The Hunted

As Good of a Target

I backed away from the tree and wiped my mouth on the back of my sleeve, wishing that I'd brought something to put the excess sap in. I would just have to come back.

Now, though, I needed to find Derek and make sure that he hadn't been shot. I wouldn't need to get super close to him. I'd just need to be close enough to make sure that he was okay.

I slung my backpack over my shoulder and retraced my steps to the clearing of the shop, sticking to the tree line as I moved towards the lake. If the bucket had been moved, I would know that he was okay.

Crouching down in the bushes, I scanned the beach for anything that resembled him. Maybe he came back here to sleep or to wait for me to return. I didn't see him, though. I slipped my knife out of my waistband. Gripping it tightly in my hand, I moved out of the safety of the woods and into the vulnerability of the beach.

I took a deep breath as I moved towards the log, telling myself not to overreact. I had faced far more dangerous criminals than Derek in my life. And they had been willing to kill me. Just over one day in this place and I was already jumpy.

The bucket was still where I had left it the night before, the water untouched. The wood and pine needles were still in a neat pile a few feet away from the ashes that remained of the fire from the previous night.

My heart seized in my chest. Maybe they really had killed him.

I turned my back to the lake and scanned the trees. He had gone back in the direction of the shop the night before. I'd head that way and then try and figure out where he would have gone after that.

The birds were out singing now. If I stopped and closed my eyes, it could have been just another day at the lake. A day back when the government wasn't killing anyone who stepped out of line. Those days were gone now and I didn't dare stop to close my eyes while I was out in the open.

I jogged along the trail to the shop, my eyes darting back and forth to make sure that no one was lurking in the shadows. If they were willing to shoot at Derek, they would definitely have no problem shooting at me.

If only I could call out to him. I wouldn't have to track him like I would an animal. Maybe that was the point, though. Maybe they wanted us to hone in on our inner animal and go at one another like starving animals fighting over the last piece of meat.

Which was exactly what we were meant to be doing.

x.x.x

The prisoner in custody of the Guardians was shouting profanity at me as we stood in Executioner's Square. I stood in front of him; my legs spread shoulder width apart with my hands clasped behind my back. My eyes were looking straight ahead; watching as Derek made sure the gun was in working order.

We were not to show fear. The stance represented our strength and indifference towards the job we were selected to do. No matter what happened, I was not to move. If the prisoner escaped the Guardian's grasp, it was up to the Executioner to put a stop to him before he laid his hands on me.

The training for that had been hell.

Derek placed a single bullet in the chamber of the gun and walked over to us. He nodded to the Guardians behind me before he met my eyes and gave a curt nod. I relaxed my stance and followed him to the firing platform.

"How did your meeting go last night?" he murmured.

"Alright," I replied, placing my hands into my coat pockets. "They just asked a lot of questions about rather or not I was certain my plan was the correct way to go about capturing him." My eyes glanced to the gun in his hand, the safety clicked off. "What about you? What did they want to know?"