by Sam Sisavath
Allie landed in a pile next to him and kept rolling until she was sure she had enough space between them. She scrambled up, managing to get to her knees even as he mirrored her actions four feet away.
She heard rather than felt the blood dripping from her right ear, where his first shot had taken a big chunk. Every inch of her hands vibrated, currents of pain rippling from every single one of her fingertips. She tried not to think about what she looked like at the moment and focused on controlling her breathing instead. It wasn’t nearly as easy to shoot a man with a handgun, even from a few feet away. Despite her best efforts, though, it felt like a train was rumbling across her chest.
If she thought she looked miserable, Beckard was in even worse shape. He was cradling his broken finger, his face covered in a thick film of pain and fury and blood. Eyes—one bloodshot, the other normal—glared back at her as if he couldn’t quite believe what had happened, or what was happening.
She stared back at him, the Glock in both hands, and aimed at his head.
“No,” he gasped.
“No?” she repeated.
“It can’t end this way.”
“Why the hell not? What makes you so special?”
“It can’t end this way,” he said again, as if she hadn’t said anything.
“Yes, it can,” she said, and blew his brains out with the first shot.
His body—lifeless and empty, a husk of nothing, if he ever was anything to begin with—flopped to the ground and lay perfectly still.
She let the gun fall to her lap because it felt suddenly very heavy, and she just didn’t have the strength to keep it raised any longer. The recoil against her mangled hands didn’t hurt nearly as much as she had expected, and whatever fight she had in her seemed to evaporate in a rush of expelled air at the sight of his body toppling over and not getting up.
It was over.
Ten years of research, six years of training, and three years of getting ready for this moment…and it was finally over.
There wasn’t much of Beckard’s head left. With the hole in his forehead and the blood that covered nearly sixty, maybe seventy percent of his face, it was a grotesque sight, the kind that she was sure would give her nightmares for years to come. Even in death, the man would still continue to haunt her.
Allie let out a deep breath and lay down on the earth, letting the Glock fall from her numbed fingers. She stared up past the tree canopies and focused on the clearing sky. It was getting brighter with every second, signaling the coming of a new day.
Somewhere in the distance, she might have heard dogs barking, or maybe that could have just been her imagination.
She decided not to fight the unbearable fatigue and closed her eyes. She went to sleep, forcing herself to think about good things and better times.
Hi, Carmen, it’s your big sister.
You can go to sleep now. It’s over.
It’s all over…
Epilogue
She woke up in bed.
It was quiet and peaceful, and the mattress under her was soft and comfortable, far from the hard and pricking cot of a prison cell. Both of her hands were heavily bandaged and there was surprisingly very little pain. If anything, she felt numbed all over, although from time to time there was a slight itching sensation from one of her ears. An IV drip-drip-dripped next to her bed. The clear liquid inside the bag was probably morphine or a damn fine substitute. A lone machine to her right occasionally beeped.
Every now and then she could hear a calm voice over a loudspeaker, and something clanking as it rolled past the door to her left. It was almost entirely dark inside the room except for a computer monitor next to a sink and a yellow night-light near the floor in front of her.
“Allie Krycek,” a familiar male voice said. “CPA, secretary, waitress, and I believe at one point you even worked as a nanny?”
Allie looked to her right at the man in the state trooper’s uniform, sitting on a long uncomfortable sofa next to the windows.
“I guess now we can add ‘vigilante’ to that list,” Harper said.
She could barely make him out in the semidarkness, but there was no mistaking that voice. Harper would have made a great hero in a Hollywood Western.
“How long?” she asked.
“A couple of days. You lost a lot of blood out there.”
“How did I get here?”
“We were looking for Beckard in the area when we heard the gunshots. He killed one of my troopers a few miles from where we eventually found you.”
“I heard dogs…”
“Apollo found you.”
“Apollo?”
“The dog.”
She gave him a confused look.
“The one that took a chunk out of Beckard in the cabin. He was helping with the search and picked up your scent. You’re lucky we had him out there, otherwise you might have bled to death before we found you in time.” He leaned slightly forward. “I’m curious. How long did it take?”
“What?”
“To lure him out.”
“Four months, one week, and five days.”
Harper chuckled. “Four months. Out there, driving back and forth. You’re a pretty impressive woman, Allie.”
“I had a lot of time on my hands.”
“I bet. If I was looking to hire someone who could do a little of everything, I’d give you a call. I guess when your sole goal in life is to find and kill someone, it doesn’t pay to get stuck in a long-term career.”
She wasn’t sure where he was going, and Allie was too tired to care. “Am I under arrest?”
“Now what would you be under arrest for?”
“Beckard.”
“You’re a hero. The state police don’t arrest heroes.”
Hero?
She wanted to laugh but didn’t have the strength to do even that. She said instead, “I was right. Beckard is the Roadside Killer.”
“Was, yeah. We’ve been turning his life inside out. Everything he was, everything he did…we know everything there is to know. There’s no doubt that he is—was—the Roadside Killer, and that he kept on killing long after we stopped looking for him. The national media is burning us alive at the stakes for that.” He sighed. “I guess we had it coming.”
“Do they know…?”
“About you? Yes and no.”
“Meaning?”
“They know you’re involved and that you were the one who killed him. But they don’t know everything. We made the decision not to tell them everything.”
“I was just another victim…”
“Yes. A vigilante would make great news copy, but it’s not going to be good for any of us, you included.”
“You said ‘we’ made the decision. Who is ‘we’?”
“Me. My commanding officer. His commanding officer. The governor. We. There’s going to be rumors, and some people won’t be able to keep their mouths shut. The media will ask and ask, but we’ll just keep denying it. Obviously, all of it depends on you.”
“Me…”
“Do you agree that it’s better for everyone if no one knew what you did out here? I mean, the truth. The whole truth?”
She smiled. “You won’t get any arguments from me.”
“Good. I’ll let my superiors know you’re on board. They’re going to be very relieved.”
“So it’s over…”
“It’s over.”
He smiled at her, and Allie just barely had the energy to return it.
“What now?” Harper asked.
“What do you mean?”
“What are you going to do now that it’s over? That Beckard’s in the ground?”
“I don’t understand…”
Harper looked amused. “How long have you been hunting Beckard, Allie?”
“A decade…”
“And in all that time, didn’t you ever wonder what you’d do after it was over?”
She opened her mouth to answer…but nothing came out.
Instead, Allie lay still and looked up at the ceiling, turning the question over in her head.
Finally, she said, “I don’t know. I didn’t think I’d be alive to even worry about what I’d do after this was all over.”
Harper stood up from the sofa. “Well, you got through it alive, Allie Krycek. After we introduce you to the media and everyone plays their part, you’ll have plenty of time to figure out what to do with the rest of your life.”
She watched him walk across the room and to the door. “Just like that?”
“Just like that.” The state trooper looked back at her, his pleasant smile visible against the glowing computer monitor nearby. “Get some rest. We have a long week ahead of us. I’ll be back with a couple of other people to get our stories straight in the coming days.”
“What about the kids? Rachel and Wade?”
“I’ve already talked to them and we came to an understanding, too. We’re going to keep their names out of the reports and from the media for as long as we can. They’re college kids. The last thing they want is to be associated with this for the rest of their lives.” The sergeant opened the door. “Get some rest, Allie. You deserve it.”
“What about the dog?”
“The dog?”
“What’s going to happen to Apollo?”
He shrugged. “He needs a new owner. When you’re up and walking again, swing by the pound and reintroduce yourself to him.”
He stepped outside and closed the door after him.
Allie looked after him for a moment before turning away and closing her eyes. She wasn’t really tired, but there was something about being in a hospital bed with a needle sticking out of her arm that made her sleepy. Sleep didn’t come right away, though. Instead, she asked herself the same question Harper had asked her.
What’s next?
For the first time in a long time, she didn’t dream about death and murder and blood.
She dreamt about Carmen instead.
They were young again. Carmen was happy and dancing, because there was nothing in this world she loved more than to dance. Which worked out for the both of them, because there was nothing in this world Allie loved more than to see Carmen happy…
Note from the Author
Well wasn’t that fun? I had a blast writing Hunter/Prey, and I hoped you enjoyed it just as much. And if not…sorry?
But if you did liked it (or heck, even if you didn’t) please consider taking a moment to leave a review for the book at a bookseller of your choice. Even a short review would be tremendously appreciated.
Who knows, if audiences respond to Hunter/Prey there may be a sequel or two in store for Allie and Apollo. But that’s entirely up to you guys. Should we make it happen? Let me know!
Meanwhile, you can subscribe to my newsletter and get updates only when I release a new book at http://eepurl.com/P6fgT. Or visit my blog at http://www.roadtobabylon.com for more information on upcoming projects. For fans of boring official author sites, there’s http://www.samsisavath.com.
Until we meet again, stay away from the cabin in the woods, kids.
Sincerely, Your Humble Author of Things and Stuff (and Whatnot)
Sam Sisavath
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
About Hunter/Prey
Epigraph
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Epilogue
Note from the Author