The Hunter and the Hunted

They were coming. There had been another group a while back. I had no idea how long ago; time was not important for me. The group back then had been woefully unprepared and paid the price. I had expected others to come, and for the same reason.

To hunt me down.

I sensed this group immediately. I felt their minds as they invaded the almost uninhabited space around me. I briefly thought about fleeing yet again, but what would be the point? Where could I possibly hide after they traced me to an abandoned Siberian mining town?

There were eight of them, all human males. They were clearly tired after their car ride through the endless birch-forest. The rutted track leading to this godforsaken place couldn't be called a road at the best of times. Now, nature had mostly claimed it back. They had probably taken weeks to get here. Weeks full of mud, stuck cars, gnats and cursing a hostile nature.

I had known where they would set up camp before I chose my observation spot. I didn't want to be too close to them until I knew more about them. I was just close enough to sense their collective mood. These men weren't just tired. Some were excited about what was to come, like hunters anxious for an easy, satisfying kill. Some were a little bit wary. Some just seemed indifferent, their minds empty of any emotion.

I didn't know yet if they were coming to kill me, or if capturing me was even an option. I would find that out soon enough.

The previous group had come with a lot of arrogance, few arms and not much preparation. They had paid dearly for that mistake. Some information about that debacle must have leaked back to the big-wigs, but I didn't know how much. I guessed that they had no real idea about what, exactly, went wrong, but this group was much better equipped. They looked as if they were about to invade a small country. Their employer obviously didn't want to take any chances, this time.

I watched them as they unloaded the off-road vehicles and made camp. They assigned two guards, but even the ones working were surveying the terrain whenever they could and had their arms nearby. They were definitely well-trained, probably active soldiers or mercenaries.

I had no clear idea about the exact nature of their weapons, as I used a completely different one. My mind was all the weapon I ever needed; it also was the great treasure those humans wanted. I had every intention of keeping it, so there was a clear conflict of interest.

They looked like they had come straight from an arms fair on Black Friday. Helmets with optical devices, body armor, assault rifles, even an RPG. They exuded arrogance, showing off their obviously high training level, showing off their toys to each other as if they were fighting for dominance in the pack. It seemed as if their employer hadn't learned much from the previous failure. Physical size and weapons weren't decisive then, and probably wouldn't be this time, either.

The smallest one was different, though. He was completely unarmed. He looked lost, like a clumsy technician who had inadvertently stepped onto a war movie set.

One of the guys came into view and I froze. Shit. I knew him all too well. Shit, shit, shit, what was he doing here? Why couldn't he just let me go? Had they convinced him to come after me? No. He was probably obsessed, by now. Seeing him wasn't good news. For him, this was about revenge, whatever the official objective might have been. He or I would die here, in this godforsaken and abandoned town.

Pierre was as large and over-equipped as the others, but exuded even more dominance and arrogance. It was probably just an act. I had defeated him before, and I guessed that he remembered this all too well. He was busy barking orders, obviously establishing his alpha role.

I tore my gaze away from Pierre and watched the smaller one, instead, the stick-out-like-a-sore-thumb man. He had no uniform, and apparently no duties, either: he just stood around, trying to not be run over by one of the giants. Compared to the cars, he didn't really look that small. I guessed he was completely average in size. It was just that the guys around him were so ridiculously big.

My curiosity about him was piqued, but that would have to wait. I needed to be patient. I needed to plan my moves well, if I wanted to survive this. These men, especially Pierre, were much more dangerous than the previous ones and I couldn't doubt that my life was at stake, which I definitely intended to keep. That unarmed guy was an interesting addition, but not interesting enough to risk losing this game.

I had felt their presence as a slight tickling inside my head from the first day. For a few days, I had watched them make camp and start to explore their surroundings, but they were never near enough to threaten me or for me to establish direct contact. That was about to change.

Two of them were approaching the old school that was one of my main hiding places. They could explore any of the school's buildings and I wouldn't be forced to fight them. There was this old garage to my right and a big shack to my left, and I really hoped they would choose those, mainly because I wasn't in them.

I watched them apprehensively as they directly approached my location. Shit. It was about to begin, and I didn't particularly want it to. Why couldn't they just leave me alone?

Both were bearded, burly guys. It was almost noon, so they had left their night vision things behind. The visors over their eyes made it difficult to see their faces. It was better this way. Empathy was a luxury I just couldn't afford. As usual, that didn't stop me from trying.

The bigger one must have been almost two meters tall. The sun illuminated his unkempt beard like a shockingly red lantern. He approached the old school, seemingly without a care in the world. Either he had no real battle experience at all, or winning every fight he'd been in so far had made him careless. I guessed it was the latter.

The other man was slightly shorter, but still much larger than I was, or even Mr. Accountant. All I could see of him was a dark, rather short beard. He was walking more cautiously, constantly assessing the situation and looking for cover. He was clearly the less arrogant, thus the more dangerous one, so I chose him. He was close enough, so I tuned in to his mind.

What a hellhole. I've been in a lot of shitholes, but this tops everything. This place reeks of death. One more won't matter. Get the target and get out of here. Siberia. Of all places.

Shit, the boss' speech was sure fucked up. He tried to hide it, but he almost shit his pants, the little fucker. How can they just dump us into this mission with so little information? Assholes. I bet they know exactly what's going on. 100,000 in cash. Holy shit. For a few days and one bullet into the right head. Almost too good to be true. Shit. That's exactly the problem. If it seems too good to be true, it usually is. Still, how am I supposed to walk away from 100 grand?

Maybe I should retire after this. I mean, 100 grand... Shit... I still owe Juan 23 grand for that lousy Mustang. Okay, what's 100 minus 23? Eighty-seven is still a lot, right?

I just hope this is going to be as easy as they said. A monster, they said.

I mean, they could at least have told us if it's an alien, Bigfoot, Chuck Norris or just some psycho dude. All they told us is that the thing is dangerous. Big surprise. It must be to make them throw that much money, seven men and one shrink boy at it.

Man, I don't like this. They could at least have told us what happened to the other guys. Why didn't they? Damn fuckers. They either have no idea themselves, or they think it would scare us off. Shit, I don't like that. I have no problem with a good hunt as long as I'm the hunter.

Look at Erik, the dumb shit. He prances around like this is a Sunday picnic. Yeah, having a bullet catcher like him is always a good thing. Says that he fought in Yemen. If he did, some facts point to his having survived it. I wonder if he strolled around like this back then. He just doesn't take this shit seriously enough.

"Aaah."

What the fuck is he doing? Jumping around and holding his foot like an idiot. Are all Swedes idiots or just this one?

"What the fuck have you done, Erik?"

"Fuck, Aaron. I stepped on some kind of nail. Look."

He points at his foot like a hurt school girl. Well, I'm not about to kiss it to make it better. Let me take a closer look. Wow, that's a hell of a nail. There is a vicious, barbed blade-like thing sticking out of the top of the shoe, having gone all the way through his thick sole and his foot. How the fuck could he have stepped into that? By being an ignorant klutz, that's how.

"Can you walk back to the camp?"

I don't really care if he can, to be honest. I just don't want to half-carry the big dumb lump of Swedish meat.

"I... I don't know," he whines.

No, man. Don't start to cry now. Whew, he doesn't. Damn, that was close. That would have been embarrassing.

"I think I can."

Shit, he's starting to pull the thing out. He will bleed like hell.

"Leave that in, Erik. We'll take care of that in the camp."

"Okay."

Shit. How did that happen? Erik is surely not the brightest bulb on the carnival, but that reeked of a trap. How could anyone know where exactly he's about place his damn foot?

I fled from the dirty place he called his mind. Gross. Sadistic. That guy has killed countless innocent people and he enjoyed it. I puked.

Still, it was worth it. I was officially a monster, it seemed. Cool. Although he tried to push it into some dark corner of his soiled mind, I sensed his nervousness. They didn't know much about me. I knew Pierre did, but the others had no idea. He doesn't trust them. That's good. Still, there was no way I'd go into that cesspool again without a strong necessity. Soiled minds like his drained the power out of me. It felt like I lost parts of me while I was in there, idiotic as it may sound.

That night, I dreamt of unspeakable cruelties, committed in a hot and dusty village in the middle of nowhere. Blood, sand, screams and a repulsive feeling of sadistic satisfaction. I woke up and puked again.

No, I would avoid that guy.

Four of them came, this time. Pierre was among them. I hadn't made mental contact with him since they arrived, although I had seen him a time or two. I immediately knew which mental presence was his. He exuded dominance and arrogance, but he did have some excuse. He was a strong mind in a strong body. I had no intention of entering his mind. The thought of entering that shithole was repulsive.

'Erik the Red' was not among them, but the small, unarmed male was. That probably meant something, but I had no idea what. His mind didn't exude filth like the others'. I had no idea why he was even there. He must have some abilities that they deemed useful, but they had nothing to do with physical combat. One guy had called him a shrink.

Was this guy's mind some kind of trap? A honeypot? Was he some kind of master telepath, shielding his abilities? Paranoia started to build and there was only one way to stop it. Go ahead and try. Use the surprise element, enter his mind and take a look around. I might die, I might fail, I might learn something. In short, this was life.

I took a breath and took the plunge.

What am I even doing here? Siberia. Seriously? 250.000. Just keep thinking about the money. Half of it already sitting in my account. Student loans, goodbye!

This is scary shit, though. I just hope these big idiots know what they're doing. Yes, they have all kinds of arms, but that doesn't exactly put my mind at ease. It wouldn't be as bad if they weren't a bunch of superstitious psychopaths.

Erik with his damn chain, for example. Turning it over and over in his left hand, while mumbling something or other.

'What's that? A rosary?' I had asked him.

'Misbaha,' he said. His body language told me I'd better shut up. What the fuck? Is he some kind of redhaired Swedish Muslim? No, but he certainly acquired that habit somewhere. I still wonder who the original owner of that thing was. Some little boy he killed in the Middle East? My imagination is starting to run wild, just like theirs.

Sure, they're acting professional. Cleaning their weapons with machine-like precision all day long, even when they seemed perfectly clean, already. Watching them secure the perimeter was quite impressive as well, if I'm honest. Why does Antonio's eye twitch all the time, then? Why is he crossing himself all the time? Why is Max kissing that amulet again and again? Why is he wearing one red sock? Why does Benny keep doing his magazine routine? Take it out, take the bullet out of the chamber, put it into the magazine, put the magazine into the gun, chamber the bullet, wait a few minutes, do it again.

Why are these guys so fucking nervous? It's starting to get to me. I mean we're following one individual. Is it even a person? Are we looking for a moving fungus or what?

We just need you to negotiate, they said. We want it alive. The others will do the heavy lifting and protect you. Shit, protect me? From what? Why do we need a small army to negotiate with one being? How am I supposed to negotiate if I don't even know what I'm negotiating for or what kind of being I'm negotiating with?

"Aaron, which way did you take last time, huh?" Pierre. I really don't know what to think about him. He is a born leader, but he seems way too aggressive and bloodthirsty for this to really end in a negotiation. I doubt that this will end with him and me drinking tea at a campfire with an eight-legged alien.

"Straight on."

Why would they hire me if they just want to kill it, though? I'm marginally famous for negotiations in crisis situations, so that's obviously one of the options.

"What the fuck? You just walked straight towards the target?"

Damn those laughable wages for junior faculty. Why didn't I learn something useful?

"Shit, Pierre, we didn't know that the target was in there. We still don't, actually."

Plumber, for example. Why did I have to be a psychologist? Any decent plumber wouldn't have to stumble through an abandoned city in Siberia, of all places, looking for some kind of monster.

"Okay, this time, we're going to behave like professionals. It could place that trap because it knew you idiots would walk straight in. Aaron, we check the school, but we take the long way home. Guys, you must never be predictable. I'm surprised that I even have to mention this. You're supposed to be professionals. Benny, you stay here with the shrink."

Shrink. There it was again. No one had ever called me Neil. Damn bastards. I was the wimp, the boy or the shrink. One had called me 'the dwarf.' I mean, come on, I'm 1.75 meters tall.

"Okay, buddy, we stay here. You heard the boss."

I thought about what I had learned while I heard the one they called Aaron scream. The smaller guy was called Neil. His mind wasn't a trap, he hadn't even noticed me entering him. He thought he was here to negotiate. Did they hope to talk me into just following them? How could they expect him to convince me, when he had no idea who I was, let alone why I was living out here in an abandoned Siberian mining town? His task was hopeless if they left him high and dry like this.

I wondered if he was some kind of fig leaf. Someone had decided that a simple hunt and kill mission looked bad and there had to be at least the remote possibility of this ending without bloodshed. Well, fat chance of that, I thought as I watched Aaron trying to remove the bear trap from his leg. I loathed myself a bit for hoping it would completely cut off his foot, but the guy was tougher than I thought. Or maybe his boot was tougher. I thought about the atrocities he had enjoyed in the past and it helped to keep my conscience mollified.

"Retreat," Pierre hollered. Easier said than done, I thought. Aaron was still stuck in the trap. Pierre didn't help him at all, but kept looking around nervously, as if expecting an attack. That was not how I handled things; he should have known better.

Finally, Aaron stood up.

"Can you walk to the camp, soldier?"

"Yes, sir. I was lucky, but the boot is toast."

Well, better luck next time. I had a few toys left.

The guy who called himself Antonio was running through their camp, screaming like a little girl. It amazed me that such a huge body was capable of generating such a high-pitched sound. Looking into his mind for a few seconds had been as distasteful as could be expected, but the fire phobia was so dominant that I didn't need to stay any longer anyway. Manipulation wasn't my strong point; I was way better at reading minds than planting ideas. This was just too easy: his phobia just waited to be released.

"Shut up, you moron!" Pierre hollered at him. It was as if Antonio suddenly woke up from a bad nightmare. He looked around, found himself in the middle of a group of tough soldiers, screaming like a child for no apparent reason. I could see him blushing even from my hiding place.

"What the fuck?" Pierre continued. "Meeting in the big tent in 5. Antonio, you're on guard duty. No, wait, Aaron, you do it. We need Antonio inside to tell us what the fuck just happened."

With that, he turned away from Antonio, who was crossing himself repeatedly, and entered the largest tent. I was near enough to enter their minds. As usual, I chose Neil because his was by far the cleanest. I actually felt rather comfortable inside his head. More comfortable than in any other head I've been in.

"Okay, guys, we need to figure out what's going on here. We need to sum things up and decide what to do.

"One, we were sent here to hunt down an unspecified monster.

"Two, I strongly suspect that it actually is around here.

"Three, since we've arrived, we've searched the area more than once and we haven't seen a single trace.

"Four, bad shit keeps happening. Individually, each incident can be seen as bad luck. In its entirety, it definitely isn't.

"Any thoughts, huh?"

Is this the point where my input is needed? I'm just a psychologist, so why is everyone looking at me? Pierre might be a ruthless asshole, but he's no dummy. I have the distinct feeling that he knows way more than he told us. Still, they clearly expect something from me. Think, Neil.

"Okay, I agree with Pierre. The monster is around. It has most probably caused the misfortunes that keep happening to us. We have searched the town, but found nothing. The question is why."

"It obviously knows where we're going to look for it," the scarred guy remarks. 'Antonio-don't-call-me-Toni.'

I need to ask this and I hope I'm going to survive it in one piece. "Antonio, how did you get those scars?"

"What's that got to do with anything?" His tone was defensive, but at least he didn't get aggressive.

"Humor me."

"Burn scars."

"You've had a fire phobia ever since?"

"Umm... yeah, a bit, yeah."

"Does it bother you a lot?"

"Never as much as today."

"Okay. So, by coincidence, we're hunting some monster and your phobia breaks out fully for the first time?"

"Wait a minute," Pierre interrupts me. "That would mean that the monster triggered Antonio's fire phobia, huh? There was no fire anywhere. What the fuck are we dealing with, here?"

I want to say 'you tell us,' but bite my tongue.

"It's just playing with us," someone remarks while Antonio combines his crossing and eye twitching tics and Benny starts his magazine routine. I turn around. It's Pavel, the silent Czech. He's interesting because I have not seen any tics or superstitious behavior on him. Yet.

"Cut the shit, Pavel. This is not helping." Pierre tries to calm them down, but it's useless. These guys are paranoid as hell. I could probably write books about this bunch for decades and still find whole new syndromes.