Peering through the bullet holes, my eyes wander with fatigue for my hunter. The stench of blood and rotting carcasses flows around me, and with each heartbeat passing, I wonder how much longer I have.
Off to my left, Jared’s breathing quickens, and whatever is left of his torso is tattered in vomit and blood. His hands spread across his naked chest as wide as stars as he struggles to cover as many gunshots as he can. Though he is still here with me right now, the scent of death begins to overcome the both of us.
“Come on now. Lets not play games here. You have nowhere to run! Your surrounded by an easy 6 miles of bear infested forests. Your not going anywhere, so don’t even bother hiding.” The hunters voice calls out, loading shell after shell into his combat tactical 12-gauge shotgun. Each click of a round reminds me of all my friends, now with limbs severed or faces unrecognizable from this gun. Empty cases of where brains and mouths and eyes once were line the walls around my killer and I.
“Jarred, please be quiet…” I begin to whisper with plea “…Your breathing too loud, he will hear us” I say with sobs of freight. It’s not fair I tell myself, I don’t belong here.
Another crack of his gun blows away a pantry door, exposing a nude body dripping with organs hanging by barely a string.
“I can make it painless hunny! Don’t do this to yourself” he calls out with sincerity.
I look over to jarred, now breathing heavier and heavier, slowly beginning to create more noise, and soon it hits me he’s dead anyways. With refusal to allow him to give away our hiding spot, I reach to a knife above me resting on the counter and slowly slide the palm of my hand over the handle.
“Jarred, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…” I say, my chin curling above my lips as I begin to cry. I lift the blade to his throat and begin to slide it across his neck. Struggling, he lifts is hands to mine, crusted with blood, and resists with all the force he has, begging and pleading as I end his life to save mine. Once the blade has reached from ear to ear, his hands scratch and claw to my shoulders, and then drops to his sides. Leaned up against the cabinet, an empty and incomplete expression overcomes the entire scene around me, and all I can think of is the car ride here with him. With all of my friends, then jump to our flat tire. Then jump to the nice many towing our car. Jump to watching my friend have his nose and ears and eyelids sliced away with a razor blade. Then jump to me here right now, where survival of the fittest is more real a term than ever. With the silence and seclusion, I find that I may just have gotten a chance to escape.
As I move into the next room, ducked and crouched beneath furniture, I side step across body after body, mixing into puddles of organs and limbs so neatly spread across the living room floor. Open eyes stare at me from every direction, the same helpless cry expressed on their faces. Death in physical form.
Almost to the door, I stand to make my way outside, and then there he is, right at the doorway, laughing as he pumps his gun. I stand still in shock, my hand slowly drooping down from the door handle to my side, my face twisting into itself in horror.
“ You really thought you could do it too huh?” the hunter said, stepping closer and closer towards me.
“You really thought you were going to make it? Come now sweat-heart, be realistic. You’ve seen the people I have in here. Now out of all the hundreds of people I’ve dragged out here, what makes you think your that much better that you could survive?” he asks sarcastically. I poke my head just around my shoulder to see if its all real, and then jerk my head back from the terror of finding nothing but the dark abyss of the barrel pointed right at my eyes. The warmth of the dead bodies leaves me sweating, and my hair hangs over my face miserably.
He cock his gun once more, perhaps just for the effect, and after a few moments of silence, a click of an empty chamber echoes through my head.
“ Oh damn” he calls aloud.
Immediately and without hesitation, my heal lifts behind me and runs directly into his crotch, dropping him to his knees. I then turn and grab the shotgun he threw down, and make a run through the house. The hunter moans and grunts as he makes his way to his feet, and soon I hear his footsteps travel around the kitchen searching for something. As I move around the house, I finally come across a box full of shells, and begin to load my weapon. Timidly yet without question, I begin to walk slowly from door to door, awkwardly swinging the barrel around in search of my prey. As he steps out of the kitchen, I find him stood firmly and securely in place, laughing with a ducked head.
“All right, touché my friend, touché” he begins. Stepping closer and closer towards me. Each steps sends me backwards, farther and farther up a flight of stairs.
“However you and I both know that you’re not a killer,” he continues, tipping his cowboy hat and leaving it comically atop the head of one of his victims. I find myself atop these stairs, shining with the moonlight that reflects off of the blood across the floor, as he makes his way up.
“So how bout’ we call a truce? No harm done, just part ways from here” he says with a voice filled with lies. Only steps away, I feel as if I’m in the presence of Satan himself. I hold the gun more aggressively as he moves closer and closer.
“…Now just give me the gun,” he says with a close, now inches away.
“You’re no killer hunny. You aint’ fooling nobody” he chuckles with each word, that cowboy westerner accent. Just the thought of him living makes me sick to my stomach.
“you’re right. I’m not a killer,” I say, my face now gazing at my feet.
“I’m a survivor” I finish, lifting the gun to his face and abruptly pulling the trigger, sending his faceless body tumbling down the stairs.
I quickly move down the stairs, ignoring the hunter’s lifeless body, and dash out the door to find armed policemen aiming their guns at me. I drop my gun and mumble under my breath “what precious timing”.
By PLL