Hunted

by Abi Ketner

  Cole fishtails, trying to throw the guard off, but instead of getting rid of the guard, it shakes me up even more. My blood burns in my veins, and fear builds in my chest. Where is my damn gun? I’m almost on my knees, shaking and frantically searching for my weapon.

  Bingo.

  I pick it up just as a shadow falls over the backseat.

  I lift my eyes.

  The guard’s right hand pulls inside the frame of the blown-out back window. I notice his bulging muscles through his sweaty uniform shirt and know we don’t stand a chance if he gets all the way inside. He looks like he could swallow me up. I raise my gun, trying to hold it steady, its metal parts rattling as I point it in his general direction.

  But he’s too quick.

  He slides in and manages to grab Cole’s neck. Cole grips the wheel with his left hand as he gasps for air. He’s making gurgling noises, and I know I’ve got to act. With his right hand, he feels along the seat for his gun. I’m frozen in place, watching this nightmare unfold. It’s really over this time.

  Suddenly, I hear Cole wheeze. “Do some … thing.”

  A flash of silver catches my eye, and as the guard pulls out a knife, everything clicks into place.

  “Get off him!”

  The guard’s maniacal gaze turns to me, but I’m faster this time. I press my gun to his head, and without hesitation, I fire at point-blank range.

  Bang.

  Everything’s amplified in the car, and I drop my gun to the floor and grab my ears. My head’s ringing. The splatter of blood and brains makes me scream. He’s dead. I must remember to breathe. Everything’s tinged crimson, and my throat’s dry like I’ve gargled with rocks.

  Cole grunts and gasps for air. We’re covered in blood and brain bits when he reaches out, cups my face in his hand, and whispers my name. But the body’s strewn across the backseat, and the smell of blood makes me want to vomit.

  “There’s more!” Cole says in a hoarse voice. But I barely register his words.

  I glance back and catch a flash of another vehicle. Don’t they ever give up? Almost as if in answer to my question, another sleek Charger pulls up beside us. I see the driver’s body tighten when his eyes meet mine. He must know what happened.

  The black car drops back, and I brace myself for the worst.

  “Oh sh—” Cole’s cut off.

  The Charger rams into our car, and we fly off the road and into a ditch.

  Bodies, glass, blood, guns, and supplies collide. I squeeze my eyes closed, unable to focus on the melee surrounding me. I think I hear screaming. It sounds vaguely like my own voice. I grasp for anything to hang on to before we come to a rest upside down. The loud noise of an airbag inflating accentuates the madness.

  Am I alive?

  I inhale and wait for the blinding light people talk about seeing when they’re near death. I close my eyes and then open them again. I see nothing but the dingy red of the car intermingled with stark silence.

  I reach out, feeling around for anything familiar. My hands hurt from the glass as I attempt to pull myself out from the wreckage. My vision’s cloudy, and every limb is marked with gashes. I stop and pick an inch-long piece of glass from my elbow, gritting my teeth as I pluck it out. All our stuff, backpacks, food, everything, is splayed out like a trail leading to us. I wince as I army crawl through the melee, unsure of where I am. My head feels thick with liquid, like it needs to be drained so I can remember who I am again. Cole? Where the hell is Cole?

  I force myself to crawl away from the car and sit up. I glance around, looking left, looking right, and then left again. I see the guard’s dead body, half hanging out the back of our upside down car, but not Cole.

  Where is he? God, please don’t take him from me. I wring my hair with my bloodied hands as I scan the area back and forth. He can’t be far. Sweat’s dribbling down my forehead, stinging my eyes, and I wipe it away. That’s when I catch a glimpse of his dark blue t-shirt.

  He’s lying in the reeds, face down. I crawl closer to him. He’s motionless. No. Please no. Overwhelming fear jabs me like knives. I reach out to check his pulse.

  Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

  What is that?

  “Don’t move,” a voice commands from behind me, instantly freezing my veins.

  I swallow hard. My finger’s a breath away from Cole’s neck, but I have to pull back. I turn and face the guard, who points his gun at my head. His face hardens at the sight of me.

  “Ah, jackpot.” I clench my jaw and narrow my eyes at him. “You’re gonna make me a very, very rich man.” He reaches with his left hand and grabs an old radio from his waist. “I’ve got a revolt member here. Branded blue. No doubt, it’s Lexi Hamilton.” He pauses as he examines me.

  A female voice crackles back. “Have you interrogated her yet?”

  “No, ma’am. I’m going to question her when I’ve got her in custody.”

  I tighten every muscle in my body. I can’t let him take me. I won’t go back to the Hole. I can’t leave Cole. I glance between the guard and Cole’s motionless body, trying to form a plan, and fast.

  “Are there any others with her?” she asks.

  “Just one other, but he’s already dead. I’ll throw his body in the trunk.”

  “What about Patton?” she asks with hesitance. The guard pauses, takes a deep breath while his Adam’s apple bobs up and down.

  “This isn’t news you should hear over the com.” He pauses again. “But neither he nor any of the others survived the chase. I’m so sorry; I know how much you loved him.” At first, there’s no response, and the line seems dead. Then I hear it crackle loudly, and a female voice cries in the background as a new male voice speaks.

  “Bring that whore in.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I shake my head. No. The guard squints at me and lowers his radio while keeping his gun trained on my head.

  “All this time on the run for what? You’re going home now, Lexi Hamilton. It’s time to go back home.”

  In that split second, Cole rolls over and shoots the guard in the chest twice. A thick, dark red liquid begins to saturate the guard’s uniform shirt, and he drops to the ground, crumbling into a heap. The radio clatters next to his feet with static pouring out before Cole crawls over and turns it off.

  I’m not sure what I’m more relieved about: Cole waking up or Cole waking up and killing that guard who was about to take me back to the Hole. Tears burst from my eyes, pouring over my cheekbones and onto my bloody, sweaty, disgusting shirt.

  “I thought you were dead.” Cole grabs my face with both hands and kisses me.

  “I thought I made it clear, I’m not gonna leave you. Ever!”

  His desperate lips meet mine with force, as if reassuring me that he’s real and he’s alive. Then he wraps his arms around me and crushes me to his chest while we’re on our knees.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “For what?” He kisses my forehead.

  “Back there, I hesitated—”

  His hands cup my face in an instant. “You have nothing to be sorry about. You saved us.” He exhales and extends a hand to me while getting up. “Let’s get the hell out of here.” I grasp it, feel my knees crack as I straighten them, and wobble momentarily against his chest before stepping away.

  “Wait,” I say. “We can take his car.” I motion to the side of the road where the last black vehicle sits with the driver’s side door open.

  “But then we’d have to find somewhere to ditch it.” He looks at me thoughtfully as he scratches his head.

  “We will.” I examine his cuts, his bloodied clothing, and the sand peppered on his skin. He winces when I touch his right shoulder and his neck.

  “Are you sure you’re all right?” I ask with concern.

  “Yeah. You okay?” he asks, his voice ticking upward, his hands hesitant to leave my shoulders.

  “Never better.” I pick a tiny piece of glass from his cheek as he cringes away from my hand. “Let’s go.
”

  We grab whatever we can salvage from the wreckage and slowly climb into the guard’s Charger, hoping that they don’t track us to the safe house in Lexington Bay.

  “Pull over,” I say. Cole’s head flicks toward me, one eye swollen almost completely closed, the color purple settling in. “Just do it.”

  He guides the car to a spot thickly overgrown with reeds and palm trees, and I quickly shove my door open, groaning, as every muscle in my body stiffens.

  “And what are we doing exactly?” he asks.

  “Hurry, follow me.” I don’t bother closing the door behind me and stumble into the reeds. My feet sink into the damp ground as water brims over into my shoes. He trails along, the uneven sound of sloshing boots tracking my every step. Cole arrives next to me.

  “Let’s make this quick.” I bend over, palming a handful of water and then splash my face with it. A million knives could be stabbing me right now, and it’d still feel better than this. Water slips down my hands, over my wrists, and washes away the rusty-smelling blood from my skin.

  Cole stumbles left.

  “Holy shit,” he says. His hands shoot out in an attempt to balance himself.

  “Oh my God, Cole.” I straighten, trying not to hurt him when reaching for his arm. His jaw tightens as he grabs hold of his side.

  “It’s okay. Just probably bruised.” He winces again.

  “Here, let me help you,” I insist.

  “It’s nothing. I’m fine,” he says, almost breathless. He’s so proud, never wants to appear like he might actually need my help with anything.

  I carefully wash his face. His teeth grind together, and his hand grips my forearm, his fingers leaving marks.

  “Here, I have to take off your shirt,” I say, tugging at its hem.

  “Lexi, I’m okay,” he says. But even as he tries to push me away, his face contorts into a troubling grimace. Sweat trickles down his forehead.

  “You’re a terrible liar,” I say. “I’ll be gentle, just try to hold still.” He exhales as I lift the shredded, bloodied shirt over his head, revealing a torso full of bluish, purple bruises.

  “Oh, not good. That has to be wrapped. If any of your ribs are broken, the pressure will help.”

  “They’re not broken.”

  “It’ll only take a few seconds.” I put his shirt in the water, squeezing it out with all the strength I have left to rinse away the blood and bits of glass embedded in it. Then I reach around his waist. He groans and slowly raises his arms above his head. I tie the material as best I can, my hands shaking by the end of the process.

  “It will do for now.”

  “Thank you,” he says, breathing heavily. “We’ve got to go.”

  I rub my head, feeling woozy. He reaches for me as exhaustion, pain, and the weight of what just happened overtakes me.

  “I’m all right … ” I say, but the words trail off.

  He blinks his good eye, the area around his other eye swelling by the minute. “We’ll do this together,” he says.

  I turn toward him, draping his arm over my shoulder and wrapping mine around his waist. “Now, let’s hide the car and find that safe house. Maybe they’ll have ice there … or something.” He snorts and then winces with the next step. “If we’re lucky, we’ll find extra clothes and something decent to eat.”

  “Don’t get your hopes up,” he says, the slightest smile on his face.

  We drive the car into a ditch and do our best to hide it beneath reeds, sand, and whatever else we can find. By the end, Cole’s leaning against the vehicle, barely able to stand up straight without grimacing.

  “Here, let me finish,” I say.

  “Uh, I think not. You’re hurt too,” he says.

  “I’m faster than you right now.”

  He mashes his teeth together as he lowers himself to sit. A thick sheen of sweat covers him, and I know he hates showing weakness.

  “Almost done,” I say, checking to see if the car is adequately hidden.

  A few minutes later, Cole grabs his temples, closes his eye, and grits his teeth. His breathing is even more labored.

  It feels like I’m moving in slow motion as I throw a few more handfuls of sand and grab a couple more fronds to place on the vehicle. Then I rub my hands together, feeling the grit exfoliate my palms, while examining our work.

  “Well, it’s not exactly the best cover-up, but it’ll have to do.”

  Cole drops his hands and shakes his head. “Why do I get the feeling our luck’s about to run out? Those people were serious. They wanted to take us back to the Hole even if they had to die trying.”

  A flick of wetness lands on my face, and I glance upward. It looks like someone took a brush and painted a fresco of rolling black and gray clouds.

  “Yeah, luck hates us, royally.”

  Steadily, the rain picks up until it’s pounding us with a fury. We watch hopelessly as Mother Nature completely destroys our efforts to hide the car.

  “Well,” Cole says, “there goes that.”

  His black eyes still manage to render me speechless. On his face is every emotion of the last few minutes—fear, anger, sadness, relief. I don’t know what to say.

  When I was younger, there was a movie where the guy grabs the girl and kisses her in the rain. I remember wishing back then that I was her. Yet, here I am, with the man of my dreams, and while this could be a total romantic chick flick moment, killing two people and crashing our car has kind of spoiled the mood. I’m shivering, injured, and nauseous. All I really want is an electric blanket, some hot soup, and a safe place for Cole and me to cuddle up for the night.

  He looks as if he’s about to say something profound. But when he opens his mouth, all he says is, “We can’t waste any more time out here.”

  “What about the car?”

  “Forget the car.” He pushes himself up, links his fingers in mine, and guides me away from the scene.

  By now, the rain’s slowed to a gentle pitter-pattering around us. Unfortunately, it does nothing to quell my ice-cold, wet toes or the water sloshing inside my boots. I hate walking in slushy shoes, but this is the least of things I’ve had to endure the past few months.

  While walking, I slip on something slick—a “Wanted” poster. Seems Wilson wants me alive, and the reward for my capture is an extravagant one million dollars. Sutton, the leader of the revolt, will see his captor get paid an outrageous sum of seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars. But Cole’s reward is more than mine and Sutton’s combined. He not only broke rank and escaped, but he helped me escape and executed the Commander. And, if he is captured—dead or alive—Wilson will pay one lucky person two million dollars. My mind is blown.

  “Our faces are everywhere. Can you believe Wilson wants us captured that badly?” My wet fingers struggle to keep the dripping poster from tearing in two as I examine it. “I thought, at least, down here, I wouldn’t see these … ”

  A black and white photo of myself at seventeen looks back at me. That girl looks so different. She’s clean, well fed, dressed in the latest fashions of that time, and would not be caught dead looking like the me I am now.

  The photo was taken at school the year before I was accused, dragged off to the Hole, and branded. I wipe water from my eyes. Still, I looked so unhappy, even then. I shrug and tear the poster into pieces, stomping it into the sand before moving on. If I didn’t know myself, I’d turn me in. That’s a lot of money. A person could start a completely new life somewhere else, where no one knew them and no one cared what they had done in the past.

  “Even with your face everywhere, have they found you?” Cole asks. “No.”

  “Maybe we won’t be so lucky next time,” I say.

  He turns around and kisses the top of my head. “You don’t need luck. You have me.”

  “I will always need you, Cole.”

  “You already know, Lexi. As amazing as you are, and with all the new skills you’ve gained, I’ll never truly be comfortable letting go. I
know you can take care of yourself … that if something happened to me, that … ” He pauses, a pained expression covering his face. Cole takes a deep breath and grabs at his side again before continuing. “When those jackasses were shooting at you, I was not okay with that.” Cole’s grip on my hand tightens almost painfully. “I was not okay with that at all.” He turns away from me, averting his eyes.

  “You think I enjoyed watching you being shot at, nearly run off the road, and choked? When our car tipped over and I couldn’t find you, I thought I had lost everything.” I swallow hard while wiping tears from my eyes. He turns back toward me, his lashes dripping with water, and his lips pursed.

  “No matter how good you become at all of this”—Cole gestures to the area around us—“I’ll always protect you. I love you, Lexi, and I protect what I love.” I open my mouth, and then close it. Sometimes, hearing him say things like that confounds me. That he would put his own life before mine still baffles me.

  He doesn’t wait for my response, as if the matter is settled. He just takes my hand again and leads me in the direction of the safe house, which I hope is close by. Because I’m unable to move my toes at this point.

  “I can’t go back there.”

  “I won’t let that happen. As bad as it was, it’s even worse now. Sutton said Wilson executed pretty much all of the revolt members who didn’t make it out and kept a few hundred people around to make examples out of for anyone thinking about joining. He shut down hospital access and medical care for everyone except his men.”

  “What’s left? Some of those people were just like me, falsely accused. They don’t deserve to be there. Wilson sounds as bad as the Commander. Maybe even worse,” I say.

  “And on top of that, he’s still branding Sinners and sending them to the Hole. Nothing has changed.”

  I suck in a breath and keep moving forward, feeling pity for those we didn’t free. I don’t bother to mention how I really feel. Keegan died for nothing. My dad died for nothing. Every time I see Sutton, I can tell he also carries the burden of those deaths.

  Cole grips my hand tighter. “It can’t stay this way forever. There are too many people fighting. I refuse to believe this is how we’re going to spend the rest of our lives.”