The flood had gone, but left a trail of muddy ruts between the trees. The air was humid and the bugs were fierce. The swamp waters bubbled with activity just below the surface. Fireflies lit up dark corners of the thicket while smoke poured from a camp.

Five wooden cabins sat on a hill. A clear cut overlooking the hunting grounds. Inside the bunk beds were filled with snoring. The trophies of previous killings lined the walls, windows,mantle’s, and decorated the outside walls. A man suddenly barged in with a cowbell amid a frenzy of ear ringing decimals.

“The hunt is on.. I’ve spotted the King of humans” cried the alarm in his red union suit.

“Yeehaw” cried one man jumping from the top of a three story bunk in his underwear.

The alarm bell rang outside, and into the next hut in the same manner. These men had been playing a game with a knife, and their fingers.

“It's king killin time” cried the alarm, before he returned to piercing eardrums, and was chased out the back exit.

“AHH yeah” said a burly huntsman in camouflage.

Flexing muscles he showed a tattoo resembling a mechanics name patch reading: “Hi my name is Feral” .He removed his Bowie knife from thick cracks on a dinner plate. “This trophy is going in my mansion”.

The lifted trucks roared to life like a pack of animals. The air was thick with pollution due the shooting of soot from a dozen smoke stacks, and loud rock n roll in competition to best showcase each subwoofer. Every custom Killin hood company vehicle housed grill bar lights, roof mounted rotatable search lights, and dash mounted blinders. The crystal lights cut through the thick armor of mud layered thick. The cabs were filled with loaded weapons. More men climbed into the bed or held onto the floorboards. The last straggler burst from an outhouse with his pants down stirring laughter.

“Giva sum,” screamed Feral behind the wheel.

He finished packing a fat lip of crystal powder and passed the container.

“It’s slaughter time, cruelty gets me high,” said a backseat driver, rubbing his hands together.

They roared in front of the pack rumbling downhill. Feral had the largest vehicle covered in traps, trophies, and custom welding that included sharp spikes. He dominated the roads, and thus other men driving it. They were the perfect tools for elite highwaymen to ram, and rob the royals. Many a prince was terrorized by his bumper grinding against their carriage. He looked down on them from a lifted cab when the chase was finished. His finishing ritual was to slowly mount the stalled vehicle with his monster tires. The victim’s final moments before being crushed were screaming while looking at his massive truck nuts dangling.

“I think it’s time to alert the boss man ” said the alarm gripping the royal band receiver. “This is Rhinoceros to base camp we got a King sighting in zone five of Killin wood, over and out”

“Don’t kill him, because I want to do that myself, I’ll be there in 15 minutes' ' said the calm crackling voice of Killin Hood.

“And what should we do in the meantime to play with our dinks?” Yelled Farel, downshifting.

“Hold on, I have to push the talk button before he can hear” said Alarm. “Go again”.

“And what do we do for now boss, play with ourselves?” asked Farel, shifting up a gear, and voice pitch.

“Drive him into a bear trap or net him, over and out,” said Killin Hood.

“Ten-Four, over and out, and Roger that boss” said Alarm.

The convoy splashed through swamp waters that leaked across the gravel. They slowed to bump over logs shoved into a washout, and then a makeshift bridge composed of the same materials. Finally they stopped at a gate near a dock filled with skiffs, airboats, and pontoons.

“Yeehaw it’s time to kill” yelled a mass of voices dashing to the dock.

A man unlocked the gate on land, as the outboards roared to life one after another down the bank. Loud boogie riffs joined the jam on the skiff’s blasting out into the swamp waters. With different zones of the hunt they had a lot of ground to cover. Below bubbles intensified as an alligator got out of the way of trouble. A rusted hook moved through the water like the fin of a shark towards where the remaining boats were tied. King Edward breathed through a reed hidden underneath.

“Vroom, vroom, VROOM!”

Feral shot out of the gate first with his toy blasting maximum volume. The convoy followed with the remaining boats racing beside them. An airboat on the dock filled with panic, and liquid. It began sinking as an outboard took off with the crews bailing for life. A man fell screaming overboard, and was pulled under.

“What’s happening?” yelled a hunter aiming a shotgun. “Quick boys get over here” he finished crouching on the edge of the dock with a hand extended.

Three swam towards him as fast as they could struggle. A flying hook shot from the water like a fly fishing line, and impaled the man on the dock before dragging him into the waters. The survivors changed directions as the waters grew in color.

A speeding boat's crew was so focused on bailing out their pontoon they missed the incoming rocky shore splintering them into pieces. Those onboard were minced by the outboards. In the background the men overboard frantically swam for shore as their bow of a small skiff slowly sucked into the depths. The hook was free again, and racing toward the slowest straggler. A gray bearded old man in a yellow captain's hat was doggy paddling. He was yanked under, leaving his cap floating.

The trucks had stopped. Feral had been looking on in his binoculars.

“REEEEEEEEEEE!” he screamed in rage.

His outburst was cut off as the rest of them started blindly shooting the swamp. On the far bank of a large island a line shot into the trees, and Edward flung into the dark treeline.

“We drive that point now!” screamed Feral, slamming the door, and revving his engine with frustration.

Like a crowd clapping too long the rest of the men slowly stopped shooting, and joined him aboard. Feral was four wheel drive, and slammed over a barrier of rocks before slinging mud along the beach.

“Stay focused boys, let’s torture that sissy for embarsing us” he screamed into the receiver.

“Yeah” screamed the others gleefully inside the cabin.

They stopped beside a large trunk of driftwood outside the island. A group of boats patrolled towards them. The captain of a pontoon waved as a man mounted a swiveling harpoon gun on the stern.

“Go around back and kill him if tries to swim, we are going to drive this point like he’s a deer” commanded Feral, climbing outside, and slamming the door.

“Yes sir,” said a captain over the radio, as the boats sped away.

He shot into the treeline, reloaded his baby a semi auto with no royal serial numbers, and filled his lip with fresh cracked crystals. “Stay and cover Earl, and your boys” he finished.

A sawn off loudly slammed shut loaded with fresh buckshot. The hunters charged up the beachhead and into the forest screaming. Feral charged ahead of them, ignoring the thorns tearing into his chest, and coloring the hair. His eyes scanned for the prize, while somebody behind held a searching light. A man jumped as cold hands grabbed him behind. Alarm gulped face to face with a shotgun.

“Watch your step” he said pointing to a tripwire between the trees.

The other man nodded, and turned attention forward again. They charged further into the darkness. It was eerily silent except the occasional stick breaking underfoot. The last straggler of the group gurgled, and sputtered unable to find air with a hook sticking out the other side of his cheek. He was hauled upwards like a lobster trap. Above them Edward crouched hidden in the limbs of a spruce tree.

“Shhhh” he whispered, covering the dead man's last gasps for life as he removed his red hook.

The carcass lay across two branches to rest Edward jumped to the next tree, and then another, before hooking and zipping to the third.

“What was that?” asked Alarm looking around as fear overtook his body.

Feral's adrenaline surged into overdrive as he burst onto a rocky beach where the boats were waiting for them. The crews waved.

“Ain’t seen nothing” said the captain of one through a megaphone.

Feral screamed in frustration, and turned back towards the hunt. He ran deeper, and deeper into the dark, but couldn’t see anyone. He struggled to work through a thick of little furs clumped into a wall of green. He saw light on the other side. Finally emerging he spotted Alarm hung from a tree by his bootstraps, while his light lit up his corpse from below. Blood dripped from the body hung up like a pig.

“Shit” said Feral.

He was interrupted by nearby screams, and gunshots. Sprinting forward widely waving his weapon in the dark. In a clearing the surviving five stood back to back searching for the predator with their weapons. A loud whining noise of rapidly extending wires made them jump in panic. A man flew towards them at high speed hauled by hook, and they began blasting it full of lead. The body impacted the group striking them all like bowling pins. They scattered limply through clearing. A hunter panicked in fear with the dead body of Feral smiling on top of him.