Hunting Winter

How he longed for winter. His thirst for revenge at last tempering the craving for the white silence of the darkened nights of winter. Global warming the boffins preached, but Alex simply thought the ice age that destroyed the dinosaurs was now hunting the death of mankind. Alex loved winter, the cold never worried him and there were less people on the darkened streets to interfere with his work. Most people looked longingly at the skies waiting for summer, winter just there to be endured, but not Alex. Winter was his time, the time his prey was seen to be alive and also the time that the animal had killed his beautiful wife Ellen for no reason. Thus starting the hunt. Hiding in the shadows as on so many nights before Alex’s mind wanders to the past remembering that fateful day and all its atrocities.
Ellen Rayne, senior archaeologist at Eton had fought for the funding for the dig under the subway at Marylebone Station and she called him in for his expertise in geology, which was great, to be working with his wife was a rare bonus as their respective fields often took them in opposite directions. Why had she gone down on her own that Sunday? The answer was beyond Alex. He had asked her to wait while he went to Eton to pick up some books relevant to the dig, but upon returning home a simple note was left “Gone on ahead see ya soon love Ellen.” So Alex continued onto the dig wondering what had pricked Ellen’s interest to go so early on a Sunday. Walking down the steps towards the dig Alex looked over the edge seeking his wife but his sight was greeted with the figure of a man swinging a machete in a slow languid arc, the soft thump reverberating in Alex’s mind as each arc was completed leaving the machete buried in his wife’s chest, to be pulled out with a soft snicker from the animal crouched over Ellen. When the man heard Alex scream he turned, a soft smile on his features, blood spatters across his face in the same lazy arc. It was then Alex noticed the tattoo on its bald dome, a blood red griffin. Racing down the steps two at a time praying he could reach this animal in time to save his wife. Alex saw the man take flight, heels resounding through the plank walks of the dig, maniacal laughter echoing through the tunnels. When Alex reached the body his heart wailed in anguish, gone was the beauty that had been Ellen all that remained were the bloody remnants of a body. The depraved killer was gone only the faint echoes of his laughter a finally mockery for Alex. Hugging his wife’s lifeless body to his chest, her lifeblood quickly seeping through his fleece and onto his shirt. Soft tears mist his eyes his world had now become one of little meaning, each heartbeat now a hollow thud resounding dully through his body. Alex wished the dig would suddenly collapse taking him and his wife away from this tortured nightmare to be re-united once more.

The first spot of blood seeps through Alex’s shirt sparking a light deep inside, growing all the while into a burning pyre of hatred and revenge, a blood red griffin encircled in flames, filling his mind.
Alex had buried his wife in a closed casket because the undertakers were unable to re-construct her delicate pixie face; such was the damage that had been caused. The loss and pain were quickly replaced with a seething hatred and a sense of purpose for Alex Rayne. He would hunt the griffin until only one of them remained alive and this hatred had brought him to these shadows yet again as it had for the past five years. Alex new it would be easy to buy a gun and simply shoot his wife’s murderer until the chamber clicked on empty but Alex wanted to see this creature up close and see the fear and anguish in his eyes before death played the killer’s final hand.
An apt name he had given this beast was Alex’s musings. Griffin Winter the name that Alex had tagged onto his wife’s murderer seemed to bring home the value of his hunt, and take away the elusiveness of his wife’s killer, drawing back the attention that he is hunting a mere mortal. As the hunt for Griffin Winter had begun their encounters had been few and far between, with Alex often clinging to his life through luck, guile, and sheer determination. As Alex learnt from each costly mistake the tide in battle had slowly favoured the hunter and more often than not Griffin’s superior knowledge of this god-forsaken underground land was the fine line between life and death. Last nights encounter was ample proof that soon Alex would reap the rewards of his dogged determination. Patiently waiting, a patience born of revenge. Alex had tracked Griffin from the sub dwellers mini town to a darkened disused tunnel where Alex had cornered his man. When a deftly swung baseball bat made beautiful contact with Griffin’s nose, a soggy crunch followed by an explosion of blood and gristle and Winter’s shrieking. This sound was music to Alex’s ears, while Alex stood there relishing the damage he had caused, Griffin picked himself up and fled. Alex paced steadily down the tunnel his lamp swinging from left to right seeking his quarry expecting to find him in a whimpering heap at the end of the tunnel. A rattle of loose stones overhead alerted Alex that once again Griffin had escaped. Alex sank to his knees body shaking with hatred and anguish. Would he ever manage to feel revenge for his wife’s death? He wonders will it be his fate to walk these tunnels forever, continuing the hunt every winter’s night. Quiet sobs escape him at the futility of this game. Sudden flashes in his sub-conscious, quick random images of Ellen’s dead butchered body and Griffin’s laughing smile, send a surge throughout his body returning him to his feet for the long trek home for he knew he would not meet Griffin again tonight.
Hurrying through the darkened streets, collar upturned against the biting winds, Alex heads home his mind screaming for the revenge that seems to constantly elude him. Every nerve ending alert, praying for Griffin to make a mistake and turn into the same darkened alley he was walking down, but Alex knew his life was not about to take such a lucky turn.
Leaving the house in darkness when he got home Alex heads immediately for his den and the map of the hunt. Collapsing into a chair Alex stares at all the red pins on the map, each one a meeting with Griffin Winter, each one a drop of blood for Ellen, so many pins, so much time and yet her murderer still lives.
Alex is growing weary of this hunt. In the beginning Alex’s life was the hunt nothing stood in his way, all that mattered was revenge at the meaningless killing of his wife. For five long years Alex had lived and breathed the hunt but something had changed lately. Now Alex just wanted closure. He would never forget his love for Ellen but he knew that this is not what Ellen would have wanted. Ellen would have wanted Alex to start a new life with new happiness and new goals to reach, only holding their love in his heart as a memory of good times. After a quick phone call to their dear friend Colin at London Zoo, Alex returns to the den to stare at the map of the hunt, a small feeling of hope beginning to grow for the first time in five years.
For tomorrow Alex would finally have the means to capture Griffin Winter and bring this hunt to an end. He would take delivery of a C.A.T.S (Complete Automatic Tranquilliser System) tranquilliser jab stick from London Zoo complete with enough Xylazine and Ketamine and mixing formula to bring down a fully grown lion, which should be enough to gain control over Griffin Winter.


Unable to sleep at the prospect of the end of the hunt, Alex paces restlessly from room to room. At 0950 Colin arrives from the zoo with the jab stick and spares a few moments to explain to Alex the trigger cocking mechanism that allows instant release of the formula into the blood stream of the intended target and how to reload in seconds. Colin asks no questions of his friend, trusting in Alex and their friendship.
After Colin leaves, Alex takes a shower and shaves leisurely, taking his time relishing the hope and elation coursing through his veins. Refreshed Alex eats a quick freezer meal then retires to the lounge, curls up on the sofa, soft rock music plays in the background gently lulling Alex into slumber. For the first time his dreams are no longer replays of Ellen’s death but finally Alex has Griffin at his mercy.
Upon awakening Alex begins preparations for the forth-coming night, filling three syringes with the tranquilliser mixture and putting them carefully into his backpack. The fourth is loaded inside the jab stick and clipped in place complete with rubber bung to stop any unwanted accidents. The baseball bat still coated in Griffin’s blood, hung in a loop on the joinery belt fitted snugly around his waist, other loops contained pepper spray, Stanley knife and a heavy duty claw hammer which had yet to see any action. Alex prowled round the house a spring in his step finally feeling that tonight was the night the hunt would end. Setting off from his home Alex sneaks into the sub-dwellers mini town keeping to the shadows as much as possible, eventually reaching his vantage point on top of The Moonshine Palace. Bathed in darkness Alex settles down in the cold to await the arrival of his prey. Minutes turn to hours Alex begins to wonder if Griffin is going to make an appearance tonight. One more hour then Alex will have to rub shoulders with the sub dwellers bribing anyone for information on Griffin’s whereabouts.
Climbing from the rooftop blending with shadows Alex begins to question the patrons of the inn. Fifty pounds later Alex receives information that Griffin was last spotted heading towards the surface at the Marylebone Station exit not more than five minutes previous. Sprinting the quarter mile to the exit, Alex glimpses Griffin Winter, head hung low squashed inside the army jacket, blood red griffin shining seemingly alive in the ruddy light. Diving into the shadows Alex makes his way stealthily to the surface ladder his prey was beginning to ascend.
Unslinging the jab stick from his shoulder Alex removes the rubber bung a wicked smile on his countenance. Teeth gleaming in the shadows, Alex cocks the trigger priming the syringe. Lunging forward, needle glinting in the faint light Alex embeds the needle into the fleshy part of Griffin’s thigh, releases the trigger pumping the stream of tranquillizer deep into the blood stream. Alex pulls back, laughing at Griffins wails of agony; he calmly slings the jab stick back over his shoulder and returns to ground, to await his prey’s fall from the ladder. Colin had said average knock out time ten to fifteen seconds, so Alex was unworried when he heard the scrabbling noises of Griffin climbing the ladder in a vain attempt to escape obviously not knowing what Alex had done. Suddenly the noises stop, to be replaced by an object quickly slipping through the air with a rush, culminating in the prone body of Griffin Winter lying in a heap at the bottom of the ladder his breathing the only sound now in the tunnel.
Alex quickly drags Griffin to one of the nearby exists savouring the crisp night air, away from the stench of the sub dwellers mini town.
Finally Alex has his prey and seems a little lost at what to do with Griffin Winter. All the years of the hunt had not prepared him for this night, he now had his prize the one thing he had longed for, prayed for, dreamt of and now that all his wishes had been answered Alex’s humanity at last rose to the surface.
Questions bombard Alex’s conscience, questions of right and wrong, Alex came to realise that he was not the killer he was sure he had become during the hunt.
Visions of Ellen, body torn and butchered, tempered his humanity a little and the murderous rage that had soothed him in his turmoil soon returned. Dragging Winter down a darkened side street, Alex headed for the deserted warehouse he had found and prepared during the summer months. It’s many windows broken by thieves and vandals making access easy. Alex quickly climbed through one of the lower windows and released the side fire door and dragged Winter inside, his eyes peering into the night seeking anything or anyone out of place in the inky shadows. Leaving Winter slumped unconscious against the side of the exit, Alex sets off in search of the items he had left hidden during the summer months. Returning with the chair, cable ties and lamps Alex covers the broken windows with heavy black cloth to keep out prying eyes. Fastening the unconscious Winter to the chair with heavy duty cable ties, Alex sits against the far wall waiting for the tranquillizer to subside allowing Winter to return to consciousness which should not be long in coming and then Alex may find the answers to a lot of questions which have irked him since the hunt began. Sitting in the darkness Alex wrestles with his humanity still unsure what to do with his quarry now he has him at his mercy. Winter deserved to die Alex had no doubt on this one fact but whether or not he was to be the one to help death greet Griffin Winter was the main crux of his thoughts.
The sound of the chair gently scraping in the darkness snapped Alex from his reverie. At last Winter was stirring. Lighting two of the storm lamps Alex makes his way toward Winter. All the questions he had wanted to ask now a jumbled mess inside his head. Alex looks up and locks eyes with Griffin Winter; the primal need for revenge slowly engulfs his mind. The seething hatred he had nurtured for five years blasting to the surface, clearing his mind in a snap, no more jumbled thoughts just cold calculated revenge.
Winter stares intently at Alex, only the slightest recognition is in his eyes. “ Mister, what the hell is all this?” Alex stares at Winter his heart thudding erratically in his chest, how could one murder mean so little. Ellen’s death obviously didn’t even register in Winter’s memory only their recent encounters, Winter didn’t even realise why Alex had been hunting him all this time. Alex could feel his revulsion at this animal climbing toward his throat. He needed to get away from this sorry excuse for a human.
Re-loading the jab stick Alex primes the trigger and hurls it forward with out aiming. When the forward momentum stops Alex releases the trigger drugging Winter again. Face bathed in sweat body heaving Alex retreats to the darkness, his mind a merry go round of revulsion and anger.
How does he get out of this, Winter must die he understands that but he can barely bring himself to be in the same room. Gone now is the longing to see the fear in his quarry’s eyes Alex just wants this over so he can wash away the stench of the hunt and try and pick up the tatters of the life he left behind.
Hands shaking Alex returns to stand in front of the motionless body of his prey. His mind now steeled with images of his wife, Alex quickly reloads the jab stick. One dose directly in the heart combined with the tranquilliser he had just given Griffin Winter should be enough to kill him. Aiming directly at Winter’s heart Alex slowly shuffles forward. Revulsion at the act he is about to commit tears into his mind bringing home the realisation that he is not a killer. Fighting against his own weakness, Alex watches the needle pierce Winter’s chest. Standing motionless one release of the trigger away from revenge Alex wants to feel elation at the final act of the hunt but Alex feels nothing his mind and body numbed. Tears streaming down his cheeks, body shaking in anguish Alex releases the trigger.
Returning to the darkness Alex cries long into the night. When he finally has control of his emotions Alex returns to Winter checks for a pulse the coldness of the skin telling him Winter was long dead. Cutting the cable ties, Alex lays Winter out on the warehouse floor, the revulsion a hard ball in the pit of his stomach.
Gently closing the door as he left, Alex breathes deeply of the winter night feeling more emotionally scarred at his own hideous act than he had been when he had found Ellen’s butchered body and eventually buried her. Alex knew the chance of any normal life for him had died the night he began the hunt.