The Hunt

“Now this is the point. You fancy me a mad. Madmen know nothing. But you should have seen me. You should have seen how wisely I proceeded...”

― Edgar Allan Poe, The Tell-Tale Heart

Foreword:

I’m not crazy. I know I'm not crazy, maybe unhinged. When I tell others they don't even listen. They smile and nod and keep walking. My friends keep disappearing. I'm jotting this down on a napkin in Denny's to protect it. I'm scared every day. I know they're coming and I hear the hounds in my dreams. I don't eat anymore like the chefs. I need help. Listen...ill tell you if you listen. You can hear their screams if you listen. I'll tell you the whole thing. Before it's too late. He needs to be stopped,

he killed his own family.

He killed my friends.

Ok. You're right. From the beginning...

I took a long drag from the last of the slim joint and bent down to scrape it along the sidewalk extinguishing it and tucking it away into my pocket.

I wasn't going to waste any of it.

My anxiety was making my chest hurt more today than usual. Someone had given me the J instead of their spare change and I was thankful for the cheap vacation. It was so hot today I felt delirious and needed any bit of encouragement I could get.

Panhandling was very hit or miss and my small bucket only had a few nickles rolling around pathetically across the bottom. Begging on the streets pained me. I hated to see the judgment in others' eyes. Despite my pride, my stomach forced me to return to the corner with my sign and stand in the blazing sun for hours.

When I looked up again a slick black BMW was cruising under the graffitied highway. The tires slowed to a stop in front of me and the window went down silently. I was confused, I'd never seen a car that nice this far into the rougher side of the city. I peered into the vehicle at the man who greeted me back with a sly smile. He was young and glowing. His sandy blonde hair was sitting on top of his head in a windblown mess. He spoke before I could and I listened, thankful for his assertiveness.

”What's your sign say?” He said and I could feel the cool AC slipping from the open window.

Embarrassed, I turned the tattered cardboard sign where he could read it. In my head, the words echoed and made me physically cringe. It was easier when people just passed me by hiding behind tinted windows. My sign read:

“Anything helps, please. I wouldn't be here if I didn't have to. ”

He looked at me through dark sunglasses and seemed to be amused by my misfortune. He let the smile sit on his face and I looked back at my reflection in his sunglasses feeling the moment drag on. He abruptly called me to get in the passenger seat. ”Join me for dinner, sir, I think I may be able to help if you're interested.”

I knew whatever he had in store wasn't going to be good but I hadn't eaten a good meal in days and my mouth watered at the prospect. Plus, the sun was relentless and I felt exposed there under the white light. So, reluctantly I climbed in, hyper-aware of how bad I smelled with the new car aroma wafting past me.

”What are you doing out here man?” The door clicked shut behind me.

”Uhm, I don't have a good answer for you. Shit happens.”

He nodded and gripped the wheel with one hand, using his other to dig around the middle console. He was looking for something while he shot questions in my direction. ”You don't have any family? Friends?” He asked taking a brief second to look at me.

”I used to.”

I left it at that and let the silence hang thickly in the air. I knew he wanted me to go on but I didn't really care and my gut was doing summersaults. ”Yeah I get that, Oh! here I found it finally.” He held his card out to me between two fingers and I took it, staring at it awkwardly, unsure what else to do.

**Shawn Shields**

Coordination and Recruitment Director

*A New Path Farms*.

"Lots of people down on their luck live on the farm. It's a temporary arrangement. To help people get back on the right path. A new one? you know? - and residents are clothed and fed.”

Between sentences he would look at me, looking for feedback. Waiting for a reaction. All I wanted was a meal and this was beginning to make the hair on the back my neck tingle, but my fatigue kept me apathetic and my eyes grew heavier. I remained silent.

“In exchange...” he went on not skipping a beat of his rehearsed dance. “they work on the farm and prepare the meals. The guy who runs the place, Joe. You'll meet him tonight. No pressure though man I can see you sweating. They're good people, just trying to help. I'm Shawn, I look for people like you who may benefit from the farm. What's your name brother?”

I shook his hand and muttered ”Derrick.” The way he structured his sentences bothered me. I felt like I was being sold to and it got under my skin. I was going to make a smart comment when he pulled off onto a dirt road that led out of the city.

“Why do you come so far out for participants?” I asked genuinely curious.

"The farm is near a small town not too far from here. The population there is small and most people have already found their place.”

I shrugged taking the answer as well enough and gazed out the window. Before I could protest, exhaustion overtook me and I fell asleep gliding down the worn down interstate in a stranger's BMW.

“Lovers and madmen have such seething brains,

Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend

More than cool reason ever comprehends.

The lunatic, the lover and the poet

Are of imagination all compact:

One sees more devils than vast hell can hold,

That is, the madman:"

Shakespeare William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream

"Hey! Welcome sunshine!” A man was shaking me harder than I like. His large hands set square on my shoulders. He had a thick beard and wore a cap that almost covered his eyes. I couldn't make out much of his appearance and I was still trying to shake the sleep from my eyes. I could feel dirt on my face and my shirt was plastered to my back with sweat.

“Hey hey, I'm up alright.” I attempted to push his hands off me and he laughed and pulled me out of the car before propping me up and slapping my back hard enough to make my chest echo. With a smile that showed my annoyance, I shook free from him and looked for Shawn.

“Take it easy on him Harry. He's new.” Shawn was making his way around the car to stand next to me. The smile had reappeared across his lips. ”Arent you excited Derrick? Let's go in. I'll show you around.”

“Alright,” I said in response following him across the grass field toward the giant old wooden barn. To the left of the barn sat several rows of small homes and on the right was a fairly large farmhouse. A woman was sitting on the porch rocking back and forth and I could hear her chair creak as we approached. ”Whose that?” I said subtly gesturing in her direction.

“Joe’s daughter, she...never recovered from the loss of her mother. You can find her there most days. She doesn't talk much.”

I tried not to stare and instead gazed out into the thick cornfields. They sat behind the barn and beyond them, a dense forest with the skyline above was littered with rolling hills and coated with pines.

“It's beautiful out here. Secluded. It's peaceful I've been in the city for years.” I said absentmindedly.

“Yeah, it takes your breath away.” Shawn had reached the Barn and pulled open the door. I could hear the roar of celebration erupting from inside and the scene drew my attention away from my own thoughts. There were rows of long tables filled with people. Various drinks, appetizers, and snacks were placed in front of each person. Their cheeks were red and they all shared their meal starters and engaged in conversation. It was as if they didn't know how strange the situation was. They didn't notice us, or the floor of hay, or even the animals housed in the same room. I fought the urge to pinch myself or burst into laughter.

Shawn led the way introducing me first to a short overweight man who looked delighted to see me. He clasped my hand between both of his when we shook and his thick silver ring was cold my skin. I tried to avoid his eyes by studying the inscription on the side of it. It was a class ring. His name was Ron and he was set to leave the farm soon. I complimented his ring and he interrupted by breaking into speech.

”Derrick, this place has changed my life. I didn't have anyone and now I have a sense of community.” he pointed to the crowd and continued, ”everyone gets along and we’re a family. It's a little scary to leave honestly. I'm sort of envious of you just beginning.” he elbowed my side in an attempt to be playful and I forced a smile. I wondered why everyone kept pretending I had already agreed to stay.

”Well, *I’M* happy for you Ron, I'm sure you'll find like-minded people out there, and you'll have others here joining you soon.” Shawn said touching my shoulder, beginning to pull me in a different direction.

”Oh yeah... I'm sure I will. Anyway hope to see you at dinner Derrick.” Ron’s eyes were glazed and he seemed to be elsewhere mentally. I let Shawn lead me away from him, the interaction leaving me uneasy.

No one acknowledged my presence. I figured new people show up all the time. Shawn led me to the only empty table, a small circular one in the corner of the room. He pulled out a chair for me and plopped into one himself. His action seemed to serve as a signal because an emaciated woman approached apprehensively. She had snacks and drinks for us. She placed the offering down without saying a word and hovered for a moment waiting for an order. When one didn't come, she walked away again, disappearing into a room near the back of the barn.

Her figure made me notice how overweight everyone else was. She was starving and the room was filled with people with excess. I tried to wipe the horror from my face by picking up a soda and finally quenching my thirst. The liquid traveled down my ribs leaving a cool trail while Shawn tore into the deviled eggs left for us. I could smell meat cooking, maybe pork or beef. It was smokey and it made my stomach growl.

”So, when is dinner?” I asked opening a bag of potato chips.

”Everything is caught and cooked on the property, or grown in the garden. It's usually done a few hours after the snacks are brought out. I wanted you to get a little something in your stomach before washing up. Are you interested in a shower? I have some clothes you can borrow and a new pair of sneakers.”

I glanced down at my shoes and spotted my big toe poking up from the old rubber. A shower sounded great and I was itching for a second alone to gather my thoughts and escape from all the weirdness. ”Sure, lead the way.”

Shawn gulped down one more egg before hopping up and ushering me out of the barn. I heard Joe’s daughter's chair creaking behind me as I followed him to the rows of houses. He approached the door of one near the front and grabbed the mail poking out on his way in. ”It’s not much but it gets me by. The bathroom’s down the hall to the left. I'll grab you some clothes.”

I nodded and turned to make my way down the hall. The place wasn't decorated and only one green couch was placed across the way from an old TV simply placed on the carpet. I got the impression he didn't spend much time here. The bathroom was more of the same. Yellow cigarette stained walls and a mirror that hung above the rusted sink. I looked at myself and felt at home in the environment. Dirty and plain.

Shawn abruptly rounded the entry with a stack of clothes and an off white towel. I thanked him and placed the pile on the toilet.

”Yeah man, I'll go ahead and give you your privacy. Just head back over to the barn when you're done. No rush, enjoy. The water pressures great.” With that, he left and I turned on the shower. Shawn talked a lot but didn't say much.

I got in the shower and basked in the warmth running over my dirty short curls. I watched the brown liquid disappear down the drain and reached for the old spice soap placed on the edge of the tub. I was lathering up when I heard the sound of a few voices outside the window that was slightly above my head along the tile wall. I peaked out and noticed Ron speaking with Harry- (the guy who had originally greeted me). They were arguing it seemed and Harry was getting the best of it. He shoved Ron and pointed sternly toward the cornfields.

I strained to read their lips because their voices were muffled by the glass and distance. From what I could make out Ron was being told to do something but was putting up a fight. Harry ultimately forced Ron towards the fields and I ducked down to avoid being seen. From then I washed up quickly and got out to get dressed. I pulled on the socks first and then the boxers left for me. While I was adjusting the waistband I felt a tag itching my skin. I extended my torso, twisting to look at it. I saw the initials **JR** and a little scribble that looked like Justin written over what was once washing instructions. Justin... Definitely not Shawn. Why was he loaning out other guys underwear?

I took them off and tossed them in his bathroom's dirty clothes before putting on the shorts and baggy tee he left for me. I looked like a kid when I looked in the mirror.

A really tired kid.

The world is made up of two classes - the hunters and the huntees.

Richard Connell, The Most Dangerous Game

When I entered the barn again dinner was done. Everyone was still chatting and again I came in unnoticed. I looked for Ron, or Shawn, or even Harry and couldn't spot any of them. I decided to settle in an open seat and fixed my eyes on the details in the wood. I was tracing the same line for the fifth time with my fingertip when someone cleared their throat near me. I looked up to find a man probably in his late forties with salt & pepper hair. He held out one of his hands for me to shake and used the other to clasp the back of my neck. He leaned down to talk where I could hear over the outcry of the crowd.

”I’m Joe. I'm really glad to see you here. I know it's strange at first but if you choose to stay you'll have your privacy to adjust.” He let go of my hand and got a set of keys out of his pocket. He smiled and slid them across to me. ”Your own cottage. If you want it. I usually don't press this hard but I really feel like you would fit in here. Shawn spoke very highly of you.”

Everyone here and was definitely off. But, having my own place on a beautiful plot of land with meals prepared and served to me wasn't a bad thought. I was decently close to the city if I needed to make an escape and the woods behind the property were dense and full of places to hide. I'm sure there is someone here I’ll like enough to spend a few hours with here and there. I'll stay for a week and then I'll leave. One week.

”Sometimes I think evil is a tangible thing - with wave lengths, just as sound and light have.”

Richard Connell, The Most Dangerous Game

I took to the routine of finding a place by the barn’s only window. No one ever sat there and I could see most of the property from my perch. Dinner was close to being done and chefs were moving quickly around the room making the preparations as they always did.

Yet, tonight there was an agitation in the air, more than usual. Because of this, I was trying to stay out of the way, I kept my eyes on the area outside near the farmhouse. Over the activity of the crowd, I heard a door slam and heavy footsteps approaching. Joe rounded the corner and was half running towards the porch. He was wearing a rubber butcher apron that I could tell was coated in fresh blood. The red shimmered in the moonlight and he shook his gloves causing droplets to stain the grass. In his path, he left bloody boot marks and he entered the home looking unconcerned.

From the shadows, three chefs creeped out wielding a water hose. They erased his trail and left the path to the old screen door spotless. With that, they also reclaimed their places in the kitchen and I was left the only traumatized witness.

“Instinct is no match for reason.”

Richard Connell, The Most Dangerous Game

At some point during my week's stay, I began sitting on the steps near Joe’s daughter during the day. For hours I sat silently in her company, when I did speak it was only to ask her name. She didn’t look at me or even contemplate the question. “Bell,” she said with her mind obviously somewhere else.

That was the extent of our conversation on the first day, the next day a chef who was not on duty strolled past us and headed out into the garden. I had noticed that Bell wasn’t overweight and I felt safe asking her a question that had been eating away at my thoughts for days.

“Why don’t the chefs eat?”

Her chair stopped creaking and I threw my head back to look at her. She was scanning the area around us cautiously.

“Derrick, why would the people who prepare the food refuse to eat it?”

I looked at her puzzled and stood up from my step trying to work some nervous energy out. She leaned forward in her old chair and took my hand delicately between her frail fingers. “Derrick, don’t eat the meat.” With that her eyes got cloudy and she let my hand drop and her mind drift away again. I was going to protest and try to keep her with me but the screen door swung open and Joe appeared in a white button-up and khakis. He towered over me and the porch was now crowded with the three of us.

“Derrick! Just the man I was looking for. Can I borrow you?” I nodded and looked down at Bell while he led me inside. Her eyes were glued to the skyline and I knew she wouldn’t meet my gaze.

Joe took us to a large room in the back of the farmhouse. I’d never been inside and the home had a..hunting emphasis. There were deer heads mounted in straight lines on every white wall. A bear rug accenting the living room and a cougar coat hanging like a tapestry in the kitchen.

“Nice place...” I muttered shuffling along with the creaky wooden floors.

“It’s my paradise,” Joe responded as he pushed open the door to his office and let me inside before shutting it behind us. I stood with my mouth open in the middle of the room looking at the thousands of pictures. They coated every wall and there were even ones framed and placed on bookshelves. I also spotted what looked like a human skull serving as a bookend.

Every picture was eerily similar. One type showed Joe with a dead animal beaming from ear to ear, a rifle hoisted on his shoulder. The other category included Joe still armed but standing next to someone at the entrance of the farm.

Always someone different, and always someone I hadn’t seen here now. I walked to the edge of the room near his desk and spotted a familiar face. I knew one of the guys in the pictures. He was living on the streets with us, we all thought he had died. I had mourned him and I felt the anger bubbling up in my throat and heating my face. I swallowed the lump of emotion and turned back to face him. ”How do you know John?” I asked through gritted teeth.

”Oh he was one of my favorites. He stayed here at the farm with us a while back. How's he doing? Have you heard?” he leaned on his desk with his arms crossed holding my eyes with a sinister grin.

”I haven't heard from him...uh anyway, what'd you wanna talk about?” I rubbed the back of my neck and tried to hide my shaking from anxiety.

”Listen...I’ve noticed you and my daughter spending a decent amount of time together. I'm just curious about what your intentions are son. She's...fragile. I need to ensure you are aware of the situation. To be candid, I’m very protective of my little girl and I want you to keep your distance.”

I wasn't shocked. Most people on the farm avoided her and it was obvious she had endured something horrible. I had noticed the looks and I knew a confrontation was coming. ”I just want to be a friend to her Joe. You have nothing to worry about.”

He erupted into laughter and nodded his head ”Derrick I know. I know.” He abruptly dropped his smile and straightened his stance. ”But. I must insist you stay away from Bell. It's very important to me.”

I backed up bumping into the bookshelf and balled up my fists preparing for the worst. ”Joe this seems unreasonable. We just sit next to each other on your damn porch what do you think is going to happen you can see us from your window?”

Suddenly there was a knock on the office door and Joe turned away from me. I could feel his anger in the air and it made my chest tight. When Joe opened the door Shawn was standing there and he peeked around Joe to shoot me a small wave. He was wearing a silver ring and it caught the light seeping through the window. From where I was standing I could see the details well and deja vu was settling into my gut. I had seen the ring somewhere I was sure of it, but I was thinking of John and Bell and my anger was the focus point.

Joe and Shawn had a whisper conversation at the entrance of the office that gave me the opportunity to scan the contents of the desk. Joe had a calendar with names scribbled in, as the days passed the names were crossed out, with the exception of one name that I didn't recognize. It was labeled ”missing.” It was then I registered where I knew the ring from.

It was Ron’s class ring. Quickly I backtracked 3 days to my arrival. Ron’s name was crossed out in red ink. My brain was busy making connections when Joe interrupted motioning for me to leave. ”Derrick we’ll have to continue this conversation at a later date. There is something I need to handle immediately.”

I was happy to go and hurried out of the office. When I passed Shawn I got another glimpse of Ron’s ring on his thick finger. My head was spinning and I felt sick as I crossed into the sunlight outside. I didn't say anything to Bell and just retreated back to my place for a moment to think. I longed for a safe space and the farm seemed like it was closing in on me. I felt obliged to help Bell. Something happened to her mother, something happened to Ron.

I separated my blinds with my fingers to look out and make sure no one was coming to take me away. I knew what was going on but it seemed beyond the scope of reason. The chefs don't eat because the meat...vomit built in my throat and forced me to hunch over gagging violently before hurling on the dingy carpet. Had I eaten Ron? My head was cold and I thought I may pass out. I tried to control my breathing but I heard a few distinct gunshots ring out in the still afternoon outside.

Things were moving quickly and if I was going to leave it needed to be tonight. From the outside, I could get help for Bell and let everyone know what’s really going on at A New Path Farm. I scrambled to my feet and ran to my bedroom stashing the clothes I had been given in a bag. I had no idea how to even begin to navigate getting back to the city. I figured I’d follow the road, using the woods on either side as cover.

“It crosses my mind that Cinna's calm and normal demeanor masks a complete madman.”

― Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games

Before dinner that night I snuck into the woods. I stashed my bag in a rotted tree trunk and crept back toward my house in the twlight. As I climbed the stairs to the small cottage I felt two rough hands snatch the back of my shirt and shove me hard inside. The person tossed me effortlessly into the living room and I rolled before finding my footing and looking at them.

The air was laced with the stench of my vomit from earlier and the stranger seemed unphased. It was a chef, he was tall and thin. He looked translucent as he approached me, hauling me off my feet again and pushing me against the wall. The man threw two envelops against my chest and let them fall to the floor. I squirmed under his grip, holding his wrist tight. "What the fuck man?" I said searching for life in his eyes.

He pulled me away from the wall and brought his paper-thin lips to my ear. His voice was raspy and lacked depth. He spoke like it took effort yet held me captive with ease. "Derrick. Leave now. Bell sent me, the letters are from her. Follow her instructions, you have people protecting you. but you must leave now." With that, he dropped me and turned quickly to leave. He shut my front door and I looked at him through the window trying to gain my composure as he slipped into the kitchen, blending into the frantic white flashes within.

When he resumed his position I looked down at the off white envelope. They were both labeled in neat orderly handwriting. One saying "Read now" and another "Read when you're free." I felt a chill run through me and glanced out the window, feeling the pressure of time. Quickly, I tore open the one that directed me to read it now. After I had finished I shakily opened the door and ran back to my bag in the rotted tree, before heading out into the night, the crunch of the leaves and my new friend's words resonating in my mind.

Derrick,

It's been a long time since I've written. I know you have questions and I intend to answer them in my second letter but right now it is imperative you get to safety...

I heard the sirens blaring in the distance and quickened my pace. It wasn't long before I heard the dogs tearing through the trees in the distance. They howled and I broke into a sprint.

You're a good person, we all saw it. They were going to kill you. Joe was going to kill you. I could not stomach hearing shots ring out and know it was you on the other end of the barrel. There is a car at the edge of the forest its near enough to the road. If you can make it there you're home free. It was originally for me but I lost the will power for revolutions long ago.

The trees whipped at my skin and I felt the burn of open scratches up and down my arms. One created a scar that I still have. It scrapped along my brow and down my cheek. I tasted the rusty blood and heard a shot ring out and snap a branch in half in front of me. The dogs were getting closer.

When you're free remember us, come back, tell the world, Derrick...

That is all I remember from my escape. I woke up again on the same corner I had first met Shawn in his BMW. The sun was blazing in the same way. I tried to convince myself it was a twisted occurrence brought on by a heat stroke. I was happy to slip into delusion. Yet, small things kept reminding me of reality. I found food, especially meat repulsive. I dropped weight rapidly and took to wandering the sidewalks aimlessly. I couldn’t bring myself to speak much and my mind was constantly cloudy and detached.

One day as I was traveling, tracked by the blinding sun. I caught a glimsp of myself in the window of a coffee shop. I did not even recognize myself in the display. I sat on the curb near it and picked up a newspaper that had been discarded. There were blotches of brown where someone had spilled their coffee. The ink was smudged but I could make out most of the wording and I traced the lines carefully.

Flipping through I noticed the name Isabel in the obituaries. There was a picture of my friend, and next to it was the cause of death, "natural causes." The picture was old and her eyes still shined with light. It made my stomach twirl and while I read over her story. “Found dead on the family farm... survived by her loving father...” In a surreal moment of complete insanity, I sprang up and tried to get the attention of anyone who would listen. I had been living comfortably in my ignorant bliss but Bell was real and guilt gnawed at my insides.

I ran up and down the busy streets day after day trying to get someone besides myself to take it seriously. “They are eating people, hunting them like wildlife, and treating their valuables as trophies!” Passerby kept their head down and tried to avoid an interaction with me. Some people would attempt to chase me off. Shouting at me and scoulding me for harassing the neighborhood.

The police told me it was out of their jurisdiction. They also suggested I get treatment and pointed me to the local shelter. If I pushed the issue, I was threatened with jail. No matter who I told they didn’t listen. They wrote me off as crazy. As mad.

How can it be out of their jurisdiction? I've had friends who live on the streets disappear, As early as last week. It happens right down the road from the station.

Lonliness is weighing heavy. Having only myself to listen takes its toll on my mind and sanity. and so I'm here crafting my story where it cannot be destroyed or morphed. The guilt of being sparred is deafening. If I could take her place I would.

If you find this, I'm sure by now my mind has deteriorated. You may see me wandering with glazed empty eyes. I just hope that you’ll listen.