the hunted

Fly (Patreon Repost)

A tall, dark skinned woman stood over her for a moment before kneeling down, "Gracie? My name is Joanna, I'll be your your new teacher."

The small girl didn't look up from her model plane, "Okay."

The woman tilted her head a bit, "Are you okay, Gracie?"

She nodded, silently moving the model back and forth on the floor, ignoring everything else around her.

Joanna moved slightly to be in a better line of sight, she watched the child for a few moments. "Do you like planes?"

Grace nodded, her red mane flipping into her eyes. "Yeah."

Joanna gently brushed the hair away and rested her hand over the girl's. "Do you want to learn how to fly?"

She stopped moving, slowly looking up toward the teacher. "Yeah."

Joanna gave her a huge grin, "Then we should get started." 

White (Patreon Repost)

It took Michael a moment to register the sound he heard. A stain of red slowly spread across Spencer's chest, a fresh hole roughly in the center.

The other man looked at him for a moment, surprise and pain mixed in his face before he slumped forward, his now dead weight pulling the chains taught.

Michael tried to reach for him but the shackles held I'm in place, forcing him to watch his best friend's body slump to the floor, dead. Spencer hadn't been involved, hell he didn't even know what was going on.

“Now, will you comply or will be be forced to find others to use to...convince you?”

His blood boiled, almost literally. The one person he'd cared about was dead in front of him and this dog had the audacity to act as it was nothing. To act like a few chains would stop him from burning him into nothing but ash.

He lit his fires and let them burn hotter than he ever had since learning to control them. Waves of white-hot flame radiated from his arms, the metal of his shackles melting, the molten steel boring holes into his wrists as it ran down his hands.

The Patriot shouted something, a bullet was fired and it splashed against Michael chest, liquefying before it could reach him.

A torrent of flame ripped from his hands, washing over the floor, licking at the guards. Michael poured more and more into burning them, until the room was filled with white.

Practical Medicine (Patreon Repost)

“You should really take better care of yourself, ma’am,” he said, attempting to distract her from the forceps buried in the hole in her leg. “Getting shot at and stabbed nearly weekly is quite hazardous to your health.”

He'd already cleaned and dressed the rest of her wounds, already having removed three other bullets from her before working on the one in her thigh.

She clenched her teeth and winced, doing her best to keep her leg still. They’d run out of anesthetic a few days prior and she'd rather not wait to have the bullet taken out. “I’ll let the next guy know that gettin’ shot at I'd against doctor's orders and to please stop.” She said through clenched teeth.

He gave her a huff and pulled the bullet out, well most of it anyway. “Well ma’am, I've got some bad news for you.”

She didn't reply, just stared at him expectantly.

“Well, this is probably going to hurt a lot more now.” He said as he reached for a scalpel.

Something Quick (Patreon Repost)

To combat the creeping dread and depression from the current world situation, I've been forcing myself to write whenever I have the time. Lately I've been working on a short horror story, but to also get into the headspace for writing/recording more Hunted I've been doing some very short little stories in that world. Here's two of them.

The Beginning

Music filled the room around John as his band started up. The old man nodded and slid a glass down the bar to a patron.

"Thank you kindly, John." She said, giving him a warm smile.

"Of course, ma'am." He tapped a finger on the old worn wood in time with the beat.

The bar had stood in this little pond of a town for years now. They were far enough out in the sticks that the Patriots didn’t pay any attention to them, but still fortified enough that the tribals wouldn’t try anything stupid.

He’d come to know everyone here; Ronde the barber, the Jawsons, Red and Ruks, Kelley. He could name everyone in this town, tell you about their troubles and triumphs, tell you their darkest fears. He always did his best to take care of them in his own way.

A cough to his right got his attention and he turned, smiling, to take their order.

A tall woman with skin almost as dark as his, half of her face and head were covered in scars, what hair she did have was pulled into tight cornrows. A much smaller girl stood next to her, eyes darting everywhere, hands shaking. She did her best to hide under the shaggy blonde hair that covered her head. "Evenin' ma'ams. Anything I can get for you?"

“Whiskey.”

“Comin’ right up.”

He grabbed a bottle from the middle shelf, something not too terrible for the ladies, and poured them both a couple fingers. “Here ya are, miss..?”

“Fionna. And you are?” She asked, downing the glass in one shot and leaving a twenty dollar note on the bar.

“Name’s John, ma’am.”

“Well John,” she said with a grin. “I’ve got a bit of a proposition for you.

The Sky Is Falling

Later she’d think; 

‘If it weren’t for the engine they could probably hear my heart.’

‘At least they didn’t hear me crying this time.’

‘Is all this really worth it?’

‘Maybe I should talk to Doc.’

‘I wonder how many people have to deal with this?’

‘I wish I was normal.’

‘I wish I was fixed.’

‘I wish I was someone else.’

‘I wish I was dead.’

Later she’d think those things. But now, she couldn’t think of anything but the falling sky. About winds lifting her off the ground and carrying her away. About the earth opening up and swallowing her whole. About the chaos of the tribes, the Patriots, the raiders, the mutants, the monsters, the animals. The uncontrollable mass of dangers and unknowable actions of others that could end her in the blink of an eye.

She lay on the floor of the boiler room, tears streaming down her face,  sweat pouring from her body, gasping for air that wouldn’t fill her lungs, digging her fingers into the wooden floor until they bled.

She lay there with her heart attempting to rip itself from her chest, her body burning and her head splitting. She lay there, mouth open, a scream caught in her throat. 

Eventually it would subside and she would think all of those things; but for now, the sky was falling.