Mike’s research van, parked just to the right of the front porch, had rolled right and leaned heavily against the news van. Both vehicles were gutted by flame.
Katie knelt next to Mike and fixed her cold eyes on him. “He’s gone,” she said.
“Gone? Are you sure that…” he was cut off by another explosion. The rear wheels of the news van lifted several feet as a fireball shot out from under its frame. A wave of heat made Mike blink and he scrambled away from the noise and debris. Mike glanced back and saw that Bill and the news crew had retreated farther across the lawn. Except for Gary, everyone was present.
“He fell out of that window and crashed through the windshield of your van,” said Katie.
Mike panicked and jumped to his feet. He overbalanced and almost crashed to the ground, but caught himself and stood up. “Where is he? We’ve got to help him,” he said to Katie.
She folded her arms and shook her head. “It’s too late. He was dead when he hit the van. Dead and on fire.”
“Oh my god,” said Mike. He had to struggle to stay upright. Mike propped himself up with his hands against his knees for a moment and then turned back to Katie. “Do you have any idea of what happened? Did you get any readings at all?”
“No evidence of the paranormal, if that’s what you’re asking,” she said, sneering.
Mike sunk to the ground as the first fire truck pulled up.
The Hunting Tree
BOOK TWO
- Stage of Hunger -
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Crooked Tree - 3141 B.C.
THE PREDATOR PUSHED UP from the tree branch and shifted to the left. He had a perfect starlit view of the path, but couldn’t afford to have his muscles go numb from inactivity. When the wind picked up, and started the tree swaying, he clenched and released the muscles of his legs in time with the creaking of the limbs.
The moving air brought a new scent—the one he had been waiting for. He rolled his shoulders and flexed his back, preparing for his attack. This moment was the culmination of several days of careful observation, and he didn’t want to waste the opportunity because of a careless mistake.
Leaning forward and looking back between his legs, he was able just make out the path behind him. At the edge of perception, he saw a woman adjust her stance. Could she have seen him? Was she getting ready to cry for help? Was it time to run? His mind raced—his calm confidence eroded instantly.
He braced his feet and prepared to flee, but took one more look down the path. This time he saw the reason for the woman’s delay: another set of legs. She hadn’t seen him, she was just engaged in a conversation. As he watched, she pulled away from the other woman and continued up the path, directly towards his tree. He shielded his eyes and refocused, where her back would be to him in his tree.
She moved quickly. Perhaps, he thought, she had heard reports from other families, and knew that a predator lurked in these woods. The thought excited him, and he held his breath while he waited for his opportunity. Her step was light and quiet, but he heard every footfall.
His luck served him well—just as she passed under his tree the wind rose and masked the sound of his movement. He pushed away from his branch and swung towards the ground, hitting the path with soundless feet and dropping to his hands to absorb the fall.
Her feet didn’t pause. She continued north, away from her family, into the darkest part of the woods without detecting the predator who had dropped to the ground just five paces behind her.
He crept on hands and knees for the first few steps and then rose to a crouch, waiting for his prey to round the next corner where the path swung around a large rock. If she managed to make noise, he figured this rock would block the sound from traveling back to her family and give him the extra few seconds he would need.
Accelerating to close the distance, he rounded the corner and found nothing. She was gone.
The man stood, confused, swinging his head up and down the path, eyes wide in the dark. He closed his eyes and stilled his body, listening. To his left, he heard his prey running quietly up the steep hill. He gave chase.
At the top of the ridge he finally spotted her just on the other side of the crest. The trees stood more sparse up here and he easily picked her out in the starlight. No longer trying to conceal his movement, he ran fast across the top of the hill, feet beating a hard rhythm across the rocks and leaf-litter.
She heard him gaining and bolted to her left, down the hill. He grinned at her mistake. If she hadn’t moved to the other side of the hill, she might have drawn the attention of her family. But here, on the far side, she was alone.
His course cut off her escape and she tried to turn back uphill. Faster and stronger, he closed the distance. At the last second she turned, brandishing something in an outstretched hand. The predator circled right, moving into the shadow of a bushy tree. His face and body were painted to conceal his identity, but he didn’t want to take needless risks.
When he backed into the shadows she turned and tried to run again, but he was ready. He sprung out and grabbed her long hair, pulling her backwards to the ground. She managed a small scream before he clamped a rough hand over her mouth and pressed a sharp flint edge against her neck.
“Make a noise and I’ll kill you,” he growled low into her ear, trying to disguise his northern accent.
He shoved her face to the ground and pulled her arms behind her back, wrapping them in a leather strap and using his leverage to keep her hips raised in the air. Her body made an uncomfortable triangle with the ground. She tried to take the weight off her face by pressing her shoulder into the ground, but her neck bent awkwardly as he kicked her feet apart and pushed up behind her. He took another deep whiff of her ripe feminine scent, and summoned his desire.
Despite his earlier threat, she barked a small cry as he forced himself into her. She tried to tilt her hips forward to reduce his penetration, but he pulled a fist up into her belly, moving her back into position.
His grunting and thrusting seemed to continue forever as she spit leaves and dirt out of her mouth and tried to breathe. He paused. She turned her head and tried to hear what he was listening to. He pulled out slowly and released his grip on her arms. She slumped forward and clawed the ground to get away. When she had scrambled a few paces from the rapist, she rolled over and saw him clearly in the starlight, head cocked, looking off into the night. He hadn’t finished, she was almost certain; his erect member protruded absurdly, its business incomplete.
She started to rise and then heard what he heard—a low growl from the woods. It didn’t sound like any animal she knew, but it was unmistakably dangerous. Suddenly the leaves rustled. She heard two steps—only two steps took the thing from deep in the woods to atop her attacker.
Her rapist crumpled to the ground under the weight of this giant creature. The beast’s bare skin flashed and something flew off the crumpled form and rolled to a stop near her feet. She pressed back against the tree as she realized the object was the head of her attacker. His painted face showed only surprise.
The creature rose from the decapitated body to its full height. She gauged that it stood at least one-and-a-half times taller than a full-grown man. At the creature’s feet the rapist’s erection finally wilted as blood jetted from its neck.
With one graceful step, the creature approached the prone woman. She didn’t recognize the hulk as human until it spoke.