the left at the sound of twigs snapping. He thought Rufus was in front of him somewhere, not to the left. The forest, the dark of the night, it was playing tricks on him.

Another sound, “Shit!” Colin whispered to himself. He could not determine where Rufus was. He would not therefore, see the killer coming. This heightened Colin’s fear. Why though? Colin could not make sense of it. Surely if he were to be killed, unable to defend himself, it would be better not to see it coming? So why be more scared because you wouldn’t see Rufus coming at you? Colin was confused. Confused, but still alive! Why? Why had Rufus not attacked yet? Why was he stalling? Perhaps there was still a chance?

“Rufus, can you hear me Rufus?” Colin pleaded into the darkness. “Don’t do this Rufus, please don’t.”

Directly in front of him Colin heard a noise. Staring out into the darkness he called out again.

“We’ve been best friends for over twenty years Rufus. You’re like a brother to me. Please…I’m begging you! Don’t kill me Rufus. Let me live. I have two children for God’s sake! They call you ‘uncle’ you’re like family to me! Please remember Rufus, PLEASE?”

Colin was sobbing now. The thoughts of his children, his wife, his life, all to be lost, here in the forest, killed by his best friend. It was too much to bear. Colin did not want to die. Colin wanted to live. He wanted to see his children grow up. He wanted to grow old with his wife, Julia. He wanted to have grandchildren. He wanted to eat, drink, dance, make love, watch movies, read books, see the sun again, make a snowman in the winter, have hot showers, hot bubble baths, go on holiday, go to see bands play with his mates. He wanted his life!

But he could not run!

“Rufus, pleeese….. Don’t, I b..b..beg you.” Colin pleaded through his sobs.

Rufus came at him head on. He ripped Colin’s throat open, tore the skin from his face, and shredded his stomach, spilling his intestines into his lap. Colin was dead with seconds. Rufus was merciless and continued to tear and rip Colin’s body to pieces. And then he ate Colin’s heart and his liver before running back into the darkness of the forest.

Rufus had not understood Colin’s pleas. It had just been noise to him, the whimpering of a trapped animal. He also had no regret, or remorse for killing Colin. He had hunted Colin down, he had wanted to kill, and he had wanted to eat his flesh. And that was all there was to it. All Rufus wanted to do was kill and eat. He had not even recognised Colin.

Tomorrow, however Rufus would remember. Tomorrow Rufus would awake covered in the blood of his best friend, naked, cold and alone. And he would know what it was he had done. Tomorrow Rufus would face his own demons again, like he had thirty four years ago when he had killed his own sister. Tomorrow Rufus would once more, hate and despise that which he worked so hard to accept. For so long he had come to terms with his life. He had learned to cope with what he was. He had learned how if he killed the homeless, the unknown, the vagabonds, the whores, the tramps, the people that nobody would miss; then he could cope with the guilt. He would once again face the agony of his affliction. He would once again have to grieve and find a way to face life, knowing that he had killed his best friend, a man he called brother, a man he loved. Tomorrow he would once again have to tackle head on his curse; the curse of the lycanthrope.