Of the Hunt

PROLOGUE

Turn on Dark Mode
|Smells Like Teen Spirit—Nirvana|

DEEP IN THE dark forest, a boy leaned up against a tree, gasping for air. His hair was plastered to his forehead from excessive sweat and his tattered tee hung limply off his body. What he had just saw was horrifying, enough to churn his stomach and throw up his lunch. Pulling himself together, he grabbed the compass from his pocket.

"Come on," he muttered, frustratingly beating it against his hand. The pointer boggled through each cardinal direction, never landing on any for more than a few seconds. "Fuck."

He looked around, and squinting through the darkness, just barely made out an erect shadow in the near distance. He took off towards it, the sight a slivering chance at his survival. So desperate for safety and wracked with fear, he recklessly ran through the woods, cracking strewed tree branches and fallen leaves. The outline of the weathered watchtower grew clearer and closer and just as he felt a sense of relief, several howls rang out. Their anguished echoes ricocheted back and forth against the trees, making his blood run cold.

He froze, fear clutching his heart as the sounds of primal stalking encircled him, a cluster of eyes gleaming from the distant shadows. Turning around himself, he quickly pulled out his father's novelty knife from his pocket and flicked it open.

Hands trembling, he brandished it out in front of him and waved it around. "Please!" he begged, his voice cracking. "Just let me go."

His head snapped to his left, the low guttural grows growing louder. "Don't do this!" he helplessly pleaded again, backing away.

A sharp two-note whistle sounded off and like a flame blown out by the wind they charged, setting about tearing him limb from limb. In the bloody carnage of crunching bone and sickening chomp of flesh, he let out a long and agonizing scream.

Spencer jerked awake, the squeal of the buses breaks startling him from his sleep. He glanced around at the other students on the small bus as most laughed and chatted with their friends. Then his eyes landed on a pair of cheerleaders.

"Can you believe this?!" complained Carmen, glaring at her phone. "The rest of the cheer-squad are already there, enjoying the r & r while we're still stuck on this god forsaken bus." She slammed  her phone on the seat and crossed her arms. "This is such a bust."

"We're on the last leg of the drive, Car. We'll be there before you even know it," Baylee reassured, trying to cheer up her friend.

Baylee's eyes met with Spencer's who had been watching the two and she softly smiled his way.
His eyes widened at the sight of being caught and he snapped his head back around, his heart drumming in his ears from the nerves.

Spencer was an average loner—one who preferred to observe rather than socialize. He was a tongue-tied heap of awkwardness who was incapable of talking to girls, especially when it came to the curly-haired crush. But, what he lack in charisma, he made up for in wit.

The students chaperone, Ms. Pruitt stood up and signaled to everyone for their attention and impatiently waited until all eyes were on her.

"Quick announcement. I've just received word from the school that they have notified each of your parents about our little mishap and our late arrival."

Spencer was sure his mother was thrilled hearing that news. She was the sole reason he was attending this end-of-the-year retreat in the first place. If he had had it his way, he would have been home alone right now in the comfort of his own room, adding new music to his online catalog.

"I want to thank you all for your patience and willingness to wait an extra hour while we had another bus dispatched to us." She gestured to their overweight driver. "Mr. Akim has told me that we are at least two hours out."

Everyone groaned, but Ms. Pruitt was quick to shush them with a snap of her finger. Spencer watched her as she made her way down the aisle and stopped at a loud group of basketball jocks.

"I'm not going to tell you boys again. Keep it down or I'll have to talk to Coach Mann about your behavior," Ms. Pruitt chided.

They nodded and the minute she turned around Keat gave her the finger. Chuckling, they patted him on the back while their team captain, Quinton whispered something low— adding even more to the laughter.

For the first time in awhile, Spencer felt a twinge of hurt at watching Keat with his friends—feeling that initial betrayal all over again as if it was just yesterday. He quickly snapped himself out of it,
pulling on his headphones. He loved music almost as much as he loved his solitude, a type of release that he couldn't get from anything else.
As the beginning guitar riff thrummed in his ears, he rested his head against the window and peered out at the passing buildings.

For everyone including Spencer, this was going to be one long hell of a ride.