Alex

Hunted

“Are you ready?” Dr. Meyers asked, his voice low as he grabbed his sister’s car keys from the kitchen counter.

I stared at him, still trying to piece everything together. “Where are we going?”

“To The Farm,” he said, pulling the door shut behind him with a soft click.

The Farm? The name sounded strange, almost quaint, but I had no idea what it meant. My brow furrowed as I tried to make sense of it. “What’s The Farm?” I asked, confusion creeping into my voice.

Dr. Meyers glanced over at me as we reached the elevator, pressing the button with a practiced efficiency. “I’ll explain everything on the way. Just trust me for now.”

The elevator dinged, its metallic doors sliding open to reveal the empty car. As we stepped inside, the silence between us thickened. Dr. Meyers pressed the button for the garage, and the faint hum of the elevator filled the void as we descended.

When we reached the car, I took a moment to breathe in the oddly comforting scent of leather and newness that filled the interior. It didn’t quite fit the tension in the air. As Dr. Meyers backed the car out of the space, I broke the silence. “You sure your sister won’t mind us borrowing this?”

He chuckled, though his grip on the steering wheel betrayed his unease. “It’s fine. I’ll return it with a full tank of gas,” he added, his attempt at humor not easing my growing sense of dread.

Just as we approached the garage exit, a cold shiver ran down my spine. Before I could say anything, a man stepped out from the shadows, directly in front of the car. He was dressed in black pants and a gray polo, his posture rigid, his gaze locked on us. In his hand, he held a Beretta M9, aimed squarely at the windshield.

“Samuel,” Dr. Meyers hissed under his breath.

His reaction was immediate. Foot slammed down on the gas, the car roared to life, tires screeching as we shot forward.

Samuel’s movements were fluid, almost inhuman. He leapt into the air, narrowly avoiding the car as it sped toward him. His body twisted mid-air, landing with a roll that brought him back to his feet in an instant. Two shots rang out, echoing in the confined space.

Dr. Meyers swerved hard, and the bullets sliced through the air, striking the rear bumper with a metallic thud. He straightened the wheel, crashing through the gate arm with a splintering crack and made a sharp left, merging recklessly into traffic.

Horns blared in protest, but Dr. Meyers didn’t flinch, his focus locked on the road ahead. In the side mirror, I caught sight of Samuel again. His expression was cold, determined. Within moments, a black Escalade with tinted windows screeched to a halt beside him. Samuel climbed into the backseat, and the chase began in earnest.

“How did they find us so quickly?” Dr. Meyers muttered, more to himself than to me. His knuckles whitened as he weaved between cars, pushing the vehicle to its limits. Every lane shift was tighter, more desperate.

My heart pounded as I looked behind us. The Escalade was relentless, its engine roaring as it barreled down the road in pursuit. We made a hard right, then a left, blowing through red lights and narrowly avoiding collisions. The city’s buildings blurred past in a chaotic whirl of color and noise.

Suddenly, another black Escalade appeared, coming out of nowhere to our left. It swerved aggressively, its driver turning hard into us, slamming the car against our side.

Dr. Meyers jerked the wheel left, narrowly avoiding a parked car. The force of the impact left my heart hammering in my chest, but Dr. Meyers never let off the gas. He accelerated, pulling ahead of the Escalade, but I could feel them closing the gap again.

The second Escalade, undeterred by near collisions, veered behind us. Dr. Meyers pushed the car faster, weaving between oncoming vehicles and barely avoiding disaster.

“The glove box!” Dr. Meyers snapped, his eyes never leaving the road. “There’s a gun in the glove box.”

I reached forward, my hands trembling slightly as I fumbled with the latch. Inside was a sleek Sig Sauer P365. Without hesitation, I unbuckled my seatbelt and leaned out the window, steadying myself against the wind resistance and the screeching tires. My grip tightened around the weapon as I aimed at the nearest Escalade.

Time seemed to slow as I calculated the distance, the wind, the angle. I squeezed the trigger.

The shot rang out, and a second later, the front right tire of the pursuing vehicle exploded. The massive SUV skidded, spinning out of control. It slammed into a parked blue sedan, flipping onto its side in a deafening crash of metal and glass, before coming to a halt in a shower of sparks.

“Nice shot,” Dr. Meyers muttered, his eyes flicking toward me for the briefest of moments before focusing back on the road.

I exhaled a shaky breath, the adrenaline still coursing through my veins. But we weren’t out of danger yet. The two-lane road began to widen as we neared the outskirts of the city, the towering buildings giving way to open sky.

Dr. Meyers glanced into the rearview mirror. “I think we lost them... for now.”

I turned my head, scanning the road behind us. For the moment, it was clear.

We merged onto the expressway, leaving the chaos of the city behind us. The hum of the tires against the road became a steady rhythm, the landscape stretching out before us, vast and open.

Next stop, The Farm. Whatever that was.