The Hunt

Paul



"Is that the door going up?"



"Yup," Drew says while hustling across the open space between our location and the cleared airstrip. Ignoring the stitch in my side, I hurry to keep up. "I don't hear an engine yet," he says. "She must be planning on pushing the plane into position on the runway to remain undetected as long as possible."



Adrenaline spikes through me as I sprint alongside Drew. What the hell are we doing? Shouldn't we be waiting for backup or something? I sure as hell don't know how to fight my way out of a paper bag.



Strength courses through my frame, along with gut-wrenching fear. Despite never being in shape and never being good at sports, with each pounding step we took through the forest I felt more alive than ever in my life. We race around the corner just as the propellers come into view. Drew uses his momentum to slide under the body of the plane in a perfect imitation of a runner forced from third closing in on home plate, to come at the slight, black-clothed figure on the opposite side.



I stutter to a stop and look around for a weapon of some kind. Drew must have engaged her already because I can hear blows landing on flesh and the plane has stopped moving forward.



Gasoline and engine oil coat the cold air, leaving a faint metallic taste in the back of my throat. A few expelled breaths and curses reach me as I scramble for a weapon.



Come on. Come on. There's got to be something here near the doors I can use. There! I latch onto a crowbar and head around the tail to the far side of the plane. I rush in to join, barreling at the slight figure with the make-shift weapon raised.



Despite her blood loss and weakened state, she steps nimbly to the side and grabs my coat. My own momentum is used against me and I go sailing across the hangar. Pain spikes through my spine as I crash into some shelving and metal parts. I fall to the concrete, and large pieces of plane fall on me. Jesus, was that landing gear?



The agony in my back crests; it threatens to overwhelm my mind and drive me to lose consciousness-and then winks out. My vision clouds and I reach out through my bond, hoping I can open the link back up that Rafe closed in the clearing.



I push hard, screaming with my mental energy for all I can, She's at the air strip!



Judging by the grunts and muffled sounds of more landed strikes, it appears Drew is holding steady, for now. The hangar springs back into clarity and I see my seethe-mate keeps the quiet woman occupied with a long rusted pole, brandishing it like a sword.



They dance back and forth; she's weaponless and weak, but still able to defend herself. She stumbles and Drew closes in. With just her bare fists and flying feet, she keeps the younger vampire at bay.



The crowbar is no longer in my possession, having clattered out of my grip when I was unceremoniously tossed by the ninja-vamp. Ninja-vamp? I shake my head while dragging my ass off the concrete. God, that sounds like a cheesy Saturday morning double feature. I grab a long screwdriver lying nearby on the floor. Maybe if he keeps her distracted, I can come at her from behind. Unwilling to examine the implausibility of me sneaking up successfully on a ninja, I step out from behind a dissected engine, determined to help.



Drew's repeated thrust and parry with the skilled fighter never wavers. His eyes focus on her black-clad limbs and no words break the concentration they have on one another. A wound in Emiko's side, whether old or new, I can't tell, leaves a trail of blood to trickle down and land on the floor.



Their footing becomes slick in the patches of red and once or twice they both falter, but catch themselves before they go down. I ease out, stepping as silently as I can, and inch my way across the expanse of the hangar.



Please, don't look my way. Please, don't look my way, tumbles through my mind over and over again as I creep closer to the two. Not once does Drew glance in my direction to reveal my advancing position on Emiko's unprotected back.



Ten feet now separates me from them. Quiet as a mouse. No one can hear you. I slink up as close as I can, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. At one point, their positions change slightly and Emiko's back is no longer to me. Her head never moves, but stays fixed on Drew. I can't tell if she's seen me out of the corner of her eye or not.



Drew starts to tire as the ex-enforcer presses forward, driving him with pummeling hands and feet toward a dark corner of the hangar where the curved wall will hinder his movements.



Quiet. Each step like air. Can't see me.



Her slim back stills for a moment as she locks both hands onto the rusted pole, trying to wrest it from Drew's grasp. She pulls it free, overpowering him despite still recovering from the silver poison and being shot, executes one fluid motion, intending to turn the weapon on Drew. Now! I scream in my own mind. Thrusting with all my might, I aim at the edge of her left shoulder blade.



The long, flat-headed screwdriver pierces flesh and bone. It sinks in deep, the hilt halting its progress. The scent of fresh blood spills into the dimly lit air. The rogue crashes to her knees and I follow her down, keeping the thin piece of metal lodged in her heart.



"Where the hell did you come from?" Drew rasps while drawing the pole out of her hands. Using it like a bat, he sends it flying at her skull, bashing in the bone and splattering blood all over the two of us.



Shaking like a leaf, I don't answer. I watch as Emiko lists to the side and falls on the concrete floor. Drew reaches behind his back and takes out a compact hunting knife. Tossing it at me, hilt first he says, "Here, cut out her heart before she can heal."



I catch the knife and stare at it in horror. "What?" My gut roils and terror fills me. I just stabbed someone and now I'm expected to cut out their heart? "You want me to do what?"



"I don't know how you did it, but it was an honorable kill. At the end, she had me and she knew it." At my panicked look he continues, "Look, I know it's hard, but you've got to move fast or she'll be like the Terminator and come back to kill us both."



My limbs feel heavy, like I'm swimming through sludge. I pull the screwdriver out and push the damaged vampire onto her back. Her blood-covered eyes lock on me and I cringe.



"Don't think about it, Paul. Just act. If it makes you feel any better, think of dressing a deer."



My stomach lurches and I fight to keep from spewing. Oh, God. Is this what I signed up for? Can I be ruthless and live like this? The image Vivian projected of Coraline holding Bunny's head aloft in the conference room snaps into my head. My wife's face frozen in terror while blood dripped from her severed neck.



What would I do to protect my family?



The answer is simple: I'd do anything.



As I bend to complete the task, Emiko reaches up to wrap a hand around my throat. Pressure tightens as I fumble with the knife. Sliding the well-honed blade through fabric, I slice deep into her flesh.



In a final push of will, determined to finish the job, I close my mind off from the screams pounding inside my skull.