On the Writing
I have to say, when Justin suggested we write an allegory, I thought he was crazy. As turns out I was right, I wrote everyday to get this done and it still need more refinement, but the time is up. The piece is completed, but still a little rough. The upswing is, over the course of this week my speed and endurance both increased, which is part of what I have wanted out of this exercise. As most allegories, this story has a few layers of meaning to it, so rather than tell you up front everything I intended, I think I would prefer you just read it. If you are so inclined, make a comment about what it means to you.
The Hunt
The single and jobless college student had such horrible posture that it would have pained anyone above the age of forty to see it, but he was alone. He was always alone. The only light in his room came pouring out of his TV and washed over him. He had flipped channels, but settled on nothing. His eyes were open, but it would be hard to call what he was doing watching.
It was because of this moment and the dozens just like it he had signed up for the contest. Shawn needed to live. He took a deep breath and thought about the last time he felt alive. It was four months ago and he just gotten word that he was a finalist. It meant they could start the game anytime. He would have no warning. So, for two hours he had packed a go bag, putting things in and pulling them back out. He check the weight and calculate how far he could get with just the bag.
At some point he realized the drivel he was watch in the dark had become an infomercial. Unconsciously, he reached down in front of the couch so he feel the nylon of that bag. He hoped for a spark of that energy, a reminder of the electricity he felt when he had packed it, but there was nothing. He could hear the whisper of his fingerprints along the material, but it did nothing for him. It had been four months afterall.
Shawn was on the edge of falling asleep with his hand still draped down to the bag. It was then the TV turned off. In fact, all the lights in the apartment, the red LEDs on the clock, the little round lighted symbols on the modem in the corner went dark. The power had been cut.
Just after they cut the power, the studio sent him the first rendezvous point. When the notification went off he twitched and pawed for the phone beside him. It was the only thing illuminated in the dark apartment. He straightened up, causing some crumbs to get dislodged from his shirt, pushed his glasses into reading position and then read the message. As the fog lifted from his brain he reread the message. “The Hunt Begins in one hour. 1600 Cork St.”
The shakes began in the hand that held the phone. He wanted to move in every direction at once. This was even better than packing. This was so much better than watching hours of old show footage on Netflix. This was better than practicing making a shelter or running yellow highlighter along safe backroads on printed out maps. In fifty three, make that fifty two minutes, he would be hunted, but somehow that also made him more free.
He knew immediately he had made it to the “launching pad”, as the show called the raised metal stage. He could see what he took to be contestants on one side. They talked to cameras and to each other. They were a blur of color and photo flashes. What were clearly the hunter stood on the other. They stood in wide, ominous stances in emotionless black masks. Intentionally terrifying. The “Launching Pad” where this dichotomy was so strong was always a spectacle for the show. Shawn had vivid memories of every time they zoomed out from that steal stage and “The Hunt” appeared over it. The bright television lights, the swarm of cars, the buzz of conversation, it enveloped and charged him. This was what he wanted.
Everything was a blur in the next few minutes. Shawn did his five minute, rapid fire, interview with the host. He was too distracted to notice she barely looked at him. From there he wandered on the stage trying to take in the dozens of conversations all at once. He steered clear of the hunters, hoping to minimize how much they saw his face and he found himself constantly readjusting his go bag. He imagined his life for the next few days or weeks. Shawn was ready to run.
He thought he would do it alone, but then he met Mary, such a plain name for a very un-plain girl. For some reason, of the contestants there, the jocks and the survivalists, the butch and the showboats, she had taken an interest in him. Every time he wandered to a new place on the stage, she wandered with him. Perhaps it was because she was beautiful or perhaps it was because she had first shown interest in him, but either way Shawn was hooked. He knew running alone was the way to go. Every thought, all of his planning was based on running alone, but when she suggested they should buddy up, he heard himself say, “Yes.”
The contest was simple. Well, it was simple to understand. The contestants would be released in just a few minutes and when they were a second timer started. That timer would mark the release of the hunters. The goal of the contestants was to be the last one left in the game. They could use any means at their disposal to hide and take flight, but algorithms were being run to look for any activity they might make on the internet, so if you go to the ATM, your location gets flagged, you check your email, flagged, by airline tickets, flagged. Also, they had a call in phone line and on-line reporting website where civilians were asked to report if they saw a contestant and if their call led to a capture they received a reward. The rewards climbed as the contest went on. So, while you could do anything you wanted, lots of things risked exposure. Based on past shows, about half of the captures were made from being reported on.
The recent winners had been those survivalist who could get deep in the woods and survive without need for electronics and little to no exposure to other people. Shawn, unfortunately, was not a survivalist. Even the shelt he had practiced making, leaked.
Shawn pulled the black nylon strap of his bag up a little higher on his shoulder. He were an olive green shirt and black pants, which he had tucked into his combat boots. Realizing just how long he might be wearing these things, he wished they felt a little more comfortable. He pulled Mary over to the corner to see if she had chosen a trail. For just a moment he really looked at her, red hair and blue eyes, slimmer and shorter than him. She wore jeans, tee shirt and a ball cap with a goofy cartoon flower. If it had been any other circumstance, he probably wouldn’t have even talked to her. As it was, there wasn’t much to talk about. She had no path. She just thought this would be fun and was along for the ride.
Why did he agree to buddy up? Oh, yeah, because he was an idiot.
Beep, beep, beeeeeeeeep! They were off. The contestants scattered off the launching pad and went in all directions. They ran like roaches into the dark. It would be two hours until the dark hunters, in their black shiny armor, were released.
Shawn knew by heart the first part of his trail. North, through the bean field until he got to the dirt road, at the dirt road he made a left and made the five mile hike to the edge of the expressway. He hoped the old bike he had stashed in the copse of trees was still there and still able to be ridden. From there he would have to plot a course that would now work for the two of them. They had to keep a quick pace and find a place to hide out.
When Shawn and Mary made it to the other side of the field, they paused for just a moment. It was dark, but they were looking to make sure they were alone. Too many runners coming this way would draw the hunters. “Do you see any of the others?” Mary said. Shawn’s eyes had adjusted to the darkness as they crossed the field, but the moon was obscured by the trees on the horizon, which left it far too dark to see very well. “I think we are alone,” he whispered. He could hear the steady heartbeat in his ears. “This way,” he pointed and started walking down the dirt road.
It took them twenty minutes to cross the field. If they were quick they could get to the bike and the decision point in about an hour and fifteen minutes. That would mean twenty five minutes to move before the hunters were released. If they were not sloppy, or better yet lucky, they would be in good shape. For a while they walked in quiet.
“Why did you sign up?” Shawn asked, picking up the pace, while he tried to avoid ruts and puddles.
“What?” Mary said puffing as she tried to keep up. “Oh, the show. My roommates and I all signed up. It was sort of a dare at first, then the videos were fun, then once we had gone that far we had to submit them. It doesn’t fill a gap or anything. I don’t have anything to prove. I’m just here because they called.”
Her answer galled him. He wasn’t sure why, but he wanted her to have this bigger purpose. He wanted her to say that for the first time she really felt alive. That they shared this thing, this feeling. He wondered how she could just be bouncing down the same path, like it was some fluke, while he was recognized it was his purpose. They couldn’t both be right. Could they? This was Shawn’s path to meaning. He pushed, challenging her to keep up.
She did. Mary had kept up that night. She took turns riding the bike down the road and into the woods that Shawn had selected. As he had suggested they did not see anyone. Before the sun rose, the two of them had found an abandoned house, mostly empty, dusty, but not yet taken over by vermon. At one point the next day, Shawn thought he had heard the motorcycles of the hunters, but that had been three days ago and they were both still in the game.
In the daytime they slept and kept their heads down, but they had come out every night to do a little foraging, seeing what was around them, trying to see if there was a way to get to transportation or more food. They both had money, but it was hard to spend it without seeing someone who would turn them in. They had not dared risk that, even though they had spotted a convenience store about a mile away. Last night it had rained which meant they left more tracks than usual. Shawn had almost kept them both in, but now they would have to move.
There was not a lot to do when they were away in the house, so they talked. Shawn had learned that Mary was a Starbucks barista and she loved her job. She didn’t want to do it forever, but she was fine doing it for now. She figured when it was time to move on, life would hand her something else. Things were good she thought, why struggle. Unlike Shawn she had only taken a few classes in college and she decided what was the point if there was nothing she really wanted to do. She floated and she was happy to just float. Shawn had told her how he had graduated four months ago, how he had his own place and was waiting to get a call back for one of the jobs he had submitted a resume. He had a Paper Engineering degree. A degree which promised him he would get a job which would make him decent money. He found himself explaining all of this and things about his family and childhood to Mary. She didn't tell him how boring she thought that sounded and in exchange Shawn didn’t tell her he thought Starbucks burned their coffee. Why spoil the conversation with unnecessary honesty. It was nice to not be alone.
They had consulted one of the maps Shawn had packed and decided move closer to the city. It was a risk, because of more people, but if they could get embedded there it would be easier to stay for a long time. They stepped out into the cool night and continued down the moist dirt road. Initially Mary road the bike. They didn’t talk, but it wasn’t quiet. The air was filled with sounds of crickets and the clicking of the chain on the gears and the sound of bigger creatures moving in the woods which the road divided. It seemed that Mary drove intentionally through the puddles and then laughed. He laughed too.
Just thirty minutes in they passed a house which, at first, was dark and quiet, but just as they moved past two black motorcycles started up. “Hunters!” Shawn shouted as they pulled out of the driveway. He couldn’t be sure with just the engine noise, but his heart knew. He jumped off the road and into the woods. Mary on the other had pedaled harder. “Come on,” he thought, but didn’t say. She was never going to outrun them. She didn’t make it very far away from him before the black armored men on their black painted bikes were right beside her. Shawn could see her silhouette, but he didn’t dare finish watching them take her. His only chance to get away was to cut through the woods now. He had to move while she distracted them.
He knew how this worked. They would be calling for backup, they almost certainly had seen him. This area would be swarming with hunters in just a few minutes. While he felt that punch of adrenaline telling him he was alive, it was different. His body was moving, but his mind was grappling with the facts. Mary would be back at her job, would be able to text her sister, would be back in her life soon, without him. He would be without her. Almost on autopilot, he ran through the dim woods. He ran to stay in the game, but he wished he could start the last three days over. He wished for what he couldn’t have, what didn’t make any sense. He didn’t love her, at least he didn’t feel what he thought of as love, but he didn’t want to do this alone. He was running for survival, but it was in the wrong direction. Mary was back there. She might have been bouncing carefree through life, striving for nothing, but she had rewritten his expectations.
After he had crossed the third road, with just a pinch of luck he found a deer stand in the middle of the woods. He climbed up to the seat high in the air. He couldn’t stay there, but it was a good place to get a feel for what was going on while he was catching his breath. For the moment he had made it. He watched the lights of the motorcycles swarm around him, threatening him and then move away.
The woods fell silent. Shawn cried.
