The Winter Hunt

Synopsis: A hit-woman pursues her target but has hit him in the arm rather than completing her mission in one clean shot. A chase ensues through a blizzard. It is a high profile target and not one she can afford to screw up.

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December 2017

Red stained snow would lead her straight to her victim. She’d hit him once with her silenced semi-automatic pistol from distance and picked up the shell casing immediately. He was moving slowly, that she knew for sure. The park was empty, and no one would have heard the gunshot from a distance either. Her breathing remained relaxed and controlled as she strode after her target. There was no need for her to break into a sprint. The snowy pathway absorbed the droplets of blood left by the injured man. The money she had been paid did not warrant such a sloppy job. Her employer would not be happy especially since a police inquiry may have been inevitable. Blood across the park would be impossible to miss in the morning. Her original plan to dispose of the body needed to be altered. Her impatience had made her careless. This was her first high value target in months and she needed the cash. The intel was sound, and the target had arrived at the right place but an hour later than she had anticipated. In her prime, she would have been cold, ruthless and the execution would have occurred without a hitch. Now effective body disposal and evidence clean-up would be virtually impossible. She cursed herself for being so careless.

His carelessness had cost him a bullet to the arm. He had let his guard down. The phone call, the last-minute meet-up. How could he not have realized? He shuffled behind a tree for cover. He had torn part of his sleeve to bandage the bullet wound but it continued to bleed profusely. The only reason he was still alive was luck. The only reason he would stay alive now, was composure. He had to get somewhere public quickly. It was a well-chosen location for the hit. Secluded and away from the city. Even if the killer gave up the chase, it would take him forever to find someone to help him. That is, if he didn’t bleed out first.

She followed the blood to a tree he had waited behind. A small pool of blood at the foot of the tree more considerable than the droplets of blood she had followed made that obvious. It was now snowing heavily and within minutes, footprints became concealed. The blood became so faint a few steps away from the tree that she knew he must have bound the wound. She could feel a wave of frustration clouding her disciplined mind. The job had become so difficult in recent years. It never used to be. She had to track this man down;and fast. She set off into the cold wall of white blurring her vision. It was time to end this.

There was no one in sight behind him. He turned back to continue onward. Even if the killer was close by, he couldn’t see them through the snow. There was no natural light except from the moon. The snow fall was barely visible but more than apparent as each snowflake melted on impact as it hit his face. It was too cold to stand and scan the environment. He had to keep moving if nothing more than to just keep warm. He saw some street lights in the distance emphasizing the snowfall under their bulbs. Finally, a road. There were bound to be some cars he thought. Perhaps he could hitch hike but more importantly, he didn’t think he would be killed if there were immediate witnesses. The make-shift bandage began to drip slowly with red. His arm was numb from blood loss and the cold he assumed. He wasn’t sure, but it didn’t matter anyway. He had to get to the freeway quickly. The killer wouldn’t be far behind and his injury was already slowing him down.

She knew the area well. She knew where the freeway was. By now she was confident he would have seen the streetlights and would have realised that this would have been his best bet to avoid death. Public eyes on the road would definitely see a man bleeding heavily from his arm and someone was bound to call the police if not allow him to hitch hike. She had to consider her strategy. Continue cautiously tracking him like she had up till this point or gamble on the direction she thought he was in and try catch up without precision? At this point, he was bound to reach the road before her. The streetlights were distant but tracking someone in this darkness coupled with the blinding snowfall was next to hopeless. She decided to break into a steady jog towards the artificial light hoping the gamble she had taken wouldn’t cost her.

The cold air hurt her face as she ran through it. Her eyes watered relentlessly but she ignored it. She had been running for about five minutes and knew if she didn’t see any blood or other signs around the area soon, she had travelled the wrong way. She slowed her pace to take in her surroundings in more detail. A few trees stood strong around her through the wall of white. Details escaped her eyes through the snow but there! Red. It was a few drops and they were faint, but it was definitely blood. It was only a metre away from her. Any further and she might have missed it. Finally, a stroke of luck. Her chest filled with anticipation. The drops all lined up in one direction. The snowfall recurrently hid the trail.She continued sprinting as she had before and as she approached the freeway she saw him.

He was there. Not more than four hundred metres from the road. He was still shrouded in darkness. He hadn’t escaped yet. His ragged breathing eased as did the pace he was travelling at. The unsteady but fast scamper laboured into a jog and then inevitably a walk. The fog developing in front of his mouth also reduced as a result. His shoulders loosened. He knew he wasn’t safe yet, but he thought he had made it; that the killer had stopped following. He held his injured arm, trying to maintain pressure. He would need to try patch up the wound if he was going to convince someone to give him a lift. He couldn’t see the freeway yet, but he could hear the odd car roaring past. The snow was obviously being cleared regularly which pleased him in the midst of this blizzard. One less thing to worry about. Three hundred metres now. He could feel each step getting stronger as he approached the freeway. Right, left, right. But then his left gave way. The bullet entered his thigh and he lost his footing. He fell to the floor screaming in pain arm. He gasped as his bare hands clutched the snow around him, his fingers numbing. Blood flowed from his leg like rain drops running down a window. Every movement hurt. How could this have happened? He had been safe. He had escaped, he thought. He dropped his head knowing it was over. The frosty air froze his insides as he inhaled. He let out a sigh as he turned onto his back to face his killer. He would not die a coward. He would stare his killer in the eye as he was shot to death.

Her eyes lined up with the iron sights on her pistol. In front of her lay her target. He bled heavily but her focus remained on the spot between his eyebrows. Her eyes examined his face. Surprisingly, his features were recognisable. She had met this man before, but she knew him to be dead. “Just do it!”, he shouted. She didn’t hear him. Memories she had carried for years filled with remorse and regret raced through her mind. The gun shuddered in her hands as she lowered it. The only thought that spiralled through her mind was: ‘You can’t be alive. I killed you’.