“Hey!” I snap as he nearly shoulder-checks me in the process.
“All is fair in war!” he calls over his shoulder.
Well in that case… I slow and veer off to the right. I duck under branches and jump over bushes as I run through the darkwoods. Carrying the axe in my hand slows me down a bit. I’m not used to running with the weight of a weapon like this. Still, I grip it tightly as I run, determined to not let it hinder me.
My bet pays off a few minutes later.
I can hear the crashing of feet and the huffing and puffing of someone out of breath coming from my left. I slow to search for my prey. I catch sight of him as he stumbles, pitching forward and falling on his stomach. I start toward him, but pause as another idea forms. As he gets to his feet and calls for help, I pull off my mask and tuck it under my shirt.
“Here!” I call out, responding to his plea. “Where are you? Let me help you!”
Like a drowning man catching sight of a lifeline, he shifts course and heads toward the sound of my voice.
“Help me, please! There’s someone after me!” He calls back.
Just as I burst out of the brush I remember to control my expression. Rather than eager and grinning ear to ear, I quickly don a concerned expression and rush toward the man, the axe behind my back. His hands are outstretched in front of him, as if ready to grab me.
“We have to go! Run!” he says. He takes me by my shoulders and looks over his, to scan the darkness. “There’s someone with an axe chasing me. They’re somewhere behind me!”
“What? Are you serious?” I play into the moment for a second longer, twisting my voice to sound just as anxious as he is. “Are you sure?”
“Yes! Yes! He’s right on my heels, we have to go!” He urges as he tries to push me in the direction he’d been running. “Do you have a phone? I don’t have any service. We have to call nine-one-one.”
I shake my head slowly, my smile slipping free as the thrill of victory sweeps through me.
“I think you’re wrong, sir. I think the masked individual is right in front of you,” I tell him, my voice sweetening with faux innocence.
The man freezes, his hands dropping away from my shoulder. “W-what?”
Before I can respond, Santi emerges from the darkness with his axe raised over his head.
Oh shit.
Thinking quickly, I knee the man in his groin. My prey bends at the waist with a hardoomph. Off balance and out of breath, it’s easier to shove him to the side—which I do, just as Santi’s axe comes whipping down. Our prey topples to the side and I side-step out of the way as Santi gasps in surprise and nearly collides into me as he tries to slow down. I help him to the ground, using his momentum to my advantage as I grab the back of his shirt and practically throw him away from the older man.
Santi’s yelp of surprise explodes into a peel of laughter. I smile as I swoop down for my axe that I dropped. Our prey is already on his feet, stumbling away from the both of us. His hand is tucked between his legs as he cradles his bruised genitals, a groan slipping past his lips.
He spares me a panicked glance before taking off.
I grin, ready to win. With a hoot of delight, I give chase. The man wails as he tries to run on unsteady feet. He knows he’s about to die. That only excites me further. I swing my axe, not taking into account the weight, and I miss him by a hair. With a grunt, I stumble a bit before regaining my balance.
Just as I’m about to start off again, Santi’s axe goes flying. It lands right in the middle of our victim’s back.
I gape in disbelief. I’m sure my expression mirrors the shock on our prey’s face but I wouldn’t know because he’s not facing us. He staggers, weakly reaching back for the weapon protrudingfrom his body. His hands never get there. His knees give out and when they hit the ground, the rest of his body falls forward.
“What the hell!” I demand, dropping my axe to throw my hands up in frustration. Shoving up my mask so he can see my glare, I tell him, “I wassogoing to win if you hadn’t done that.”
“Yeah, I know,” Santi says with a chuckle as he saunters up next to me. “That’s why I did it.”
“Oh, so you’re one ofthosepeople.”
Santi’s arms cross over his chest. “What does that mean?”
“You’re acheater.”
Santi pushes up his mask so it sits on top of his head so I can see the incredulous outrage in his expression.
“I’ma cheater? Who took off before I could count down from three?!”
