QUARRY (13)
A Fine Hunting Day
A Fine Hunting Day
Both HC’s were chained together by the rings at the tops of their bridles and Rhys, being the one in front only hoped that it would be the chain from the top of his bridle or even the choke-chain and not the wire noose next. As he felt and heard the device slipped round his neck and himself jerked forwards, he almost gave a sigh of relief when nothing cut into his neck as the chain tightened and then loosened again as the other purchase started to move.
Even with the less strict arm clamp in place, the lactic acid was building up in Rhys’s arms and the metal was still digging into his wrists whenever he didn’t position them correctly. The thought of running once more with that spiteful spiked cage enclosing his genitals quickly doused the tiny spark of optimism that Rhys had recently permitted himself. As his body became more accustomed to the routine, it adapted and responded differently. Rhys only hoped the adrenaline that had fuelled his previous escapes from the trophy cabinet would soon rage through his body again. Even the sound of the boy’s practice shots hadn’t triggered his adrenal gland into action yet.
The gate to the release pen slammed shut and both quarry were forced to their knees before their blindfolds were unlocked. A slave offered water which Rhys gratefully accepted but the other purchase declined. His trembling was extreme and, even without the metal plate weighing his head down, he couldn’t bring himself to raise his head and look around. Rhys noticed that they were going to be hunted over the second reserve; that gave him an advantage over his rival again. He couldn’t afford to let even a sliver of complacency or even compassion pierce his consciousness; he needed the fear to start the chemicals running through him.
The gate opened and the father and son entered. THEN the chemicals started flowing. Breathing quickened, time slowed down and Rhys prepared himself almost like a sprinter waiting in the blocks. The father seemed not to have stopped giving his son advice since Rhys had last heard him. Could he disregard the presence of those he was discussing and talk like that? Yes, it’s because they didn’t have rights any more, not since they’d become Hardened Criminals.
The chain connecting the purchases together was removed, along with the choke chain, and Rhys was out of the release pen almost before the gate was opened. He knew he was going to head off for at least a mile before changing direction. Should he head for the gulley that had concealed him previously? Would the purchaser know where he’d hidden before? How long did he have to find an alternative hiding place? The cage round his more delicate parts tormented him even more than usual but he didn’t have time to ask why; he just needed to stop for a while.
He found a hollow facing away from most approaches and listened. He waited even though the adrenaline surge demanded that he do something. He waited and listened. He waited for about an hour, an hour that lasted a day. Then he heard it: the sound of somebody creeping stealthily in his direction. It was decision time. If he stayed put, he was probably concealed from the direction of approach; but what if whoever it was turned around soon after they’d passed?
Rhys waited, the sound of approach continued and Rhys heard the breathing in spite of the way his heart beat against his healing ribs. It was almost certainly the other quarry. He stayed put. The young blonde passed Rhys quite some distance away and Rhys, once he had caught sight of him, worked his way round a nearby tree to keep himself out of sight. The younger quarry was moving even more clumsily than he would have been forced to by the arm clamp and the cock cage but his recent wound had not re-opened. Just for a moment, a long moment, Rhys hoped that his rival would bleed all over the ground so that he could be easily tracked. Could he catch up with him and knock the other potential trophy over? He could try to open his wound by raking it with his bridle and, perhaps even break a few ribs in the process of bringing him down. At least he could slow him down a bit.
His plans died on the page; even Rhys’s torments had not stripped him of all humanity.
Rhys decided to wait. He could see the other quarry if he returned and trying to do the same with the young hunter, if he appeared, as he had just done with his rival seemed like as good an idea as anything else he could come up with. But suppose the hunter came from a different direction? Only one other would give him a direct view of Rhys and the other quarry had just gone in that direction. Rhys decided to wait.
Endgame
Crouching in the hollow, Rhys continued to listen and eventually heard the slow approach of what he assumed to be the young hunter. He wasn’t going to make the mistake of impetuosity this time. He had taken his time zigzagging his way through the reserve. The sound of his approach moved from left to right behind Rhys and back again. Rhys judged that the gunman had passed him and was grateful for the extensive tree cover between them as the sound reversed again. Rhys took the risk of standing and his previous technique of keeping the nearby tree between himself and his pursuer paid off for a second time. The young hunter continued quartering and moving off into the distance.
Rhys had a decision to make. Should he stay and hope that the hunter wouldn’t return? Should he move away from where the gun was heading? The need for survival won out over humanity as Rhys hoped against hope that he’d hear a shot in the distance. Rhys waited. Surely the three hours must be up. How would he know? Rhys panicked. The hunter must return soon. Rhys ran.
After nearly a mile, Rhys came to the edge of the clearing around the reserve. Was crossing it worth a try? The razor wire was too deep before he’d even be able to get near the fence. Then he heard the sound behind him and the siren and barking off to the right. What the fuck was that for? He turned to face the original noise and saw him approaching, gun levelled and pointing in his direction. As he backed into the open space, the lights flashed and the alarms sounded. Rhys continued backing up across the two hundred metre wide clearing with the hunter moving inexorably towards him. Once he was up against the wire, there was nowhere left to run and the young hunter continued to close in as did the dog. Every convulsive movement of Rhys’s body now caused the wire to flex, and every flex of the wire caused punctures and lacerations to his back, his arms and his legs. By now Rhys could hardly breathe and didn’t even notice the lacerations any more.
The boy stopped about ten metres short of where Rhys was gradually being impaled on the coils of wire. He knelt. He took careful aim and squeezed the trigger. He swore luridly.
The gun didn’t fire. He should have known better but he was desperate to win his first trophy. The siren indicated that time was up and justice decreed that the quarry had survived another hunt. The hi-tech rifle had automatically been remotely disabled after the permitted three hours and the Supervisor had set the dog to find the quarry.
The furious hunter stood. Tears of rage formed in his eyes as he continued towards Rhys with the gun shouldered and the barrel being held by both hands. If he wasn’t going to take a trophy home, at least he’d shred this bastard before he left.
TBC.
. But yes, let's try to keep those real life things out of here. This place is meant to fun after all!
