Page 8 of Hunt Me

Pipe spits at the boy's feet as he comes into view. He’s large, looking like something from a children’s nightmare in front of the small boy. In a purplish hand, bathed in the firelight, he brings up a metal pipe. One covered with nails.

‘Look!’ The man screams as he points our way.

‘Fucking pussy,’ whispers the sandy voice against my ear. His hold on me tightens.

Pipe doesn’t listen, hellbent on hitting his target.

‘People. Two people. A a… a girl.’ The man sobs, choking on his tears.

That gets Pipe’s attention long enough to look our way. When his yellow eyes land on us, the grin that follows has a shiver running through my entire body, and this time not in a good way. He smiles, showing that the only teeth he has left are yellowy brown and look like they smell worse than a month-old dead boy.

I want to be sick.

Pipe whistles three sharp calls that echo across the walls.

The clattering of weapons and footsteps sound across the tunnels.

The Skull behind me stiffens.

‘I knew you were mischief.’

The tunnel tilts as the Skull picks me up before depositing me back on unsteady feet, now facing the tunnel I’d just run down. He takes my hand in his, not waiting for me to collect myself, as he drags me after him.

‘Time to actually run for your life.’

Chapter Four

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Ruaridh

We are sprinting down the tunnel, shit splashing up my calves with every heavy booted step.

This is the life.

There is nothing better than the adrenaline rush. The feel of my blood pumping fast and my mind sharp. This feeling is what most of us chase, what the world has turned us into. However, I’d prefer to have done it without running through sewage water.

The soft fist held in my own feels out of place like daffodils stuck in amongst a thorn bush.

Thorns that will never let it go.

‘What the fuck are you doing?’ My little deer asks. Her voice is like silk slipping from her lips.

‘What does it look like?’ I glimpse a look at her. Her face is soft and round, with big hazel eyes and full lips. Despite the noticeable dark bags beneath her eyes and the rather sorelooking cracks on her lips she has a beauty like a siren — clearly what sucked me in earlier like a love sick bam.

I laugh again as she tries to pull her fist free.

‘Now, now mischief I caught you fair and square.’ I tut as we continue to run through the sewers.

‘You did not!’ She shouts back.

I grin remembering that same tone on her lips when she was calling me a little bitch.

‘Your eyes look psychopathic when you do whatever it is you’re doing under there.’ She nods to my masked face, not an ounce of fear in her tone.

Ahead of us are figures running our way.

The fist in my hand pulls away and I allow it to, replacing the soft touch with the cold metal handle of each of my axes. My grip tightens when my fingers grasp them, pulling them from where they are secured at my back.