The Hunt

Jim couldn't be sure, since he could see so little of the island he was on, but really, what did he know about it? He'd have to try to look for some high ground and see if he could get his bearings. Maybe, if they really weren't too far off the coast and if he was really lucky, Jim could spot one of the mountains in the Cascades -- not that it would make all that much difference in the short term, but still it would be nice to know.

Unfortunately, he couldn't see much in the way of high ground from the clearing he was in. Most of what he could see was trees -- lots of trees, he thought with a sigh. The heavy undergrowth could work both ways, though. It would make them harder to find, but it would make Walsh harder to see too.

Finishing up his second plate of breakfast, Jim came out his musings to find that only Jennifer was still there. He'd heard the others take off but hadn't paid much attention. Jim, being the ever-practical man, had privately hoped that all of them would leave him (since, under the circumstances, he would rather be on his own), but he supposed that really was too much to have hoped for.

He could handle one person, though, wondering if the two of them could get lost for a while and let Walsh and the others fight it out. Maybe they would kill each other off, he thought hopefully, though privately doubting he could ever get that lucky. With that thought, Jim tossed his empty plate to the ground and addressed Jennifer. "So you're the only one left, eh?"

"I guess so."

"Why didn't you leave with the others?" Jim asked her curiously, since the two of them weren't exactly what you would call friends. Why would she choose to stay here with him?

"I don't know," she told him honestly. "I guess I just wanted to stay with someone that I knew."

Jim had to snort at that. "You think that you know me?"

"I know you better than I know them," she told him calmly, pointing in the direction the others had went. Jim had to admit with a shrug that she had a point there.

"OK, let's go," he told her, deciding that if she didn't want to eat anything, it was time to get on the road themselves. He quickly secured his weapon, shouldered his pack, and started walking, making sure to choose a different direction from the one Paco and Mark had taken.

"Aren't we going to follow the others?" she asked, confused by his choice of direction.

"Hell no!" Jim told her. "I want to stay as far away from those two as I can."

"So where are we going?"

"Right now I'm trying to find a place where we can get changed, and then I want to find some high ground."

"Why?" she asked, not understanding.

"So I can have some idea of the kind of island we're on. How big it is, where it is -- that sort of thing. Is that OK with you?" he asked sarcastically?

"You don't have to be rude, you know," she informed him formally. "I was just asking."

Deciding to backtrack a little for diplomacy's sake, Jim apologized. "I'm sorry I didn't mean it like that," he told her, hoping she believed him.

After hiking for a time, they had not found much except another small clump of trees that looked just like the last dozen or so clumps of trees they had passed in this forest. This time, however, Jim decided it looked like a good place to stop for a second and change clothes. "OK," he said turning to his traveling companion with out preamble, "strip and put on that camouflage uniform you've got in your pack."

Part 2

Watching from his observation post, Eli had started to wonder if the last two were ever going to do anything. He'd had that happen before. People who just didn't want to play along. That kind of behavior could really ruin the hunt for him. It just took all the excitement out of it. After all, how much of a thrill is it to kill something that just sits there, that doesn't run or fight back? That's just no fun at all. He could see now, though, that Miss Ryan and that other guy, the janitor from his Seattle headquarters building, had finally moved out, heading in a different direction from the other two who had left earlier.

After Ryan and Stillman had disappeared from sight, Eli took the opportunity to climb down from his perch in the treetops. Checking his watch, he saw that he still had 90 minutes before he could go after them. He'd keep his word and give them the full amount of time, of course; after all, he wanted to have as challenging a hunt as possible.

After settling into their temporary camp, Jim had quickly changed into his camouflage BDUs, which surprisingly didn't actually fit half bad and also brought back a lot of memories for him. He considered wearing the boots that came with the rest of the clothes but decided to stick with the work boots he already had on, since he really hated breaking in new footwear.

Walsh -- or whoever did his packing for him -- had even thought to include not only a field jacket to keep off the rain but also two different choices for head gear: a ball cap or a boony hat. All three items were, of course, in camouflage. After thinking it over for a moment, Jim stuffed the field jacket and boony hat back into the pack and stuck the cap on his head.

He'd honestly been trying not to look as Jennifer got changed, but Jim couldn't help but catch a glimpse of the very nice rump she hid under her business suits. He decided that Jennifer, although a tiny thing, still was very well put together.

"You done with your free peep show now?" she asked him sarcastically. Embarrassed at having been caught peeking, Jim just cleared his throat.

"You should leave your nylons on," he told her.

"Why?"

"It'll help to keep you warm, for one thing, and it will also help you from getting blisters from those new boots."

Seeing the logic of what he was saying, Jennifer quickly pulled her new clothes on and tied her boots. It had been a while since she'd worn anything like them, but she knew that if she could wear high heels, she could wear anything.

Seeing her would-be partner not wearing his coat, Jennifer decided not to put hers on either and shoved it back into her bag. However, instead of the ball cap, she chose to wear the funny-looking round hat that Jim told her was called a boony hat. When she asked him why they call it that, he just shrugged and told her he honestly couldn't remember. As Jennifer turned to put her old clothes back into her bag, Jim stopped her.

"No, don't bother doing that; you're not going to need those anymore." he said, indicating her old clothes.

"What do you want me to do with them?" she asked, standing there in the woods holding what was left of a thousand-dollar business suit.

"We're going to bury them," he informed her, "but first I need to know if you know anything about handguns." He pulled one of the big, black guns out. She had one too, but she hadn't dared touch the thing yet.

"No, not really," Jennifer replied. She'd never liked guns; even as a child, she had been scared of them.

"Well, here's your big chance to learn all about them," he told her. After motioning for her to take a seat on the more-or- less dry ground, he sat next to her and began to go over the different parts of the weapon, showing her the basics of how to aim, reload, set and take off the safety -- that sort of thing. It didn't take long, actually; she was a quick study. Jim checked his watch, only to see that the small amount of lead time they'd been given was rapidly disappearing. This forced him to pick up the pace, since he still had more he wanted to go over with her.

Shifting his attention back to his student, Jim said to her. "Now I need to give you a quick class on patrolling."

What's that, and why?" she asked.

"Because that is what we are going to be doing."

"I thought that we were running away," she told him.

"Well, that too," he admitted honestly, "but this is an island. There's only so many places to hide, and odds are Walsh knows them all. So the best thing to do for right now is to keep moving."

"What about the others?" Jennifer wanted to know.

All these questions, while natural, were starting to get on his nerves, but Jim tried to stay calm. He just shrugged and said, "They made their choice." Seeing that Jennifer was getting nervous, he tried to ease her mind. "I wouldn't worry about them; they can take care of themselves, which is what you need to learn, so listen up."

Wanting to keep it simple, he proceeded to give her a really quick class on movement. He taught her just the simple, obvious things like following in his tracks and not making any unnecessary noise. He explained the importance of keeping her eyes, ears and nose open for any sights, sounds or smells she could detect, since just about any information could be useful.

He also made sure to tell her that if they did come under fire, she should immediately drop to the ground and crawl as quickly as possible behind something solid and be ready to shoot back. He reminded her that Walsh's weapons would almost certainly have a lot more range and power than their handguns so she shouldn't shoot unless she had a target. He also cautioned her to keep in mind that there were two friendlies out there in the form of Mark and Paco -- not to mention him -- so she should be careful not to shoot any of them by accident.

Jennifer said that she'd understood what he was getting at, even if she didn't understand everything that he'd said. Deciding that it was the best he could do at this point, Jim checked his watch again to see it was past time that they got going. He got to his feet, helped Jennifer to hers, and with some difficulty (since they didn't have a shovel) got everything they were leaving behind buried.

Part 3

Shortly after moving off into the forest, Paco and Mark had stopped to changed clothes as well. At first Paco couldn't believe that he'd actually let this white-bread asshole come with him.

He'd been intending to ditch Mark the first chance he'd got. But after thinking about it for a while, Paco had a change of heart. Just maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to have an extra person along. Mark, after all, would give the freak out there someone else to shoot at. Once he'd thought of that, Paco had wholeheartedly agreed to let Mark take the lead when they had gotten changed.

Other than letting his partner take the first bullet, Paco really didn't have much of a plan other than to stay alive. Nearly tripping over another tree root, Paco was again reminded (as if he actually needed another reminder) that he was in over his head at the moment. He knew how to survive on the street, but what the fuck did he know about walking around out in the sticks?

After waiting for the full amount of time to pass, Eli Walsh was now on the move. For this hunt, he'd selected one of his favorites: a Remington 1100 bolt action rifle with a low power scope. With his own small pack of essentials on his back, he set off in search of the most elusive and cunning prey of all: humans.

Using the innate talents that had marked him as a very deadly man in the jungles of Vietnam, Eli moved soundlessly through the forest.

Eli, even as the young man he'd been all those years ago, had really taken to the patrolling they had done during that war -- or rather, as he called it, hunting the enemy (which, as far as he was concerned, was what they were doing).

His natural talent and aptitude had gotten him noticed by some people who didn't have names but did have a job in mind for him. The covert group he was ultimately attached to would go out with an objective in mind. Intel would locate the quarry -- usually an NVA officer or official of some kind -- in a certain area. His team would hunt whoever it was down. When the prey was caught, Eli or one of the others would move in for the kill. He had just been a kid at the time, but nothing before or since had come anywhere near to making him feel that alive.

After the war, he'd attacked the problems of starting and running his own company in the same ruthless way he had gone about those patrols. So it wasn't much of a surprise that he'd been very successful. Once he'd accomplished that, he'd taken, on the suggestion of a friend, to big game hunting in Africa, hoping that the greater wildness of the land would increase the challenge over some of his early attempts with deer and elk.

He wasn't like a lot of people who would take their shot at a bull rhino from half a mile away inside some kind of armored car. No, he'd be on foot, camping under the stars, and he'd get in close. Even his guides, whom he paid very well, thought that he was a little crazy; all the same, they respected him as an excellent hunter.

Unfortunately, as the years passed, the tree-hugging environmentalists convinced one local government after another to stop the hunting. He'd been able to continue for a few more years only through the paying of large bribes. But every year, the pay offs got bigger and bigger -- not that he had a problem with paying off the locals, but eventually it reached a point that no amount of money was enough. He couldn't get permission to hunt anywhere, and without at least tacit approval, there was no hunt.

After stewing on that turn of events for a while, he'd heard about this new game that people were playing. They would run around and shoot paint balls at each other in the woods. Eli considered trying it himself but knew that if it wasn't for real, then it was pointless. It did, however, get him to thinking. Maybe he could set something like that up himself but with real guns and real bullets. But where could he get the people? That had posed a problem, till one day he was driving through the city and saw the homeless people wandering around. Those poor lost bastards could just disappear, and no one would ever miss them, right? With that realization, the plan started coming together.

He'd bought the island through a front company for a song, and even told the local tree huggers that he was going to turn it into an endangered game preserve. They just didn't know how endangered, he thought with a wicked smile.

The first hunts went reasonably well, but it soon became clear that he would need more challenging game. Bums and winos were just too out of it to be all that interesting. But he had been right about one thing: No one came looking for them.

He'd soon moved on to other types of people like criminals, convicts -- hell, in the last hunt, he'd even tried a cop. He'd hoped that she would have been a challenge. She'd been ex-military and on the SWAT team. But in the end, it had been a major disappointment. She'd lain in wait for him, and instead of taking the shot when she had it, she had tried to arrest him, of all things. He still laughed at that memory.

In all honesty, he wasn't holding out much hope for this group either. It did have one gangbanger from L.A. who was supposed to have quite the reputation. But after seeing him, Eli felt that even this thug was out of his element here. The other one who had gone with him had grown up in the Midwest, so he might have done some hunting; he'd been something of a reject during his military service, though, so Eli wasn't holding out too much hope for him either. Walsh did make a mental note to have a talk with the men he'd hired to deliver these people to him. For the kind of money he was paying, he wanted better game.

Now the young, attractive Miss Ryan and that janitor -- what could he say about either of them? He did have hopes that even though she was in over her head, the former executive would at least be able to make the experience interesting for him. The other one -- well, Eli just hoped he didn't get in the way too much.

From the report he'd read about their pickup, it sounded like when the team had gone for her, the janitor had accidentally walked in on them and then had tried to interfere.

Oh well, bad luck for him, but no harm done, really, Eli supposed -- just one more for the hunt. Perhaps, as unlikely as it sounded, the unexpected addition would even make things more challenging; that, as far as Eli was concerned, was always a good thing.

Eli had already decided to start the hunt with the spic and the wannabe first. He really wanted to save Jennifer Ryan for last so he could really enjoy himself; after all, he owed her a little something special.

After hiking in the direction the two men had been headed and not picking up their trail or seeing or hearing any sign of them, Eli had started to wonder if maybe they had changed direction. People at times could be so unpredictable, which was one of the things he liked most about hunting them.

Continuing to move quietly from tree to tree, Eli suddenly froze. He'd heard something. What it was he wasn't sure. Standing perfectly still, he scanned with his eyes. Looking for movement -- there! Off to his right, he saw movement through the trees --first one, then the other: the two men he'd been looking for.

Easing down to the ground, he crawled behind a log, thinking to take the shot if things continued to develop as he expected. Getting himself ready with the scope to his eye, he took a look at his prey. The wannabe was up front, leading the way. The spic was staying back from him almost like...he was using him as bait, Eli realized, relaxing his shooting stance for a moment.

The gangbanger was hoping that he would take his shot, kill the leader, and give himself away. Nice idea, Eli thought with a small degree of respect. On the street, that might work, but here -- well, it wasn't going to. Oh, sure, he was going to kill the one out front, of course, but just to make it all the more exciting. This spic wasn't going to get away from him that easily.

Bringing his rifle back to his shoulder with practiced ease, Eli controlled his breathing and took aim, deciding to put the first shot through his target's head.

Part 4

Mark was considering that he'd made a serious mistake coming with this guy -- what was his name, Taco? Well, whatever his name was, Mark was starting to not like him. They'd stopped to change clothes, and Mark had volunteered to take the point in the belief that he'd get relieved after a while. Well, that hadn't happened. They'd been moving slowly for hours, and Paco or Taco or whatever showed no sign of wanting to move up front. The only reason that Mark hadn't done something about it was that he was as afraid of his so-called friend behind him as he was of that psycho freak out there who was gunning for them.

Mark was also rethinking the wisdom of leaving the others. That guy who had stayed behind -- at the time, he'd seemed like the craziest of all. Actually sitting down to eat some more breakfast after they'd been warned that in like two hours this guy was going to come and try to kill them. Now, hearing his own stomach grumbling, Mark wondered if maybe he hadn't been so crazy after all.

With all these thoughts going through his mind, Mark wasn't doing the one thing that, as a point man, he was supposed to. That was to watch what was going on ahead of them. He never heard the shot that killed him. Mark was just thinking about stopping for some lunch when he gave his murderer a clear shot. Eli took the offered opportunity and fired.

The 30.06 copper-jacketed lead bullet went through Mark's right eye, transiting through his brain and blowing out a large portion of the back of his head. The bullet's passage sprayed a large cloud of blood, bone, and brain matter all over Paco, who had only just narrowly missed being hit by the same bullet.

At the first sound of gun fire, Paco quite naturally (considering his life in L.A.)dove face-first into the ground, expecting more shots. But no more shots rang out, as an eerie silence fell over the scene.

When the gang leader did manage to lift his head, he looked right into what was left of Mark's face. He could clearly see that the shot had gone right through the other man's eye. Paco just couldn't help but look at what was before him in a strange fascination for a moment. Mark's face didn't even look surprised; he just had a blank look as though he were asleep.