Page 7 of Hunt Me

Fire. Plastic. Hair. Flesh.

My nostrils burn and my eyes begin to water.

Then a shadow falls at my feet, the shape of a person blocking out the light of the fire, accompanied by shouting.

It’s hard to make out what is exactly being said. Mostly it's in the form of grunts and smacks of objects they must carry, judging by their shadowed figures.

‘Oot ma way ye slimey cunt,’ one growls.

A smack.

Then a squeal.

‘A said fuck off,’ says the same voice that makes the hairs on my skin stand.

‘Pipe. Give it a rest,’ another voice says.

‘It’s fuckin him. Useless cunt. Always in ma way, eating ma scran.’ Pipe answers.

‘He’s just a bag av bones, leave him.’ The other snaps.

The two large shadows move around in the firelight. I assume one that moves with waving hands is Pipe, only slightly shorter than the other voice. The smallest is just a bump on the floor, only differentiable when his head moves, casting a slightly larger shadow against the dirt-stained floor.

Their bickering has stopped and judging by the angle of their shadows their backs are to the third shadow.

I mould further into the wall, slowly edging around the curved corner.

Suddenly a large, calloused hand covers my mouth. The solid body it belongs to engulfing me and then the warm air of its owner’s breath tickles my ear.

‘There’s my little deer,’ he purrs. ‘I knew you’d never be able to outrun me.’

My heart begins to race again as I struggle in his vice-like grip.

He’s so much bigger and stronger than me.

I bite at his finger.

‘Mmm so mischievous aren’t you,’ he chuckles then through the fabric of his mask he bites my earlobe.

I gasp into his palm.

His body shakes in silent amusement.

‘What are you doing anyway? Spying on the rats? Now we both know I’m not that scary, baby. Those monsters would use your beautiful little bones as tooth picks.’ He tilts my head so that I can see his eyes behind his mask. ‘It would be a shame for them to spoil the plans I have set out for you.’

Just as my thoughts begin to spiral with what this psycho has just said, there is a clatter to the stone next to us. One that comes from the direction of the fire.

The Skull loosens his grip, letting my head whip around to see the small figure who has just landed beside us. A malnourished man, now staring right at us with beady white eyes, crouched to the floor in fear.

‘I told ye te fuck off.’ Pipe bellows, voice getting closer.

I shift again, and the Skull backs up slightly, taking me with him.

Footsteps storm our way.

‘No. No. Please, no.’ The small man begs, shaking his head.

‘Useless bag av bones.’