Ben Alder awoke to the sound of his own panicked breath. His body felt tingly, and he was dizzy. It felt as if ice were running through his veins. The last thing he remembered was going to the gas station to pump his car. The next thing he knew, he was being grabbed from behind by strong arms and injected with something that was most likely a sedative.
Ben had never, in his adult life, felt truly primal fear, but now he felt it—fear: complete, crippling, and absolute.
He quickly evaluated the situation. Ben seemed to be in some sort of shed and both his hands and feet were tied. The shed smelled moldy. Only a single ray of light slipped through the cracks in the shed. He looked around for something sharp—a knife, a piece of metal—anything with which to free himself. He squirmed around on the ground like a worm trying to escape a fishing hook. Then, the door to the shed was opened, exposing the setting sun.
A tall person wearing a green sweatshirt pulled Ben to his feet. He was yanked from the shed and out onto an open field. Ben didn't recognize his location. He was a couch potato who liked beer, chips, and sports on TV, and he hadn't been out in the wild for years. His wife had left years ago—she'd run off with another man, leaving him with two snotty kids and a mortgage. He worked as a plumber for anyone willing to hire an old drunk. The town often took pity on him because of his two kids, Larten and Louise.
Ben fell hard to the ground, helped by a brutal push from the same man who had pulled him out of the shed.
Four equally tall, pale people with black eyes looked down at him. Ben had never seen anything like them. They looked like extra-terrestrials or those Black-eyed Children from that urban legend, but these were grown men.
“Leave me alone, you freaks,” Ben growled.
“But we just want to play with you," the green hooded one answered, mocking him. “Isn’t that what you said to your daughter when you had your way with her?” His voice was cold as ice.
“Uh, what do you mean?” Ben mumbled insecurely.
“He’s as dumb as he looks,” one of the other creatures said. He spat at Ben.
The creature with the green sweatshirt put his right foot on top of Ben’s chest. “You are not worthy, Ben Adler—or do you prefer Mr. Child Molester?”
Ben started to cry. “I'm only expressing my love for her, keeping her safe from other men," he said.
“Are you sure she feels the same way?” a voice answered, full of contempt.
Ben suddenly remembered the businessman who had been found in the park, stabbed to death, and panic ran through his body like a bolt of lightning as he battled against the ropes to escape.
His captors laughed. The sound was so evil that chills went down Ben’s spine and goosebumps formed on his skin.
“What do you say, guys? Should we cut Mr. Adler loose before he pisses himself?” one of the Black-eyes said.
The rest of them clapped and laughed, and Ben was cut loose. “Let the game begin!”
Ben bolted into the woods, hoping the trees would shelter him. He didn't dare look back. Ben sprinted for a couple of minutes before taking a sharp left turn off the path and into the trees, hoping to lose his pursuers.
It was hard to see anything. Tree branches caught on his clothes like hooks, whipping and scratching his face until he bled. As he ran, his lungs protested in pain while his heart beating hard against his rib cage as if trying to escape.
He needed a break and to get hold of himself, so Ben threw himself on the ground behind a thick trunk, gasping for air.
The best way for anyone or anything to hide in the forest was to keep absolutely still, that much he knew. He wasn’t particularly agile, anyway.
Ben listened. A few minutes passed. He heard some snapping twigs behind him, and his eyes examined the area. Everything looked the same under the cover of forest herbs, weeds, and wildflowers.
The woods seemed endless.
Ben picked up a nearby rock for defense.
It became darker outside, which made it easier for him to hide but also more difficult to navigate.
Ben decided to sit tight and wait until his pursuers had given up, but then he felt fingers snatch his hair, and his head bobbed backward. He suddenly remembered the rock in his hand, and he hit whoever had grabbed him as hard as he could. It wasn’t very effective, but it was enough to shake his pursuer.
Ben got to his feet and started to move forward as fast as he could. He reached a wide ditch and nearly fell in.
There was no bridge in sight, only a ledge, a foot wide and wet and slippery as black ice. Most certainly, it was never designed to be walked on, but he had to take his chances.
He took a step and began his journey toward the other side when he heard something breaking. It was the unmistakable sound of rotten wood falling apart. There was a sinking feeling at the bottom of his stomach, queasiness, and then he fell into the dark, cold water below him.
Someone was laughing on the shore. “That was too easy!”
Despite the hot weather, the water was had been incredibly cold, and the sudden lowering of his body temperature upon immersion left Ben feeling like he'd been hit by a bus. He felt as if he were being suffocated. Ben felt the need to gasp for air, but he knew that with his head underwater, he'd immediately drown. He felt a ringing and a buzzing in his ears as he tried to swim to the surface, but it was as if something was holding him back.
Ben was beginning to lose consciousness as whatever had been holding him back disappeared, allowing him to surface. When he reached the surface, he gasped for air, and the oxygen filled his desperate lungs, reviving his brain.
He managed to crawl upon the shore where he sat for a while, coughing. Ben even vomited. There was a pain in his chest as he crawled forward on hands and knees, not knowing what else to do. He looked up and saw something in the distance, which might be his salvation.
Ben zigzagged his way over the pasture to its location, hoping to fool his pursuers, shaking them off.
After a terrifying chase through the woods with the killer behind him, he had begun to believe he'd managed to escape the deadly game of cat and mouse.
He vaulted a fence, walked up to a small cabin, and prayed to be let in. Ben banged on the door. “Please help me!” he cried. The door slowly opened, and one of the Black-eyes stepped out, applauding him.
“I was beginning to think you’d drowned,” he said, spiteful.
Ben felt his heart sink.
“Sorry, you lose. You’re simply not worthy!” The others came creeping out of the dusky shadows and closed in around him.
Ben Adler suffered the same destiny as Daniel Masterson, when he, too, was stabbed brutally to death.