Hunted

Prologue: Sam

"Hey, it's getting pretty late. I think I'll head home." Sam said, standing up and looking down at me.

I paused the movie. "Alright, I can drive you home if you like." I offered.

"Nah, it's only a fifteen minute walk." He replied, shaking his head. "Thanks for the offer though."

"Are you sure? It's really no problem." I said, concerned with the idea of him walking home in the dark.

He laughed. "I'll be fine, Olivia. If it makes you feel any better, I'll text you as soon as you get home." He promised.

I sighed. "Okay, be careful." I told him.

He grabbed his hoodie and pulled it on, before walking over to the door. "I'll walk over sometime tomorrow, okay?" He said, opening the door.

"See you then!" I called after him as he stepped outside and closed the door.

Sam and I had been friends since as long as I can remember- we met in kindergarten, and we got along really well. In grade 8, when all my other friends turned on me, Sam had been there for me. I trusted him more than anyone else in the world.

I hit the play button on the movie. I must have dozed off, because when I opened my eyes the end credits were rolling.

Yawning, I picked my phone up off of the coffee table and looked at the time. 12:24. I checked my messages- nothing from Sam.

A wave of panic rushed through me. If he had gotten home safely, he would have texted me before midnight.

Quickly, I rattled off a text to him.

'Please tell me you just forgot to text me when you got home?!'

I waited a few minutes, and when there was no reply, I dialled his number and pressed the phone to my ear. It rung a few times, then he picked it up.

"Olivia?" He asked quietly, his voice uneven.

"What the hell, Sam? Why didn't you text me when you got home?" I asked, relief washing over me.

"Because I didn't get home yet." He breathed, and it occurred to me that he sounded very out of breath. "Olivia, I think someone's following me."

A chill ran down my spine. "What?" I gasped.

"I've been trying to lose them by walking down side alleys and retracing my steps, but they're still following me." He said, sounding more scared than I had ever heard him before.

"Where are you?" I asked.

"The corner of McCain St. and Walker St." he replied.

"I'm calling the police. I'll meet you in front of the Mini Mart in a couple minutes." I said.

"Hurry." he replied, and hung up.

I got up off of the couch, grabbed my hoodie, slipped on my flip flops, and ran out the door, my phone in my hand. I dialled 911 as I ran down the sidewalk, and put the phone to my ear.

"911, what is the nature of your emergency?" a monotone female voice answered.

"My friend is being followed. He'll be in front of the Mini Mart on Walker St. in a couple minutes. I'm meeting him there." I said, all the words coming out at once.

"We'll have a patrol car there in a matter of minutes. I strongly suggest you do not try to find your friend before we do, for your own safety." The woman said.

"Of course." I replied, and then I hung up the phone. "Yeah, right.'

I shoved my phone in my pocket and ran down the street. I turned the corner onto Bell St., and ran down the sidewalk. I saw the sign for Walker St. up ahead, and started running faster.

When I got around the corner, I ran up in front of the Mini Mart. "Sam!" I called. "Sam where are you?"

There was no reply. Suddenly, I heard a loud thud from around the corner, and the sound of a trash can lid clattering to the pavement.

"Sam!" I called, running toward where the sound had come from.

When I rounded the corner, the first thing I saw was a dark figure retreating down the street. Then my gaze fell on a dark shape in the middle of the sidewalk, and time seemed to stand still.

Sam lay face down on the sidewalk, surrounding by a dark pool of red liquid that was rapidly growing across the sidewalk.

"Sam!" I screamed, falling to my knees next to him.

I could feel the blood soaking into my pant legs, and I rolled Sam onto his back.

The front of his shirt was soaked through with blood, a large gash across his abdomen. His eyes were glassy and unfocused, staring up at the sky.

"No!" I sobbed, leaning over his body.

Suddenly, there was a police officer behind me, pulling me off of Sam. Tears were streaming down my face, and I screamed in protest as the officer pulled me back.

The police officer was asking questions, but all I could do was cry. Some police officers were getting in their cars to search the streets for the killer, and a young man was leaning over Sam's limp, unmoving body.

The young police officer laid a blanket over Sam's body, shaking his head, and continued talking to each other and investigating the crime scene.

"Excuse me, miss, were you a friend of the deceased?" An officer in a blue jacket asked.

I couldn't speak, so I nodded.

"Did you see the killer's face?" They asked.

I shook my head, still unable to take my eyes off of the body covered in a blanket.

"What did the deceased say to you on the phone?" The officer asked.

I pulled my eyes away from the body and looked at the officer. "I called him to see if he was okay..." I breathed. "He said he was being followed and tried to ditch them but couldn't."

"At what time did he leave your house?" They asked.

Before I could reply, I was cut off by one of the police officers shouting "The body! It's gone!"

I looked back at where the body was, and sure enough, the blanket was laying bunched up on the ground, and the body was gone.

It was almost as if Sam had just gotten up and walked away.