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His heart was the underlying beat of this horror filled song, the rhythmic hit of his feet against the forest ground was the drum, his fast breathing was the closest thing to a string instrument and the groans leaving him now and again were the words of the song.
Fucking rich, psycho people. They had too much money, too much power - and now he was running, bare feet and dressed in nothing but underwear, having been given a one minute head start, then the psycho would begin his hunt.
The hunt for Jack, that was.
He should have stayed on the farm.
At least Mac was safe - he had been able to run off earlier and Jack knew that his genius were already working on some way to-
A gunshot sent a ripple through the forest, announcing the start of the hunt. Fuck. Shit.
Jack could have been at home, watching the game, drinking beer. Or hell, if the mark hadn’t been an absolute lunatic, he might be on the way home to the Phoenix, Mac and him already making plans.
He heard the faint sound of a horse whinny.
Instead he was here, continuing through the woods, abandoning the trail. He had gotten a good head start by running on it, but it would be safer to be off trail when the psycho came on his horse.
He needed to make it out alive, he needed-
“Oooh Jaaack,” a loud voice yelled and it echoed, shooting between the trees with verbal bullets, “come out and plaaaaay!”
The man wasn’t even original with his words and hadn’t Jack been busy running to not end up as a hunting trophy, he would have explained to the other man why he sounded like every other villain of the week by yelling that and…
The perfect tree showed itself, close enough to the trail. With branches that could both carry and hide him, it would just be a question about time, before he would be able to get the jump on the other… he hoped. Or maybe he would be lucky and his favorite beef boy would get him out of his mess as usual.
The rhythmic sound of hooves appeared just as he had gotten up and hidden, the horse breathing just as quickly as himself. Jack watches carefully - eyeing the man in full fox hunting gear riding along the track, a grin on his face. Jack hoped jumping onto him from a tree and trying to get him off the horse would be possible - preferably without being shot himself. Mac hated when he was shot. Jack didn’t particularly feel like being shot either. Especially not by this man.
Jack jumped.