The Hunt

Jaycee heard him screaming her name from behind. Ignoring his call, she descended the treacherous hill as fast as her aching legs could go, beating her way through shoulder-to-shoulder trees and brush. Overwhelmed by the saturated darkness, she grabbed onto as many limbs as possible, ripping her way down.

“Jaaay-ceeee!”

The echo of his voice came at her from every direction.

Less than an hour from dawn, the early morning air had her chilled to the bone. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much separating Jaycee from the elements other than a pair of her underwear and a grungy tank top. Squalid articles she’d been in for days. It couldn’t matter. Running for her life had replaced all other concerns including modesty.

Jaycee’s legs buckled toward the bottom of the hill. She felt her knee give. At that moment, she began flipping forward. Rolling onto her backside. More scratches, bumps, and bruises to add to the collection.

Get up, she ordered herself.

Forced back onto her feet by little more than adrenaline, she scanned the woods around her. He couldn’t be too far behind. As Jaycee swung her attentions forward, she was arrested by a miracle. The heavens seemed to part right in front of her.

Sunrise.

Let there be light!

The bible verse pinballed around inside her head as she limped toward the beacon of hope in the horizon. She’d been praying for days. Praying through the interminable nights, through the painful beatings. Praying that God would rescue her.

While at the mercy of the madman, Jaycee had made a deal with the father. His sanctuary for her penance. No more lying, she promised. No more stealing. Absolutely no more drinking or drugs. It would be a lifetime of penance.

Jaycee clung to that promise. She took off again. With each stinging lash of the brush, she remembered how he denied her food, water, sleep. Her extremities were heavy. Enervated. Her mind even more so. Yet, she had understood something clearly at last.

Live…or die trying.

Dead leaves, broken limbs, and an assortment of hard stones nipped at the bottom of her feet. And, still, Jaycee kept forward. Focused.

He was back there. Behind her somewhere in the gloaming where evil hides. And he was no doubt evil. No one else knew how evil. Of that, she was certain. If they knew, there was no way anyone could possibly love him. Not a wife. Not even a parent. If they knew what he did to people, his sickness would undoubtedly destroy them all.

Jaycee had been subjected to his secret disease. She had stared into his black eyes. She had begged for her life as he tried to take it from her. With every step, stumbling her way through the thicket, she knew there was no going back.

“Jayceeee….”

His shouting sounded more animal than human. He was no doubt angry that she had outsmarted him but delighted she gave chase. An avid hunter, he quite enjoyed the brief intermission. He would never admit it but was proportionately intimidated and proud of her bravery. Still, in his mind, there was no scenario in which she escaped. The games he played always ended with him the victor.

The sun had risen to eye level, illuminating her path… and her reality.

Her wounds no longer hidden in darkness. Anyone with eyes could see the rope burns and deep, purple bruises. It was what couldn’t be seen that hurt more. The unseen trauma would linger long after her run in the woods.

I’m going to make it, she told herself, as the 209 Extension came into view. Two lanes of concrete deliverance. A manufactured artery that would, hopefully, return her to the land of the living.

“Please, God,” she mumbled through ragged breaths. Quavering from both cold and fear. Jaycee realized that she’d made it as far as she could. It was the end of the road. Once again, she found herself silently praying for a miracle.

One vehicle. Just one.

Exhausted, limping, she turned left and labored another ten yards. There were no vehicles in sight. She glanced right. Across the road an abyss of Pine, Maple, and Oak spread out before her.

No, I can’t. Not again!

The fighter inside of her, the one that had carried her through the last three days and two hours, the same audacious part that had run rebellion at every turn in her life, seemed to deflate.

Jaycee’s soft eyes welled with tears. There was nowhere to go and nowhere to hide. She was out in the open. A sitting duck. And, though, she had used all her energy, Jaycee knew that she would make her final stand right there in the middle of the street.

Live or die trying, she told herself again.

“Well, well, well…”

The lone voice of the devil sent a wave of nausea through her. Jaycee turned her head and caught sight of her captor leaning, casually against a tree, as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

“I guess this is it, baby,” he began by pushing himself away from the tree.

He didn’t necessarily want her to start running again, but instinctively, knew that she did not have anything left. What worried him more was that someone would come cruising around the corner and discover them in their odd predicament.

Odd, yes, he remembered. But it had not always been that way.

Three days prior, he had picked her up in a bar. She was different then. A cute, sassy, red head in daisy dukes and cowboy boots. Brash, brazen. Hot to trot, he remembered.

What stood before him now was the shell of that woman. She didn’t have all that mouth, anymore. Her one-line zingers, now lost in translation. The party-girl was gone. All his doing, of course for which there was no remorse.

He gazed upon his trembling leftovers standing in the middle of the street.

“Oh’ God, no!”