#bdwc15

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“Hello? I-I”

“Sir, what’s your emergency?”

“I-I found someone. I think he’s dead.”

“Sir, where are you?”

“The woods along the town line.”

There was a scream and the caller dropped the phone.

“Help is on the way…”

Fifty minutes earlier…

“John Smith,” Annie Smith shook her head as she fixed her son’s bowtie. “It’s not that hard. What will you ever do without me?”

“I would probably die,” John joked. “You’ll live forever.” Then he kissed his mother on the cheek. Annie knew he was kidding but she still let out a small laugh. She stood there watching her baby put on his jacket on for Prom. “Am I good now?” He asked as he looked up at his tearing mother.

“You look so handsome,” she smiled and suppressed the tears. “Although, you should’ve shaved. You look like a bum.”

John shrugged, “Babette likes it.”

“Screw what Mom thinks, huh?” And he nodded. “Go pick her up and then come back so I can take pictures. I’m sure she’s going to look stunning. Although, that girl probably looks stunning in a paper bag.” Annie was a fan of Babette. She was good for her son and she wasn’t one of the stuck-up cheerleaders he usually dated. She was different but a good different.

John hopped into Big Red and turned the air conditioning way up. Black on black in June no matter where in the northern hemisphere was brutal. However, he did look exceptionally handsome. The scruff his mother voiced her disapproval of added to his mystique. He felt like James Bond. He looked at himself in the rearview mirror and jokingly said, “Smith, John Smith.”

John shifted gears as he made the turn off to head toward the boundary to meet Babette. He was a little early but he didn’t want her to be waiting if she decided to show up early.

However, when he arrived at their meeting point, there was no one. John pulled out his phone, the one he got during his time at her school, and shot his date a text.

John: Hey, Babs. I’m here. Take your time though.

John: Actually, my mom wants to take pictures.

John: So, don’t take too long.

Then he set the phone down and cranked up the music just a bit. John saw someone approaching in the mirror and he turned to get a better look. He didn't know who it was but he assumed the appearance wasn't a good one. 

"Get out of the car, Smith," the young man shouted as he got closer. 

John looked shocked. He didn't know the guy but he knew John. Perhaps he knew him from before his memories were altered. That meant he was a hunter. And that thought confirmed the prior notion of his unexpected guest being of a malicious nature.

"I said, get out of the car," the young man was standing beside Big Red at that point. John did as he commanded. Maybe if he obeyed then the whole ordeal would be over and Babette wouldn't have to be caught up in the ruckus. "Why are you here?"

"A guy can't take his car out into the woods in this town anymore?" John asked laughing.

"This isn't a joke. This is a time of war. It's us against them. You used to believe in that. You used to fight with us." The young man was visibly angry with John. He wished that he knew what he was missing from his memories to understand the pain of betrayal in the other's eyes. 

"I'm a different person, now," John stated simply. He really was though. It wasn't a lie. John didn't know the details of what he was before. All he knew was he was trained as a boy to kill witches and he was good at it. That was it. 

"You've sided with them. You love one of them. That makes you the enemy." The young man's fists were tight balls as he clenched his jaw. "I went up to bat for you. I helped you. This is how you repay me? Huh?"

"I'm sorry. I don't even remember who you are," John answered honestly.

"I'm Mason. We grew up together. We trained together. How do you not remember that?" Then a whistle came from the distance. Mason looked over his shoulder and let his lips press into a fine line. "I saved you the last time. This time, you won't be so lucky. They're coming for you."

"You have to let me go. It's prom. My mom is expecting me." John looked back at his Jeep and thought about an escape plan. 

"You're the enemy, now. I can't let you go."

"Look, I don't want to fight you. It's prom."

"I don't give a fuck about prom. You're not leaving without a fight." Mason squared up and John shrugged off his jacket. He didn't think He'd have enough time to fight before the other hunters show up but he could try. He had to try.

As he turned around, Mason's fist connected with his ear. The sucker punch rang through John's skull as he put his hands up to block. He was a fool for thinking it would be a fair fight. But two could play at that game. 

John's body turned toward Mason. He lowered himself down to tackle the other at the waist. It was effective and the two men hit the ground. The wind was knocked from Mason's lungs but he quickly recovered. 

John's black pants were dusted with dirt and his shirt snagged on thorns and ripped through the fabric and his flesh. Even with blood dripping down his back and from his face, John was still winning. Mason's front tooth had been knocked out as his face hit the ground. His brow split from contact with John's knuckle. He was pretty sure a rip or two cracked when he was tackled, too. 

But things changed when the hunters arrived. A large man, Mason's father, barrelled through the landscape and caught John by the throat. John's body flung against his and he clawed at the man's arm that held him tightly. "Dad, let him go. This is my fight."

"No, Son. This is all of our fight," he hissed as John bit down on his flesh and made the man release the younger one. "He trained those vile beings how to fight us." John staggered back and wiped the blood from his face. "Do you think you can take us all, Smith?"

Even beaten up, John could still put on a cocky grin. "I don't know but I have a feeling I'm going to find out." He tried to block but it was useless. A swarm of seven or so hunters came upon him. He tried with all of his might to fight them off. He landed a few good kidney shots and gave out a few black eyes but they were too much for him. John was brought down to the ground.

John's vision faded and their kicks seemed to fade as well. "Hey!" John heard from a distance. "Get off of him!" There was someone shouting. It must have been someone important enough to send the hunters running. Or it was nobody at all. And John was imagining there was someone out there that could help him.

Annie clutched her heart as her knees buckled. The police officer at her door caught her before she could hit the ground. Her baby boy was beaten to near death. She had sent him off to get his girlfriend for prom pictures. How? Why? Her baby. Her only son. 

"Ma'am," the officer helped the distraught woman to her feet. "I can take you to the hospital."

"Yes," she whispered, "please."