HUNTER

PROLOGUE EXMOOR, ENGLAND Mary Templeman had left the hustle and bustle of London for the quiet travelling life. Her plan was to hike around the southwest of England for a year and then be off to university. On occasion, if the weather turned bad, she would hitch a lift to the next town or village, where she would camp for the night. She had arrived on the moor later than she had anticipated; the weather was fair, but the evening was drawing in fast. She had not expected the moor to be so vast, its bleakness seeming to stretch into infinity. The still evening air had given way to a chill sea breeze. It was refreshing, she thought, as it cooled the perspiration from her endless walking. She stopped briefly, took off her rucksack, and slipped on the jumper that was tied around her waist. It was at this point that she took in the aura of her surroundings. She turned a full three hundred and sixty degrees, not a soul was to be seen, no cars, no animals, and it really made her uneasy that there was no noise, not even a bird singing. The silence was near total apart from the wind buffeting against her ears. She shivered, and a sense of impending danger began to frighten her. She scanned the gorse and heather that flanked her on either side of the road and could see nothing. But the feeling that she was being watched had her walking again, this time a lot faster, not so fast that she looked frightened, but fast enough to get her off of the moor quicker than she would have done at her normal pace. Her heels beat out a rapid march on the road surface, her eyes scanning every bush that she passed. Occasionally she gave a quick glance over her shoulder, but still nothing. Her lower leg muscles began to burn as her walk turned into a forced march. Danger was all around her, getting closer, watching her, and waiting its time. Please let a car come, please, the thought screamed in her head. The countryside around her was minute-by-minute becoming undistinguishable in the gloom. A twig snapped only yards to her left. She stopped. “Who’s there?” A bush rustled the other side of the road. She spun round quickly. “I got a knife,” she snapped, grabbing the six-inch blade from the sheath attached to her belt. The bush rustled again as if to mock her threats. Behind her came the sound of movement. She turned, just catching a glimpse of something large moving through the gorse. Looked like a dog … no, it was a lot bigger. The movement was all around her, getting closer as if gaining confidence from her fear. “Nice dogs.” She pulled a half-eaten sandwich from her pocket and threw it in the bushes. Visibility was now down to just yards, and then came a stroke of luck. In the distance a set of headlights cut into the oppressive gloom; a welcoming car’s engine raced in the night’s silence. It appeared over the horizon and then vanished. Her heart sank. Please let it be coming this way. The lights appeared again … they were getting closer all the time. The noise of the engine was getting louder. Her hope was becoming audible. “Come on, you beauty, this way.” For a second she forgot about the feelings of fear. Hope and salvation were about a mile from her. She walked quickly towards the lights; they disappeared and reappeared as the vehicle dipped in and out of the contours of the moors. She was running towards the lights, only perhaps a minute from her now. The feeling of danger was receding, and she knew that soon she would be in a safe, warm car and being driven from these godforsaken moors. The car dipped out of sight again, and at that moment something heavy sprang onto her, knocking her off the road and into the bushes on the opposite side. She could not see what it was; she just knew that she had to find her feet and get back onto that road. She gasped for air and was scrambling on all fours towards the road when a searing pain lanced through her ankle. She did not want to look back, but she had to. Its eyes glowed like molten metal; it seemed to be playing with its catch as it wrestled with her, pulling her farther from the road. The pain became unbearable; she screamed and kicked at it with her free leg, but to no avail. Sheer terror and desperation was the only thing keeping her going. The car, I must get to the car. She spun round and lashed out with her sheath knife, slashing the creature across its muzzle. It let go of what was left of her ankle. Blood spewed from the torn limb as she made a last dash for the road. The glow of the car’s lights grew on the pavement in front of her. She was nearly there. ~~~ Simon Homewood nodded in time with ZZ Top blasting from his car speakers. He was doing eighty miles an hour in his Ford Escort and was desperate for his dinner. He drove across the moor every night on his way home from work. He had never needed to stop here and never planned to; the place gave him the creeps. A woman scrambled on all fours from the bushes into his headlights. Or so it seemed. He suddenly swerved and slammed on the brakes as two large Things ran across the road in front of him. They were like big dogs immediately sprang to mind. The front wheels of the car just caught the grass verge, and the back end was swinging all over the place, but he managed to keep control of the vehicle. He stopped the car, snapped off the music, and opened the door. “Bloody dogs, I’ll run ya down next time,” Homewood shouted into the blackness in front of him. He jumped back into the car and left with a screech of tires. ~~~ Mary Templeman heard Homewood’s remark, only yards away from her, but her life was near to over. The creature had its large crushing jaws around her throat. Its weight held her body still, and she could feel its teeth popping through her flesh. She took her last gasp of air and with it tried to scream. Not a sound came from her mouth.