The Tracker by John Hunt

The Tracker by John Hunt

Author:John Hunt [Hunt, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Black Rose Writing
Published: 2018-03-08T06:00:00+00:00


Taylor bought a coffee and a ham and cheese croissant sandwich. He ate it at a table in the middle of the food court so he could see everything and everyone around him. A mom hauled on the hand of her wailing kid and a man in a business suit walked past him laughing into the phone at his ear. Taylor stuffed the croissant into his mouth with one hand and used the other to massage his legs. His right calf cramped up, a sharp violent protest to exercise, and Taylor reached down with a grimace to work the knot out of the muscle.


A moan squeezed out of Taylor’s lips. He needed more time, he needed to think. The mall may have been a bad idea. There were too many people around. What had he been he thinking? Offering up more victims to the Tracker while playing this sick game? Don’t ask for help and don’t even hint the Tracker existed! Don’t let anyone else get murdered because of your own weakness. Taylor stood and stumbled, his calf not yet ready to support him. He slung his backpack and didn’t know where to go. What if he ran right into him? Out, just get out of here, find another cab and get the fuck gone. Taylor hissed out through his teeth as he forced himself to move despite his calf’s protest.


Shit! Closer now. Much closer. Get moving! Taylor limped out of the food court, his eyes huge, heart lumbering and sweat lining his brow. Where could he be?

Taylor pushed out of the mall doors and glanced left and right. He moved to the street in the hopes of waving down a passing cab, still favouring his calf and thinking he must look like a sweaty maniac from the concerned faces of the people he passed. No cabs in sight. Taylor moaned and pushed down a cry. A bus braked to a stop and he considered it, even walked towards it as the doors hissed open and then the Tracker stepped down from the bus, grinning his jagged teeth smile and ran at Taylor.


“Shit, shit, shit,” Taylor blurted as he turned back the way he came.

He ran into the mall, people parting before him with downturned lips and dinner plate eyes. Everything hurt. His legs, his stomach, the muscles on his ribs, his shoulders, the stupid rash between his thighs because they were so fat they rubbed together and it flashed through his mind to quit. Never mind the constant fear pumping through his heart causing sharp darts of pain in his chest. What was he trying to live for anyway? True love? A movie contract? What exactly was the benefit? He had no one. He had nothing but a little house and an eternity of nights eating alone in front of the TV until he got so big he would have to move out to the garage like his mother


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