Finger Prints

Running and Breathing

WARNING: If you are uncomfortable with death, this chapter/part might not be for you!

As Jim pushed him self up, he looked up at the darkened sky.

"It's night. How long was I out?" Jim asked out loud. He pulled a dart out of the side of his leg and examined it. Jim didn't know anything about darts, but he's seen enough movies to know that this was a tranquilizer. "I was shot! That's why I fell unconscious!" It was all coming back to him. His head was still a little fuzzy though, so he took extra caution and started limping back to his house.

He tried to think of what this might have been. A miss fire? No. A hunter. Hunters are government trained officials that track down who there told and either kill them or bring them back to their boss. Clearly, this hunter wanted Jim alive. So he picked up the pace. Then he noticed that he was bleeding from his mouth. Maybe he was hurt when he fell to the ground? Jim chose to believe that as he didn't want to think about what might have happened when he was unconscious. He started sprinting. It hurt. Blood, pain, water.

It started to rain when all of the sudden he heard the sound that makes his heart stop. Footsteps. Not his footsteps. Heavy, rushing footsteps coming from behind him. He took a right turn at a cross walk and continued to a run.

Jim saw the homeless boy that he had given money to before. The homeless boy jumped in front of what ever was behind him as he started to run faster.

Snap. The boy was gone. Jim tried to clear the image of the boys body in his head as he picked up speed. He didn't want that to be him. Was it the hunter chasing him? Maybe it was some kind of criminal? Kidnapper? Jim didn't care, what ever it was, it wanted him.

He finally made it to a bush when he heard a screen behind him. A pool of blood seeped through the bush he was hiding in, soaking his shirt as he was laying down to see under the bush. He saw a masked man, however there was no indication that it was a hunter. Maybe it was a dycil? Dycils were giant, humanoid, creatures that could easily digest anything. They had a special reflex that allowed them to pretty much spit acid. Which would also explain why Jim was faster than him. Dycils are typically slower than the average human.

Asthma was only a small problem for Jim. He had only ever had one asthma attack in his life, and he couldn't tell if this was one or not. But he got back on track breathing again. He could feel something on his back. Some kind of scratch. He slowly got up and quietly snuck through the bushes. Making his way to his home. He got in and locked the door behind him. Being alone was difficult for him. No one to talk to and no company. No comfort when he needs it most. It sucked for Jim. Especially now.

Jim lifted up his shirt in the mirror. And right there, on his back there was a scar in the shape of a hand print with eight finger prints.