Hunted

Hunted Read Free

Book: Hunted Read Free
Author: William W. Johnstone
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faint sounds of gunfire. The group of racist malcontents had returned to the area and were blasting away at paper targets. When they had pulled out for the winter months, Darry had gone over to the site and inspected it. Not knowing what to expect, he had been surprised to find a very neat camp, military in appearance. The cabins were well-built and maintained, the latrines covered. The group had left no litter scattered about, and Darry had found only two brass casings. A 9mm and a .223. The windows of the cabins were covered with heavy shutters, locked in place, and it would take a man using a sledge hammer to smash in the doors, and then only after a considerable amount of work.
    Darry was uncomfortable in the camp, for he could sense the hate that hung like an invisible shroud around the area. Pete and Repeat stayed close to him as he walked the camp, the wolf-dogs as uneasy as Darry.
    On this warm spring day, Darry looked at the hybrids and said, “Stay. Guard.”
    Pete and Repeat hopped up onto the small porch and lay down. They would obey him only because Darry was the dominant male, and he was as them. He had shown them once.
    Darry hiked toward the camp of the hate group. He carried only a sheath knife on his belt. He seldom needed any other weapon. Over the long and seemingly countless years, Darry had wandered the world, learning self-defense tactics from the masters. But there was still another reason Darry seldom carried a weapon: how do you kill an immortal?
    * * *
    The hunt was on, and Vlad knew the men of the village planned to kill him. Unknowingly at first, Vlad shape-shifted and quickly outdistanced his pursuers. Then he loped straight into a pack of wolves. They were at first hostile, but that lasted for only a few seconds until they realized that this interloper was really no stranger to them. Then came the happy, ritualistic greetings: muzzle biting, face touching, and body gestures. The younger and subordinate members of the pack stood with legs bent, ears back, tails low, signaling to the big stranger that they recognized his superiority. Then they came forward, one at a time, and pressed their noses against the bigger wolf’s face, after that, sprawling on their backs, legs in the air. Total submission.
    Vlad signaled danger, and the wolves headed out, quickly pulling away from the humans in pursuit, the alpha male and alpha female leading the way. They ran with ease and without harm through thick bramble and brush that would rip and tear a human’s flesh. They ran for miles, deeper and deeper into the darkening forest, until they reached an area so foreboding the pack knew no human would dare enter. There, they fell to the ground and rested, safe.
    The pack watched as Vlad shape-shifted; then they again went through the welcoming ritual. When the pack had rested, they went on a hunt, leaving Vlad alone by the tiny spring. Vlad ate bread and cheese from the packet of food his mother had given him, and then slept. The pack returned to find him asleep on the ground. The alpha male and female snuggled up close to him, to provide him warmth while in his human form, and all was well.
    * * *
    Darry lay in thick brush on a hill overlooking the camp and watched for an hour. He had circled the area before approaching and had spotted the guards. They were in good positions, but Darry bypassed them easily. The wolf in him knew by instinct to become one with his surroundings. Back in the old country, so many, many years ago, Darry had played with the younger wolves at their fun but still serious games of survival, sometimes abruptly shape-shifting in front of them and literally scaring the shit out of the pups. The pups would then scamper yelping and yipping back to the adults, pouring out their tales of fright, while Darry rolled on the ground, laughing at their antics. Then the adults would all rush to Darry and jump on him, play-biting and tussling, for a wolf is almost always ready to play . . .

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