Twisted Roads – Twisted Horror Stories by Matthew Tonks

The Hunt

He looks up, his heart beating furiously in his chest. Taking a moment to catch his breath, he smiles. “As many times as it takes us. Until we track him down, that’s how long.”

“It’ll just keep moving. Six months, Cole. Six months, and we’re no closer than we were when we started all this shit!”

“Bullshit. We’re getting close. The fucker’s panicking, can’t you sense it?”

“All I see is more innocent lives lost. That’s it. We’re not getting closer. We’re doing shit all—cleaning up his mess.”

“You’re wrong, Wesley. We’re close—closer than we’ve ever been before,” Cole says, wiping the knife’s blade on his trousers before sliding it into a pouch dangling from his belt. “You see, he’s choosing random victims now. He doesn’t have the time to select his prey like he did before. We’re fucking with his mojo. Soon, we’re going to be standing in front of him. Then we’ll gut the son of a bitch.”

“What if you’re wrong? What if he’s playing with us? Baiting us into a trap?”

“He’s not smart enough. You’ll see. We’ve got him on the run. You can take my word on that,” Cole says, getting to his feet and wiping his blood-drenched hands on his trousers. “Besides, even if he was, he’d be so weak we’d be able to overpower him fairly quickly.”

“You seem sure of yourself?” a voice says from the darkness of the street beyond.

They both turn quickly as a man walks out of the shadows. He smiles, nodding his head towards them before looking down at the torn, bloody, dismembered body of the young girl lying on the ground.

“Such a pity. She was such a sweet girl,” the man says, turning his attention back to Cole and Wesley.

“Is it game time already?” Cole grits his teeth and pulls his knife from its pouch again.

“Game time? I don’t follow.”

But Cole doesn’t reply. He charges at the man, swinging his knife viciously in front of him. The man in black moves quickly, easily evading the blade, and grips Cole by the throat, pulling it back powerfully. A popping sound echoes, and Cole goes limp, crashing to the ground in a heap, lifeless. The man looks up at Wesley, who stands frozen in place, sweat pouring from his forehead.

“Hello, Wesley. It’s been some time since we stood before one another. How’ve you been?”

“Fuck you!”

“Fuck you? Really? Is that how it’s going to be? Like we’re enemies and not brothers?”

“You fucking killed Cole! What do you expect me to say? He was my friend.”

“Wesley, we don’t have time for friends. You know that. After all, we—”

“Fuck you, Porter. Fuck you and all your little fucking children. We’ve been cleaning up your shit for the last two weeks. Cole and I—we had something. A bond, one I didn’t have to fucking manipulate him for. And then you show up, doing your fucking self-centred shit like you always do, and kill him without checking first. He was marked, with my mark, you piece of shit.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I-I-I didn’t realise you two were that close.”

“Of course you wouldn’t. You never pay attention to anyone except yourself. So why don’t you just go and get in the car? Daddy’s going to be pissed when we get home.”

“But I don’t want to go home, I wan—” He doesn’t get a chance to finish as Wesley slaps him across the face.

“I said get in the car. This is over.”