Chapter 11: Chapter 11: Home bitter home

Hunter had slept throughout the journey from Southampton to London, and after an hour or so of waiting at the Marylebone station, he boarded the train to Standfield. It was around midnight when the train reached his destination, and he once again found himself at the very place he had left just a week ago.

Deciding it would be best to go home and rest for a few hours before embarking on his last search, Hunter boarded the bus that dropped him near Chilton's hill in South Standfield. It was a short walk to Cornwall Street, and within a few minutes, his building hovered into view. Once inside, on the seventh floor, Hunter gravely exhaled as he searched for his keys hidden under the dirty, repugnant welcome mat.

Hunter turned the key twice until he heard a click, and the door came loose. He stopped and exhaled gravely for a feeling set in him that something fateful was waiting on the other side. Forcing his eyes shut, he pushed the door open all the way. In the dark, Hunter struggled to find the light switch for a while until he stopped dead in his tracks upon realizing that he had stepped on something. He took out the torch from his bag and shining its light throughout the room, he found the light switch a few feet away from the door.

As the dirty old bulb illuminated the room, Hunter's eyes were immediately drawn towards the floor. Although for a split second he had felt comfort for it seemed nothing was out of place, his euphoria soon hit an iceberg of horror, hopelessness and captivity when a blue envelope lying in the middle of the floor caught his eye, inviting Hunter with its temptation of excruciating misery.

"No... Fuck no!!!"

Hunter collapsed onto the ground, for his worst fears had come true, and much sooner than he had imagined. Kneeling down, he opened the envelope only to find a note and no photographs.

He cautiously read every word, and after going through the letter, he said to himself, "I'm not going there!" before letting out a scream of anguish for he realized he had no choice.

"Back home, it seems," Hunter said, his hands shaking with rage and misery.

The next day, as the ferry hovered near Saint Helier Marina, Hunter briefly stood on the edge of the port side, still contemplating whether or not to get off. It had been almost eighteen years since Hunter had left these shores, and he was not ecstatic to be back, especially under his circumstance.

"Do I really need to do this?"

Hunter had been battling with the dilemma throughout his journey from London and yet had not reached a definitive conclusion. He lamented on his actions and the recourse he had been through the past week and where it had ultimately brought him. Was it all about survival?

No matter how much he tried to convince himself that his trips to London and Southampton had been conducive, Hunter knew he was still nothing more than a puppet of this "benefactor." After all the grueling escapades throughout the country, after running away to escape a terrible fate and almost getting caught, his precise actions ultimately brought him within a few yards of the shores of Jersey. Hunter could not help but wonder as to how he had ended up back where he had started. The despondency in his heart only grew by the minute, for his mind encouraged him to go ahead with what he had set out to prevent.

Hunter sighed as the ferry reached the harbor, and the bell for disembarking rang through the boat's walls. Taking out the letter to glance a quick peek, Hunter could not help but feel an unlikely enthusiasm sprouting about the task he was taking on. The previous killings had shaken him on a visceral level, but now suddenly, there was no doubt or remorse in his mind. Even though Hunter could not recall anything about his target, a voice within him assured him he was doing the right thing.

"It is a necessary evil," Hunter said to himself in his mind as he started walking towards a professedly familiar address.

Unlike the gloomy skies of Britain, Jersey was blessed by the winds of the French communes for the sun shone radiantly on the road stretching beside the sea. It did not take long for Hunter to reach the address, and as he found himself standing in front of a building with a large gate, the memories of his childhood resurfaced before his eyes.

Hunter saw the large patches of grass sprouting aimlessly throughout the front lawn and the once towering place seemed puny and desolate. He always found it impalpable how once the crowd had dispersed after the gathering, the place looked one of the melancholic places fathomable to his mind. Perhaps these people felt they were doing something great by taking young ruffians out of the streets, offering them what they call "Love" that they could not get from real parents, but when Hunter stood alone before the the place of his childhood, all he felt was abandonment. But now that he had accepted his fate, Hunter took out the piece of paper, confirming he was at the correct address. Ensuring the knife was in its place, Hunter stepped into the building, walking towards the door with slow, purposeful steps.

He knocked on a wooden door a few times before deciding that it would be best to observe from afar, for if the target was there, he could swiftly get it over with. He then slowly turned away and stood outside the gate, closely observing if there was any activity. It seemed fate was on his side on this, as within minutes, Hunter saw the door open and three men walking out, they wore dark suits, and by their demeanor, it seemed they were discussing something essential as hinted by their loquaciousness and vigorous hand gestures. Realizing they were coming in his direction, Hunter quickly moved away, hiding behind one of the trees as he saw a car approaching. The trio waited for a while outside the gate, and after a large silver Mercedes-Benz pulled over in front of them, the two men got into the vehicle with one of the men smilingly closing the door for the other two.

Hunter saw the man standing in his place as the car receded into the horizon, leaving only the two of them in the small plot of land. A few moments later, the man went back into the building, and the sound of the gate creaking made its way into Hunter's mind, igniting a sense of urgency. Although he would wait and observe as per the instructions, Hunter took one swift look around, and after assuring himself that there were no witnesses, he started following the man in the dark suit. The distance from the gate to the building door was no more than thirty yards, but it seemed the path extended for miles on end as he cautiously put every step forward, ensuring not to alert the man in front. Finally, after an eternal twenty-second walk, the man was within reach of the entrance and Hunter within reach of him.

"Mr. Thomas Hume?" Hunter called out just as the man had barely pushed on the door, causing it to move slightly and spread a screeching noise to the tranquil surrounding. The man turned around, his eyes meeting Hunter's taut gaze.

"Yes?" The man said, the momentum of his hand pushing open the door all the way through.

"Are you Mr. Thomas Hume?" Hunter asked again.

"Yes. What do you need, friend."

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Upon hearing the words, Hunter's hand instinctively reached for the knife stashed in his back pocket. His breathing grew heavier as he pulled out the blade and held it in front of the man. Immediately, the man's grey, wrinkled face turned pale with shock and fear.

"What are you...You!?" Thomas Hume mumbled.

Hunter tightened his grip on the haft as he steadily moved it towards the man's throat. He did not know why he was doing this, but a voice inside Hunter's mind assured him it had to be done. However, the moment the blade reached within a few inches of the man's face, Hunter suddenly experienced the familiar screeching pain in his head as the memory of him strapped to the bed in the middle of that dark room flashed before his eyes. He once more heard two people arguing, with the male voice repeatedly asking to continue with the experiment.

"Argh!" The knife dropped from Hunter's hands as he grabbed his head, trying to stop the agony.

Seeing this sudden change, the man pushed him down and started running towards the gate.

"Hey!! Stop!!!" Hunter shouted as he got back on his feet and stumbled across the yard, chasing after the man.

The pain became more intense with every passing second as Hunter followed him outside the gate on the road. The building was in a serene part of town, tucked away in the lap of the countryside with large patches of fields running on either side of the road before panning out to the sea in distance. The pursuit continued on the narrow road, that twisted and turned to ultimately lead into the busy city streets.

"Stay away from me, you devil! You should be dead!!" The man shouted the words as Hunter got within a couple of yards.

However, just when Hunter thought he was close to nabbing his target, suddenly the road took a sharp left, and a car veered into view. Seconds later, a sharp grinding sound filled the atmosphere, followed by a thud as the vehicle braked with full force. The distance had been too short for the driver to stop the automobile in time, and the impact hurled Mr. Hume away a few feet. The driver then tried to steer the still-moving vehicle off the road which, due to Hunter being in close proximity, ultimately ended up grazing past him, causing him to lose his balance and hit the ground.

"Hey! Are you alright?" Hunter heard the sound of a car door opening followed by footsteps approaching as the man called out to him.

The impact had struck his head, and with the continuous strain in his brain, Hunter's vision started to blur. Moments later, everything went dark, but not before he heard the driver towering over him and saying, "Gerald?"

For the next few hours, Hunter did not know where he was as glimpses of a few people carrying him constantly flashed before his eyes. In those haze filled moments, he heard a well-familiar voice calling out to him. "Gerald, are you alright?" The voice continuously asked while Hunter felt water being sprinkled over his face, which brushed across his faintly opened eyelids.

"Gerald, Gerald."

Even in his state of near unconsciousness, the name struck Hunter like a bolt of lightning on a clear summer's day.

"How does he know my name?" Hunter thought to himself as he tried to open his eyes to see where he was.

He had felt shudders and vibrations when he had regained his senses, but after being dragged around for some time, Hunter found himself sitting on a chair in a large, empty room. It took a while to fully become aware of his surroundings but immediately afterwards, Hunter was met with a harrowing realization when he tried to get up as he found his right hand strapped to one of the table's legs.

"Hey!!! Why am I here? Let me go!!!" Hunter screamed at the top of his lungs, but it seemed the words only echoed through the walls before bouncing back onto him.

A few moments later, Hunter could see the door open, and a slender man in a white coat stepped into the room and sat down in front of him and said, "How are you, Gerald?"

It was the first time in many days that Hunter had heard his real name, which meant the man sitting across the table knew him very well.

"Who are you?" Gerald asked.

"I'm Matthew Paddock," the man said smilingly. An eerie silence crept up in the hollow room as both the occupants stared at each other in utter bewilderment.

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