365 Days Hunted

by Nancy Isaak

“Hard to believe that it’s only been a year without them,” he sighed. “I kind of feel like they’ve been gone forever.”

  “I think they grounded us. Girls kept us civilized.”

  Brandon gave me an evil grin. “You obviously never dated Tray.”

  * * * *

  …boom, boom, BOOM!

  The Crazies were almost manic in their yelling and screaming. Their faces were contorted in excitement, their feet pumping the stands, their arms karate-chopping the air.

  One kid down in front held up a fork and knife—laughing and sticking his tongue out at me. Another turned and pulled down his pants, showing me an unfortunate view of his ass.

  …boom, boom, BOOM!

  * * * *

  Brandon was now standing ten feet away from me. He was wearing a metal breastplate and holding a long sword in his right hand. Leaning over, he allowed Mateo to place a set of football shoulder pads over his head, securing them with strings.

  …boom, boom, BOOM!

  Mateo then took a helmet and placed it carefully over Brandon’s head.

  …boom, boom, BOOM!

  * * * *

  It was Han who helped me into my own shoulder pads. They felt right to wear, a comfortable sense-memory of my previous high school football life.

  “They good?” Han asked, tying the pads down.

  “I’m counting on it.”

  He handed me the spear that I had chosen a few moments previously—the one with the three green rings. Then, Han lifted up a football helmet and jostled it into position over my head. Through the small cage over my eyes, I could just see up onto the hill at the end of the fence.

  …boom, boom, BOOM!

  “Get him,” whispered Han, knocking the top of my helmet with his knuckles. Then, he stepped back and left the field. Mateo followed a moment later, pulling out his gun as he walked.

  …boom, boom, BOOM!

  Stopping in front of the stands, Mateo turned and faced us. He held the gun up, high in the air, and waited for Brandon’s signal.

  …boom, boom, BOOM!

  * * * *

  “I don’t eat them,” Brandon confided. He looked over at the frenzied Crazies in the stands, then back at me. “They think I do—but I don’t.”

  “Then what’s all that crap about eating your enemy’s heart?”

  Brandon lifted his sword up waist-high, moving it over and under in a figure eight pattern.

  A pattern I recognized!

  “It’s all just for show,” he admitted. “That’s all it’s ever been.

  “You do it to control them.”

  “Of course,” Brandon nodded. “Once they’ve eaten, they’re committed. Not like they can go back to being normal after doing something like that.”

  “It’s disgusting.”

  “Absolutely,” Brandon agreed.

  …boom, boom, BOOM!

  “And it’s really going to be disgusting,” he continued, “when they eat your heart.”

  “You really hate me that much, Brandon?”

  “Dude,” he said, “don’t you get it? I hate everyone that much.”

  “Even yourself?”

  Brandon’s eyes narrowed. He looked over at Mateo and nodded.

  BANG! The gun went off.

  * * * *

  Three things happened at once.

  * * * *

  I jumped back as Brandon ceased his figure eights and lunged his long sword at me with a vicious jab.

  Up on the hill, a dark figure came out from behind the ‘A’ and knelt down, centering his rifle on his shoulder and aiming down into the Arena.

  Then…everyone—in the stands and on the field—disappeared!

  * * * *

  …except her…the girl.

  * * * *

  She was kneeling in the center of the football field, with her back toward me…but still I knew.

  Her hair had been braided—three messy, crisscross plaits that stuck out at absurd angles. I noticed right away that she was thinner than before and that there were cuts and bruises all over her body. My heart hardened at that—wondering who would dare hurt this girl.

  Suddenly, she turned—rising and spinning around at the same time—as if to take flight.

  But then, she saw me—and stopped.

  And she just stared.

  * * * *

  I walked toward her slowly—one step at a time.

  Twenty feet away, fifteen feet, ten feet, five feet.

  Then, I stopped—facing her—my heart racing. “Kaylee?”

  * * * *

  And she said one word. “Jacob…”

  * * * *

  My heart skipped a beat as I pulled off my helmet and went to her.

  Kaylee Michelson—the girl I loved, the girl I would always love.

  She smiled up at me, her green eyes blazing fiercely into mine.

  “I knew you were still alive,” I whispered. “I just knew it!”

  * * * *

  They began to reappear, then.

  One after another—popping up all along the football field and in the stands.

  Crazies…and girls!

  * * * *

  A few feet away, Brandon materialized out of thin air. He looked disoriented and wobbly—dropping the sword he was carrying onto the ground beside him.

  Traynesha Davis was standing a few yards away, a gun lying at her feet. She looked up and saw Brandon and her jaw dropped open in shock.

  In the stands, meanwhile, guys began to yell—girls to scream.

  I returned my gaze to Brandon, watching as he shook his head, as if clearing out the cobwebs. For a moment, I thought that it would all be over—that sanity had returned.

  But then Brandon looked at me and grinned.

  And he bent over to pick up his sword.

  I knew then—it wasn’t over.

  It had only just begun.

  * * * *

  And I took the hand of my girl—my girl with the extraordinary green eyes—the girl I loved so dearly—and I said the one thing I would have least expected.

  “RUN, KAYLEE…RUN!!”

  END

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Nancy Isaak is a Gemini-nominated, award-winning writer of television, films, and books. She currently resides in Southern California with her son and three cats.

  AND THE SAGA CONTINUES IN:

  (The following excerpt is from “365 Days At War”,

  the third installment in “The 365 Days Quadrilogy”.)

  HOW IT ALL BEGAN - Kaylee

  It began with three words…

  Shifting our existence once again—changing, morphing it into something unexpected and terrifying.

  We were the Locals.

  They were the Crazies.

  And—we were fighting for our lives.

  But, I guess we should start at the beginning.

  So, here's what we wrote in our journals, starting on that very first day—the day that Jacob took my hand in his and said…

  “RUN, KAYLEE…RUN!!”

  KAYLEE

  These last few days have been some of the most astounding of our lives.

  For 365 days, we were separated.

  Girls without boys.

  Boys without girls.

  It was difficult, it was complicated, and—for the people I love—it was often dangerous and terrifying.

  But we’re together now—boys and girls—back where we belong. It gives all of us hope that, somewhere, our parents and other disappeared loved ones are still alive.

  We just have to find them.

  * * * *

  But—back to what happened at the high school that Halloween morning…

  * * * *

  On my knees, waiting to be shot by Tray, had to have been one of the lowest moments in my life. Without a doubt, I was certain that I was about to be killed. When I heard those clicks from the empty revolver and realized that I still had a chance, I felt a sudden flare of hope.

  But—when I turned a
nd saw Jacob—my hope transformed into certainty.

  That the one boy I truly loved should be there—that he should come to me and hold out his hand.

  Fate…

  I had absolutely no doubt.

  There would be no dying that day.

  * * * *

  Unfortunately, nobody told Brandon Keretsky.

  He started toward Jacob and me, sword held high, ready to swing it toward our heads. Beside us, meanwhile, Tray was yelling for someone to bring her a gun that actually had bullets.

  All around us, boys were popping up, along the stadium’s perimeter and in the stands. The scene became chaotic as the guys appeared in spaces girls already occupied.

  There were screams and screeches, yells of anger and frustration.

  Girls pushed guys out of their laps, while guys fell onto their faces or threw girls onto the ground to gain space; punches were thrown, kicks connected with shins and groins, blood began to flow.

  To my horror, one guy in the stands, dressed only in jeans and riding boots, leaned over and bit Rachel on the shoulder. Beside her, Sue lashed out, punching the guy in the side of his head. Moments later, the three of them disappeared from my sight as a young boy tumbled down from the top of the bleachers, causing others to rise up and flee—obscuring my view.

  * * * *

  “Brandon, no!” It was Jacob who had yelled.

  As we ran, I turned to see Brandon even closer than before, pushing through the ever-increasing crowd of kids now running out of the stands and onto the field.

  “It’s over, Brandon!” cried Jacob. “Can’t you see that things have changed?!”

  “Nothing’s changed,” hissed Brandon, not slowing at all.

  If anything, he moved even faster, punching a kid in the gut whose only mistake was trying to run past him.

  The boy fell to the ground, his body keeling over in such a way that it blocked Brandon’s path.

  * * * *

  “I want a fricking gun! Is it too much to ask, just one fricking gun!” This was Tray—pushing at girls as they raced by, grabbing others to quickly frisk them for weapons.

  Jacob tugged on my hand, pulling me toward the main gate. “Come on, Kaylee! We need to get out of here…now!”

  “No, no!” I cried, wrenching my hand out of his. “We have to get the others first!”

  Without even looking back—trusting that the boy I loved would follow—I ran across the field to where I knew Jay, Jude, Peyton, and Cherry were still duct taped and shut up in the cage.

  * * * *

  There were even more kids on the field now—both boys and girls—running this way and that. They seemed to be trying to escape other oddly-dressed and tattooed boys who were chasing them.

  Like wild, depraved chimpanzees, these wild boys jumped up and down as they ran after kids, squealing in excitement. One reached out and grabbed at me as I came near.

  Immediately Jacob shot by me, his shoulder down, pushing the kid to the ground.

  “Hurry, Kaylee!” Jacob yelled at me.

  I ran even faster, sparing a fraction of a moment to look behind me. Brandon had disappeared into the crowd of kids flooding onto the football field. I could still see Tray, however, but even she was having difficulty maneuvering through the crowd toward us.

  But—she was definitely trying.

  * * * *

  As Jacob and I reached the cage, shots broke out.

  It appeared that more than one person was shooting guns over near the stands. Pandemonium reigned as boys and girls stumbled and fell, jumping down two or three levels at once, trying desperately to reach the field. They pushed and shoved at each other, not bothering to help anyone that fell—merely jumping or stepping over the flailing bodies.

  * * * *

  “Kaylee…I’m sorry!” cried Rowena, as I pushed her away from the cage door she was guarding. “I didn’t want to do it. The Foxes made me.”

  In response, I punched her in the nose.

  She went down, blood flying in all directions.

  “Sorry, Rowena,” I barked at her. “But I did want to do that!”

  * * * *

  Once inside the cage, I pulled the duct tape off of Jay’s wrists and mouth. Meanwhile, Jacob had entered behind me and was working at freeing Jude. A few feet away, Peyton had already somehow freed herself and was tugging at the tape on Cherry’s wrists.

  “We need to move fast,” Jacob told us. “There are too many people at the main gate—they’re bottlenecking—we won’t get out that way. So, we’ll head to the gate on the other side of the field.”

  * * * *

  “Ohmigod…it’s Jacob Riker!” whispered Jay, as we stepped out of the cage. “He’s actually here!”

  “I know,” I grinned, whispering back. “And he knows who I am!”

  And—even amid all the chaos and terror that was going on around us—Jay and I held each other’s hands and gave a little-girl squeal of delight.

  * * * *

  “Up there,” pointed Cherry. “See them?”

  It was two guys, racing down the hill above Agoura High—as if descending from the giant ‘A’ the school had placed there. They had rifles in their arms and they were shooting as they ran.

  “I think they’re from my tribe,” Jacob speculated. “But I’m not totally sure, so let’s get a move on it.”

  We ran together—Cherry, Jude, Peyton, Jay, Jacob, and me—holding each other’s hands, so that we wouldn’t be separated by the surging crowd.

  At one point, I looked back and realized that it had been a good decision not to attempt to reach the main gate. Someone had shut and locked it and kids there were now piling up, one on top of the other, desperately trying to escape.

  BANG, BANG, BANG!

  “There are shooters up on the stands!” yelled Jay. “See them…they’re wearing masks!” She pointed to three guys straddling the back wall, high up above the crowd—as if they had climbed up there from the street side. The guys all had rifles and were taking potshots at the kids racing around the football field.

  “Over there on the roof of that portable,” warned Cherry. “There’s another masked guy there with a rifle!”

  “Just keep moving!” I yelled, pushing a guy with a tattooed chest and a faux-mohawk out of my way. “Don’t look back anymore—just keep running!”

  * * * *

  We were ten feet away from the side gate when Brandon Keretsky suddenly pushed his way out from the crowd in front of us, holding a sword in his hands. He was breathing heavily, sweat running down his bald head, teeth bared at us in fury.

  “Jacob,” he growled, “me and you haven’t danced, yet, bro.”

  Immediately, Jude pulled away from our group—stepping between us and Brandon. “Hey, dumbnuts. See you got a new look. It’s stupid, by the way.”

  “Jude!” I yelled. “No!!”

  But—she didn’t move.

  “Get everyone moving, Kaylee,” she ordered. “Let me dance with Brandon for a while…maybe bloody his nose again just for fun.”

  “Is she serious?” said Brandon, actually looking confused. His sword lowered slightly and I took the moment to push Cherry and Peyton toward the gate. “Go!” I yelled. “You, too, Jay!”

  The three of them ran off quickly.

  Beside me, Jacob reached out to push Jude out of the way. She merely shrugged him off. “Today’s my 18th birthday, Jacob—and we know what that means. So, let me have this present, why don’t you?”

  Brandon still wasn’t moving.

  “Jude Engel?” he murmured, still not quite believing what he was seeing. “Like in Jude-the-Rude?!”

  Jude ran her hands down her now slim, muscular body. “I know, right,” she said, proudly. “Somehow I got hot and you got uglier…sorry, dude.”

  “You bitch!” Brandon snarled. And he dropped down and kicked his leg out and around, pivoting so it hooked behind Jude’s legs. She went down—onto her back, her head hitting the ground…hard.

&nb
sp; Immediately, Brandon leapt forward, slamming his body full-length onto Jude’s. From where I stood, I could hear the ‘oof’ as Jude’s lungs were compressed and the air fled from her body.

  * * * *

  No matter how much I wanted to run off with Jacob, there was no way that I was going to leave Jude to fight Brandon alone.

  Twisting my arm, I pulled sharply, freeing myself from Jacob’s grasp.

  “Kaylee, no!” Jacob reached out for me, but he was too late. With a yell, I jumped onto Brandon’s back, my arms snaking around his neck.