HUNTED Series

Chapter 5: The Girl

Reid's instincts know there is only one reason the girl would be running and understands she's just made herself a target. But she is close, so close, and the chance to talk to someone else, to compare notes and maybe get some answers, is just too powerful for him to ignore.

He catches her easily, his longer legs chasing her down. She spots him, her features just visible in the last of the moonlight. She looks as terrified as he feels, her eyes huge and glistening, mouth hanging open as she pants for breath. She looks about his age but older somehow, almost ancient. Reid reaches for her to make her stop. It's uncanny how she dodges him, forcing her way deeper into the trees.

He is so shocked he almost stops in his tracks. Obviously she's been running for a while, has learned something from her ordeal. She is wily and he wonders how long it took her to get to this animal place of pure survival. He takes notes without meaning to, pays attention to how she moves, hoping her tactics will keep him alive, too.

The underbrush is sparse here, the trees themselves thinning and leaving gaps easier to run through. The ground is rockier as well, more moss and stone than dirt and far more treacherous than he would like. Reid remembers his last fall and wonders if the pursuit is worth it. But his need won't let him stop, committing him to the chase. He paces her, wanting to call out but too worried the sound of his voice will carry, though he knows their retreat is making almost as much noise as any words would.

There is no way he is letting her escape. He has a sudden thought and can't seem to let it go. As he rolls it around in his mind, he knows he is right. They are weaker on their own, easy pickings. If he had someone to watch his back he could rest, and give his partner a turn. They could make plans, work out their strategy together. Just being with someone else could make such a difference. And why stop at two? There is strength in numbers, just like in school when bullies come calling. Loners get trashed while groups are safe.

They need to stick together and do what they can to find more like them.

Besides, he has to talk to her, to hear another voice. Before he can even make a move toward her again she swerves, stumbles and catches herself, spinning and going the other way just as his fingers brush over the coarse fabric of her sweater. She reminds him of a fleeing rabbit, all reaction and instinct. He doesn't want to have to hunt her down, the very thought disgusts him, but she's not giving him a choice. He worries expending so much energy chasing her will tire him out for when the real running starts again. He knows that could happen at any time, especially if her reason for bolting is what he thinks it is. He briefly considers dropping the whole idea and continuing on himself, but can't shake the feeling that he needs her and she needs him.

Reid swears very softly and turns after her.

For a moment he loses her in the forest and quickly comes to a halt. He tries to hold his breath despite his straining lungs, his ears serving him better than his eyes in the dark. Just as he is forced to take a breath, he catches the rustle of leaves and a soft sigh of air. Reid spins toward the sound and sees a hint of movement while the pungent smell of body odor laced with musty dirt reaches his nose, so strong he can taste it in the back of his throat. His mind flickers to the memory of the hunter sniffing the air and Reid understands.

No wonder the man was using his nose. The scent is unmistakable. It oozes human suffering and despair.

Reid is about to go to her when he sees the leaves shudder. He knows it's her, that she caused the movement, but still he panics, that response too natural now to avoid. He creeps up behind her, not wanting to scare her, but not knowing how else to get to her without her running off again.

Reid needn't have worried. She glares at him, baring her teeth, her cheeks wet, and tries to shoo him off, flapping her hands at him, but no longer trying to get away. Her sweater bags off of her narrow shoulders, face filthy, tangled hair a halo of leaves around her head. Deep lines etch her cheeks, filled with dirt. Her eyes are sunken far into their orbits and they glare at him like he is the hunter himself.

He was wrong about her age. Reid thought she was sixteen or so. But up close he gets a better look and his whole being lurches in sympathy.

He's sure she's no more than twelve years old.

Reid tucks in beside her and presses his mouth to her ear, flinching from the stink of her skin, his voice barely a breath, just loud enough so she can hear.

"We can help each other."

She jerks back from him and tries to wiggle around, but he holds her easily with one hand. She relaxes for a heartbeat, looking up into his eyes. The moisture on her face isn't sweat like he thought it was. She's sobbing silently and all her humanity is leaking out with her tears.

"Let me go." She huddles there in his power, soul empty of all but her fright and the knowledge she is about to die. He can see there is little left of the girl he knows she had to be once, before the horror took over. It makes him want to scream. And worry it could happen to him. Will happen. He refuses to believe it is inevitable.

"How long have you been running?" It's important to him. He needs to know what the limit is, how much of his own life is left if he can compare it to hers.

"Four days." She snuffles very softly, wiping at her nose with her sleeve. "Like you give a crap."

He is hurt, the truth of it driving into his already wounded heart. When it settles over him, his grief numbs. Of course she feels that way. Alone out here for four whole days by herself?

"How did you survive?" She amazes him. He's barely made it through one night.

"I'm smart." She is limp, but he can feel her tension now, the hum of it that runs through her. She is ready to move at the first opportunity. "And small. Guess they like bigger targets more than me."

"I'm Reid." It also feels important she knows his name.

She shrugs. "Monica." Her eyes flicker around them in a calculated pattern. "Don't think I trust you now."

Fair enough. "Didn't ask you to," he says.

"Did," Monica's eyes come back to his. "You said we could help each other. Well, I've heard that before."

Someone found her and abandoned her. It is the only explanation. How can he convince her he'd never leave her behind when he doesn't know he wouldn't? Nothing is sure anymore. And if the chance came up to rescue Lucy, he knows he'll choose his sister over what remains of this little girl. Still, he lets the outrage of it show in his face.

"I'm sorry." It's not much, but it seems to work on her. She shivers and sighs deeply, her tension going quiet for the moment.

"Not your fault," she says, "or theirs. Just, I'm younger and slower and they couldn't wait for me. I get it." She snuffles for the second time, her sleeve now dark from cleaning up her tears. "But it's still not fair."

He's been thinking the same. No such thing as fair in this place. Would he do what the others did? Run off without her? Would he let her hold him back? In that moment, he decides. No matter what happens, he'll protect her if he can.

"I'm not them," he says. "Will you come with me?"

Maybe if he reached her a day earlier or even before darkness fell. But he can feel her need overthrown by her fear of rejection, that instant of wanting to be part of something washed over in her eyes by her own instinctual drive not to trust him.

"We can't stay here." Monica tries to pull free but he won't release her. It would mean letting go of the hope he had that they could run together. Still, he agrees with her. They have to move. Maybe if they find somewhere safer he can change her mind.

"That cry." Reid shudders.

"They're coming." She gives another gentle tug and he finally lets her go. Monica sits up, but doesn't run away. It's a start at least.

"What are they?" He knows he should let her run. There isn't much in her anymore. But he can't just let her go. She reminds him so much of Lucy for some reason, it would be like losing his sister all over again.

Monica shakes her head, her filthy hair dropping a few leaves. "I don't know."

"How did you get here?" His desperation is rising, tied to hers.

"I don't know." Her words are breathed around a silent sob.

"Why are they doing this?"

"I don't know. I don't know. I don't know!" She might as well be screaming. Her whole being is screaming, shaking him up even though her frustration and fear is expressed at a whisper. Her face crumples and her little fists beat against him, her skinny body wriggling back and forth.

"Shut up. I don't care. It doesn't matter. Just shut up!" She hisses at him like a small animal, her tiny hands now claws, slashing toward his face, his chest. "You'll bring them here!"

He barely has a moment to realize what she said. For the second time. Them. What does she mean, them? Reid hasn't even considered there could be more than one hunter. He is so overwhelmed by this news he almost misses her sudden reaction to something he hasn't heard.

She tenses, a frightened rodent, cheek twitching convulsively in terror. A low and horrible hum rises from her stomach, coming up to her chest and out through the flare of her nostrils. She twists in Reid's grip, trying to slide free. He wants to hang onto her, but he is stunned, made useless by what she told him, so he lets her go. When she pulls away and glances at him, he finally understands. They have nothing to offer one another after all. She is simply too far gone.

Still, Reid doesn't want to leave her there. He can help her get to a safer place before they part ways. Before he can act, she moves two steps and locks up again. He is about to urge her to move when he feels it. They are not alone. He searches their surroundings, slinking slowly and carefully into the depth of the shadow she just left. There, near the path. Something moves with deliberate slowness. Reid sees Monica tremble. She hasn't moved. And needs to, quickly. She only has a moment. He reaches for her, too late. She uncoils from her fearful freeze and dashes several steps toward the trail.

The hunter is there in one fluid motion, snatching her out of the brush with a whoosh of air, dropping her into the open. Reid hears her scrawny body thud to the dirt, the gasp of escaping breath as she loses hers. Reid is forced to press his hands over his ears as her low hum begins again, turning into a piercing keen so loud it shakes him to his bones with its desperation.

There. Beside the hunter. A form slides from the darkness. Another one. Them, she said. Them. She was right. Two hunters. Two killers in the night.

He didn't want to believe her. Now he has no choice. She's proved it to him in the worst way possible. His horror growing, Reid forces himself to move on, to escape the sound and Monica's final torment. Her death.

He has gone less than ten steps when her humming protest, the last weapon she has in a terribly unbalanced war, is cut off abruptly. Forever.

Reid runs.

***