The Human Hunter

“One of my favourite movie scene types is a chase. On foot or in a car they’re just exhilarating. Do you remember a specific chase you enjoyed watching or indeed reading?”

I wrote this story in answer to the following prompts:
Pensitivity’s three things challenge – Take – Crisp – Tin
AuthorWorld – first line prompt.
Word of the Day Challenge — Usage
Ragtag Daily Word — Titanic

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The Human Hunter

I pulled back my shoulders, stood tall and my breath heaved into the cold night air. Looking back, the misty street looked deserted. I knew otherwise — He was there somewhere. Dagore was always there; relentlessly stalking me. I’d escaped him in New York, Chicago and then fled America. He pursued me in Beijing, Ulaanbaatar and now he’d found me in London. There was nothing I could do to shake him.

“Where are you, Wesley?” It was Dagore. His voice; crisp, emotionless and terrifying.

I couldn’t take further chances with him. Stepping from the shadows, I ran for all I was worth.

Dagore gave a roaring laugh and the chase was on. “There you are, slug-breath!”

Foregoing a retort, I leapt onto a car’s bonnet, rolled across the roof, and regained my feet on the road.

A white van’s horn blared.

I glanced off the bumper, spun away and dashed into an alley. The staccato impact of bullets raked the brick walls as I dashed away between bins.

“Maybe slug was the wrong word. You’re more like a pesky, irritating flea!” Dagore yelled before spraying the alley with another barrage of bullets from his MP3 Submachine gun. Rubbish bags burst. Boxes and bins rumbled under the onslaught.

I held in a cry of panic as I ran into a dead end. I kicked off the wall and then a rolltop-bin. Somersaulting across the lid, I hurled myself over the fence. Crashing down amid crisp packets, tin cans and other debris, I felt bruises and welts forming on my chest and arms. At least I hadn’t collected any bullet holes thanks to his wild usage of the gun.

“You’re making this too much fun you slippery eel!” Dagore yelled.

I could hear him climbing the bin to follow me. Sucking lungful’s of air, I burst forward again. Making a right turn through this new section of alleys, I saw an open door and ran inside.

“Where’d you go you repulsive rat?”

I entered a restaurant kitchen, and yet I knew I still wasn’t safe. Maybe this was where I could even the odds.

The door banged open. Dagore had already found me.

Holding my breath, I watched through the glowing lights of the hot shelves. Biding my time until he was where I wanted him.

Dagore entered looking like a demonic hunter. His stetson was covered in the trophy teeth of animals and people he’d murdered. The largest appeared to be a near three-inch-long great white shark tooth. His long coat was made of snakeskin matching his boots. It was those dark expressionless eyes, his fiendishly sharp beard and collection of piercings that made him terrifying. He moved almost soundlessly along the kitchen. “I know you’re in —

I lunged, banging the largest skillet I could find over his head. The clunk was so satisfying!

Dagore roared as he stumbled into the pizza oven.

Swinging again, I bludgeoned his shoulder. The impact sending the gun skittering away. A third hit to the stomach dumped him on the floor. “Now, leave me alone!” I demanded as I dropped the skillet and ran.

Leaving the kitchen, I charged down the corridor causing a waitress to scream. The restaurant opened through a door on the left. There were still a lot of people sitting there. I couldn’t go that way and risk getting them hurt. A door lay ahead and I ran on. Inches away, I heard the repeat of the gun again. Ragged bullet holes tore into the door. I dived aside, saw the staircase and sprinted upward.

“That hurt, but it didn’t kill me, maggot! Which means you just made a titanic mistake!” Dagore yelled as he stalked after me.

The staircase wound through the building, climbing three storeys. At the top, and gasping for breath, I slammed into the fire door. Its steel push-bar set alarms blaring throughout the building. I didn’t care, I was free again. Dashing across the roof, I’ve vaulted a low wall, dropped ten feet, and rolled onto a lower roof.

“Think you can fly, do you? I’ll make you fall then pluck you like the greasy pheasant you are!” Dagore threatened.

Bullets began zinging off the TV aerial, satellite dish and another low wall. I never slowed down. Kicking off the wall, I flew between buildings. A forty-foot drop yawned beneath me. I seized the drainpipe, bounced once and threw myself onto a fire escape ladder. Its latch broke, and the ladder descended. My ride stopped with an arm-wrenching jolt, the ladder ejected me – I fell. My back thundered into and crushed a load of cardboard boxes, bags and plasterboard. Something struck me by the ear. Darkness clouded my vision, unconsciousness was trying to drag me to hell.

“Haha! The pheasant flies like an anvil!”

Even dazed I recognise that evil silhouette on top of the roof. I saw him aim his gun and adrenaline kicked in. Throwing my feet into the air, I kicked out of the skip just as it was riddled with bullets. My lungs were screaming for air and every inch of my body ached from the fall. The chinking of metal reached my ears. Dagore was climbing down after me.

The evil hunter leapt from the ladder and crashed down inside the skip.

“About time you joined the trash where you belong!” I wheezed as I limped away as fast as I could. The realisation had set in now, tonight’s only conclusion was death. Either he or I had to die; there was no other way this could end.

Leaving the alley, I saw the mercifully empty, late-night coach rumble to a stop. Dashing ahead of a lone passenger on the path, I entered through the opening doors and headed between the seats.

“Hey, you need to pay first!” yelled the driver.

“Ask him!” I replied as I ducked a fresh muzzle flash. The windows detonated like fragmentary grenades. I kicked the emergency exit open and leapt as bullets peppered the seats and framework of the bus.

A flash of red.

“Shit!” I curled myself into a ball and rolled over the roof of a Ferrari blaring party music. Slamming down on the road, I staggered to my feet and ambled on again.  

“Lucky, toad!” Dagore thumped the side of the coach and pounded after me.

I couldn’t run anymore. My body was exhausted. I collapsed to my knees on the cold pavement.

“At last! Time to die, pig swine!” Dagore seized me by the lapels and hauled me in front of his face.

Gripped by pain, and wheezing like an asthmatic, I summoned enough focus to stare into his dead eyes. “Time to die!” I repeated.

“After all that running – you’re ready to die?” Dagore looked shocked. Of course, he expected me to be as white as a ghost, trembling and terrified.

“When a person knows death is inevitable, they no longer fear it. They accept it. Do you accept it?” I breathed.

“Haha! Why should I? It’s you who’s dying?”

“Wrong!” I threw up my hands. My left fingers found and ripped the ear-stretcher from his right lobe. Even as he screamed in pain, my right hand found its target. I tore the shark tooth from his Stetson and buried it deep in his jugular.

“No!” he gurgled. “I – am – the -greatest hunter. I cannot —”

I broke free as he collapsed at the knees. “You lose!” I said with a grimace as he collapsed flat on his face. The final battle was over. Dagore the great hunter had lost. There was no sense of victory in me. Every death was a waste. However, better his skin was wasted than mine.

The End

Thanks for reading my friends.

There’s more in the Poetry CornerShort Stories. Short Stories 2. and Short Stories 3 tabs.

Have a great day!

18 thoughts on “The Human Hunter

Add yours

    1. Hello, Susan.
      Thank you for the applause. The gun didn’t cross his mind then. He was running and running until he realised he couldn’t run anymore – he had to fight.

      Thank you, for reading.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. I had a dream like that once where I was being relentlessly pursued and came to the decision that it was either me or the pursuer who would live. As I made the decision that I would kill him, I woke up!
        Also, no American would call a car roof a bonnet. That added to my enjoyment because it made the setting real. 😉

        Liked by 1 person

      2. I think it shows that you’re a nice person through and through as you couldn’t even do dark things in your dream. I wonder who was chasing you to create the dream though?

        Bugger its a hood! I always miss one UK/US difference when doing these.

        Liked by 1 person

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