Fates (On Hold, Rewriting)

Chapter 3-UPDATED

Chapter 3

After planning the hunt, I head upstairs to my room to look through Jason’s file. I marvel at the school picture attached to the file. Light brown hair…decent eyebrows…a chiseled jaw…. Surely this couldn’t be the face of a killer.

They can look like as innocent as a kitten, but they are killers, an inner-voice reminds me.

I continue paging through his information. I discover I have banking information, his social security number, birthday, age, address, interests and hobbies, and much more. I learn he has siblings as well. Ava and Christopher. With all this information I could ruin the man if I held a grudge against him!

After thoroughly memorizing every last detail of his life available to me, I decide to journal.  Through the years, I have found that journaling the day’s events and the hunt’s progress helps to relieve stress and also becomes a handy tool when trying to recall things. My hand begins to cramp up, so I pause to shake some life into it again. A chilly breeze washes in from the window, which aggravates me. Why temperatures can’t be comfortable all the time just drives me nuts!

I start toward the window to close it, but stop when I hear the faint fluttering of wings coming from behind me. I turn around and look towards the ceiling. It’s a bat!

Startled, I exclaim, “Holy crap!”

Right after I holler, it flies out the window, and over the dark, barely visible silhouettes of the trees, one of which is right by my window. I make a mental note to mark the tree as a good escape route, should the occasion present itself. I take a moment to regain my state of calm, and then slam the window shut, locking it nice and tight. I do not want another bat in my room…or worse, a vampire.

I continue writing in my journal for the next half hour or so, and then I get ready for bed. Once I’m tucked in my sheets, I cast a glance around the room before I shut off the light.

I am sprinting through the woods, ducking and weaving through the brush and fallen trees, trying to get away from something or someone chasing me. There’s a thirty-foot clear stretch onto an open field, so I look back. Now I know why I am running. Behind me are three men in black uniforms with guns in their hands trying to get a good aim at me. They stop so they can aim. I turn my head around so I don’t see it coming.

            Bang!

            He misses, but it hits a nearby tree. They’re shooting at me! Why are they shooting at me?

The men start running after me again.

Crap.  They’re gaining on me!

            I try to sprint faster, but I can’t. My heart is pounding so hard it feels like it might explode. Five feet until I hit the open field. Four, three, two, one, there! The pursuing men are only fifteen feet behind me and I’m in an open field with nothing close enough to take the bullets for me beside myself.

I’m going to die.

Oddly, my skin is the color of a corpse now that I’m in the light sunshine. The grass is green and blowing freely in the breeze. A little ways in the distance, I can see another patch of woods. Frantically sprinting across the field, I take little comfort when they stop chasing me.

            Bang! Bang!  

I scream in pain, but not from bullets hitting me. It’s because I just crashed into the ground. Something tripped me and it’s tangled around my legs.

            I flip over to try to release myself of the bonds. The men are coming at me, holding their guns in front of them ready to fire. With shaking hands, I frantically try to get the bola off of me. When they reach me, I kick, scream and try to wriggle my way away. One of the men restrains my arms while the other holds my legs still. The third man sticks something in me that stings like a bee. Then I black out.