Hunter

It’s true what they say about names like Kenneth or Donald or Jennifer; it’s Ken, Don or Jenny from your parents when everything is fine, but it’s Kenneth, Donald or Jennifer when you’re in trouble. It’s pretty much the same when you’re an adult, as well; personal letters are addressed to the short version, while letters from the government are to the full name – and you know you’re in trouble when they include the middle name as well!1

Ken Winters liked his name well enough, although it really wasn’t something he’d ever put a whole lot of thought into. It was a normal, run-of-the-mill name that was easy to spell. He was just thankful that he was born thirty-three years ago instead of today; giving kids ridiculously comical names that meant something beautiful in Swahili but utter nonsense in English was becoming all the rage. Sure, the parents thought the names were wonderful, but did they ever stop for one moment to consider what other kids would think? Those kids with normal names would mercilessly torment and tease those poor little bastards because their name is Arubongo. They’ll grow to resent their parents for giving them such a ridiculous name instead of something much more reasonable. But will the parents care? Hell no, of course not! They’ll feel proud of themselves for coming up with such a unique name, and will brag about it to their friends, those whose kids have ‘boring’ names, and will feel superior to them.2

Ken didn’t have kids of his own, but he assumed he would one day, and when he did there was no chance in hell they’d have bizarre names, even if it does mean ‘sweet angel’ in Tajik. Twelve months earlier, Ken had remarried for the second time, to Alyssa, a once-married woman with a thirteen-year-old girl named Melody. He’d initially been very unsure about getting involved with a woman with a teenaged child, but thankfully, Melody had quickly proved to be a happy, outgoing and intelligent kid.3

All three of them had got along like a house on fire right from the very start and had quickly settled in to become one small happy family. Although there was one area that they didn’t see eye to eye on at all: Ken liked to hunt, while both Alyssa and Melody were passionate animal lovers and would have been truly horrified by his love of hunting. They just wouldn’t have understood at all; the thrill of the chase, the great skill needed to track down your prey, the surge of adrenalin when you line up the animal in your scope and squeeze the trigger. It was primeval, about getting back to nature in a way those pathetic weekend campers would never be able to achieve. It was something Alyssa and Melody just wouldn’t understand at all. They’d been suburbanites all their life, where the only hunting they ever did was for bargains at the shopping mall or supermarket.4

This is why Ken had to keep his hunting secret. Not even his friends knew. Ken had made a lot of money being a high-powered executive, which made it easy for him to have excuses to be away for weekends, or even longer. Yes, dear, another conference/meeting/symposium/forum, whatever name he chose to give it. Alyssa always believed them and never questioned him. Then all it meant was dropping in at the storage place where he kept his guns and equipment and he was off!5

Sure, Ken loved being married, but he loved the solitary freedom that going hunting gave him. Some hunters liked to go with friends, but not him, he always preferred to be on his own, at one with nature. Besides, for too many hunters, it was just an excuse to go get drunk with your mates and shoot off a few rounds at anything that moved. They didn’t take it seriously, unlike him. Perhaps the only thing he didn’t like about being married to Alyssa was not being able to take home any big trophies. Still, he could, and did, sometimes take home little trophies – items or snippets of things that would remind him of a successful hunting trip. If he sat in his favourite lounge chair at home, he could see half a dozen secret little trophies without even trying, each one giving him a little thrill of excitement at the memory, and especially at the knowledge that only he knew the significance of the humble item in plain view.6

Ken had been on the road for two hours, driving deep into the forest, heading towards his favourite hunting spot. He’d reconnoitred the exact place the previous day, to make absolutely sure it was where he wanted to spend today hunting. There was nothing worse than wasting half a day just trying to find the right spot. So he knew the hunting grounds he was nearly at would be ideal.7

Ten minutes later, Ken had his backpack on and his rifle in one hand. His weapon of choice was the Colt AR-15, a genuine Colt, not one of the clones built by a huge range of other manufactures. The AR-15 was popular with a growing number of hunters because of its lightweight (around 6 pounds), it’s accuracy (effective to about 600 yards) and it’s rate of fire on full automatic (800 rounds per minute) using a .223 Remington cartridge. He also had a Colt .45 on his hip and a smaller .22 pistol in his backpack, which was useful for finishing off prey without making a huge mess, if that’s what he wanted at the time.8

The smile on Ken’s face grew as he neared the spot where the hunt would start. Each step he took raised his pulse a little and made the butterflies in his stomach flutter a little more. In some ways, the anticipation was even more thrilling and exciting than the actual hunt. Various scenarios would trip playfully through his mind as to what might happen on the day’s hunt. He knew he’d be successful – he was always successful – but how might the hunt end? And how far might it take him into the forest? Thanks to his GPS system, he was never worried about becoming lost, which only added to the excitement, since he knew he could run off in any direction without fear of whether or not he’d be able to find his way back. A quick check of the GPS coordinates with his map would also tell him if they were coming close to any signs of civilisation. It wasn’t a good idea surprising someone by shooting off your weapon close to them when they’d likely have weapons of their own.9

A few minutes later, Ken reached his starting point. He took a deep breath, drawing the smells of the forest deep into his lungs, something he always did before a hunt. A glance up at the clear blue sky filtering through the tree tops confirmed the day would be a glorious one.10

“Oh this is going to be a good day,” he said aloud. “Yes indeed, this is going to be a good day’s hunt.”11

The smile on his face grew as he knelt down to remove the cuffs securing the young woman to a chain around a tree. Immediately, she dragged herself along the ground on her bottom a few feet away from him. Ken was utterly oblivious to the tears that started to flow again, just like the tears that had flowed the day before when he’d picked her up as a hitchhiker, once she knew things had gone horribly wrong. Even the smell of faeces that emanated from her didn’t bother him; it was all a part of the hunt, after all.12

“Well, go on, run!” Ken shouted at the woman, making her cringe back in terror. “I thought you wanted to leave! I’ll chain you up again if you’d rather stay here.” Ken took a step towards her, but instantly the young woman was up and running. Ken watched after her, noticing how she hadn’t even bothered to remove her gag, a trait he’d noticed a number of times with other prey. But soon he heard her screams for help, the screams that only the truly terrified can make. The actors in horror movies never came close to the real thing, because the actors were never in real fear of their lives, and that fear can draw things out of people that they would never be able to do otherwise.13

Ken knew that terror – and adrenalin – was making the woman run faster than she’d ever run in her life. Adrenalin is known as a ‘fight-or-flight’ hormone, because that’s just what it does; it prepares the body to stand and fight or run away. But when the adrenalin wore off, it would leave her feeling drained and very tired. The small amount of food and water left with her overnight at least meant she was well enough to run, though, at least for a while.14

“This is going to be a good hunt,” he said quietly, “I can just feel it,” he added as he set off at a walk after his prey. He had a good feeling about today, unlike the last hunt that had only lasted ten minutes; she had fallen and broken her ankle and simply writhed around on the ground, screaming in pain, until he found her and was forced to finish her off. What a tremendously disappointing hunt that had been! But not this time, no sir. He had a good feeling about this one. She was young, strong and athletic.15

This was going to be an all day hunt.16

Ken’s smile never left his face as he began following the tracks his prey left behind.17

THE END