MAG.E 8/MAG.E 8 (Disk 1 of 2).adf/Sci_Fi/THE_HUNTER.ASCII/THE_HUNTER.ASCII

Text File | 1995-07-27 | 7KB | 102 lines

@3                          THE HUNTER & THE HUNTED
                          -----------------------

@2                            BY RICHARD MARTIN
@1
John McCarthy was a lecturer at St Johns school in Delamere. He was a plain
sort of man, usual for a teacher. He dressed in an old suit with a plain
and drab tie. John taught English and had just given a lecture for a night
school. However a bunch of yobs from the town had joined up and spent the
whole evening annoying him. Jonh was frustrated and very fed up. He hadn't
got a word in edgeways all night and quite frankly he was depressed. It was
also late. The yobs had emptied his petrol tank and put tacks in his car
tyres. He had had to fix up his car, and it had tooken time. Jonh was now
speeding down a winding road. A dense forest was built up on both sides of
him. He was tired and fatigued and his mind was on other things but driving
carefully. A sharp corner was approaching. John did not see the sheep walking
across the road until it was far too late. John paniced and swerved... He
drove round the sheep and smashed head on with a large Oak tree that was on
the side of the road. His bonnet imploded with the impact and a plume of
smoke rose from his bonnet. The plume soon turned to a cloud. John got out the
of the car and slammed the door shut in disbelief. His car was written off.
He would have to find a phone and get the AA. He sat on the boot of his car
with his head in his hands. He looked around. The forest surrounded him like
a huge rugged carpet, which extended to infinity. But in the corner of his
eye he caught sight of a small and quaint cottage. John sighed and treked
towards it, and pushing his way through the dense foilage entered the forest.

                                 XxxoOoxxX
                                 ---------

The forest was alive around him. Leaves crackled under his feet. John was
tense. He had the feeling something was watching him. Every time he snapped
a twig under foot John would look round. John pressed on through the forest,
cold sweat running from his brow and slowly dribbling down his back. He was
trying to convince himself that he was alone, and nothing was following him.
But he couldn1t get the thought out of his mind. Behind him a flock of
roosting birds flew from the tree the nested on in a flurry of feathers.
Someting had startled them, and all which was left to show they were there
was a cloud of white feathers drifting to the ground, spinning in mid air
like seed pods from a sycamore tree. John looked up, the moon was full. This
made him even more scared. He had doubts about whether he would exit this
forest alive. He walked with his head looking backwards at the path from
whence he came. A branch that had been infront of him slapped him in the face.
It felt like a great hand had come from no-where and struck him. John
screamed aloud, its shrill cry piercing the cold night air. As if to mock him,
a great roar followed his scream which made Johns blood curdle. Though John
didn't know it, he was not alone. John was the fox and the shimmering outline
behind him was the Hunter. John couldn't see it, but death was approaching him
and soon the reapers icy palm would be at his throught.

The shimmering figure behind John jumped and pulled himself onto the trees.
The mighty oak which he assailed creaked with the massive body weight of the
hunter. John was terrified and was close to hyperventilating. The hunter
jumped from branch to branch with the agility of a monkey. A shower of leaves
fell from the branches everytime the creature jumped. John could feel it.
He was a walking corspe. The hunter leapt from a branch in front of John,
and landed with catlike grace. He let his cameleon like camaflage go. The
hunter had let him see Johns murderer. Johns face was fixed with a look of
fear. His eyes nearly popped out of his sockets. Trembling john managed to
blurt out, "Who are you ?". The creature just smiled.

The creature was 8 feet tall. Its face was ghastly. It had a layer of chittin
which caught the light, leaving flashes of white on the high points of its
head. Two slits were set in the fell beasts face, which housed its eyes,
which were red as the blood which would soon be spilling from Johns arterarys.
A huge, gaping  maw was its visual point. It hissed, showing its vast array
of pointed Canine teeth, which were made just for tearing flesh. its teeth
were like razors. Its body was a hard Exo-skeleton, made from the same jet
black Chittin as his face. It had natural shoulder pads in the form of flat
plates that were cently curved at the edges. His rib cage was clearly visible,
and the sickly colored internal organs were also visible to John. A spinded
tail swung back and forth like a pendulum. It had a hypnotic effect on John.
The creature was Terror itself. It stared at John, its gaze felt like it was
tearing through Jons soul. He knew his time had come. It swung one of its
fists, razor like claws extended out like a cat ready for confilct. Its
sliced Johns windpipe and blood cascaded out of the vast rent like a waterfall.
The Hunter regained his balance after his mighty strike and readied his fist
again. John could fell his life blood slipping away. He stood upright, with
his head tilted to one side, blood pouring from his throat and mouth. The
creature struck again to Johns rib cage, breaking all of them and punturing
his lung with its talons.  John was flung 10 feet backwards with the great
force of this attack. The creature calmly walked over to the now dead John,
and towered above his broken body. he picked it up in two hands and brought it
down with incredible force to his armour plated knee. It broke his spine.
He turned and left the bloody mess which was John McCarthy.

                                 XXooOooXX

The next day the police were at the seen. The Phoresenic scientist was talking
to the detective involved as they stood over the mutiliated corpse.
"The escaped Panther from the zoo must have got to him and moved on, you
can tell by the claw marks to the throat and ribs. It must of leap at him
first, breaking his ribs and then mauled at him. There is no doubt about
it.". The police man agreed by nodding his head morbidly, and the detective
and the scientist turned and walked slowly away. The constable assiting
them turned his head away and zipped up the body bag around John McCarthy.
His wife was sobbing onto the detectives shoulder.

But high above the scene, in the trees a demonic hunter observed and laughed
quietly to himself. "There will be more sport....." he said to himself, and
laughed again.......