Heretic Hunt

Donat's lungs filled with moist, earthy air. The mist soaked through his coat and hat, chilling him just enough to start to numb him, but not enough to numb him completely. The fog blanketed the wasteland they were in. He couldn't see more than thirty feet away. The fog was so dense, it felt as though he was breathing water. Amidst the moisture, there was the scent of mud and diesel exhaust. It made his nose tighten with each breath. This was accompanied by the sour smell of decay as he drew closer to the truck.

They were on what was once a well-traveled black road, laid when there was a need for it. When something other than the truck's enormous wheels rolled along it. The road was broken, the cracks almost taking up as much space as the black asphalt itself. These cracks were filled with mud and sprouting plants.

Despite the broken road, Donat's day was filled with the sound of large tires crunching on gravel and the deep thrum of the truck's engine as it slowly trundled along the otherwise silent road. Clunk clunk clunk clunk clunk was the rhythmic song the truck sang. The truck was long, with more rust than metal. What metal could be seen was yellow, the rust breaking up what were once letters. Donat had no use for letters.

At some point, the compound had removed the top of the truck, save for the front. Where seats had once been, there were now mostly cages. They were less rusty. Some of the cages were empty, but a decent number had occupants, some of whom were still alive. You wanted at least two living unless you wanted to unload dead heretics yourself.

The cages were for the heretics they hunted. One held a man covered in blood, some of it his own. He stared out of his cage, motionless. In one of the other cages, a woman sobbed, muttering under her breath. Occasionally, she'd nudge a body in the cage with her. She was covered in the other heretic's blood. She'd sob and touch the tattered body. If it could talk, it would still be talking to Donat and his companions. Alive, the man had talked, though it had taken them some effort. Still, he'd talked. Three of this particular party of heretics were captured. Just one left to find if the man's statement could be trusted.

Clunk clunk clunk clunk clunk the truck sang.

Donat's gaze swept the field beside the road. The turf was broken with only the occasional bush or tree. They passed a sign as they entered the skeletal remains of what was once a town. A house to his left was mostly burnt out, the plants in the area having taken over the building. Rain and mist were rotting what wood was left. They passed others like it, some were burned, some were not, all were dilapidated and broken with age. They hailed from a time when people still populated the area, it had been a long time ago. Back in the time when the truck's letters meant something.

The town's center wasn't much better. Yes, many of these buildings had been constructed out of brick and concrete, but they still fell to time. Everything fell to time. Donat would fall to time someday.

Clunk clunk clunk clunk clunk the truck sang.

The mist was just wet enough to make him cold. He couldn't feel his toes, but he could still feel his feet scream with abuse. A blister popped on one of them. The first one of the day. That was good, normally by this time there'd been more.

His harpoon gun was likewise cold in his hands, its stock slick with the mist. He checked it, making sure that the weapon appeared to be in working order. It would be a shame to find a heretic and have it jam up on him.

The truck's engine echoed off the buildings, and Donat was glad when they passed them. Damnation, that thing could make hunting hard. The sound of it echoing off the walls warned the heretics of its approach.

A shadow moved out of the corner of his eye. Donat shouldered his gun and aimed where he'd seen the shadow. The men behind him did likewise, taking his cue. A mangy dog came sauntering out of the mist. Donat lowered his gun.

The dog approached Donat, its coat covered in something that smelled like the cages on the truck. Donat assumed it had rolled in something it had found. The dog came up to him, and he resisted petting it. The smell was awful. The dog made its way around the men, one of them giving it something to eat.

It retreated back into the mist after a time. Hopefully, it would find something soon. His group was running out of food, which meant they’d soon need to return to the compound. There, they would find warmth and hot food, yes, but what about the heretics? They couldn’t return with one known running about. 

Clunk clunk clunk clunk clunk, the truck sang.

They were passing another field when the dog began to bark. Donat recognized that bark. He jogged into the field, following the sound. He gripped his gun tightly, his head swiveling back and forth. As he neared the dog, he let out a soft whistle. The dog ceased barking, trotting over to him. 

Donat knelt by a tree, its leaves showering him with droplets that seeped under his coat. The cold water mingled with the lukewarm moisture he was already drenched in. His skin prickled with goosebumps. His heart rate quickened. 

He moved slowly now, keeping the dog close. If the heretic was armed, he could harm the dog. That would be bad, you needed dogs for heretic hunting, everyone knew that. 

He moved low to the ground, searching for the heretic. It had to be out here! He found a ditch with shallow water gently flowing in it. He tried not to splash the water as he hunched down under the lip of the ditch. The water numbed his feet the rest of the way. He couldn’t even feel the blisters now. In the distance, there was the sound of grass rustling. He held the gun up, peering into the mist. There was a shadow moving away. 

Donat crawled out of the ditch, following the shadow, still keeping low, his legs going numb with the cold dew on the grass. His heart picked up. The shadow stopped, and Donat did too. He could see the shape of a head looking around. The shadow was hunched over, trying to stay low. It wasn’t doing a good job. Donat raised his gun, waiting. 

The heretic didn’t know where he was. The mist was hindering it too. Donat moved with soft steps, closing the gap. As the shadow resolved into a man, Donat took aim, placing his knee on the ground. He lifted the gun, taking his time to get the perfect aim on the heretic. He pulled the trigger. Nothing. He hadn’t cocked the gun!

He cocked it, the sound making the heretic's head spin. The heretic yelled and began to run. The dog barked again, and Donat swore, standing and giving chase. The man was heading for a grove of trees. Donat couldn’t let him get there. He raised his harpoon gun while running and shot. The bolt launched from the front of the weapon, hitting the heretic in the upper leg. 

The heretic screamed, and the sound of it rang sweetly in Donat’s ears. He and the dog ran to the man who was now crawling away. Donat stood over the man. Blood was seeping out around the bolt. Donat could see that the heretic didn’t have a weapon. It begged, acting surprised and confused. Donat urged the dog forward, giving it its reward. The heretic screamed more. 

Donat stood by his quarry until another man brought the other heretics to move the body. They’d burn it at the compound with the others. The two heretics approached the man. The woman sobbed more and moaned over the dead heretic, the male they’d brought didn’t say anything. She should be thankful for the mercy he’d shown her companion, he wouldn’t feel the flames the way she would. 

They loaded the body in the truck and put the two living heretics back in their cages. The truck shuddered to life, its tires starting to roll down the street.

Clunk clunk clunk clunk clunk, it sang.