Random acts of Violence: Episode Four.

This is a dedicated Halloween series loosely based on Steemit users and some details they provided.

He sat in the chair, like he had a thousand times before. It sat in front of a very large window that looked into a tangle of woodlands largely untouched by modernity. This was his haven. He had bought it several years earlier as a hideaway from the world with money he made from his years investing.

It was perfect. Just what he had been looking for a strip of land that ran from the hills to the sea. It had taken a long time to find the land but once he did he sunk all he had into it. Once he was gone, it would all go to his kids.

He was a simple man in many respects and had always looked for a simple life. He needed enough to buy the land, build the house and of course, buy the ammunition he needed to supply his guns with all the food they required.

He sat and looked out at the view as it dropped away to the sea hi eyes focused on the white of the breakers that crashed upon the shore in the distance. So many evening he had taken the mile trek to the secluded patch of beach and cast a line into the swell. Even when he didn't catch anything, the mindless nature of fishing calmed him. He didn't even really enjoy the idea of catching anything as it would just mean throwing it back. He was more a red meat guy.

This is where the forest came in. His own patch of land he could hunt within, no permits required. He spent many hours out there now, accumulated it would be many months even. He had spent his time learning the lay of the land, understanding how the animals passed through, where they would gather and where they would not.

He didn't like an easy target, he didn't like to hunt unless he needed the food itself. Instead mostly, he just tracked, honed his skills, practiced with his weapons to keep them in decent working order. Only once had he come across a bear, a beautiful creature but on that day he had not pulled the trigger. Later he regretted it but never saw it again.

He had invested everything into what he owned so he would never have to invest another dime. And this is how he ended up sitting in this chair, looking at the sea, bleeding.

They had come in without him hearing, no mean feat to be sure. Out here there was no need for a burglar alarm but there were enough tripwires and early warning lines that getting in would take knowledge, or experience. Potentially both. Even in his state, he was impressed they had managed it without calling his attention.

By the time he had realised it, it was too late, they had him and fighting it was not an option, he had to surrender. Something that he had never done before even though it had cost him in the past. This time though, he accepted fate as what it was.

He looked into their eyes and he could see that they were intent on doing their job. He even knew what that would be and how they were likely to do it. As they all stood there, he watched for signs of emotion, there were none, not even a flicker betrayed them to let their humanity peek through. Professionals.

he had smiled at them and said, "Fine, let's do this now."

They had no reason to bind him, no reason to fear him attacking them. They knew they had all the control and he would not resist. They led him from the bedroom they had found him in, past the chair and the large window he would later occupy and down the stairs that led to the front of the house.

As he stepped onto the small patch of pavement those in front parted and in front lay three items. A rifle, a pistol and a large knife. He looked down at the items a moment flicking from one to the next and then up to the faces that watched. They had surrounded him now, a few metres back, their eyes still emotionless.

"You know I am not going to fucking pick one up, but I appreciate the courtesy."

They didn't move, they were expecting this. He knew that if had chosen one, they might have rethought their actions, best not tempt fate. One nodded and the rest shifted into an arc behind him instead of a circle. He was the leader of this group, always had been.

The leader took a few steps forward until he was standing a foot away, close enough that if he had wanted, he could have taken out the leader there. Was this an opportunity? No. Fate. He looked at the face a moment and a flicker of emotion flashed across the eyes, just a flicker though. He watched as if in slow motion the mouth begin to move and no more than a whisper was allowed to escape.

"Run."

He paused just a fraction, and a thin smile crossed his lips and then he bolted with all his aging body could muster into the trees. From this point on, he did not know what to expect but he knew that he had spent a lot more time in these woods than them and at the very least, he was going to make it difficult.

he bolted down the hill as he had many time before but this time, at a much faster pace. His back was in pain already but nothing much worse than it had been for the last decade. Familiar trees rushed by and the head-height branches were avoided like they were a part him, intuitive memory he thought.

He glanced across and recognised a stand of trees, the last kill shot he made was taken from there, a natural blind. All of these areas held memories, he had lived and wandered here too long for them not to. He pushed on deeper into the thickness of the forest, always down towards the water.

Breaking through a tangle of brush he found himself in a clearing. Found is the wrong word as he knew exactly where he was and aimed to be there. The sun shone into this space and he could feel the warmth on his skin. He looked around as memories flooded back, this is where he taught his youngest how to shoot a pistol. It was a .22 became a good shot quickly.

A horn sounded in the distance. It was on. He knew that he didn't have much time as even with his knowledge, his body would struggle to outpace them and he knew they would bear down on him fast. Go, he thought to himself. "This will not be the day they beat me, he whispered."

He leapt forward, knees creaking under the weight of his body, they would not last much longer now anyway, why save them? He dove back into the trees and ran while patches of sunlight burst through the canopy of trees and splashed onto the leaf litter slowly rotting underfoot.

He could hear it now, the ocean not too far away. He had covered the ground faster than he thought he could but something else was in his ears besides the crashing waves. They were fast, Damn. He could hear them already. Twigs breaking under their feet. He still had time but it was going to be close. He pushed harder, giving all he could. A few hundred yards and he would make it.

The light of the sun and the darkness of the shadows it cast tormented his eyes, played tricks by placing and removing obstacles in his path. He snagged a foot, the root of a great maple had hidden itself in the fallen leaves it had cast aside. His head hit the ground and the skin split apart at the brow line. He groaned and rolled and looked up at all of the fall colors burned bright by the sun above as blood filled the vision of one eye. They had all had picnics here once upon a time.

The cracks of branches were much closer now, but so was he. He drove himself back to his feet and spent the last of his reserves, the final time he would ever have this feeling he knew. His lungs burned, his back would never recover. It would not matter anyway. A few more steps and he would make it. Beat them.

He could see the trees thin, he could see the light ahead, the sun reflecting off the sand. 50 yards, less. He glanced to the sides, two were not far behind on either side. But he knew, he was home. It was his home after all.

He exploded through the trees and the sun burned his eyes. He fell to his knees in the soft sand, head bowed, and laughed. He was drawing breath hard and there would be no more going on after this. With head down he saw their feet approach. But then suddenly before they reached him, they stopped. All of them.

He lifted his head and saw why they had stopped. Splashing in the water, playing like a child was the bear he let go. It paid them no mind, did not even look in their direction It just played. He no longer regretted not taking the shot. His head went light and he passed out.

And now here he was eyes open, staring at the sea, sitting in the chair he had always sat in, the chair that had travelled everywhere with him. The chair he used to read bedtime stories to his children as they sat on his knee.

The gash above his eye had been carefully patched and his face cleaned. He could see their reflection in the glass, nine wraiths of mortal man he thought to himself. He looked at the ghosted reflection of each and recognised them all. This is the way it would have to be, this is the way he had planned it from the start.

"Thank you for doing this." and he nodded to the reflections.

A hail of bullets shattered the window and then fell silent as a rush of sea air intermingled with the forest poured in. Heaven he thought as the reflections disappeared and only nature lay in front. It wouldn't be the cancer that took his life.

"We love you dad." the nine said in unison. He could hear the emotion in their voices now.

"I love you all too."

A second burst of bullets and blackness arrived.

Taraz
[ a Steemit original ]

This is the fourth in the Halloween series: Random acts of Violence.

This is dedicated to @erodedthoughts who is likely expecting a very grisly demise but instead will hopefully be somewhat surprised by the turn of events.