Hunter Unknown

Bad Company

     I can't believe it! God I'm so stupid. What was I thinking?! I should have made up some lie,but nooo. " No I stole it." Humph. I'm so dumb. Nothing will throw them off my scent like making a false admission to stealing a car. Damn. I thought to myself as I sped away from the Gas n Sip.

    I clicked on the radio and started dialing through the stations. Music is second to hunting, it always calms me down takes me to another place.     Finally I settled on a station just as the dj announced the song about to come on " This one is Bad Company by Five Finger Death Punch, Enjoy!"

"yes!" I exclaimed while reaching to turn up the dial. I love this version better than the original!

As the song played I couldn't help but grin to myself, the lyrics were definitely accurate to my case. I sang and jammed out until the turn off came into sight.

       I had driven for miles knowing this deserted area would be perfect to burn and bury the body currently residing in my trunk. Most hunters don't clean up their own messes they just kill whatever monster and ditch. Not me, I like to make a clean get away and leave minimal evidence around after.

    I pulled off the road, drove between trees, and parked parallel to the road behind a very large hedge bush. This place was perfect, I had scouted out a dumping ground before making the kill, as I always do.  There was a line of trees along the road which were spaced evenly about 7 feet apart, hiding my activities from any passerbys. This long and winding road was rarely driven, and I had sat here days ago to make sure of that by counting cars per hour. Zero. That's the number of cars that had driven by.

     Anyway, in addition to the trees there was a large hedge bush about eight feet tall and ten feet wide perfect for hiding my car. In the clearing I had previously dug a hole large enough to dump this corpse.

      Now, I went around to the trunk and unlocked it. I peered in looking over the corpse; a man with tan skin, short dark hair slicked back on top, wearing a navy business suit with contrasting burgundy tie and dress shoes. This man was a monster. A werewolf to be exact. He was much more efficient than others I had killed. He was a business man who loaned money to those he knew couldn't return it. When people didn't pay their debts Mr. Big Bad Wolf would have them attend a one-on-one meeting in which he would collect the debt by ripping out their still-beating hearts.               A man like this was to be feared and respected in such a small town. Rumor was the people he killed had each skipped town after not being able to pay back the money, this way no one suspected a thing. Until those people never came back, never called their families, just vanished poof without a trace. 

        I began laying dried wood on the ground near the hole, then I went to the trunk and grabbed onto the plastic bound corpse. I placed it over my shoulder nearly buckling under the weight. I dropped it on top of the wood and began piling more on top. I wanted to be sure the fire would burn hot enough to remove any evidence and possibly even identifiers. Once there was sufficient wood, I grabbed a can of oil and dumped it all over the pile. Dusk was the best time to light the fire that way the smoke would blend into the sky and wouldn't draw attention.  Waiting until dusk also kept the flames from lighting up the night sky like a sign. When I felt the time was right I swiped a long match stick across the box and dropped it.

      I leaned against the passenger side of my car watching the flames melt away flesh and plastic. There was something about fire that I loved ever since that night. The way it could either give you warmth and allow you to cook over it or it could grow devistatingly big and destroy nearly anything in its path. You can hold a match with such a small flame on the end and in a minute it can burn down buildings and acres of land.  Such a small thing with so much potential, I suppose that's why I see beauty in it. Fire can purify even the most horrendous of things.

      After the body was sufficiently burned, I rolled it along with the remaining ashes and wood into the grave with my boot.  I then retrieved my shovel and began filling in the open grave. Time passed slowly, but eventually I had filled the grave and began placing chunks of garlic into the dirt around and on it.  I read somewhere that garlic keeps animals away from plants, so I hoped it would prevent stray dogs and such from digging up the body.

    As I started to conceal the fresh dirt with broken twigs and grass clippings, I heard it.  In the distance but close enough to cause my hands to shake and stomach to drop, I heard the roar of a 327 engine wide open.  The faster I covered the grave the faster it sped in my direction, or so it seemed. Suddenly I could see headlights shining dimly through the fog over the hill.  I knew if I took off now they would be right on my tail. Usually I was so careful so precise, but my mind was reeling I didn't know what to do. Something in my gut seemed wrong. How could this be happening?