Page 1 of Hunt Me (The Skulls #1)

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Fauna

I t's been a few streets since I first noticed the Skull who is now walking ahead of me. Luckily he hasn ’ t seen me.

If he had I ’ d be dead by now.

The stories everyone has told us about The Skulls should have put me off.

But I couldn ’ t find it in me to walk away, turning in the opposite direction felt like accepting defeat in a battle I hadn ’ t yet entered.

And I guess I ’ m feeling a little desperate.

It ’ s like my skin is itching for a confrontation, that adrenaline rush I ’ ve grown too accustomed to.

It ’ s well known that The Skulls are one of Scotland's worst groups, acting like they reign over Glasgow. They show no mercy and wouldn ’ t stop to think for a second before ripping you to shreds.

Stories of their brutality are told all over the country, spoken like a cautionary tale to not enter the city.

Or at least that ’ s what mad Jane was rambling about when she bumped into us on our way to the border.

The Skulls have such a big reputation but they can ’ t tell when someone is following them.

We didn ’ t and still don ’ t have the luxury of running away from an area.

Times are as hard as ever after the virus that killed the majority of the population seven years ago, spreading across the land like the biblical angel of death did in Egypt in the book of Exodus.

Except he didn ’ t just get the first-born sons this time, he was a lot more indiscriminate.

Then it up and left us to deal with the shitty consequences of it ’ s actions.

The only clear evidence was the pile of bodies that it left in its wake.

Since then, my life has had no purpose but to keep my group alive.

Fuck GSCE ’ s, apprenticeships, bills and all the mundane stuff.

Now it ’ s making sure I don ’ t get my head chopped off by a psycho or eaten by a cannibal.

All whilst leading a group of eight girls — we can probably be considered women now we ’ re in our early twenties — North, to somewhere better than the corrupt South that we were each taken to when the virus destroyed our lives.

Now I ’ m holed up in an old primary school with the eight of us, all starving our arses off. Literally. To put icing on the cake Isla went and got pregnant — fucked a stranger that she refuses to talk about.

So here I am, following the enemy in hopes that he ’ ll lead me to a stash of supplies I can bring back to the girls.

Much to my chagrin, I can see why The Skulls have such a notorious reputation. This is only one; and yet he screams danger. An air of threat prickles around him and my skin tingles with it. My skin tingles with it and I hate myself for loving it.

Something about it drives me wild with excitement.

Call me crazy because well, I am. Who isn ’ t at this point.

It ’ s been a while since I've encountered any drama, and life was getting a little boring for a second there. Hence, my decision to follow this idiot.

I can hear Amelia ’ s scornful voice in my head, ‘ you can ’ t be running off like that. The world is too dangerous. People are too crazy out there. ’

She always talks about how I ’ m a magnet for trouble and that if I wasn ’ t constantly making sure they were all taken care of she would accuse me of wishing for trouble to find me.

Maybe I do. Perhaps that is what I ’ m doing right now, but despite wanting that for myself, I ’ ll never take the risk. I can ’ t put the others in danger like that, so I stick to the shadows and out of sight.

I saw The Skull ’ s mask when he first turned around a couple of streets back.

And of course, it was a skull. How ironic that they wear masks to represent their little group.

I ’ m not sure what I was expecting, really, but it was something a little more impressive than your bog-standard cosplay mask.

The cogs of my brain churn trying to remember what mad Jane was speaking about.

I ’ m sure she ’ d mentioned something about a mask, but my mind has been blank since I tried to remember.

Fuck knows what they did to her but she refused to keep walking with us once we mentioned that we were going to pass through Glasgow.

She wasn ’ t much of a miss, new company is sometimes nice, but most of us girls have been roaming together for years, so meeting someone for a couple of days, you don ’ t get that attached.

One rule I gave myself as soon as the world went to shit was not to get attached to anyone. Then I gained seven sisters in place of my family that the virus took out.

The hole in my heart still hurts every time I think of them, the family I lost.

I was at school when it began, and when I came home, I waited and waited for someone else to do the same, but no one did.

Eventually I got swept up by the army and spent time moving from camp to camp with them and a bunch of other kids.

It was alright, learned how to steal and stay out of sight from the creeps that lived there alongside us.

But eventually everything falls to madness at some point, and once the riots started up I dragged the others with me.

Back then, it was just Isla, Luna, Elizabeth, and me, but when travelling, we ’ d gained the others: Amelia, Eloise, Clover, and Isabella.

The rubble crunches softly under my black lace up Dr Martens, now the soft kind that are thoroughly worn in. They have a little character with the duct tape I ’ ve used to seal off the cracks from the elements. It ’ s hardly noticeable thanks to Amelia ’ s black sharpie and colouring in skills.

Blisters are not pretty, especially when you spend most of your time walking from the bottom of the country to the top. Took us eight days to get here from Dumfries with all the defrosting crazies out there. That was the first day the sun shone through the winter months.

Once the monsters started to show their face again, we knew it was time to move.

We ’ ve avoided cities for years, so Glasgow is pretty bleak compared to other places we ’ ve moved through. The man I ’ m currently following is part of the reason.

When we came through the outskirts of the city people were hanging from their necks, their arms purposefully extended overhead with ropes wrapped around their bony wrists.

Some were skeletons picked clean by birds — others seemed more recent, they were rotting still but certainly fresher than their neighbours.

These must be the harbingers of doom that mad Jane told us that the Skulls put up or whatever bullshit she had spouted to us.

Just a typical sight to be seen in the apocalypse.

However, this current Skulls actions compounds the fact that they are just a typical dickhead apocalypse group as he still hasn ’ t given me anything yet, my fingers beginning to twitch in annoyance.

He ’ s fucking boring.

Why can ’ t he use at least one of his big ass axes he ’ s got slung across his broad shoulders and cut someone in half? Judging by his muscles, it should be pretty easy for him.

Is it really too much for a girl to wish for?

Not that many people are milling about these abandoned streets with us. He ’ s the only other person I ’ ve encountered since leaving the school. Which quite frankly gives me the creeps. We ’ re in a city where there should be more survivors than this.

Most of my group are permanently pissed off. Constantly hangry, it ’ s not even a joke anymore. Hardly any food is available anywhere, hence our little detour to the city.

I ’ ve seen all kinds of fucked up fights over a scrap of food.

I mean I once saw a Granny macheted a guy's head off for trying to pinch her tin of Spam.

He was a massive dick head so she did the world a service but still.

The sight had me retching behind a stack of rubbish for a hot minute.

So, as any sane person who grew up in an apocalypse would do, I chopped her head off in return for making me waste my meal.

Then I enjoyed her tin of Spam because wasting food is just a big no no.

Initially, people avoided the cities since they were only virus Hot spots, running from them like rats from a sinking ship.

But then the countryside became the devil's playground. Demons began roaming the fields like some fucked up story the soldiers used to tell us when we were younger. They ’ d mainly tell us bad stories of what goes on outside our camp to keep us there, which worked for a while.

We ’ ve seen almost it all. Therefore, us taking up camp in a city run by the dead (cough cough freaks in skeleton masks) are not that concerning to us.

I watch as the Skull ahead of me saunters through a large opening to a building, the concrete walls still holding the structure up though they look like they ’ ve seen better days.

It ’ s a supermarket-looking place. Well, from where I ’ m crouched at the back entrance, it ’ s more like the storage area of the supermarket.

I hum to myself as my heart pounds an excited rhythm in my chest.

I send a quick prayer to the apocalypse Gods. Pretty please be some form of storage unit with lots of food and supplies so that I can rob them blind.

I ’ ve not heard of where The Skulls live, but I know it ’ s on the South side — across the river, so this definitely isn ’ t it.

This could be a meeting point. But no one else is around, so it may be more of a secret one.

Maybe I ’ ll find myself surrounded by a bunch of buff masked men.

I consider that momentarily, mulling over how terrible that would be as images of everything that situation could entail flash through my mind.

I feel a grin spreading across my face as my legs follow in after him on their own accord.

The rolling shutters are secured open by metal chains and a couple of knotted ropes. Months, maybe years, of dirt and waste have passed through the entrance.

The weather's pretty tame today, especially for springtime in Scotland. The leaves that made their way through the entrance are fully dried out and crumbling under the masked Skull ’ s steps.

The girls and I were so happy the first day we properly saw the sun again – instant joy. Clover finally smiled in what must have been months. Her usually soft features had been so dead and devoid of any emotion we ’ d forgotten how beautiful she is.

The dark shadows from the warehouse taunt me and usher me inside as I follow the masked man.

‘ To my death, ’ I whisper as I continue to follow through the entrance. ‘ Maybe, ’ I shrug while responding in a different voice, one more sinister this time. ‘ Probably. But who knows? ’ This last one chirpy and excited.

The wall of muscle ahead is dressed in all black.

Cargo trousers with full pockets, black scuffed-up boots wrapped tightly by his laces, a matching black t-shirt, and intricate tattoos flow down both exposed arms. There are a couple of small knives strapped to the insides of his wrists, which are tightly wrapped with shreds of material.

Apart from his masked face, the most menacing aspect of his appearance is the two axes strapped into the small pack on his back.

Smatterings of blood remain around the pack, contrasting with the clean shining silver of the axe's head.

He must have had some fun without me before I found him. But where? I haven ’ t heard any screams in days and I didn ’ t see any blood — well none fresh anyway — on the way here.

My wandering thoughts cause too much distraction and I trip on one of the rogue pieces of metal lying on the floor.

My stomach sinks and I despite my best efforts to stay vertical I fall flat on my face and watch in growing horror at the nightmare unfolding.

Of course, the piece of metal I hit has to have been part of a more enormous concoction of inner networks inside the building, rather precariously holding up one of the wall pieces and of course it tumbles.

I roll my eyes. Fuck. My. Life.

What a fucking stupid fix for a massive issue.

With the metal dislodged, the wall begins moving, and a large chunk falls directly in front of the masked Skull. The man who is looking dead at me as I lie on the floor, the only obstacle in our path being the freshly fallen wall.

He curses, his voice firm and harsh and it sends a shiver bolting through me. Adrenaline setting my body on fire.

One step forward is his biggest mistake.

The added weight near the fallen brick causes the floor to groan, shifting as that too begins to crumble.

He scrambles to climb the boulder, but that only speeds up the cave in, and in seconds, the floor has fallen through into whatever is below.

What once was a simple concrete warehouse flooring is now a gaping hole into the sewerage system below the city.

I let out a shaky laugh counting my lucky fucking stars.

‘ Thank you apocalypse Gods, ’ I say looking up to find the metal roofing of the building rather than the sky. I shrug, knowing that they are more of a vibe, rather than someone looking down on me from the clouds.

I ’ ve lost track of the amount of times I ’ ve somehow managed to land on my bloody feet — the lives of a cat run through my bones.

The adrenaline rush fires through me and I roll over onto my front, embracing the feline luck that runs within. Nothing hurts and that spurs my cockiness on further. I press my hands flat to the rubble and plant my feet firmly underneath me, standing and taking in the sight.

The hole is pretty big and looks stupid, just randomly gaping in the perfectly fine flooring surrounding it.

I bet that hurt like a bitch when he fell.

At least he was on top of the rock the last time I saw him.

I peek over the edge unable to keep my curiosity in check. Only I was right to look because kneeling in a puddle of shit is the huge masked man and even though all I can see are his eyes he seems pissed.

I stand above him looking directly down on him.

Maybe it's because I ’ ve flirted with death for as long as I can remember, or maybe it's because I ’ ve become numb to the thought of dying, but the adrenaline rushing me has me stepping even further to the edge of the hole.

I raise my chin looking down on him like the piece of shit he is and raise my middle finger to flip him off letting the words fall from my mouth before I can think twice.

‘ You know you look like a little bitch. ’