Val yelped and spun around, feeling her blood turn to ice as she did so.
She was met with a most unwelcome sight; staring down the twin barrels of a
rifle, which stared back at her like two cold, empty, uncaring eyes.
"Aw," Jason put on an air of mock disappointment. "You weren't supposed to hear that."
"J-Jason?" Hank stammered, raising his arms in surrender.
He grinned malaciously. "Surprise."
"Dude, what are you doing? Please...put the gun down..."
"Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you?"
"You killed these people, didn't you?!" Tyler demanded.
"So what if I did."
"So what?! So what if we call the cops then? Have them all your ass off to jail?"
"Not if I kill you first."
Tyler stared at him in horror, the dim light from the table lamp casting eerie shadows on his devilish face.
"Why?" Val couldn't stop the tears that brimmed her eyes. "I don't understand. Why do this? Wouldn't it be more benificial to work together, to find a way out of this mess-"
"I don't need your help to save my skin. I can do quite well on my own, thank you."
"So..." Val whimpered, "you're...you're going to kill us? Just like that?"
Jason laughed at the fear that was so evident on their faces. "I don't know...I haven't decided yet..."
Val looked back down at the two innocent people, bruitally and unjustly murdered, who still laid at her feet, and then back up to their tormentor, her whole body trembling. Right now, he was capable of anything.
He laughed again, such a vile, insane sound, and feigned a lunge forward, causing Val to involuntarily scream.
Caitie, who was still sitting at the edge of the vinal armchair, anxiously waiting for her friends to return, heard this and felt goosebumps ripple across her pallid flesh. Something was not right, and she needed to get over there. She looked helplessly at Jamie, who was still sleeping, unaffected by all the previous events, and decided she would just have to get there herself. She used the arm of the chair to push herself up and tested the strength of her ankle. It didn't hurt as badly as it once had, and the Ace bandage had helped a lot, but she still couldn't bend it at all without pain, which was going to make things quite slow. She balanced herself on her good foot for a moment, then hobbled over to the opposite side of the room, leaning against the wall for support. She made her way around a stuffed pheasant and stuffed raccoon, then down the hallway her friends had disappeared through, calling, "Val? Val, are you alright? What happened?"
Val heard Caitie's voice and froze. No! No! Why was Caitie coming?! This was not good! No, Caitie, go back! Go BACK! She mentally threatened her to turn around, to save herself, or at the very least, wake Jamie. Oh, how she wished the myth of telepathy could be real! But, of course, no matter how much she feared for her friend's safety, her irregular footsteps were only growing louder.
"Val? Oh my God!" Caitie stopped suddenly, a cold, metal rifle pressing rather uncomfortably into her stomach.
"Oh, look, we meet again," Jason smirked.
Tyler tensed his muscles, eager to take advantage of the moment and jump Jason, maybe succeeding in wrestling his weapon from him, but the blonde- haired punk didn't miss a beat.
"Ah, ah, ah, I wouldn't do that if I were you, Mr. 'I'm on the Football Team.' I mean, assuming you like your friend the way she is; namely alive."
Tyler's fingers slowly clenched into frustrated fists, his short nails digging into the palm of his hand. The situation seemed hopeless.
"Okay," Jason motioned. "Come on, let's all go back to the livingroom."
Nobody moved.
"I said, let's GO." He jabbed the gun impatiently at Caitie, and they all reluctantly obeyed. "Sit," he waved dismissively at the chairs around the fireplace, then he rolled his eyes and smiled wryly. "Would somebody wake that lump up?"
Hank did as he was told, reaching out a shaking hand and touching him lightly.
"What is it?" Jamie groaned, without opening his eyes.
"Um...I think you better wake up, dude."
"Not right now...later..."
"Would the sound of a gun shot make it easier for you?" Jason offered.
Jamie's eyelids snapped open as he quickly scrambled to sit himself upright. "You!" He exclaimed, his voice oozing pure contempt.
"Yes, yes, ME. Well, now that we're all here, and we all know eachother, let's have a little chat, shall we?" He began pacing back and forth in front of them. "I believe I've made up my mind. I'm not going to kill you..." He paused for a moment, enjoying the looks of relief that spread across all their faces before adding, "Yet. You have...oh, I don't know, I'll give you three days, okay? If you can survive three days out there without me catching up to you and...well...you know...then I'll let you go, harm free, no questions asked. Sound fair? You may take that bag of bread you so politely stole from the kitchen, but nothing else, and you won't be allowed to come back here, so you better hope you run into something edible out there. And also, me being the nice guy that I am, I'll give you an hour's head start, but you have to be out of my sight by the time I count to ten. So, what do you say? Is it a deal? It's only three days..."
"Do...Do we have a choice?" Val's voice wavered dangerously.
Jason looked offended. "Why, of course you do! I'd NEVER force anyone into anything. You also have the choice of one of these," he tapped at the rifle, meaning the bullets inside, "through the middle of your forehead. Take your pick."
"Then we agree to your terms," Tyler spoke for them all, his voice strange, flat, and defeated, almost unrecognizable to him. Jason looked delighted. "But...can we at least get a drink of water first? I...I mean, we haven't had anything for almost two days..."
Jason considered this, chewing on his bottom lip thoughtfully, before he finally waved him to go on. "Fine...But only because I wouldn't want you dying of dehydration the first day our little game starts. Just dump out some bottle from the fridge and fill it up with tap water to take with you." A slow, sly smile snaked across his lips. "Choose wisely, though. Too small a bottle and you'll run out before you could even say 'What a vacation this has turned out to be.' Too big a bottle and...you may find you won't be able to run as fast or as nimbly as you might need to..."
Tyler gulped and did as their captor instructed. A moment later, he was back out in the livingroom, his hands, out of nervousness, clutching so tightly to the neck and bottom of a two liter Sprite bottle that his knuckles were turning white.
"Good!" Jason spoke with false, forced cheerfulness, as though he were talking to a room of three and four year olds. "Does everyone understand the rules? Any questions?" Silence. "Okay then! Remember, ten seconds only. Anyone I can still see after that will be...removed from the game. Now, let's all stand up so we can give everybody an equal chance..."
As though she were back in a classroom at school, Caitie timidly raised her hand.
"What now?"
"My...my ankle. I can't walk on it."
Jason frowned and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "wounded prey" before answering, "You seemed to be able to limp quite nicely when you so valiently came hopping to your friends' rescue back there."
"Surely...you can't expect me to limp-"
But Jason only grinned Satanically. "One."
And they were off, Caitie doing her best to keep up with the rest of her friends.
"Two."
Hank reached the front door first and threw it open with such force, it banged into the wall behind it, rattling the picture frames and mounted trophy heads.
"Three."
The five friends tore across the clearing towards the safety and protection of the dark woods, Jason watching them from the doorway.
"Four." He stopped his counting here and shut the door, laughing to himself as he sat down in the armchair, propping his feet up on the ottoman. He idly pulled the trigger of the rifle, his smile broadening at the loud sound of the hammer hitting the metal of the barrels; nothing more. It was funny, or at least he thought it was, how whenever you pointed a gun at somebody, they just automatically assumed it was loaded.
Well, he would just relax for now, giving them plenty of time to worry themselves sick wondering if and when he would catch up to them. He had promised them an hour's headstart, anyway.
He looked boredly down at the rifle he still held in his hands, then got up to return it to its proper place. Guns were no fun. You could fire at prey from an outstanding distance, often times killing them, some even instantly. Where was the excitement in that? Where was the sport? The suspense? The *challenge*?
No, he preferred a much more "hands on" method. He closed the display case door, stepping carefully over the two dead bodies of the young couple he had gotten out of the way, and taking with him the half-empty box of shells. No doubt that goody-goody medical squad would eventually end up back here, even though in the rules he had clearly stated that they were not to get any other supplies from the house. He somehow didn't think they shared the same ideas on fairness, so there was no point in leaving any unnecissary ammunition lying about that they might unwisely try using against him.
He carried them with him to the kitchen, looking for what he really wanted. He went through all the cabinets, opening drawer after drawer, rummaging around through the countless dishes, glasses, silverware, and other kitchen utensils until he finally found it. A sinister grin twisted the corners of his mouth up as his fist gripped the wooden handle, the fingers of his other hand gently caressing the smooth metal of the blade which glinted dully under the overhead lights, reflecting back at him a blurry sillouette of pure evil that didn't bother him in the least.
It was a large steak knife, maybe eight or nine inches long, with a deadly edge that wasn't overly sharp, but just sharp enough to leave a painful wound if stabbed with. It was perfect. It looked like it had just come out of one of those Halloween movies. He almost half expected to see Michael Meyers lurking around in the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to steal it back. This was it; his weapon of choice.
He stuck the knife in his belt and stuffed the seven bullets into his pocket to dispose of later, then he went about fixing himself a supply of food and water to take with him. A quick glance at the clock told him a half an hour had passed since their little game had officially started. Their hour was almost up, but Jason didn't care. He considered himself a relatively generous guy, after all. He'd give them the whole night. Yes, that was really being generous, wasn't it? Of course, he was giving them seven extra hours. Seven extra hours to put as much distance between them and him as possible. Seven extra hours to test his skill and intelligence by making a marvelous, challenging trail for him to follow.
Yes, seven FREE hours out of their seventy-two.
How could anyone say he wasn't a nice guy?
He stuffed his supplies into a black trash bag he found underneath the sink, then stored that in the refridgerator to keep them cool till he left in the morning.
And so began his game.
Hunting man, the most intelligent of all beasts. Yes, he had always wanted to try it, ever since his class had read "The Most Dangerous Game" way back in his Freshman year.
Now he finally could. With the perfect conditions, too. A vast expanse of wilderness with no authorities or rules, no people, no one to hear them scream... Granted, that lady had said something about there being a small town near them, but that was still several miles away. His prey would never make it that far, he would make sure of that.
The countdown had begun. He hoped they weren't planning on sleeping that night. They needed to run. He needed a challenge.
The real Most Dangerous Game had just begun.
*
*
*
A/N: Getting kinda violent ^^; But still suspenseful, no? Review if you'd like me to continue. 54 reviews and I'll write faster ^_^ Thanks a bunch!
"Aw," Jason put on an air of mock disappointment. "You weren't supposed to hear that."
"J-Jason?" Hank stammered, raising his arms in surrender.
He grinned malaciously. "Surprise."
"Dude, what are you doing? Please...put the gun down..."
"Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you?"
"You killed these people, didn't you?!" Tyler demanded.
"So what if I did."
"So what?! So what if we call the cops then? Have them all your ass off to jail?"
"Not if I kill you first."
Tyler stared at him in horror, the dim light from the table lamp casting eerie shadows on his devilish face.
"Why?" Val couldn't stop the tears that brimmed her eyes. "I don't understand. Why do this? Wouldn't it be more benificial to work together, to find a way out of this mess-"
"I don't need your help to save my skin. I can do quite well on my own, thank you."
"So..." Val whimpered, "you're...you're going to kill us? Just like that?"
Jason laughed at the fear that was so evident on their faces. "I don't know...I haven't decided yet..."
Val looked back down at the two innocent people, bruitally and unjustly murdered, who still laid at her feet, and then back up to their tormentor, her whole body trembling. Right now, he was capable of anything.
He laughed again, such a vile, insane sound, and feigned a lunge forward, causing Val to involuntarily scream.
Caitie, who was still sitting at the edge of the vinal armchair, anxiously waiting for her friends to return, heard this and felt goosebumps ripple across her pallid flesh. Something was not right, and she needed to get over there. She looked helplessly at Jamie, who was still sleeping, unaffected by all the previous events, and decided she would just have to get there herself. She used the arm of the chair to push herself up and tested the strength of her ankle. It didn't hurt as badly as it once had, and the Ace bandage had helped a lot, but she still couldn't bend it at all without pain, which was going to make things quite slow. She balanced herself on her good foot for a moment, then hobbled over to the opposite side of the room, leaning against the wall for support. She made her way around a stuffed pheasant and stuffed raccoon, then down the hallway her friends had disappeared through, calling, "Val? Val, are you alright? What happened?"
Val heard Caitie's voice and froze. No! No! Why was Caitie coming?! This was not good! No, Caitie, go back! Go BACK! She mentally threatened her to turn around, to save herself, or at the very least, wake Jamie. Oh, how she wished the myth of telepathy could be real! But, of course, no matter how much she feared for her friend's safety, her irregular footsteps were only growing louder.
"Val? Oh my God!" Caitie stopped suddenly, a cold, metal rifle pressing rather uncomfortably into her stomach.
"Oh, look, we meet again," Jason smirked.
Tyler tensed his muscles, eager to take advantage of the moment and jump Jason, maybe succeeding in wrestling his weapon from him, but the blonde- haired punk didn't miss a beat.
"Ah, ah, ah, I wouldn't do that if I were you, Mr. 'I'm on the Football Team.' I mean, assuming you like your friend the way she is; namely alive."
Tyler's fingers slowly clenched into frustrated fists, his short nails digging into the palm of his hand. The situation seemed hopeless.
"Okay," Jason motioned. "Come on, let's all go back to the livingroom."
Nobody moved.
"I said, let's GO." He jabbed the gun impatiently at Caitie, and they all reluctantly obeyed. "Sit," he waved dismissively at the chairs around the fireplace, then he rolled his eyes and smiled wryly. "Would somebody wake that lump up?"
Hank did as he was told, reaching out a shaking hand and touching him lightly.
"What is it?" Jamie groaned, without opening his eyes.
"Um...I think you better wake up, dude."
"Not right now...later..."
"Would the sound of a gun shot make it easier for you?" Jason offered.
Jamie's eyelids snapped open as he quickly scrambled to sit himself upright. "You!" He exclaimed, his voice oozing pure contempt.
"Yes, yes, ME. Well, now that we're all here, and we all know eachother, let's have a little chat, shall we?" He began pacing back and forth in front of them. "I believe I've made up my mind. I'm not going to kill you..." He paused for a moment, enjoying the looks of relief that spread across all their faces before adding, "Yet. You have...oh, I don't know, I'll give you three days, okay? If you can survive three days out there without me catching up to you and...well...you know...then I'll let you go, harm free, no questions asked. Sound fair? You may take that bag of bread you so politely stole from the kitchen, but nothing else, and you won't be allowed to come back here, so you better hope you run into something edible out there. And also, me being the nice guy that I am, I'll give you an hour's head start, but you have to be out of my sight by the time I count to ten. So, what do you say? Is it a deal? It's only three days..."
"Do...Do we have a choice?" Val's voice wavered dangerously.
Jason looked offended. "Why, of course you do! I'd NEVER force anyone into anything. You also have the choice of one of these," he tapped at the rifle, meaning the bullets inside, "through the middle of your forehead. Take your pick."
"Then we agree to your terms," Tyler spoke for them all, his voice strange, flat, and defeated, almost unrecognizable to him. Jason looked delighted. "But...can we at least get a drink of water first? I...I mean, we haven't had anything for almost two days..."
Jason considered this, chewing on his bottom lip thoughtfully, before he finally waved him to go on. "Fine...But only because I wouldn't want you dying of dehydration the first day our little game starts. Just dump out some bottle from the fridge and fill it up with tap water to take with you." A slow, sly smile snaked across his lips. "Choose wisely, though. Too small a bottle and you'll run out before you could even say 'What a vacation this has turned out to be.' Too big a bottle and...you may find you won't be able to run as fast or as nimbly as you might need to..."
Tyler gulped and did as their captor instructed. A moment later, he was back out in the livingroom, his hands, out of nervousness, clutching so tightly to the neck and bottom of a two liter Sprite bottle that his knuckles were turning white.
"Good!" Jason spoke with false, forced cheerfulness, as though he were talking to a room of three and four year olds. "Does everyone understand the rules? Any questions?" Silence. "Okay then! Remember, ten seconds only. Anyone I can still see after that will be...removed from the game. Now, let's all stand up so we can give everybody an equal chance..."
As though she were back in a classroom at school, Caitie timidly raised her hand.
"What now?"
"My...my ankle. I can't walk on it."
Jason frowned and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "wounded prey" before answering, "You seemed to be able to limp quite nicely when you so valiently came hopping to your friends' rescue back there."
"Surely...you can't expect me to limp-"
But Jason only grinned Satanically. "One."
And they were off, Caitie doing her best to keep up with the rest of her friends.
"Two."
Hank reached the front door first and threw it open with such force, it banged into the wall behind it, rattling the picture frames and mounted trophy heads.
"Three."
The five friends tore across the clearing towards the safety and protection of the dark woods, Jason watching them from the doorway.
"Four." He stopped his counting here and shut the door, laughing to himself as he sat down in the armchair, propping his feet up on the ottoman. He idly pulled the trigger of the rifle, his smile broadening at the loud sound of the hammer hitting the metal of the barrels; nothing more. It was funny, or at least he thought it was, how whenever you pointed a gun at somebody, they just automatically assumed it was loaded.
Well, he would just relax for now, giving them plenty of time to worry themselves sick wondering if and when he would catch up to them. He had promised them an hour's headstart, anyway.
He looked boredly down at the rifle he still held in his hands, then got up to return it to its proper place. Guns were no fun. You could fire at prey from an outstanding distance, often times killing them, some even instantly. Where was the excitement in that? Where was the sport? The suspense? The *challenge*?
No, he preferred a much more "hands on" method. He closed the display case door, stepping carefully over the two dead bodies of the young couple he had gotten out of the way, and taking with him the half-empty box of shells. No doubt that goody-goody medical squad would eventually end up back here, even though in the rules he had clearly stated that they were not to get any other supplies from the house. He somehow didn't think they shared the same ideas on fairness, so there was no point in leaving any unnecissary ammunition lying about that they might unwisely try using against him.
He carried them with him to the kitchen, looking for what he really wanted. He went through all the cabinets, opening drawer after drawer, rummaging around through the countless dishes, glasses, silverware, and other kitchen utensils until he finally found it. A sinister grin twisted the corners of his mouth up as his fist gripped the wooden handle, the fingers of his other hand gently caressing the smooth metal of the blade which glinted dully under the overhead lights, reflecting back at him a blurry sillouette of pure evil that didn't bother him in the least.
It was a large steak knife, maybe eight or nine inches long, with a deadly edge that wasn't overly sharp, but just sharp enough to leave a painful wound if stabbed with. It was perfect. It looked like it had just come out of one of those Halloween movies. He almost half expected to see Michael Meyers lurking around in the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to steal it back. This was it; his weapon of choice.
He stuck the knife in his belt and stuffed the seven bullets into his pocket to dispose of later, then he went about fixing himself a supply of food and water to take with him. A quick glance at the clock told him a half an hour had passed since their little game had officially started. Their hour was almost up, but Jason didn't care. He considered himself a relatively generous guy, after all. He'd give them the whole night. Yes, that was really being generous, wasn't it? Of course, he was giving them seven extra hours. Seven extra hours to put as much distance between them and him as possible. Seven extra hours to test his skill and intelligence by making a marvelous, challenging trail for him to follow.
Yes, seven FREE hours out of their seventy-two.
How could anyone say he wasn't a nice guy?
He stuffed his supplies into a black trash bag he found underneath the sink, then stored that in the refridgerator to keep them cool till he left in the morning.
And so began his game.
Hunting man, the most intelligent of all beasts. Yes, he had always wanted to try it, ever since his class had read "The Most Dangerous Game" way back in his Freshman year.
Now he finally could. With the perfect conditions, too. A vast expanse of wilderness with no authorities or rules, no people, no one to hear them scream... Granted, that lady had said something about there being a small town near them, but that was still several miles away. His prey would never make it that far, he would make sure of that.
The countdown had begun. He hoped they weren't planning on sleeping that night. They needed to run. He needed a challenge.
The real Most Dangerous Game had just begun.
*
*
*
A/N: Getting kinda violent ^^; But still suspenseful, no? Review if you'd like me to continue. 54 reviews and I'll write faster ^_^ Thanks a bunch!