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On the Prowl
Fiction
 Created on 6-17-07
 Views(34)
 Story Rating G
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He awaits his prey. Hiding in the deep brush of the jungle. Rain pours from a sky that is hidden by the trees above the warrior. He is tired but refuses to shut his eyes. He aches but refuses to move. He lies in wait for his game. Listening to everything around him. The dense jungle tells him about his surroundings, about the his prey that is nearing. He must not anticipate, he must wait until the appropriate moment. The moment that he must strike. He must not be early, for the prey shall run. He must not be late, for the prey shall have the upper hand. This simply cannot happen.
He grips the handle of his knife as the rain begins to fall harder.He tells himself he must be quick, silent... deadly. He ensures that he must make no mistakes. It must be a quick kill. Water drips from his eyes, he resists the urge to wipe his brow. No movement, he tells himself. He waits.
Suddenly he hears movement. They make no attempt to stay quiet. Three men emerge from the bushes 10 meters from where the man lies. Two have lit cigarettes and the man watches as the puff on them without fear. They are conversing in what they consider a language, all man hears is jumbles. He grips his the hilt of his knife even tighter. The time is near, yet he waits.
The three unsuspecting men move closer to his hidden postion. They do not know as of yet that this will be the place of their deaths. The continue to speak to one another. They are all equiped with AK-47 rifles and extra ammunition is attached to their worn out attire.
As if they already knew, all the wildlife ended their conversations. The jungle went deathly quiet. The animals watched and waited for the hunter to strike.
He was patient, he allowed the 3 men to come within pissing range of him. He allowed them to enjoy the last moments of their lives. He watched as the twom men smoking put their cigarettes out on the heel of their boots. He observed them toss the butts into the jungle. And with the quickness that he had attained from constant training he pounced on the closest man, plunging his knife through the area that connects the neck to the shoulders. The man drops lifelessly to the ground, but the hunter has already moved to the next man before the first lays still.
The man had no idea of what hit him. It was a sudden flash, he watched his comrade jolt and drop. Right before the hunter ran the knife through his gut, he realized that his life would be over shortly. The hunter dropped the man as quickly as the other and moved in on the third and final man.
This one had a little more time, but was so scared that when he finally lifted his rifle to shoulder level the hunter had already slipped behind him and the cold, wet knife was pressed up against his neck. The hunter did not make his move to kill this man. He spoke quickly and quietly into the man's ear. His voice was rough and full of anger, "Now, tell me where my family is?"
The man was so scared he couldn't speak, until the knife pressed harder against his neck. Again he heard the hardened voice of the hunter, "I will not repeat myself." The man felt wetness on his leg, he had pissed himself. And with the small hope of keeping his life, he told the hunter where his family was being held. Without delay the hunter sheathed his knife and pushed the man away. He began to run, to him it didn't matter what direction as long as it was away from the hunter. He didn't get too far when he felt a sharp pain through back of his neck and then he fell to the forest ground never knowing what killed him. The hunter picked himself off the dead man and wiped his knife on his trouser. He looked into the sky and ran in an easterly direction. He had to save his family before it was too late.
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