Man Hunt

Chapter 1

Ten. A number that can tell you how old someone is. A number in the countdown to the new year. Maybe how long a couple has been together. In my case, it's how long I have to live. I have ten hours to get out of this country, or the people hunting me will kill me before it's over.

"Man Hunt" is the most dangerous game I played as a kid. A group of at least 20 kids got together. We voted for 5 "hunters". They were usually the older teens. The ones who have licenses and cars to drive. The game is played over a 36 hour period until all kids are either found or win for not being caught. The hunters can use whatever means necessary to restrain you. The most popular was hog tying a kid and keeping him in the bed of a pick up truck.

-------------

If you haven't already caught on, I am a person of prey in an actual game of Man Hunt. Only this time, I can and will be killed. There are ten hours left. If I can escape and not be caught, the men at the house will go to prison. I can guarantee it. I can't let the friends I made before this die.

I move from my hiding spot after about twenty minutes. I can't let anyone spot the band I wear. Orange, for prey in the game. Like a deer during hunting season, I am both oblivious and extremely aware of what can inevitably happen to me.

I run to the next county line. Looking for any vehicle to hot wire, I spot a familiar orange band. It's still connected to the person who has to wear it, and they are still alive. I walk up to them slowly, but they back away. "G-Get away. You're probably one of them!" he whisper yells. I pull my hand from my pocket to show him that we are the same. Prey in a game that spreads nation wide.

"It's fine. We're the same. Maybe we can help each other." He shakes his head no and goes back to horribly hotwiring and damaging a truck. I move him out of the way to correctly get the car started and I hop in the driver's seat. He looks at me bewildered.

"Look." I say, tapping my wristband. "According to these we only have ten hours to get out of here. I plan on border crossing. You in or out?"

-------------

We drive along until we hear the tell tale sign of another hour winding down. Soon our wristbands will tell us who died in the hour by their serial number. Another 15 minutes left. We are so close to state lines and I almost don't hear the guy next to me speak.

"Did you hear me at all?" he asks.

"What? No. Sorry."

He sits back with a sigh before speaking again. "I asked you what your serial number was."

I look ahead, disheartened. I know I'm not supposed to say my name. Or my serial number for that matter. But it still hurts when people ask. "I'm not supposed to say."

"And what idiot deemed that?"

"The idiot who brought me into the game."

"Wait. You weren't picked off the streets like everyone else?"

I shake my head. "Then. Who are you?" The rings occur, causing me to stop the truck suddenly. Another hour gone and I'm still here.