Hikers - The Collection (Complete Box Set of 5 Books)

by Lauren Algeo

  It would have been the perfect opportunity. She was out of it and would have no clue as to what I was about to do, no time to react. One quick stab to her heart and I would have been running away to safety. I stared at her dumbly instead, transfixed by the paleness of her skin and blackness of her eyes. Her black dress looked like something a Victorian woman would wear, with a scooped neck to amplify her cleavage.

  I couldn’t do it. I stood there with the knife raised, my sweaty palm clasped around the handle, but I couldn’t physically do it. My arm wouldn’t respond even though my mind was telling it to slash forward. I was frozen.

  The hiker shifted her weight a little and the spell was broken. I stumbled backwards, away from her power, then turned and sprinted back along the passage. I didn’t stop running until I was nearly a mile away and gasping so hard I thought I was going to pass out.

  I failed in my mission but I did learn a couple of things from that trip so it wasn’t completely wasted. Hikers need to sleep and they need to feed, just not as much as normal people. The good thing about that is, firstly, when they sleep they are vulnerable so it would be an opportune time to attack (when I eventually summon the courage to do it). Secondly, if they eat and drink then there might be a way for me to poison them. I could somehow attempt to slip something into their food.

  I’ve been thinking about everything I’ve seen and have come to the conclusion that hikers must follow every successful murder of a target with a suicide. It can’t be by accident that the ones I’ve found after a job immediately target a vulnerable person to kill themself. It must be some sort of way for them to wind down? Or a reward perhaps, even though that idea makes my blood boil. Well done, you’ve murdered an innocent target; why not treat yourself to a suicide too. It makes me sick.

  It’s the only explanation for it – they don’t kill at will otherwise, there would surely be far more killings plastered all over the news. The Grand must allow them this lapse after they complete their missions. I guess they know full well the consequences of failing.

  After that deflating trip, I waited two days before going out again. I used the news and websites to look for another strange death, and found one in Bristol, near Redcliffe. There was a husband there who had set fire to his house the night before, trapping his sleeping wife inside and causing her death. The details in the press were still fairly vague but it sounded suspect to me. He’d been arrested however there was no idea of a motive yet.

  They’d been a happy couple – ‘deeply in love’ one neighbour was quoted as saying. I don’t know where they get these people who are the first to comment on any ‘tragic’ and ‘horrific’ events. They’re usually relative strangers who barely knew the victims, like this distant neighbour who thought the couple were perfectly happy because occasionally they saw them when they brought their paper in from the doorstep, or drove off in their cars to work. Sorry, I’m going off track. I’ve just always had a problem with the people who try to milk every bad situation for a moment on the news or their name printed in the paper. They don’t help the case.

  Going back to the man. I decided it was weird enough that he’d locked his wife in the bedroom during the night and set a fire downstairs knowing she was in there. You know he waited outside the whole time? Watching the flames rise and not even attempting to get help. He’d still been standing there, on the pavement out front, when the fire engines and police had arrived. That sounded like a hiker’s influence to me.

  I packed enough supplies for an overnight trip and caught a train to Bristol. This time I picked the hiker up quickly, within an hour of arriving in town. A male. His voice was raspy and it sounded as though he was whispering to a male victim. One who had been an alcoholic and was now about to fall off the wagon with some mental persuasion.

  The hiker kept muttering about all the degrading things the man had done at the height of his addiction, and reminding him of all the people he had hurt. No doubt he was ransacking the man’s mind for his most painful memories.

  I followed the sound of his voice until it got so loud I thought I was right near them, but then it began to fade rapidly. I circled back, meandering around the residential roads where it had been loudest, only it continued to decrease in volume. After five minutes it was barely a faint scratch, then there was silence. I persisted in walking to try and pick them up again but after three hours of nothing I had to give up.

  I still don’t know what happened – whether the victim actually succumbed to the hiker’s pressure or if he somehow managed to push him out of his mind, like Karen had helped me to do. I imagine they were either in a car or bus and that’s how I lost them so quickly. The hiker hadn’t hinted at it during the whispering I heard but he must have had a destination in mind, one that took them out of my range at great speed.

  If I’m being honest now, a part of me was glad that I hadn’t found them. It meant I didn’t have to go through with stabbing that particular hiker. Maybe subconsciously I had lost them on purpose? Convinced myself that I was walking towards the voice when in fact I’d been moving further away the whole time. It is possible; the human mind is a funny thing.

  I know in my heart I have to go through with it eventually. If I’m ever going to prevent other people from being hurt or killed, I have to get rid of the hikers. Tomorrow I’m going to start trawling the news again to find another one to hunt. Tonight, I’ll be avoiding trick or treaters and making sure I’m asleep before the witching hour. I don’t need Halloween to remind me of the monsters that are really out there.

  21st November 2009

  It’s taken three weeks but I think I’ve found one. I can’t believe how slow the news has been. I’ve had the twenty-four hour news channel on the TV constantly and read through half a dozen papers every day. I’m sure the guys in my local shop think I’m mental. I’ve been getting there first thing in the morning to get the news while it’s fresh. I’ve also been glued to all the websites, waiting for breaking news and hunting for any trace of a hiker. They’ve either been very quiet over the last few weeks, or remarkably clever at hiding all clues of their involvement.

  It’s nearly lunchtime and I caught this story on the morning news. I’ve been researching ever since to make sure it’s a hiker. It happened yesterday afternoon, and it was first reported as a freak accident. At the Windsor racecourse a horse spooked on the way to the paddock and charged straight at the crowd. In turn, that frightened the other horses in the group and they all bolted too.

  According to the suitably sombre news reporter, four people had been trampled under their hooves. One person had died, one was critically ill in hospital, and two had minor injuries. Eyewitnesses said it all happened so fast and the jockeys tried to get the horses under control. I’m guessing that the rider of the first horse that charged straight into the crowd didn’t though, I think he was under the influence of a hiker. It’s more of a gut instinct than hard fact, but horses are perceptive creatures and I think the first one reacted to the evil of its presence and the others followed suit.

  I’ve been looking into the man who died. His name’s Robert Sampson and he was a thirty-seven year old event organiser. I can see quite a bit about him on Facebook and other social media sites, and I don’t think he was the intended target. He seemed happily married, had recently become a father for the first time and had lots of friends. There’s nothing in his personal life or career that would suggest someone wanted him dead, and would be willing to pay for it.

  Instead, I’m thinking the target might have been the woman who’s in Intensive Care. They haven’t revealed her name yet so I can’t pry into her life, but they have said which hospital she’s being treated in. I’m going to pay the Princess Margaret hospital in West Berkshire a little visit and find out.

  22nd November 2009

  I actually did it. I physically held the knife in my hand and stabbed a hiker with it. I felt the resistance as it pierced through the flesh and muscle over her heart. Heard the soft thump of impa
ct. Saw the red blood bloom around the blade. But she didn’t die. Hell, she didn’t even fall to the floor. Somehow she self-healed!

  I still can’t comprehend it. I stabbed her in the chest – a wound that would have killed a normal person in minutes but she walked away from me without a mark on her. It’s not possible!

  I suppose I should tell you what happened when I arrived at the hospital. When I got there, evening visiting hours were in full swing. I took a lift up to the second floor, where the Intensive Care unit was, and heard a hiker the moment I stepped out. It was a female and she was inside the building somewhere.

  That confirmed my suspicion that the intended target hadn’t died in the trample and the hiker had come to finish the job. She clearly didn’t want to die at the will of the Grand for failure. I could hear her murmuring softly that one of the patients needed more morphine. It was then I realised that she had targeted a nurse to finish her contract for her and that made me furious. In fact, I was so angry I stole a porter’s pass so I could gain access to the secure ward.

  Ok that’s not entirely true – I didn’t just steal his pass, I knocked the poor man unconscious to get it. It sounds awful, and I’m very sorry for it now, but I had to get in there to try and save the woman’s life.

  When I got in the ward I managed to narrow the patients down to two side rooms. Both had critically ill females in them only I didn’t know which one was the target. Before I could find out, I was interrupted by one of the nurses. She looked wary of me until she saw the porter’s pass around my neck but I was forced to leave the ward or risk going into the wrong side room and not being able to get into the other. Her face was pretty stern and I didn’t want to cross her.

  It was only as I was leaving that I thought I saw a flicker of black in her eyes. I’ve recently been thinking that hikers must be able to come more fully into a person’s mind to control their actions, and that one hint of black eludes to it being true. It’s the only way I think some people would be able to go through with the hiker’s plans, if whispering alone wasn’t enough.

  Anyway, as soon as the ward doors clicked closed behind me, the whispering started up again. They were going to give the target even more morphine and I couldn’t get back in there. I didn’t want to chance them calling security, not when there was an unconscious porter in the service lift and I was wearing his pass.

  I decided to search the floors quickly and find the hiker. I tucked my knife in the waistband of my jeans and started from the bottom to distance myself from Intensive Care for a while, but soon found myself back on the second floor.

  Two security guards were up there, trying to find out what had happened to the unsuspecting porter. If you’re wondering, I’d knocked his head against the lift door then propped him up in the wheelchair he’d been pushing and rolled him inside. I’d pressed every button then left him in the lift… I’m a horrible human being. They must have figured out that he was attacked on the second floor and I wanted to be well away from there before they checked any of the CCTV cameras from the corridor and caught a glimpse of me stalking him to the service lift at the end.

  I ducked into a darkened assessment unit with the stolen pass to avoid the guards. It took me a minute to register that I wasn’t alone in there. I’d found the hiker’s hiding place. The unit was bathed in shadows and I could feel her eyes on me. She’d seen me come in but I didn’t know where she was. I’ve never felt more like vulnerable prey, waiting with bated breath for my hunter to reveal herself.

  The sensor light by the ceiling flicked briefly to illuminate her position near the desk. I surprised myself by charging straight towards her with my knife raised. I guess when it comes to the fight or flight instinct I’m now becoming more of a fighter.

  She was quicker than I expected and was through the doors to the next room in a flash. It was my turn to hunt. I followed her through only the corridor was empty. I checked a couple of the small unit rooms and she burst out of the last one, knocking me flying against the wall. Her strength was incredible. I dropped my knife but managed to pick it up while she ran down the corridor to the left.

  That was her mistake. The double doors at the end were locked and she didn’t have a pass to get out. I did. In that moment, I thought I had her trapped, how naïve of me.

  She was glaring at me with her cold, black eyes. She looked like the other females I’ve seen: long, dark hair (only hers was curly this time), short-sleeved pale dress, ivory skin, no distinctive facial features. They always appear so ghost-like.

  She noticed the knife in my hand and began to smile. It’s extremely disconcerting when you’re the one who’s armed but the other person is smirking at you. She advanced slowly towards me and I shouted at her to stay back. My voice betrayed me by revealing how scared I was. I knew I had to attack her before she reached me or got inside my head. She gave a throaty chuckle and the hairs on the back of my neck rose stiffly.

  It was then I lunged at her and stabbed her in the chest. It’s an awful sensation, feeling the knife bury into someone else’s flesh. I withdrew, wanting to immediately throw up. The squeal from the hiker was sickening. She yanked the knife out of her chest and threw it to the floor. I saw blood staining her dress – it was so dark it was more of a brown colour. I expected her to fall to the floor. To curl up into a ball of pain. To die.

  Instead, she staggered against the wall for a moment then she straightened up. I could actually see the stab wound beginning to heal. The skin pulled seamlessly together until it was completely smooth. Within seconds it was as though I’d never stabbed her. The only evidence that it had actually happened was the blood on her dress and the few drops on the floor. She wasn’t dead; she was absolutely fine.

  I still can’t process it, even though I saw it with my own eyes. I didn’t hallucinate, and I’m not crazy, that is exactly what happened. Hikers can self-heal.

  She wasn’t even remotely weakened by my attack. She picked up my knife from the floor and waggled it at me. She chillingly said ‘naughty, naughty’, as though I were a child and had done something bad. I was too shocked to run away. Lately I’ve been trying to block the sound of hikers from my mind and practiced on the last couple of trips, but she slipped inside easily. It was as though I was back on that roof again. My body was rooted to the spot and I couldn’t even twitch my head.

  The hiker stepped right up close and pressed the sharp tip of the knife against my belly. I’m ashamed to admit that my bladder let go completely out of fear and I pissed in my jeans. A grown man wetting himself in terror, I think you would have done the same if you’d been in my position.

  I tried to force her from my head only she was too strong. She put her mouth right by my ear and whispered that she had a job to finish. That she would be back to play with me after. Then she stroked her tongue along my ear. It was repulsive but I was paralysed.

  She left me standing there so she could go back and kill her target. It’s hard to explain just how much power they have over your mind. Even when she disappeared along the other corridor, I was still under her control.

  I panicked at that point. If I hadn’t already pissed myself, I would have done so then. She was going to make sure her target died then come back for me. I would be her suicide victim. How would she end my life? If she spent any time in my memories she would find out that I had evaded that male hiker before and been tracking them ever since. On top of that, I’d stabbed her. My death would not be a quick, painless exit after all that. She might even tell the Grand about me and he’d kill me himself.

  Somehow I managed to calm myself down with all of that going on inside. I tried a new tactic that I’ve been mulling over. I visualised building a wall around my mind, one that only had a single door in it. It’s difficult to put into words but you can feel them inside your head, like a physical presence. I figured that if the hiker was busy with the nurse, I could get defences in place and try to force her from my mind. I knew exactly where she was and I pushed her presence
through the door and bolted it behind her.

  I was instantly free from her stronghold and could move my limbs again. I ran from that hospital as fast as I dared, my eyes streaming and my jeans still wet. I found a Travelodge nearby that would take me as a late check-in and I’m in a small, twin room now. I’ve got a duvet bundled around me but I can’t stop trembling.

  I forgot to bring a spare pair of jeans in my rucksack so I’m in my boxer shorts while the pair I was wearing dry in the tiny en-suite bathroom. I can see them hanging there, reminding me of the horror of what happened. That hiker nearly killed me but I couldn’t kill her.

  What if they can’t die? I’ve never believed in anything being invincible before but if they don’t die from a stab wound to the heart… it doesn’t bear thinking about. I have to be able to get rid of them somehow.

  Sorry, I’m getting hysterical. I know they can die – I saw the Grand do it, or rather, heard him. That male hiker was dead so they are not invincible. What if that’s the only way to kill them though – the power of the Grand alone?

  I’m not ready to accept that yet. There must be other methods that work on these things. They are flesh and blood after all. They just have enhanced mind power, super-human strength and the ability to self heal. Shit. I’m up against more than I anticipated.

  It’s the early hours so I can’t do much right now. I’m going to try and get a couple of hours sleep. I haven’t heard the hiker since I left the hospital so I’m either out of her range or she succeeded in killing her target and moved on. It won’t stop me from dreaming about her though, seeing her black eyes so close to mine and reliving every agonising moment of what happened.