Eli Johnson

Hunted

Monday, July 18th, 5:00 am

It’s a rainy day. More than just rainy actually. One of the worst thunderstorms

Norfolk, West Virginia has ever seen. Already not off to the greatest start. My alarm

rings at approximately 5 am, so I roll out of bed, half-asleep, and venture towards my

modest bathroom. As I approach the bathroom door I stub my toe on the wall. Great.

After a good shower and teeth brushing session I walk out to the kitchen to make some

breakfast. Before I could get to the fridge, my Bernese Mountain Dog, pounced and just

about knocked me off my feet.

“Kyle, down”.

He listens.

“Good boy,” I say as I throw him a dog treat.

Kyle walks off somewhere doing who knows what, as long as he does not take a

leak on my carpet somewhere I honestly don’t care. Bacon seems captivating right now.

I head to the laundry room, that is where I keep the deep freezer, only to find Kyle did

go and pee on the floor. Why do I even have this damn dog? I reluctantly clean the pee

with a rag and disinfectant spray. After about ten minutes I finally enter the laundry room

and open the deep freezer. I know I have bacon in here somewhere… ahh there it is. I

take it back to the kitchen, turn the stove eye on, and take out a nice-size pan. I peel the

bacon out of its container and plop it onto the sizzling, hot pan. 15 minutes pass, and I

have a nice amount of bacon strips. I eat and watch the news as a quite interesting

story catches my eyes. The television reads “BREAKING NEWS SERIAL KILLER

KILLS 5 WORKERS AND BREAKS OUT OF NORFOLK ASYLUM”. Wonderful. A

psychopathic serial killer is on the loose. Just then I hear a knock on the door. Strange.

Nobody, ever, knocks on my door. I grab a kitchen knife and creep to the door to peer

out the peephole. Oh, it’s just the mailman. I toss the knife on the couch and open the

door.

“Hey Dale, whatcha got today,” I ask.

“Just the regular, the newspaper, and some coupons from the dollar store”.

“Nice, thanks, man”.

I take my mail and wave to Dale as a way of saying goodbye. Since when does

the mailman come at like 6 in the morning. Wait. I check the time on my phone, it reads

8:55. Just peachy. I have exactly 5 minutes to walk a mile and a half. I change into my

cleaning clothes (I clean bathrooms for a living, I know #livingthedream) and dash out

the door.

Monday, July 18th, 9:30 am

Once I finally reach the neglected motel I call a workplace, I enter and run into

my boss. Not just walking by him and him noticing me, I physically ran into him and

spilled his coffee all over me. Ouch.

“ Way to go Kellerman. Man, I pay you too much. And your shift was supposed to

start 30 minutes ago, you are late” says my boss, Mr. Miller.

Thank you captain obvious. “My bad sir, I didn’t see you there, here let me help

you with that.”

“No! Just get to work before I fire you for ruining my suit.”

I hate that guy, but he gives me my paychecks so I have to listen to him. I nod

and head behind the front desk into the rickety cleaners’ closet. All in one swift motion I
grab the broom, dustpan, mop, bucket, soap, and scrubber. I already know this will be a

blast!

Monday, July 18th, 5:45 pm

15 minutes left in my shift. I got this. As I am cleaning I notice it’s still storming

outside and I still have to walk home. Fantastic. The rest of the shift goes as expected. I

see on the news that this killer guy hasn’t been caught yet though. Interesting. After my

shift’s over I put the cleaning supplies back in the closet and use the public bathroom

before I hit the road, or should I say sidewalk? As I am terrorizing the toilet, I mean

dropping an absolute nuke, I hear someone enter the bathroom. He slowly walks to the

sink and washes his hands. Based on his shoes, white New Balance 624’s, he seems

like an average middle-aged man. The water turns off and the man seems to be walking

back towards the door, that’s when he stops, turns 90 degrees and the shoes are facing

the stall I’m in. What is this sicko doing? I sit there, staring at the door waiting for it to

open. After around 5 minutes of silence, the man leaves. What the heck. I decide to wait

an extra 10 or so minutes in the stall to be safe. My business was not finished in the

stall anyway. When I finish straight up massacring the toilet I slowly creek the door

open. Sure enough, the weirdo was gone. I head to the sink to wash my hands when I

notice there’s a yellow, almost goldish tinted, envelope stuck to the mirror labeled: Bo

Kellerman. I rip it open and see it is some type of letter. Marvelous. This guy left me

some sorta love letter. I stick the letter in my pocket and begin the expedition home.
Monday, July 18th, 6:30 pm

When I finally arrive back to my sorry excuse of a home, I check on Kyle. He did

not urinate on my carpet. Good dog. I fill his respective food and water dishes and head

for the shower. Afterward, it is finally time to check out that letter. I sit at the dinner table

and unfold it. I immediately notice the words are written in an odd-looking red shade.

Blood. The letter reads “Hey Bo, we know you could use some money and we got a lot

of it, we’re talking millions. After all, you do live in that dump apartment building on Bay

Street. Apartment 263 to be exact. Meet us at this address and we’ll discuss further

details. 405 14th Ave West”

Terrific. This weirdo knows where I live. This seems sketchy though. I’ll think

about it.

Tuesday, July 19th, 10:00 am

After a good night’s rest, and being able to sleep in since I don't work Tuesdays, I

feel rather refreshed. Still don’t know if I’m going to the sketchy address though, I mean

what are they gonna do come to my door and kill me? Yeah right. I walk to my ancient

oak brown dresser for some clothes. Eventually, I assemble a respectable outfit which

consists of a wrinkled, old white navy tee, grass-stained blue jeans a size too small, and

grey hey dudes. I walk out to the living room to see Kyle laying on the floor. Weird. He

hates sleeping on the floor.

“Kyle, wake up” “Kyle,” “Kyle?”

Oh jeez, he’s not moving. I should check if he has a pulse. Where do you check for a

dog’s pulse?

“Hey Siri, where do you check for a dog’s pulse?”

Inside of the rear leg, okay. Good, he’s got one. I scoop Kyle into my arms, snag my

house keys and walk to the nearest vet. I really should invest in a car.

Tuesday, July 19th, 12:00 pm

After nearly 45 minutes of walking, we arrive at the vet. I enter the door and

urgently look for a doctor. Not one in sight. I head to the front desk and hit the bell what

felt like 500 times. Finally, a stunning, 5’4 ish, pearl-eyed brunette greets me at the

desk.

“Do you guys have any doctors available right now?” “I don’t know what’s going

on with my dog”.

“Yes, give me one second, sir”.

What seemed like a lightyear later a grey-eyed, man who looked like Dr.

Doofenshmirtz, came up to me and took Kyle. He headed for the back and motioned for

me to follow him. When the Dr. finally enters a room he lays Kyle on the table and

checks his heart rate. Then he begins checking some of his other vitals.

“How long has he been like this?”

“I don’t know, to be honest, I woke up at 10 and found him like this about 20

minutes later.”

The Dr. nods and leaves the room. A minute passes. More minutes. More. Kyle

appears to stop breathing. What’s going on? Where is this imbecile? Is he just gonna let
my dog die right in front of me? All of a sudden the Dr. bursts through the door. He’s got

a syringe with some cyan-looking fluid in it.

“Hey, I didn’t give you permission to do that!”

“Do you want your dog to die?”

I shake my head and observe. The Dr. injects the strange fluid into him and Kyle leaps

up and yelps.

“Your dog has some extremely rare heart disease and it will act fast. We've never

seen this before but we will have to treat this within a few days or your dog will die.”

“Uhh…okay, how much money would the operation cost. Also, what did you just

inject in him?”

“Because of the rarity of the disease we are looking at roughly 250K. And a

mixture of adrenaline and lidocaine. We call it the “Heart Helper”. I came up with it.”

250k?? Jeez “Cool, I guess. When would you need the payment by?”

“At the start of the operation, if successful we keep all of it. If… not you get half

back.”

“Real reassuring, when can I take him back home?”

“Right now if you’d like, just take some of the Heart Helper and dose it into his

water. He should last a day or two off that alone.”

“Okay, great.”

This is just radical, isn’t it? My only sort of family now has a rare deadly disease. I hate

life. Time to start the near hour walk home!

Tuesday, July 19th, 4:00 pm

 Kyle decided we needed to stop at every single fire hydrant along the way. I

stopped counting after 25. When we arrive home Kyle’s going a bit stir crazy. He runs

around the room, searching for food. I feed him as much as he can eat. The injection

seemed to make him more hungry. Interesting. I walk to the closet and take out the Auto

Dog Feeder 3.0. I set it up to refill his food and water every few hours and I mix the cyan

stuff into the water. After this already jam-packed day, I’m exhausted so I lay down for a

little nap.

Wednesday, July 20th, 8:13 am

Well, I guess it was a bit more than a nap. I call into work for the next few days.

One of the few pros of my job. All the PTO one could wish for. I throw an ancient beige

hoodie, baggy black sweats, and some black, pre-owned, new balances on. Then whip

up some breakfast. Stale cheerios, yum. After I eat, I bearhug Kyle and grab the note

with the address on it.

“Love you, buddy”.

He barks.

Who knows what's gonna happen to me when I go to this creeps address. I need

the money though. What other option do I have? I leave the house headed for the

address.

Wednesday, July 20th, 2:00 pm

Finally, I arrive at the address. It greatly surpasses my expectations, I figured it

would be some run-down building. Instead, it was a modern, brown log cabin. I knock

on the door and a middle-aged man greets me. I shake his hand and peek at his shoes,
same from the bathroom, great. I’m looking into the eyes of a deranged psychopath

right now.

“Hey, Bo, we’ve been expecting you.”

He clears the way to let me enter the home. I walk in and I survey the room. Big

brown, expensive-looking, couch and a luxurious black, kingpin style, chair. I sit on the

chair, not knowing what to expect. Just then the man puts some sort of mask on and

starts laughing. White smoke comes from the vents in the ceiling. What is this stuff?

What’s it doing to me? What is happenin…

???, ???, around 10:00 am

I wake up. I’m in some sorta tent. My back aches, assumingly because the

ground is uncomfortable. I unzip the tent, crawl out, and check my surroundings. I’m In

the middle of trees whose tips about touch the heavens, with a lot of other tents.

Suddenly, a siren goes off, and over the speaker, you can hear a man saying “follow the

road to my voice” repeatedly. I assume he’s talking about the road that breaks the

massive grassy terrain into separate patches of grass. I follow the road until I see a

large crowd of people and a well-dressed man standing on a stage. They appear to be

waiting for me. Then I stand next to some other people, waiting for what happens next.

“Welcome to paradise ladies and gentlemen, you all needed money and willingly

came to our address so remember, you wanted to be here. Basically, there are 100 of

you guys, and 15 of us. We’re rich and bored so we are gonna bet on who can get the

most of you. And by get I mean kill. The winner gets to keep their life and 1,000,000

dollars! Since we have guns, knives, and arrows, we’ll give you an hour headstart to
venture into the woods. We own this island by the way so don’t bother screaming for

help. Once you hear the siren, it’s game on. Best of luck to you all.”

And with that people begin sprinting into the woods. Looking for hiding spots

maybe? I’m amongst these people, but I am looking for weapons. Waiting to be killed is

dumb, if one of those guys rolls up on me I have to find a way to fight them off. I

normally would have at least a pocket knife on me but they must’ve taken our

belongings when we were unconscious. As I’m running I approach a stream of water. I

step into the water and it goes up to about my knees. I grab a few rocks from the stream

and hide in a large bush not too far from the stream. Soon enough the siren goes off.

Less than ten seconds later I hear gunshots. “99 contestants left” I hear over the

speaker. Wow. How do you get killed that fast? Around 20 minutes go by and I get

bored in my bush. So I walk around, scoping the area. I notice an enormous tree that

looks quite easily climbable. So I climb, higher, higher, higher. My muscles begin to

tense up as a climb so I find a stable branch and sit down. The view is immaculate up

here. I spot a waterfall and a beach a few miles away. It truly does look like paradise.

“95 contestants left”.

As I’m admiring the view I hear a twig break below me. I notice it’s one of those

hunter guys. What a sickening person. Betting on how many innocent people he can kill.

Maybe if I pounced on him I could take his guns. Too risky. He’s got an automatic rifle,

pistol as his sidearm, and probably a knife somewhere too. He keeps walking until he

suddenly stops, draws his gun, and fires a few rounds.

“That’s three baby.”

 The amount of contestants doesn’t go down so it must go by every 5. And told us

when the first one died so we’d know they would announce it. Soon enough it’s dusk. I’d

better get down before night. I just about plummet down the tree. Thankfully, I catch

myself though. That probably took about 30 minutes and it’s almost pitch black now. I

can barely see but I slowly venture towards the flowing sound of the waterfall. It sounds

as if I’m almost there when I notice a hunter about 20 feet in front of me. I slow my

breathing, crouch down, and take quiet steps. 15 feet. 10. 5. 3. He’s right in front of me

now. I’m not sure why I thought this was a good idea to be honest. I pounce. Wrapping

the hunter into a headlock and tightening my grip as much as possible. He fights and

fights. Swinging violently and making contact with every punch. Finally, the fighting

stops. His body relaxes and I think he’s out. Thank God for martial arts training as a kid.

I pick the man up and hang him over my shoulder, still heading for the waterfall. I spot a

small, abandoned bridge that goes across the waterfall with a cave or crawlspace under

it. I walk to the bridge and set the body down. I strip him of his guns and bulletproof

vest. Then throw the body into the water. Splash. Then it hits me. I just killed somebody.

Cold-blooded. What have I done? I gotta focus, I put the vest on, strap the gun to my

side, and put the pocket knife and lighter in my back pocket. Then I lean over the railing,

hang from it, and swing into the crawl space. Somebody must’ve already been here.

They set up a campfire-type thing and have a few dead rabbits to cook. I don’t know

what happened to the guy who did this but, thank you homie.

I sit along the wall and realize how exhausted I am. I must’ve not noticed because of the

adrenaline of literally being hunted. I close my eyes for a few seconds and the next

thing you know I’m waking up the next morning.

???,???, 9:00 am
 I hear someone screaming for help.

“Help me! Please help me! I have a family”

I look out the entrance of the cave and see a man with no legs crawling away

from a hunter with a machete. What is wrong with these people? Where’s my gun? I

turn around a look for my gun in the cave, there. I head back but before I can aim I hear

another scream. The hunter finished the job.

“45 contestants left”

Holy Hell. 55 people have been killed in one night. I aim down my sights. Lock on to the

creep. And fire. I fire again. And again. The hunter drops, screaming in pain. Hit ‘em

right in the good spots. He’ll surely bleed out soon. But then a group of hunters

surrounds the injured hunter. I can hear them talking, can’t quite make out their words

though. Then the injured one points up at me and all of them look in my direction. Oh

no. Bullets fly in my vicinity. So I shoot back. One down. Two. Three. Next thing you

know all five are down. Why am I so good at this? I’ve killed 7 hunters now. I’m starting

to feel hungry, good thing there are these dead rabbits in here. I light a fire, skin the

rabbits, and begin cooking them.

???, ???, 1-2 pm-ish

It’s been about 40 minutes and my rabbit looks cooked, enough. So I dig in.

Mmmm. Much needed. All this killing’s got me worn out. I drift off to sleep.

???,???, around 5 pm

I awaken to the, now somewhat annoying, sound of gunshots and screams.

“10 contestants left”

I gotta get home soon for Kyle, if I kill like 5 of them I’m sure the hunters will get

the other ones. I load up my guns and crawl out of the cave. I creep back into the woods
away from my newest place of residency, the bridge. As I’m looking I spot another

contestant, I remember standing by him when we first arrived. Sorry man. I aim, steady,

and fire. Down he goes. 8 others. Another one tries to creep up behind me. He swings

something at my head, I duck and kick his feet from under him. Then draw my sidearm

and fire. 7 others. I walk, what I think is east, for 45 minutes until I see 4 contestants

huddled together. Y’all are making this too easy. I aim and fire. One down. They have

guns too though and fire back, Ahh jeez, didn’t prepare for this. A bullet hits my left foot.

Ouch. I let loose on these turds now. I take cover behind a log and wait for my

opportunity. The shooting halts for a meer second, here it is. It feels as if I enter slow

motion. I draw my pistol, stand up, and aim. Boom. Boom. Boom. All three headshots.

Then I hear a ton of gunshots maybe half a mile to my left. I rip one of the dead bodies’

shirts off and wrap it around my foot, then I investigate the shooting.

“2 contestants left”

They’re still shooting though. Finally, I see them. A hunter shooting at the last

contestant. I have the angle on him but I’ll let the hunter get him. Boom, boom. Never

mind, hunter just went night night. I draw my pistol, aim, shoot. Boom. Boom. Boom.

Two to the body, one to the head. He’s not living through that.

“WE HAVE A WINNER LADIES AND GENTLEMAN, OUT OF NORFOLK, WEST

VIRGINIA, BO KELLERMAN!”

These men in suits come up to me, congratulate me, and tell me how

entertaining that was. Then one sticks a syringe into my arm. And suddenly I’m asleep.

Saturday, July 23rd, 8:00 am

 I wake up in some musty motel with a new, black, Nike jumpsuit on and a note in

my pocket. It reads: check your bank account for the money, nice job out there Bo. I did

it. I should be happier right? I head to the atm in the mo lobby. Sure enough, 1,005,269

dollars in my account. I notice I’m crying, tears of joy. Kyle will be good and I’ll have like

700,000 left. I notice they gave me my phone back. I open it up and check where I am.

Washington, DC 190 miles from home. I order an uber and soon enough I’m on my way

home.

Saturday, July 23rd, 12:00 pm

After a few hours, the uber pulls into my driveway and I pay him the lofty fee. I

head up the stairs to my apartment. I look at the broken 2 on the 263 door sign. Soon,

Kyle and I will be well out of this town in some mansion somewhere. I unlock the door

and step inside. I was expecting Kyle to pounce on me with excitement but he doesn’t.

“Kyle?”

He doesn’t come. I look around for him. Living room? Nope. Kitchen? Nope

Bedroom? Ahh, there he is. I try to wake him up but he’s not moving.

“Kyle? Kyle, no. No!”

I shake him. No sign of life. He’s dead. This can’t be. All of that for nothing?