Untamed

by Steven Harris

William Grant is up two hours before his alarm clock is set to go off. He’s currently detached from the real world. His mind is being occupied by a sea of thoughts. He’s sitting on the foot of his bed with his hands in his lap, filled with apprehension. The faint glimmer of dawn is seeping through the blinds, illuminating part of his bedroom, and leaving the rest in darkness. His fiancée turns in bed and reaches over to his side of the bed, expecting to feel his firm chest in her hand.

  Her eyes open when she realizes his warm body is missing. She sits up in bed and sees the light from the window casting a silhouette of his frame. She immediately gets a notion that something is bothering him. She maneuvers close to him and hugs him from behind.

  Her embrace resurrects him back into reality and away from his inner-conscience.

  “Hey, what are you doing up so early?” she whispers gently into his ear.

  “I have to head out. I have a lot of papers to catch up on.”

  She snickers into his ear.

  “Or you could just…stay here,” she says in a flirty way. “I’m pretty sure we could think of other things to do.”

  He breaks into a wide smile.

  “I wish I could accept your offer, but I really have to go.”

  “Is something wrong? You don’t seem like yourself since you came home yesterday.”

  “Yes, I’m fine. I’m just worn out,” he lies to her.

  “Okay. Don’t work too hard. I love you.”

  He shifts to his left, peering into her blue eyes. The faint light coming through the blinds illuminates the crimson in her hair. He stares into her eyes for a lingering amount of time.

  “I love you more,” he replies.

  They kiss each other with deep passion. Her embrace becomes tighter while their lips touch.

  Soon after, his fiancée goes back to sleep and he kisses her on the forehead before leaving their townhome. His blue sedan is parked in front of their house. He gets in and fastens his seatbelt before making a call on his cell-phone.

  Meanwhile…

  Daniel, Eric, Maria, Jason, and Jessica are all in a secluded forest, miles away. Daniel’s cell-phone starts ringing in his pocket. He looks at the screen and immediately recognizes the number.

  “Hey, did you leave yet?” Daniel answers the phone.

  “I’m in the car now.” Grant answers from his car. “I’m about to go to the campus and pick up Iva. I should be there soon.”

  “What did you tell her?” Daniel asks.

  “I told her we needed to talk. She doesn’t know about anything. I knew she wouldn’t believe me if I told her. I’m about to hit the road. I will call you when I’m on my way.”

  “Okay. We’ll see you in a little bit.”

  They both disconnect from their conversation. Grant pauses in his car. He begins to think about what he discovered the day before. A large dose of anxiety hits him in the pit of his heart, making him feel sick. He looks to his right, staring at the door of his townhome, thinking about the woman inside. He then exhales deeply and ignites the engine.

 

  It’s now six o’clock in the morning. The light of day is gaining momentum. The rain from the previous night is rising from the Earth, creating a dense blanket of fog. He cruises down a lonely road, which has a speed limit of fifty miles per hour, yet he’s driving at a cautious forty. The road is surrounded by trees.

  The soft, blue, morning light cast a silhouette off the arm-like branches. While driving through the lonesome road, he spots a long object resting on the wet ground. At first, he thought nothing of it, yet as he comes closer to the obscure obstruction, a dose of panic slams into his stomach like a ton of bricks. Dozens of long, steel, spikes are lined across the road.

  “Shit…” he blurts out while stomping on the breaks in attempt to avoid running into the sharp pieces of steel.

  This causes the tires to lose traction and jet-plane across the dark pavement. He then veers right and tries to go around the spikes. That idea doesn’t work the way he intended it to. Both front and back tires on the left side explode upon contact. He tries to swerve the car back into alignment with the road but he loses total control of the car. BOOM! The vehicle collides into a tree side. The loud boom echoes into the wilderness.

  The front end of the car smashes in. In an instant, the airbag burst from the steering-wheel before his face is able to impact into it. In a blink of an eye, his head slams forward, bouncing forcefully of the airbag and hitting the headrest. Grant’s head rebounds off the airbag so fast and forcefully that it causes him to temporarily lose consciousness. The blow from the airbag gives him a fractured nose.

  Leaves from the balding tree rain down upon the vehicle as he blacks out. Now his face is resting against the airbag with his arms dangling at his sides. Blood drips on the airbag from his fractured nose. He snaps conscience a moment later. It takes a moment for him to absorb reality. The first thing he does, after regaining full consciousness, is peep at the review mirror. Through the fog, he can see a hooded man walking towards the car. His heart cringes with terror as he spots the mysterious figure lurking toward him.

  His survival instincts click on in his mind. He quickly unbuckles himself and reaches over to the glove compartment and opens it. He finds a small metal box inside. He pulls the box out of the glove compartment.

  The heat is on now. The mysterious man is only yards away from the car.

  Grant holds the box in his arms as he climbs across the passenger’s seat and opens the door. It’s hard for him to maneuver because his right knee is in pain. His body falls onto the moist ground of the forest. The landing makes his injured leg feel worse. His light-gray slacks are now covered in cold, wet, mud. He then crawls quietly towards a tree while holding the box close to his chest. His hands are becoming frigid because of the cool mud. Quietly, he stands up against the tree with his heart pounding like a drum in his chest.

  His right leg can’t support all of his weight because of the impact it suffered. With one eye, he peeps around the tree at the mysterious man walking toward the car. It seems that the man is unaware that Grant had escaped the wreckage. Grant then begins to walk away from the area in a fast pace.

  Meanwhile…

  The mysterious hooded figure, known as Hellhound, starts to whistle as he comes close to the taillight. Step after step, he looms closer to the driver’s door of the vehicle.

  “Professor William Grant,” Hellhound says while digging his claws along the surface of the car.

  His sharp nails cause the paint to curl and fall onto the ground.

  “I’ve waited a long, long, time for this.”

  He thrust his fist into the driver’s window, breaking the glass, and pulls the door of its hinges with his incredible strength. He then tosses the car door across the road. He leans into the car and looks inside. The grimace on his face flattens. He realizes that Grant has somehow disappeared. He sees the passenger’s door wide open and grunts with anger. BOOM! He slams an angry fist on the roof of the car.

  He sniffs the air like a dog. A moment later, he stops sniffing and smiles into the woods.

  “So, you want to play!? Let’s play,” Hellhound shouts into the woods.

  Grant is now running with a limp through the dreary woods, trying to gain enough ground from Hellhound. He stops for a moment and uses a tree to balance himself. He takes a moment to catch his breath before kneeling down into the moist soil. He grunts in pain as he is forced to take a knee. He unlocks the metal box and finds what he needs inside; a pistol and a box of spare bullets. He opens the barrel of the gun and begins to fill the empty slots with ammunition.

  He stops loading the fifth bullet when he hears a noise. It sounded like crunching leaves. He quickly looks up into the endless fog. The last two bullets go in with difficulty because his hands are quivering uncontrollably.

  With a shaky hand, he digs into the box and grabs a handful of additional bullets. He stuffs the spare b
ullets into his jacket pocket. He closes the gun and stands to his feet. He surveys his surroundings cautiously before moving his legs again. The soreness in his right knee is becoming intense but he tries his best to ignore the increasing pain.

  It’s a cool morning, yet his body is already beginning to sweat. His lungs are working so hard that they feel heavy in his chest. Once again, he leans up against a random tree to rest his exhausted body. After taking time to regain some well-needed strength, he studies his surroundings. He listens to the wind. He hears nothing but the sound of his own breath and birds chirping from a distance.

  He gives himself a boost by pushing off the tree. He takes only three steps before stumbling hard onto the ground. His only defense, his pistol, falls from his hand. He immediately feels a harsh pain in his wounded leg, but this pain is new and more intense then the pain in his knee.

  He shouts in agony until he can feel his throat burning. He rotates onto his back and sees Hellhound standing twenty yards away from him. Grant glances down at his right leg and discovers barb-wire wrapped around it with a metal ball. Attached to the barb-wire is a long rope that leads to Hellhound’s hands. It’s some kind of lasso Hellhound created to catch prey.

  “Going somewhere?” Hellhound says to him with fiery eyes.

  Hellhound pulls on the rope. The barb-wire around Grant’s leg tightens as his back slides across the moist soil. Grant ignores the increasing pain and turns onto his belly. He desperately reaches for the pistol but his reach is short by mere inches. Again, Hellhound tugs on the rope, pulling Grant closer to him. He’s drifting further and further away from the pistol. Hellhound reaches his arm forward, grabbing the rope, and uses his strength to pull his prey closer. Grant yelps as the wires rips through his denim jeans, through his skin, and into his calf muscles.

  Grant’s mind is completely unstable. He can’t figure out what to do next. Stress, panic, fear, and adrenaline consume him all at one time. Hellhound pulls on the thin rope again, causing him to slide even closer. The pieces of jagged metal slide deeper into his flesh. Grant screeches in pain as he is pulled.

  He spots a glimmer of hope resting on the ground to his left. It’s a long branch. He grabs it as Hellhound tugs on the rope again. Using the branch, he reaches for the pistol. He’s hoping that the thin finger-like limbs may be able to pull the gun toward him. His first attempt is delivered poorly, completely missing the gun. Hellhound pulls again.

  Grant grunts in agony as he reaches for the gun with the branch. He tries to pull the gun toward him. It moves slightly but the grip doesn’t hold well enough. Hellhound yanks him further away from the gun. Grant can hear the sound of his pants tearing as Hellhound pulls him closer. The pain in his leg is now extreme.

  He has one last chance at reaching for the gun with the branch. He grips the branch firmly and extends it toward the gun one final time before his reach becomes too short. Hellhound pulls again. As he is being pulled, the branch and gun is being pulled along with him. His plan worked. As hellhound yanks the rope, Grant pulls on the branch, bringing the gun in arms reach.

  Hellhound pulls again and again, shortening the space between them. Now, Grant is only yards away. Grant can hear Hellhound laughing victoriously as he positions his finger behind the trigger. He’s now five feet away from Hellhound. Hellhound pulls one last time.

  “It’s now or never,” Grant thinks to himself subconsciously.

  He swiftly rotates on his back and fires at an upward angle twice. The bullets disperse from the gun. The eruption echoes throughout the wilderness, causing crows to scatter from the trees above. To his surprise, Hellhound has disappeared from sight. With amazed yet frightened eyes, Grant points the gun left and right, franticly.

  A dead silence sweeps through the forest. He places the gun on the ground and then focuses his attention onto his wounded leg. He shrieks in a pain as he unravels the barb-wire from his leg. Warm blood immediately begins to soak through his jeans as he rips the metal spikes from his flesh. He tosses the rope to the side and stands to his feet, unable to hold any weight on his right leg.

  Hellhound’s laugh bounces off the trees.

  “Close, but no cigar!” his voice echoes throughout the woods.

  Grant rotates left, trying to find Hellhound’s location. Even turning is difficult for him to do without staggering. He points the gun into the eternal fog, ready to fire at any moment’s notice.

  “Did you honestly think you were going to kill me that easily?”

  Grant swiftly turns right and points the gun into another wall of fog. He can’t seem to keep track of Hellhound’s movements.

  “If you want to kill me, just do it!” Grant shouts into the dreary woods with the gun pointed.

  “Can you see me? I can see you,” Hellhound says with a chuckle.

  Grant hears the sound of feet running. He looks left, then right, and then behind himself. He has no idea what direction to aim the gun. Suddenly, he spots the end of Hellhound’s cloak just before he vanishes behind a tree. He fires twice, hitting the tree but not Hellhound. Once again, he hears Hellhound running behind him.

  “Come on, you can do better than that. You’re making this all too easy,” Hellhound says from the dense fog.

  Impacted hard by hopelessness and fear, Grant keeps his aim forward. His hand is shaking from adrenaline and fear. The sound of snapping twigs keeps him on edge. He keeps the gun pointed in the direction of the noise. He slowly begins to back away with the gun pointed forward. As he’s backing away, he hears the sound of crunching leaves behind him at a very close perimeter.

  He knows someone is standing behind him. He can feel their eerie presence. He swiftly turns around with his gun pointed. He fires the last two shots, but Hellhound catches his arm just before his face is able to cross paths with the barrel. The bullets are dispersed into the sky. Hellhound throws his hand at Grant’s throat, clasping it tightly. Grant drops the gun as Hellhound applies pressure to his neck, cutting off any air and blood circulation.

  Grant tries his absolute best to loosen Hellhound’s grip. He throws hard punches at his long arm. Each blow doesn’t seem to have any effect on Hellhound’s chokehold. His face swells and turns pale as Hellhound lifts him from the ground.

  “Stronger men have tried to kill me and failed. You are no different,” Hellhound states just before he throws Grant forcefully against a tree.

  Grant’s head takes most of the impact. His body rebounds of the tree and falls onto the ground face first. Grant tries to get up but he is barely able to rise onto his elbows. Hellhound kicks him in the ribs, forcing him to roll on his back. Hellhound kneels next to him, smiling.

  “You don’t look so good.”

  Grant says something underneath his breath but Hellhound is unable to understand his words.

  “I’m sorry, what is that?” Hellhound leans his ear closer to his swelled lips.

  “Mane is going to kill you,” Grant informs him with a weak voice.

  Laughter burst from his mouth.

  “Mane?” Hellhound takes a moment to chuckle again. “MANE!?” he shouts in Grant’s face. “That name does not scare me! I can’t wait to face him. And when I finish him off, I’m going to gut him and turn him into a fucking RUG!!!!!” he finishes this sentence with a loud shout.

  He then smiles at Grant again with satisfied eyes.

  “To bad you won’t be alive to see it.”

  He then punches Grant in his face, rendering him unconscious…

  Iva’s perspective….