The Last Hunt

I woke up to a taste of blood in my mouth. My cheek was pressed against a pile of wet leaves, and something thick filled my mouth. I turned and spat, expecting a drool. Instead, a dark, red liquid splattered onto the ground. Blood! A feeling of panic struck through me. I scrambled backward, with my palms sliding through cold mud. Sunlight filtered through the pine tree looming above me as I stared up, heart racing, trying to make sense of anything. Where was I? How did I get here? My mind was empty. The last thing I remembered was falling asleep in my apartment. Was that yesterday? The night before? I couldn’t remember anything beyond just that. I looked down at myself and wished I hadn’t. My clothes were badly torn. My shirt was in tatters against my skin that was already smeared with dirt and… Jesus, more blood. My jeans were torn at the knees. My arms were covered in scratches Some of the scratches were shallow, and some deep enough to scare me, but none of them hurt as much as they should have. Dried brown bits were stuck under my fingernails. I was drenched in blood that wasn’t mine. I stood up on my feet too fast. It seemed as though the world tilted as I staggered up. I grabbed a tree trunk trunk to support me as I breathed through the dizziness. That’s when I saw him. He was lying in the grass a short distance away. He was still, worringly still. “Hey!” I shouted, my voice breaking. “Hey, are you…?” Of course he wasn’t okay. His throat was cut wide open and bleeding profusely, and his shirt was soaked all through. His eyes were wide open, staring up at the sky without blinking. Every instinct within screamed at me to run. To call someone. To wake up from this nightmare. But I stepped closer instead. He was around forty, with some gray patch in his beard, wedding ring on his left ring finger. He was wearing a pair of expensive hiking boots. One arm was stretched toward a backpack nearby, the other tucked tightly against his chest like he was trying to keep himself from falling apart. I staggered forward and knelt beside him. The smell oozing from his body was not foreign. I smelled his blood. He had the same scent as was on my hands, even in my hair. The smell lingered in my tongue somehow. His blood. My stomach did a somersault at this discovery. I turned and vomited until there was nothing left in my stomach. Even then, I stayed on hands and knees, shaking, and refusing to look back. This couldn’t be real. It couldn’t. But the cold ground under my palms felt real. The wind on my skin felt real. The metallic taste in my mouth sure as hell felt real. I was awake. My phone was still somehow in my pocket. It was still working. It was 7:23 AM. Sunday, October 15th. The last thing I remembered was Friday night. I’d lost a whole day. My hands trembling, I checked my texts. I saw a few from my roommate Marcus jokingly asking if I was alive. One from my boss wondering why I’d failed to show up for my Saturday shift. I didn’t know what to do. To call the police? And say what exactly? Hi, I woke up soaked in someone else’s blood next to a corpse, but I swear it wasn’t me? They would handcuff me before I could finish the statement. I looked around the forest, searching for any clue. For a moment, I recognized the state park outside Millbrook but I couldn’t just quite place it. I knew I had hiked here a few times before. The body carried a name: Robert Chen, age 43, from Portland. The ID tucked in his wallet told me that. His backpack was filled with the usual hiker stuff: water bottles, energy bars and a phone. He must have been alone. He was Just unlucky enough to cross paths with… With what? I asked myself. Now I could hear voices bouncing between the trees. The voices drew close. They drew even closer. They were fellow Hikers, the search and rescue team. They were Looking for him. Or for me? I ran. By midmorning, I made my way clumsily to the door of the apartment I shared with Marcus. Marcus was seated on the couch. He held a game controller, playing Call of Duty. “Dude, where the hell have…. holy shit.” His controller hit the floor. “What happened to you?” “I fell. I was hiking. I’m fine.” I said briefly, trying not to give anything away. That lie was weak, and we both knew it. “That is not fine. You look like you just walked out of a horror movie. Do you want the ER? Because I can drive….” “No, no doctors.” My voice came out too quick to kill that idea. “I just need a shower.” Marcus stood to his feet, his eyes piercing my soul. Worry was written all over his forehead. “Jake… what’s going on? Seriously.” “I don’t know.” The truth slipped out of my lips unfiltered. “I woke up in the woods. I don’t remember anything since Friday.” “You have been drinking?” “No. I was here. I went to bed on Friday night. Then I woke up out there…. In the woods” The more I said it, the more ridiculous it sounded to Marcus. Marcus swallowed for a moment, trying to pick his words. “This isn’t the first time, Jake. Two weeks ago, you came back home looking like you fought a bear. And last month you disappeared for days. You said you were sick.” I had only lied to cover up because I didn’t understand any of it. “This is getting worse, Jake,” he said quietly. “You need help.” “I’ll get help.” I said curtly as I slowly stepped back in the direction of the bathroom. “Just… later.” I locked the door and turned the water as hot as possible. Brownish-red water washed ran down my skin and found its way down the drain. I scrubbed so hard that my hand trembled, but no amount of soap could wash away the image of Robert Chen’s empty stare back in the woods, or the metallic taste that still hung in between my teeth. When I looked at the mirror, the face staring back was not mine. I looked worn out with a pale skin and bloodshot, frantic eyes. I looked wild. And just for a brief moment, my eyes flashed gold. When I blinked, they turned brown again. I was either losing my mind… or something far worse was happening to me, and I couldn’t just figure it out yet. I spent the afternoon locked away in my room, looking for symptoms I wasn’t ready to face. Blackouts. Burst of aggression. Sleep issues. I didn’t want any of it to be true. At 3 PM, a news alert flashed across my screen: Hiker Found Dead in Millbrook State Forest. Police Suspect Animal Attack. My heart jumped. I rushed to click on the article: “Robert Chen, 43… discovered by hikers… throat injuries likely inflicted by cougar or bear…” An animal attack? A wave of relief came over me. It was sharp and unsettling. A man was dead. Someone’s husband. Someone’s father. And here I was feeling relieved that the cops didn’t see me. What kind of person did that make me? My phone rang again. I received a text from an unknown number: “You must come to 447 Oak Street tonight at 10. Don’t tell anyone. This is about the blackouts you’re having. You’re not the only one” I felt a shiver run through me. Before I could reply, another message appeared on my phone: “Look over your left shoulder.” I blinked in horror. What’s with my left shoulder? I pulled off my shirt in anxiety and dashed toward the mirror. My left shoulder bore a scar. It was pale and jagged. About three inches long scar cut brutally across my skin. I had seen it before, but somehow, I had ignored it since August since when I had that camping trip. It was the night that I had gone missing, the night I had come back covered in scratches, insisting that I had only fallen. My hands shook in anxiety as I typed to reply to the text: Who is this? And the unknown number replied to me with a quick message: someone who can help. 10 PM. Come alone. Of course I wasn’t going alone. I told Marcus I was meeting a friend and borrowed his car. I drove down to the street and parked a block away from 447 Oak Street. The house was old with peeled paint, a messy yard, and light shining through dirty windows. I stood and watched the house for fifteen minutes. There were no cops in sight, no sight of vans, and no signs of a trap. At 9:58, I reluctantly forced myself to climb the steps and knocked on the door. A woman open the door and answered. She had a short, dark hair, and a tired face that made her look older than her age. “You’re Jake,” she said, feeling so sure of it. Not even a question. She just stepped aside. “Come in.” Six people were spread out in an old, worn-out living room. They were all young and all hollow-eyed. They all fixed their gaze on me like they were waiting for me to confirm some terrible suspicion. “Sit,” the woman said. “My name is Leah. These are David, Rachel, Tommy, Nicole, and Sam.” None of them smiled. “We don’t have luxury of time,” she continued. “We all live in Millbrook, and every one of us has the same problem as you do. The issue of blackouts and lost time. Waking up in places we don’t remember going and carrying wounds we can’t explain.” A guy with a beard, his name is David, leaned forward. “Did you feel it? Before the blackout? Like your body wasn’t yours anymore?” My heart skipped a beat. A quick memory came back: running, fast, like something wild. I felt a burning hunger and the rush of a mad chase. “I don’t… I don’t understand,” I whispered. “Three months ago,” Leah said, “you were attacked in the woods. You survived, but you changed. Blackouts. Insomnia. You had cravings for meat and mood swings.” Every word she said hit home like a hammer. It was as if she knew all I’d been going through. “How do you know all that?” I asked. “Because the same thing happened to every one of us.” Rachel who was one of the youth let out a harsh laugh. “Different places, but same pattern. There’s always an attack in the dark, and strangers end up dead” I looked around the room at the wounds, the fear, the tired faces, and a cold heavy feeling settled deep inside me. Leah hesitated, then finally said it: “We’re not sick, Jake. We’re changing.” Rachel finished the sentence for her, her voice shaking with fear and anger: “We’re werewolves.”