|Preditor and prey
Author: WolfletteMoon PM
A young man flees the police, very much like prey running from a preditor. Follow on from 'Hunted'Rated: Fiction T - English - Horror - Words: 701 - Reviews: 2 - Favs: 1 - Published: 01-17-10 - Status: Complete - id: 2765066
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
This is a follow on from 'Hunted', so it might help if you've read that first. It continues in a similar style, though in present tense.
A single seagull leaves its perch on the rocks, heading inland towards more populated areas. A few sparsely spread crabs begin to scuttle back to the sea, one by one disappearing into the tempest-tossed waters. The waves crash wildly onto the shaw, lashing against the rocks and spraying saltwater into the air. The sun edges cautiously from its hiding place beneath the horizon. The first golden rays spread over the water, illuminating the figure of a young man walking across the beach.
He keeps his hands buried in his pockets, his eyes downcast to the floor. Ignoring the dogs barking in the background, he hurries along, not quite sure where he's heading but wanting to get there quickly. He ducks under a rocky ledge as search lights shine down from atop the cliffs, almost catching him. They flicker over the sands a while longer, then move on. He gives them a brief moment to carry on, then continues as before, ignoring them still.
He desperately wants to be atop the cliffs, to fight and taunt them, but that would be a fool's folly. Best to stay hidden and keep his head down. He's getting better at it, but still feels uncomfortable doing so. He was never hunted like this. He still isn't quite sure how to handle it, and he hates not being sure of things. It isn't something he's used to, and this makes him nervous – he isn't used to being nervous, either.
The barking of the dogs is getting closer now, closing in. He had though the smell of the ocean would throw them off his scent. There is nowhere where he can lose them, beside the sea itself, and the water is too choppy and wild to swim. He keeps close to the cliffs, breaking into a jog towards the end of the beach. Each step sends sand into the air, leaving a trail of golden dust clouds behind him. It was dangerous move to make, but there's no way for him to undo it, so he only moves faster, ignoring the barking and the shouts now coming from the cliffs above him.
He swerves into a thin but deep fissure in the cliff face, stopping for just a few seconds respite. They are still behind him, catching up quickly. He curses himself for not having thrown them off his trail sooner and continues towards the end of the beach, heading for the steps that will lead him to the road and his best chance of escape. He will have to reach them before the men atop the cliffs, else he'd become trapped with no way out.
He reaches the bottom of the steps with the men and dogs still far enough behind, following his tracks in the sand. He takes the steps two at a time, unconcerned with the risk of tripping. He has enough confidence in his physical abilities that he doesn't believe he could fall by accident. He reaches the top without fault, gazing over the near-deserted road and flinching as a search-light shines briefly on his face. The man with the torch shouts to his companions, pointing in the direction of the young man who now runs towards the sparse trees on the other side of the road.
He reaches the first tree as one of the men calls out his name, as though expecting him to stop. He darts behind the trunk, waiting while the men shine their torches over the trees. The moment he deems it safe, he runs forward again, deeper into the forest and further from the men hunting him. He refuses to stop, even as their voices fade into the abyss, until his lungs are burning and each limb aches. He rests against a tree, panting, until the voices and barking return and the men are getting close once again. Then he runs further into the woods, his pursuers following as always. The predetors chasing their new found prey.