Page 3 of Hunt Me (The Skulls #1)

??

Fauna

I just had to taunt fate. I just fucking had to.

What was I thinking?

There is a reason why everyone we have come across all but piss themselves at the mention of The Skulls but no I had to go chasing after one like a goddamned dog with a bone.

Isla will kill me for this.

That’s if I survive the hulking body of muscle standing directly above me.

All I can see are the forest greens of his irises made sinister by the stark whites surrounding them, each perfectly framed by his primarily black mask. Sure, there’s a Skull across it concealing his face, but it does little to hide what feels like an evil grin underneath.

The way his head is cocked to the side as if he is a predator weighing up its prey has an icy chill skating across my skin and slicing down my back.

I’m totally fucked.

To top it off I’m covered in shit and with a quick glance around, it looks like I’m surrounded by it.

The sewer that we both have landed in has not gotten any cleaner with the absence of thousands of human pumping it full of their waste. The thick, rancid air suffocates me and my short, anxious breaths only make the feeling worse.

The water is freezing against my skin, but the sting against my palm makes my teeth grate. Let's not think about what could get into my cut right now.

I push up onto my knees, kneeling for the devil above me.

‘What was it you said earlier?’ He asks, as he stares down at me. Something in his voice sparks heat in my stomach. ‘That I’m a little bitch. hmm.’

I force my body not to cower backwards as his large frame skulks towards me.

‘Well, how about this. I’ll be your bitch all you please, baby.’ He pauses as he takes another step forwards. ‘But for now, little deer, we’re in the sewers, so you better run because when I catch you, I’m never letting you go.’

Before I can swallow it down, a tiny squeak escapes my lips. Lips I didn’t even register were parted.

Yep, definitely dead. So fucking dead.

My heart leaps, pounding in my chest as stories of torture and pain ring in my ears.

I look around the dark pit that we are in. Two tunnels stretch to either side of us, sending a shiver up the back of my neck.

The mask before me shifts back again as a deep chuckle sounds behind it. Then he moves, lunging towards me with a large hand and before I can think, I bolt to my right.

My muscles burn in protest, sore after the fall.

The tunnel has little pockets of sunlight shining in through the drains above lighting my way as I sprint away from the mad man following me.

??

I don’t know how long I’ve been running in this semi-darkness, tracking through the underground of the city I’ve taken refuge in, but as I round this next corner, taking the gamble of turning left so I’m not doubling back on myself, the light at the end causes my splashing steps to halt.

Light. Not natural. Not light like the one warming my skin from the next drain above. No, this light is coming from a fire — a fire someone must have made.

The distant sounds of chuckling travel through the tunnel behind me, the masked Skull approaching.

What’s worse — the danger you know or taking the gamble with the one you don’t?

I know that The Skulls have a reputation for a reason — a reason why so many people begin to shake when they hear their name.

I’m transported back to how mad Jane’s voice quivered as she spoke of them .

‘You don’t understand they are evil. They are worse than evil. They string people up around the city, letting the seagulls peck them clean to the bone. Do you know they eat the eyeballs first?’

We all stood there looking at her. What do you say to that? Yes. Yes, we do know because it turns out that The Skulls aren’t original in that aspect. Turns out a large amount of the evil proportion of us survivors take sick satisfaction in watching the birds eat their victims.

‘We’ve come across some people like that before. It never gets easy. I’m sorry you had to see it.’ Amelia responded, taking her hand.

‘They are everywhere, you can’t do anything without them knowing, without them turning up and killing everyone. They destroy everything.’ She sobbed.

Those were the last words she spoke to us before curling into her bivy.

The following day we woke up and she was gone.

Isla was on watch that night. ‘She was spooked that we were heading through Glasgow. Said thinking of them brings back bad memories.’

‘So?’ I asked, my gaze flicking to her split bottom lip.

‘She said we’d be dead soon anyway…’ then nodded to our bags.

Isla didn’t need a response. She didn’t need the sympathy. We all knew we’d do whatever it took to look out for our own even if that meant hurting others, even when all they might need is someone to have their own back.

People are afraid and when people are scared they do stupid things.

‘Fuck it,’ I whisper as I slink down the tunnel towards the fire.

The water begins to dry up the closer I get. The floor bathed in the warm orange tones of the dancing flames. Without the stench of decay and if I didn’t know any better it would be almost peaceful if I didn’t know better.

It has always been an unwritten rule of my girls — never to enter the hidden undergrounds of the world we walk on. A place that was concealed from the ignorant people before the virus.

Now it is often a place of hell. The most evil of us crave certain atmospheres, where we feel we thrive. Some of those places are in darkness, where fear is heightened by our imaginations. The most blatantly evil of us survivors thrive in those environments.

In this environment.

My steps are carefully silent as I put one foot in front of the other, approaching the rounding archway.

I stand to the side, plastering myself flat against the wall.

There is a different smell now.

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.’

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.’