Man Hunt

• Jennifer Smith, Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2015

It is so calm here. Gypsy and I are the only living souls around. I am lying on her smooth, strong back looking up at the stars. I feel safe. She starts to move. I can feel her hindquarters rolling underneath me. I roll over, which is very hard on the back of a 15 hand horse. As I settle into her rhythm I see something in the distance.
Flashing blue and red with a white silhouette. A police car. It is racing along the highway. Surely they can’t have seen me. They are at least a kilometre away but approaching fast. I turn Gypsy around. In the moment before she takes off something whizzes past my hip and hits the ground beside me with a little puff of dust.
Freeze frame.
Let me back-track a little.
A new government ‘installed’ themselves a few months back. They muscled their way into power. Seriously, the prime minister is suspected to have killed at least three people. As you might have already guessed, they are very tough.
Enter me.
The police have orders to kill me on sight. Hence my being shot at. I see myself as a bit of a Robin Hood. I don’t actually steal anything but I do try and give something back. Freedom.
I organise protests. Mainly against the government but also against any issues I think need to be attended to. Like wars, racism and sexism.
I awoke something in the nation. Since I took off four years ago, I have heard of at least five full scale riots against various issues. It gives me a sense of pride but also of danger. They have carried on my legacy which puts extra pressure on me.
So, shoot-outs aren’t an uncommon occurrence for me. This one, however, was unexpected.
Un-freeze frame.
Gypsy flies across the ground. Dodging trees and rocks has become instinct for both of us. Her feet tear up clods of earth and send them spraying out behind her. Her speed is spectacular, but it won’t stop a bullet.
We get about four meters before the police car hits the gravel behind us, we get about five meters before the bullets start flying and about six meters before Gypsy falls.
Her knee collapses and sends me sprawling in the dust. As I get shakily onto my knees a burly officer approaches me with his gun raised. He starts yelling at me “Get up you scumbag, before I shoot you!” As I stand, He pulls his walkie-talkie up to his lips. A voice blares out of it “Should we bring in the squad?” The officer looks me dead in the eye and says “No need.”
I close my eyes and the last thing I see is his gnarled hand on the trigger.