Fox Hunt

It's a bad decision I know, but never was the sharpest tool in the shed. There's a less than 20% survival rate for runners and yet people like me keep applying. I spent the last two years accumulating credit card debt and jamming needles into my forearm. Now I'm here three months sober in a blue school bus with a handful of soon to be dead strangers. We all chose to run. I looked around at the silent companions around me. None of them met my gaze. There was an unspoken understanding between all of us. We were not good people. We were all cowards trying to find an easy way out. Desperate and at the end of our ropes. Shame and denial mixed over our heads like a storm cloud. I heard someone whisper to their neighbor, but they stayed quiet as they were met with no response. The pressure built in my ears as the vehicle climbed higher and higher up the steep mountain road. I could see the hazy orange light of the setting sun painting the trees that lined the thin strip of pavement. Not bad for my last sunset… As I looked at it I started to quietly weep. It had fully occurred to me that I was going to die tonight.

When we arrived the bus pulled through a checkpoint lined with blinding floodlights. A large iron gate shut behind us as we drove inside. It got dark fast. Once we were out of sight of the checkpoint the only illumination was the bus’ shitty headlights that didn’t shine more than five feet ahead of us. Then there was the faintest sound of pop music cutting though the natural animal calls and creaks of the forest. It grew louder as we neared the starting hill. There was a pavilion lined with lamps and tables at the crest where our hunters were gathered. The bus parked in a small dirt lot at the foot of the mound and we were led to the starting area on foot. That’s when I saw something that disgusted me in a way I never expected. There were our soon to be killers laughing and dancing in the pavilion. They rented a DJ who was playing loud upbeat music from their turntable. There were empty beer cans and solo cups strewn across the grass. There were folding tables with various horderves and submarine sandwiches. Just next to the food was a table of guns, bows, knives, and other killing instruments. The hunters were dressed in wrinkled white dress shirts with ties that hung at varying degrees of looseness around their necks. They were all men in their late 20s or early 30s and every single one of them were trashed. Sweat stained their collars and open mouth smiles accompanied their unfocused eyes. One of the men could barely stand. He clung to his neighbor's shoulders for support as though he were on a ship in the middle of a maelstrom and an invisible wind was threatening to throw him overboard. This man seemed to be the center of attention. I realized this was his bachelor party. The groom-to-be wanted to take a life before his big day apparently.

The hunting party cheered and hollered as we crested the hill. They seemed very excited to get started. The runners and I were led to a starting position while the drunken yuppies geared up for the event. A very stern looking man in a guard uniform cleared his throat. "Listen up! Here are the rules: When the green light turns on and the gate opens the runners will have thirty seconds head start before the hunt begins, the runners cannot attack or otherwise defend themselves against the hunters” He explained in a commanding voice. Then he turned and pointed down the mountainside to a speck of light that seemed miles away “The only way for a runner to escape is by making it to that extraction zone. Don't try to jump the fence. We will find you… I will not humor any questions. Now, are our hunter’s ready?”

The runner next to me tapped my arm and whispered “Good luck out there mate.”

I was caught off guard by what must have been the first act of kindness I had received since joining the program. I looked at him and responded “Thanks, you-”, but that was all I got out before a loud crack echoed through the darkness and the man's head came apart like a watermelon hit with a hammer. A spray of blood wet my face as I fell backwards to the grass. The other runners had similar panicked reactions, but were unable to go anywhere as the gate was still locked and we were surrounded by guards. There was a lot of shouting and commotion, but I just lay there in shock.

The body is dragged away and a guard speaks over a megaphone “Please do not be alarmed. One of the hunters thought we had already started, but he said he was very sorry.”

A few guards lifted me roughly to my feet as they corralled all the runners back into their starting positions. If the dread was palpable in the bus, it was damn near deafening now. The runner that took the place of the dead man was physically shaking. I swallowed hard and tried to hold myself together. All the runners knew death was very likely for us, but now it was real. A drop of blood ran down my lip and onto my tongue, I spit it out as fast as I could, but the coppery taste was unmistakable. I was so disgusted that I gripped my knees as my body lurched and I dry heaved. There was nothing in my stomach to throw up. I wipe my face with my sleeve and try to calm myself down. Unfortunately I didn't have time for that.

A green light shines in our faces as a loud buzzer sounds. The gate’s magnet latch clicks off and it opens wide. The runners sprint down the hillside like water from a broken dam. Some seem to move faster than I could ever hope to be while others tumble and claw their way through the foliage. I'm unfortunately closer to the back of the pack. My heart was pounding and my breathing felt erratic and ineffective, but I just kept moving. We had so far left to go, and I was already in pain. Tears stung my eyes as my ankle got caught awkwardly in a bundle of roots and I fell face first into a patch of dirt.

I scramble behind a nearby tree. It takes a second for my ankle to sting and when it does I grip it tight in the hopes it would do something. My teeth are clenched to stop myself from making a sound. There's a trickle of blood flowing down my nose, but it's the least of my worries. I'm simply thankful it's my own this time. After a second I hear a loud rumble approaching from behind me. I try to keep my body as flush against the tree as I can. The rough texture of the bark digs into my clothes and exposed skin. The sound grows louder and I can make out the excited yelps and laughter of the hunters. I bright light passes by and my cover keeps me in shadow. A pack of ATVs rip through the brush at reckless speeds. The hunters fire shots wildly into the dark as they drive down the mountain. Bullets pepper the rocks and trees creating clouds of dust in their wake.

I wait for them to clear my line of sight before planning my next move. Making it to the extraction zone is going to be considerably more difficult if I have to sneak past the hunters. As I am weighing my options I hear the quieter rumbling of a single engine coming down the path.

“Guys wait up!” calls the hunter as he careens through the trees. He's going too fast. One of the wheels skips off a rock and the vehicle is suddenly airborne. As the headlights leave the forest floor it almost seems like the hunter just disappeared up into the darkness, but in a millisecond that feels far too long he comes back down. The lights meet the ground again only steeper… too steep. The front of the ATV hits the forest floor and flips the rider beneath itself before coming to a violent stop at the base of a sturdy oak tree that barely shakes. The engine sputters before stopping, and then there is silence.

Seconds of unnerving stillness pass before I get up from my hiding spot and cautiously make my way towards the wreck. From what I could make out it was hard to discern the metal and plastic from flesh and bone. I was thankful the darkness spared me the finer details, but it was clear the hunter had perished. My shoe brushed against something small and dense. I looked down to see two shapes laying in the grass. A cheap six inch long flashlight, and below my foot was a loaded pistol. There was a moment of hesitation as I stared at it. The weapon was lightly spattered with gasoline and vital fluid. It looked far too large to be practical. As if to spring me from my trepidations the sounds of shouting and gunfire echoed down the path, and I remembered where I was. I grabbed the flashlight, and against my better judgment I picked up the pistol.

I make my way steadily towards the lights of the extraction zone. My twisted ankle sends a rhythmic jolt of pain up my leg with every footfall. I hold the gun close to my chest as though it were a fragile infant. I’m not even sure if I’ll be using it, but I’m giving myself the option in case things somehow get worse. I had managed to sneak a fair distance down the mountain before I saw more hunters. They hadn’t spotted me yet. There were two of them hunched over some fallen runners. I could just barely make out what they were talking about.

“So you got this one, and I think these three are mine” said the one on the left.

“Hell no, that one clearly is also mine. Look at the buckshot wound in his back” the right hunter pointed out.

“Yeah you peppered him up sure, but I got the killing blow right here. See that hole straight through his neck. That’s all mine” Leftie argued.

“You did that after he went down. It was post mor-mort… how the heck do you say it, morgum? It was after he died is what I mean”

I began to make my way in a wide arch around the hunters. The gun shook in my hands as I tried to keep the barrel pointed in their direction. I didn't want to have to use it, but if they spotted me… who can say? I haven't ever used a gun before, and in all likelihood I wouldn't be able to land a single shot. I was so focused on the hunters that I nearly ran into another person. One of the runners. He was crouched in the darkness with a hand tightly gripping a wound in his side. A dark stain spread steadily from between his fingers. I knelt down to try and help him in some way, but he raised his free hand to stop me. The wounded runner shook his head and gestured towards the extraction zone. I hesitated for a moment, and then in an act that surprised both of us I offered him the pistol.

He looks at the gun, then at me, and then at the gun again. The dying man smiled with blood stained teeth before accepting the weapon in a much more firm hold than my own. We gave each other a respectful nod before I continued my way towards uncertain death.

Once I was a considerable distance away I heard two shots followed by a later third. I bowed my head for a moment in silence, and then I kept moving.

The forest wound steadily downward through rocks and along steep drops. I kept my ears and eyes open for any signs of the hunters. It seemed impossibly quiet. The animals and insects made sure to whisper as the trees stood frozen in the silent breeze. It felt as though woods around me were holding its breath in anticipation. Every crunch of the leaves underfoot felt like sending out a signal flare to my pursuers. Then something caught my eye and my body went rigid. There was movement in the darkness. Then I noticed the small green lights of night vision goggles. The pair of lenses stopped in my direction. Immediately I pressed down on the rubber button of the flashlight. A cone of light lit up the hidden hunter’s face and he recoiled in surprise covering his eyes. I threw the small plastic torch and it bounced off the man's head. His headgear came loose and slipped below his nose. The hunter lit up the pitch black canopy with a spray of bullets that chewed through the foliage. I was blown back on my ass from what felt like two of the worst bee stings of my life. I had been shot through my left shoulder and forearm. Before I could even feel the pain I was running. He shouted after me, probably something about how I was a cheater for defending myself, but my ears didn't bother to listen. My twisted ankle didn't complain either. I was fear incarnate. A mind empty of any thought except escape. I maintained this state of being for an unknowable amount of time.

That is when I saw the light. Not that of the great beyond, but the extraction point. Huge flood lights circling a small fenced area. My relief was cut short by confusion and then anger.

Above the extraction point was a large electronic sign that read “Hunter Handicap: 27:42 Remaining”.

“What the fuck?” I allowed myself to mutter in frustration and offense. The rest of the bachelor party were camped around the area smoking vape pens and counting the heads of all the runners that got caught unaware of this new handicap rule.

I crouched down in the dark as I waited for the timer to count down. I stayed for 15 minutes trying not to make a sound. That's when I heard a small buzzing sound just above me. I tilted my head up to spot the small black silhouette of a toy drone with its camera pointed right into my eyes. My realization was accompanied by the sounds of engines starting far too near to me. I got up to run again, but now the pain shot through my body like lightning through my nerves. I limped through the blackness. Every footfall further from the light was less certain, and the sounds of the hunters grew closer behind me.

Then it felt like I just got slapped in the face with a giant flyswatter. I had run into a fence, and to my surprise there was some give. The bottom swayed just above the ground. There was a gap just large enough for a basketball to fit through. Before I even considered the ramifications I was on my hands and knees worming my way through the dirt as the sharp wires clawed at my back and ripped my clothes to shreds. I forced my way to the other side and kept running.

There was no going back. I had forfeit their rigged game. If they wanted to catch me it was going to be on my terms. Hopefully I can make it out of the state by the time they realize I wasn't among the dead. The hunt is only just starting, and it's beginning to get light out. I have a long way to go.