Hunapo Davies- New Zealand
...
Their footsteps sent sprays of muddy water flying as their boots slapped the ground. The things were too heavy. Everything was heavy as their lungs screamed for air, like a vivid nightmare where they just couldn't get away in time. They weren't moving fast enough. They had to be faster! If they were found, they would be killed, no question about it.
Hunapo Davies was being hunted.
A vigilante mob had taken it upon themselves to role out rough justice on them, Hunapo already tried and found guilty in their eyes, and it was hot on their heels.
Hunapo ducked into an alleyway to catch their breath for a moment. All around them, the hulking, coal-coloured buildings rose into the grey sky, droplets of rain splashing the brim of their hat in time to the blinks of their eyes as their own tears joined the damp world around them. Their city of concrete and steel was their only ally now. It was protecting them as best it could from those who wished to harm them, but it was up to Hunapo to navigate its narrow streets to safety.
They gulped. Safety? It would be impossible to escape the city and live on. People only left when they wanted to die, the rest trapped in its labyrinth until they'd worked the life force out of themselves.
Still, Hunapo would rather die outside the city than be killed in it.
They took one final breath before setting off again, ignoring their scrapes and bruises where they'd stumbled in their haste to escape. It was nothing compared to what was to come.
It had taken a mere hour for the people of the city to form a horde bent on revenge, aiding the police and army in their search for the fugitive, sweeping through the city until Hunapo would be trapped in a corner, terrified and begging for mercy that would never come.
The mob would beat Hunapo to death; the army would shoot on sight; and the police would catch them alive, throw them in a cell, and if they survived the other prisoners, they'd eventually be electrocuted in the chair. There was not a chance in a million of them being found not guilty.
As Hunapo ducked through the side streets, they came to the conclusion there was only one thing left they could possibly do.
Die free outside the city's walls.
Hunapo ducked into a main street, but shouts and gunshots sent them flying back to the safety of the alley. Not that way then.
They pulled themselves up an iron ladder, disappearing into a block of flats as the alley below filled with soldiers. Through a tunnel, down a flight of stairs, past a group of children kicking a battered football around, and out onto another street.
Peace and quiet.
They took off again at a jog, a mess of a plan forming in their head. A few more roads and Hunapo would be home, a stupid place to go, but necessary.
Another shortcut through a derelict building bought them time, and brought them further away from their assailants. The wondered if their home was still standing, or if there were already people standing cheering outside as they set Hunapo's livelihood on fire.
Hunapo gulped at the thought of their precious livestock burning to death and picked up the pace. One more road…
Their farm was on the edge of the city, small and in shambles, but their beloved home.
The road outside always made them feel dizzy, fearful that, even though there were fences to stop them plummeting to their death, they would lose their balance, or the wind would take them. The fences did little to stop people from jumping, and Hunapo had spent their entire life repairing the thing and talking people out of suicide, taking them home and just listening to them. They'd made many a lifelong friend this way.
And yet here they were, prepared to do the exact same thing.
Hunapo darted round the back of their house first, to the rather grim pen full of sheep. Space was rare here, and despite how much Hunapo hated it, a few square feet was all they could manage for their flock.
"Goodbye old friends," they murmured as they opened the gate, leaving it wide and not looking back. At least now they wouldn't be trapped and starve. Someone would find them and take them in. After opening the chicken coop, they made their way inside to pack.
Each minute spent here was another strap trapping them in the electric chair, but there were some things Hunapo wanted to take with them, to the other side, they supposed.
Their home consisted of one room, filled by a hammock hanging from the ceiling over a table. A loom sat in the corner, along with their comfy reading sofa and a pile of books. The windows were tiny, shutters closed over most of them. The place was neat, or as neat as Hunapo could manage, everything had it's place, even if that place was shoved on a shelf, the cupboard or in the corner on the floor. The fireplace was cold and dead, a pile of ash all that was left of last night's fire. And they would never see any of this again.
The first thing they grabbed was their pendant, carved by their cousin out of bone, and threw it around their neck. Better it be lost with them than someone in the damned city take it for themselves.
The only other thing they needed was their gun, to give them a fighting chance. Hunapo was a professional shooter as well as a farmer, and their prized possessions were a pair of ornate hunting rifles. Only one was left now, the other abandoned and empty in the centre of town. And to think, when they strapped it to their back this morning, ready to leave for the market, things would have gone so wrong.
A hand grabbed their neck, snapping it back as a knife was plunged into their abdomen. Hunapo cried out as they fell to the floor with a thud, clutching at the gash in their coat, a red river bubbling down to the floorboards.
"Well that was easy," commented a voice behind them. Hunapo couldn't bring themselves to look at their murderer.
"What a damned fool," boomed a second, "and I said they would not be stupid enough to return home!"
"Planning to murder more innocents?" The first voice asked, kicking the rifle under the chest of drawers. Hunapo didn't reply.
"So do we kill this bastard here or bring them into custody?" The second voice seemed to be pacing across the room, most likely with a weapon trained on their head.
"The prince wants them alive, if possible, probably wants to have a few words with the… ugh I hesitate to even call this scumbag a human."
Hunapo's arm twitched, creeping its way towards their belt.
"Why did you do it?" The second voice was behind him and they froze, glancing up to find a beaked mask as their suspicions were confirmed: the Eagle and the Falcon had found them.
Of course, the crime they were accused of… they were the most dangerous criminal in the city now and on the run. The prince would send his personal bounty hunters after them.
"Tell me! Why did you do it?" The raw emotion in the Eagle's voice caught them off guard. They were professionals, hard and cold and secretive.
A kick to the fugitive's stomach brought no answers to the Eagle's ears, and his companion grabbed his arm to pull him back.
"Calm yourself," the Falcon murmured, "they will get what is coming to them."
Hunapo's fingers curled around the knife in their belt, wedged between their body and the floor, nice and hidden. Their vision blurred and the pain throbbing through their torso drove them to bite their lip until it too bled. Those two would get nothing out of them.
With the last of their strength, they flung the knife at the bounty hunters, hauling themselves up and throwing their body out the door. Ignoring the shouts behind them, they hobbled over to the fence across the road, squeezing through the one gap they hadn't got round to repairing, marking out their slow and shaky route in their own blood. They tried not to look at it, for fear their vomit would join the mess.
At the edge of the city, their world, the wind howled around them, drops of rain attacking their face as they turned away from the abyss. They trembled, weak and dizzy and threatening to fall back at any minute.
The bounty hunters were outside, following their moves with arrows trained on them. They never missed. The masks on their faces shone, damp as their cloaks and boots, and even from where they were, Hunapo could feel their calmness, their arrogance.
"Go on then," boomed the Eagle, "jump. Die and we will scoop up your body."
"They would never," the Falcon replied, voice slow and even, "they'll be on their knees in minutes, pulling at our capes and pleading."
Hunapo glanced behind them, at the expanse of cloud that swirled around them. Their coat billowed out over the side and the wind snatched their hat away. Hunapo could do nothing but stare as it vanished below, down to the Wilderness. Another wave of pain and they were doubled over, tears in their eyes.
"I'm innocent!" they bellowed.
"Really?" The Eagle placed a hand on his hip, "that is the angle you decided to go for?"
"If you are innocent, then stop this foolishness," the Falcon stepped forward, "come, the prince will give you a fair trial."
Hunapo laughed, mad from the pain. "Liar!"
The laugh persevered as they threw themselves to their death.
