Run (The Hunted) (3 page)

He is clearly terrified.

Where the hell did he come from? Reid’s mind can’t keep up. No 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.

***

Chapter Three

Reid’s mind repeats a mantra as he runs.
This can’t be happening. This. Can’t. Be. Happening.
It won’t stop running as much as his body won’t stop, driving itself into his psyche over and over again as his legs piston up and down, sneakers pounding over the trail. And yet, he knows it is as real as the rocks and fallen leaves sliding under his racing feet, as the moon shining down on him, and the pine-scented wind forcing itself in and out of his aching lungs.

A headlong sprawl forces him to stop. His knees are suddenly on fire, palms aching from the impact, mouth clogged with decaying leaves and dirt. Reid spits out the mess, rolling over on his side. Whimpering in terror, he drags himself into the trees again and scans the path behind for signs of the hunter. Nothing. No one. Not even a hint of movement. Reid doesn’t trust his eyes. Or any of his other senses. How can he when the one who pursues him moves like liquid lightning, as silent as the wind? Whoever the man is, he looks normal on the outside but instinctually feels like a wild animal, only better. Smarter. Able to reason and react with human instinct and cunning. Reid has no doubt the hunter can and will find him and attack without warning.

He can’t think about the boy. Either of the boys, for that matter. They haunt him, but he needs to think of himself. Reid slams that reality into his consciousness until he really believes it. There are others like him out here. He has no way of knowing how many. And they are dying, just like he will die if he doesn’t get the hell out of there somehow.

He still feels responsible. And guilty. The first boy gapes at him in his mind while the second one screams, “Please!” in an endless cry for help. It’s almost enough to drive him mad.

Instead, he decides to run. But when he tries to go on, his body refuses to move. Both legs give out on him, his ankles throbbing from the fall. Reid is unable to run for the moment. He hugs himself in the dark, knees to his chest, making himself as small as possible while he fights off the horrors he witnessed. He manages to quiet the panting protests being torn from his throat and rocks back and forth on his haunches while his gaze scans the path and the trees around him over and over again in a never-ending cycle of fear, guilt and shame.

He should have saved that kid. He could have. If he had just moved faster, been smarter. This shouldn’t be happening. Why is it happening?

That leads his aching head down a fresh path. How did he get here? Memory flickers over the past at last, taking him to the time before he was kidnapped. Before he was dropped in hell. He is relieved to let go of the death cries and the accusing stare of the dead boy’s eyes.

Reid is able to recall the day before and cling to it. Or
was
it the day before? His concept of time is lost in the face of what is happening to him.

Lucy. The restaurant, so fancy he felt like an intruder in his jeans and hoodie. Her choice and her treat. She acted like she owned the place and no one said a word. They celebrated. He remembers. She finally managed to get him out of foster care. A whole year he spent after the tragic deaths of their parents, living in someone else’s house, at the mercy of the state, while his twenty-year-old sister struggled to get her own life together.

He honestly never thought she would, was positive he would be in state care until he was eighteen. Not only that, Reid was sure she forgot him until the very day she came to pick him up. He was so shocked when his foster mother called him downstairs, to see Lucy standing there at the door, holding the paperwork that set him free. The smile on her face reminded him why he loved her. All his resentment disappeared. She looked good, smelled good when she hugged him, body thinner than he remembered, her blonde hair much lighter than his tickling his face as she squeezed him so hard he choked.

He didn’t care. He hugged her back. And took in her new life. Her car was expensive, her clothes designer, hair and makeup flawless. She looked like a model. Or a famous actress.

“We’re set up now, baby brother.” She smiled at him past her big, dark sunglasses and patted his knee as he settled his hastily packed bag in the back seat of her black convertible, the combination of new car smell and freshly dyed leather making him nauseated. “Found a good job, a great boss. Set
up
.”

He hadn’t asked her why she didn’t contact him that long year they were apart. Why she didn’t call, write, email. It didn’t matter. They were together.

Reid swipes at a thin tear tracing down his cheek. He doesn’t have time to feel sorry for himself. Lucy. Where is his sister?

“Mr. Syracuse,” Lucy said as she pulled up to their new building. It looked expensive. “Mr. Syracuse,” she repeated as she led Reid onto the well-appointed elevator that streamed soft muzak at him. “Mr. Syracuse,” Lucy whispered as she smiled at him and unlocked the door to their apartment. “He’s great, Reid. You’ll like him. He’s got big plans for me. And he can’t wait to meet you.”

The place was posh, plush. She loved showing him around. Nice furniture, great kitchen, a bathroom Mom would have died for. And his room was huge, stocked full of clothes, too. He had his own TV, a brand new iPad. How did she get so lucky? This was way better than anything they had when their parents were alive.

He wanted to ask the cost of it all, what the real price was beyond the money it took to buy, but that was the natural cynic in him. His father’s influence. Still, he wondered if his sister got herself in over her head. But he was too happy to be with her to go there just yet.

Is this the price?
Reid’s terror is suddenly not just for himself. His sister. She has to be out here too, somewhere. There is no way she will survive without him. Reid’s panic is so strong it drives him to his feet again. His mind races. He has to find her. She’s all he has, he’s all she has. He refuses to lose her again.

But as he spins in place and his mind desperately searches around as though he’ll find her right there with him, his heart cracks down the middle. He has no way of finding her. She could be dying right now at the hands of the hunter and there is nothing Reid can do to stop it. He hates the feeling of being worthless. He had enough of that in foster care, shuffled from one house to the next, treated like he was an inconvenience at best, a burden and a waste of skin at worst. His father taught him better than that, to respect himself, and he clung to that the whole year he waited for Lucy to come get him.

Standing there, desperate to find his sister, Reid feels his will crumple at last as it never has before. There are no options. He is lost and alone with a man out there hunting him and kids like him. Reid has no doubt if Lucy comes in contact with the hunter, she won’t last a moment.

He slams one hand into the closest tree and swears softly. The pain is enough to bring him to his senses.

I need a plan
. Easier thought of than done. Still. It is something to focus on and he needs that very much right now. Reid resumes his crouch, finding the darkest shadow he can as his mind searches for a way out.

It triggers another memory.

He had been in bed, the comfortable mattress a far cry from the lumpy, musty things he’d spent the past year sleeping in. Funny how every foster home had the same kind of bed. He was stuffed with good food and a beer his sister let him drink. Lucy even tucked him in, he remembers it clearly. She smiled down at him, kissed his forehead just like Mom used to. Told him she loved him.

So what the hell happened? He was sleeping. The door slammed open in the dark, the whole apartment deep as pitch. Reid struggled, remembers fighting, but there were large shadows in the night, stronger than him and something fell on his face, pressed to his nose and mouth. It stank. He sank into quiet to the sound of Lucy screaming.

Reid shudders and pulls himself from the memory, the pit of his stomach rolling over slowly once. It is true, then. She is out there with him. This Syracuse she mentioned, he has to be in on it. Sold them to some sicko maybe? Some freak who hunts people for fun. Reid’s anger surges and for a moment it gives him power. But it isn’t as strong as his fear. It has only enough energy to drive him to his feet one last time.

He has to find his sister. She was always the weak one, the brittle flower, just like their mother. At least, that was what Dad always said and Reid believed him at the time. Nothing Lucy did up until now gave him reason to doubt either. And Dad would want Reid to find her and keep her safe if possible. Even though he was years younger, Reid always looked out for her as best he could.

Indecision is agony. How? Where does he go now? And where is Lucy? Reid has no answers, no hope, no direction. He has only his fear and the path before him. For a moment he gives in to the despair, wishing he is safe and she never came to get him. Fury wakes suddenly, while he blames Lucy, knowing this is all her fault.

That doesn’t last long. He has never been vindictive or known to hold a grudge. And his sister is all he has. Instead, he chooses to act.

He has only one choice and he knows it. Keep moving. Search for her. And stay alive. If he can. If only long enough to protect her. Again, if he can. He knows the chances of locating her in this vast wilderness are slim. Worse than that, probably impossible. But Reid clings to the idea of finding Lucy, uses it as his means of moving forward, his motivation for staying alive.

He does one last visual check of the trail, holding his breath to listen as well. It remains empty, the night quiet and calm. He weighs his options. He can go back the way he came, on the chance the hunter moved on and perhaps left something useful behind, or he can keep going forward. Reid checks the moon. It is falling across the sky, setting behind him. Which means it must be headed west. He knows that much. He studies the path again. To return the way he came will take him south. The path continues to the north. Not that it matters. But his is an orderly mind and Reid finds small comfort in knowing at least what direction he is headed.

He can’t bring himself to go back. It would mean finding the remains of the second boy, possibly in the same position he found the first. He isn’t sure his sanity can survive that. Besides, as long as he moves forward, there is hope, as slim as that dream is.

When his sneakers touch the path, he is already turned the opposite way, frightened gaze watching everything around him as his steady footfalls carry him deeper into the forest.

***

Chapter Four

It is a struggle to use logic, but the longer Reid goes without being challenged the easier it is to forget from moment to moment what is happening around him. He can’t block it out completely and when he remembers after a few seconds respite, it’s a jolt to his already stressed system. And yet he cherishes each and every scrap of peace such delusions bring.

He knows there is no future for him in running around like a terrified animal. He has to get himself together. Having a plan, a goal he can take steps toward even in times when he is afraid and just needs to run is the only way he will win his freedom. After he breaks out, he will allow himself to fall apart again. But for now, he has to keep moving and pay attention.

And be careful. Not that there is any worry he will drop his constant vigilance, not yet. He feels himself waning, but not enough for it to slip completely. There is simply too much at stake. His own life, yes. And Lucy’s. Always his need to find Lucy, sitting on him like a burden, keeping him pointed in the direction he chose.

Reid’s mind wanders around his problems, feeding the questions he has no answers for with doubt and the seeds of anger. Why them? Why the boy who died on the tree, the one who was killed on the path? Why himself and his helpless sister who didn’t know when she was being conned? No one to miss them, he supposes. Parents dead, grandparents, too. Maybe it’s the same for the other kids. Would have to be. No aunts and uncles. Just him and his sister and those lost ones he wishes he could forget.

Easy targets.

He tries to muster outrage. It would be preferable to the terror. Even some self-righteous anger would serve him. But Reid can’t get much past his constant fear, even getting comfortable in it, letting it settle around him like a family heirloom. For him. For the unknown kids he left behind. And for Lucy.