Chapter 75: The Hunt Begins
Walter Jenkins hummed a self-composed tune, his steps light and cheerful as he walked through the familiar mountains.
Along the way, he collected wild fruits and herbs, preparing for his next hunt. The fruits would serve as the best seasoning, while the herbs could effectively mask human scent and aid in tracking.
Walter's mood was exceptionally pleasant, but this contentment shattered the moment he spotted the footprints on the muddy ground.
Fresh footprints. Leading directly toward his home.
He followed the trail, his heart gradually sinking with each step. Soon, he heard voices echoing through the woods and saw unfamiliar figures moving around his house.
They were laughing and talking inside his sanctuary, then wandering freely into his kitchen as if they owned the place.
The scene reminded him of those three intruders from five years ago, the same arrogant intrusion into his territory while he was away, the same careless destruction of his carefully maintained space.
What had been even more ridiculous was that they'd brought children with them, as if this were some family camping trip.
Walter Jenkins quietly observed these new trespassers from the treeline. He didn't blame them, exactly. People were predictable in their ignorance. He simply needed to kill them, just like last time.
In fact, the familiar situation filled him with anticipation. He wanted to hunt, needed to use a satisfying hunt to announce to this mountain forest that he was back and that this was still his domain. And here was such a convenient group, delivering themselves right to his doorstep.
Walter Jenkins melted back into the shadows, patiently waiting for someone to wander off alone.
He had extensive experience hunting small groups. As long as they didn't sense immediate danger, they would inevitably give him the opening he needed.
His chance came sooner than expected.
Theodore and the others had set up camp inside the valley, clearing an open space in front of the wooden cabin. They built a bonfire, roasted wild game, and settled into easy conversation as the evening deepened.
The County Police had heard countless rumours about the twin detectives and had seen newspaper reports about their cases, making them intensely curious about the famous duo.
All the questions they'd held back during the day's trek now spilt out around the crackling fire.
Bernie and Theodore answered them patiently, sharing stories from their investigations. The atmosphere grew warm and lively, the earlier tension of their mountain climb forgotten in the camaraderie of the campfire.
Then came a heavy thud from the valley entrance; something substantial had landed just outside their perimeter.
Assuming it was a wild animal, they all grabbed torches and moved cautiously toward the sound to investigate.
It wasn't a wild animal.
Two severed heads sat impaled on sharpened wooden stakes, driven into the earth like grisly fence posts. Blood and mud coated most of the faces, but their identities were still recognisable despite the damage.
These were the two County Police officers who had gone down the mountain to send word back to headquarters.
The valley fell silent. Everyone stood frozen, too shocked to speak or move.
Bernie suddenly shoved the Old County Police beside him just as a sharpened wooden stake whistled past the man's chest. The branch tip at the end of the makeshift spear scratched his cheek, drawing a thin line of blood.
"He's out there!" Bernie shouted.
The Old County Police scrambled to their feet and rushed toward the valley entrance, his colleagues filing out behind him in a ragged line.
"Come back! All of you, come back!" Bernie drew his service weapon but didn't follow. Instead, he pressed against the inner wall of the valley, shouting desperately at the retreating figures.
But no one listened. The horrific scene outside the valley had completely destroyed their capacity for rational thought.
On a sturdy oak tree directly opposite the valley entrance, a headless body hung upside down, swaying gently in the mountain breeze like some macabre wind chime.
Below it, another headless corpse had been impaled spread-eagled on protruding branches, its torso split wide open. Internal organs lay piled on the ground beneath like small hills of glistening earth.
The terrifying display froze the County Police in place, as if some paralysing spell had struck them. For several long seconds, no one could even breathe.
Then someone couldn't hold it back anymore and started retching violently. It was the round-faced young man, the youngest of their group, barely old enough to shave. Theodore had suspected from the beginning that the kid wasn't even legally an adult.
The young officer dropped his torch and bent over a nearby tree, vomiting up all the wild game he'd consumed around the fire. His violent heaving triggered a chain reaction, and soon the others were following suit.
The Old County Police's face had gone ashen in the torchlight. He circled the gruesome display twice, studying the scene with professional detachment, then carefully untied the rope holding the hanging body.
It fell to the ground with a wet thud, revealing the gaping cavity where the chest had been carved open.
Working together, the officers dragged both bodies back into the valley. They placed the corpses in a corner and retrieved the severed heads, arranging them with their respective bodies in a semblance of dignity.
The Old County Police gathered his remaining men, his voice hard with determination. "We're going to catch this bastard. Tonight."
The others exchanged fearful glances. Some quietly voiced their suspicion that whatever had killed their colleagues might not be entirely human.
"It killed two of our own!" the Old County Police rallied them. "No matter what this thing is, it dies tonight!"
He approached Theodore and Bernie again, his jaw set. "You two are with us."
Bernie shook his head firmly. They knew nothing about the terrain beyond this valley, and charging out into the darkness would be suicide. He urged the Old County Police to wait until dawn, retreat down the mountain, gather reinforcements, and return in force.
The Old County Police ignored the suggestion. "Is this our man? The one we came here to find?"
Bernie looked to Theodore, who was crouched beside the severed heads, studying them intently with his torch held low.
The cuts were exceptionally crude; they couldn't even be called cuts. The necks had been smashed and torn, the heads forcibly separated from the bodies through brute violence rather than any blade work.
Sensing their expectant stares, Theodore looked up and gave them a definitive answer.
"Ordinary hunters who might venture this far into the mountains wouldn't have any reason to attack law enforcement," he explained carefully.
"Only someone who considers this entire area his personal territory would react this way to our presence."
The Old County Police pressed again for their participation in the hunt.
Theodore asked what exactly he had in mind for tactics.
"We spread out and search in different directions," the Old County Police suggested. "Use torches or shouts as signals if anyone spots him."
Theodore immediately shook his head. "Absolutely not."
He gestured toward the dark forest surrounding them. "This killer knows every tree, every rock, every game trail out there. This place is as familiar to him as his own bedroom. We've been here less than five hours and haven't even gotten our bearings straight. Splitting up now would just let him pick us off one by one."
He pointed to the bodies at their feet. "Our dead colleagues are proof of exactly what happens when he catches people alone."
"But if we all stay together, what's the point of searching?" the Old County Police argued, frustration creeping into his voice. "We'll just be stumbling around in a group."
The Old County Police looked at his four remaining colleagues huddled near the fire, then down at the mutilated corpses, and fell silent. His pride rebelled against inaction, but he wouldn't gamble with his men's lives out of stubborn spite.
Bernie recognised that the Old County Police had been swayed and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.
The older officer shook his head, his voice heavy with defeat. "So we just sit here and do nothing? Wait for him to come to us?"
Theodore shook his head as well. He disagreed with both the Old County Police's aggressive approach and Bernie's defensive strategy.
"We're going to draw him out," Theodore said. "And then we're going to take him."
He pointed at the arranged bodies and continued, "Look at how he processed these two victims. The technique is polished, like a damn rituale. This definitely isn't his first time."
Seeing their confused expressions, Theodore elaborated, "Decapitation, disembowelment, organ removal, this is exactly how hunters field-dress their kills."
"He's treating us like game animals. We invaded his territory and occupied his den, so in his mind, we're prey to be harvested."
"That's why we have to find him first."
The Old County Police stared at Theodore, clearly lost. "I don't understand. What are you getting at?"
Bernie raised his own question. "If we stay put in this valley and don't venture out, won't that prevent him from getting to us?"
Theodore was quiet for a moment, staring into the fire as he organised his thoughts. Then he looked up at both men.
"In his mind, we're prey animals," he said slowly. "So tell me, when you're hunting and you've successfully driven your prey into a confined space, what's the next logical step?"
Bernie and the Old County Police's faces went pale as the implication hit them.
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