As he stepped out of the house, was greeted by the gentle breeze that caressed his hair. He stood there, eyes closed, soaking in the morning rays of the sun, breathing in the fresh air facing the beach listening to the waves merrily dancing on shore in front of him.

James sighed with happines feeling all good about the new day. A smile played on his face as his eyes opened, excited about the new day that had just dawned. He turned towards the empty road behind him that had started from the sweep of the beach next to his lone white house and wound into the island. On either side of the road, the ocean winds flattened the dune grasses. The steep roofed white house with the expansive greens, an organic kitchen garden and the road that wound away looked like a painting from a story book. On his far left, on top of the cliff, stood Ron’s house. He could barely discern him outside the house, and yet he waved at him.

A total of 15 residents on the island like Ron and himself – with all the winding roads converging into a stand alone building, in the center of the island. There was a petrol bunk there, and all the needed groceries were present. Noone manned the shop as everyone came and took what they wanted and paid their dues, if not more so that the society would have enough money in times of need. The top of the shop housed a bar and pool area that also had a card corner.

James with his buddy Rick and his wife, Svetlana were to catch up for a card game. As he trudged through the grass lands towards the center, he noticed Ron’s car. Smiling he headed to the car.

The old Merc never lost its touch of vintage while offering a luxurious ride. He got in and started the vehicle and pulled it towards the center. Another unwritten rule of the island – never keep a car locked – just so that it may be of use to someone in need. The island missed a mechanic even though there was a mechanic shop that provided the spares needed, because everyone who were there, were adept with car-tronics.

He reached the center. Rick’s car was outside, which meant someone was in the center – he however, patted his belt and the hidden knife that was part of it. A small reminder of his past, and an assurance for his present and the possible future he could have. His fingers wistfully touched his arm band that had some of his hidden pencil steels sticks that were dipped in poison too. The routine checks done, he stepped out of the car. At 55, with a tinge of grey touching his forehead, he still was in good shape for a man of his age. Yesterday when he clocked himself – he could still do 8 miles of jog in a hour easy, and his six pack spoke volumes of the agility he could possess. He neared the store and saw Rick in the store. He relaxed a tad bit and pulled a smile as he went into the store. Senses in full alert. All seemed well. Good.

James called out to Rick and he chatted with him as they went up to bar and saw Svetlana sitting there. They ended up playing a good game of cards before splitting off.

When he came out he realised that he had not heard from George, the senior most member of their community in almost two days. So he started towards his house. George stayed on top of a hill, rugged as himself, and a path that one had to forge, if they were to ever reach him. He did the trek up the hill pouncing from boulder to boulder to ultimately reach the house that truly stayed secluded. The house was empty and there were signs of scuffle. George was a bit paranoid and hence approaching his house had to be done in stealth. Knowing that, and seeing this, made his hair quiver. George was a massive 6 footer who even at the age of 80, commanded a presence and was the fastest gun he had ever known. Who could have subdued him? What could have gone wrong? Was he ok?

James searched the premises and there was no sign of George. He went to the roof and squinted at the island that sprawled beneath him. It was virtually impossible to reach George without knowing him. He peered over the roof to the backyard and saw a rope spiralling all the way down from his backyard cliff into the ocean. They had intruders!

He scoured through the place, noted a couple of bullet holes on a corner of the room and smiled, well the old bastard had not gone down without a fight. Good for him, he just hoped he was still alright. A spot of blood spoke otherwise.

James waited in the house for it to get dark and rappelled down the rope to see what was on the other end. He was rewarded by a boat that was tethered precariously in between a couple of rocks. He gutted the engine and destroyed the oars and ascended back up the cliff.

Then he proceeded cautiously to the bottom of the hill upon which George’s house sat. The ground was hard and the grass shivered at the animal senses that emanated from James while the breeze now prodded him forward. He started his trek. Made sense to go to the center and check on others. The island and its members were highly valuable “assets” who had “retired” from the government service(retired in normal terms would be pronounced dead) due to their highly valuable service. Anybody with access to the island other than the deemed routes of communications meant that there was a breach. A breach that was very high level. Intelligence was compromised from the highest echelon. Others could be in danger, and he had to warn them.

As he started the trudge, he had loaded himself with the arsenal that George had shown in his house. He cradled an M-16 that also was modified as a grenade launcher. A couple of berets nestled under both his shoulders and a hunting knife coupled with a stiletto was sheathed in the belt resting against his back.

As he neared the center, the eery silence made his heart hammer more. Ron’s car still lay in the front.He crept towards the center, and peeked through one of the windows. The darkness and the silence was not something he liked. He slowly stepped in through one of the windows, and noticed glass shards on the floor – the age old technique to know when an intruder comes in. He carefully brushed his way across the hall. There was an unknown crouched behind a stall. Wrong place buddy – James thought and moved around him. Before long, he was crouching right behind his prey and he still had not sensed James and his presence.

He carefully inched forward on his belly until he was up close and listened to his prey breathing. The man was wearing black fatigues and was dressed for war. They had anticipated the extent of confrontation. This gave a load of information – for one, they were well prepped and knew what kind of people they would encounter on the island and second his build suggested that he was military or ex military – merc group. James carefully unsheathed his hunting knife. They had underestimated him though! He leapt from the ground and threw his knife at the black form’s jugular vein. The knife was brushed aside by the kevlar. He lost grip on the knife. The man was swift and turned to spray bullets in the direction the knife came from. The gun never finished the trajectory it was following. Oh hell no, you are mine – thought James as he leapt through the air with all his might and caught the man by surprise at his speed and agility. His leg blocked the gun from following through while his fingers easily found the crevices that the armour had left open of its owner’s and his fingers locked on his trachea. The man was flailing and gasping for breath before a sickening crunch destroyed his larynx and blood oozed out of the armour. The head lolled back and before he could hit the ground, James cought him and gently eased his body down. He then stealthily crept up the bar. There were generally more when it came to hit teams, and he had just downed a sentry. He reached the bar and saw two more walking over the sprawled massacre of his old friends, checking them for any reminiscent life that might exist. Svetlana was still on the chair head lolling backward half of it blown from that beautiful face. Ron caught the action in the back. He seems to have tried to take a dive but the spray caught his body and slowed him down. He tried crawling away evident by the blood trail left by his body before they walked over to him and blew his head apart. Looked like the deed was just done. He leapt over the bar while his fingers flicked two pencil blades from his wrists in two different directions. He knew where they would penetrate and before they knew what hit them, they were dead. The last image they recorded in their eyes with amazement was the picture of a man jumping over the counter with grace and stealth before glazing out and crumpling down.

He carefully patted them down. No identification marks, a couple of identical tattoos gave them away. Well, that did say a lot. They were from the same genre of company. They weren’t random mercenaries. It was a hit team and they were given a contract. Who were they here for? Where did the breach exist? Where did they go with George? He was as silent as a panther as he went up the stairs to the pool table room. Light did illuminate a room from behind a door.

“We need to finish this before dawn John and be back”, he heard a whisper. He also heard a small groan.

“Old schoolers have had it harder, it’s difficult to get through, I need another 30 with him I think”.

James stepped into the room. The scene that lay in front of him was grotesque. George lay spread eagled naked on the pool table. He was bleeding profusely from the gaping hole on where his left hand was. He didn’t have fingers or toes on any limbs of his and his nails were nailed to his eye brows, using them to pin his eye lids open.

They didn’t notice the phenomenal fury standing right next to them in the shadows. He used the stiletto. The man who was bent over George felt his spine slice and his throat slit open when James inserted the stilettos in a quick smooth motion decapitating him of any sound. He helped the body slide to the floor without a rustle in the making. The other guy was staring out of the window peering into the dark expanse. Must be the shudder or the sixth sense, he turned towards the table to be greeted by the hammering fist that crunched his conscious into oblivion.

James helped George up, tied up his wounds and dressed him up. The old man was out for a good few days, but before closing his eyes into sedation he did grab him and tell him one thing – don’t let them get away. It’s time to hunt. Yes, it was time for the old hunter to don himself his old hunting accessories and start preying. It was time for his preys to pray.

Silent alarm system existed in the form of vibration on the watches to let the residents know in terms of danger. Protocol wise, they were to congregate through an underground tunnel from their respective homes and reach the central console that existed in the center under the store.

George had managed to scroll the letters with his blood oozing fingers and let James know what was going on. The kill team wanted a blue print of the island – the tunnel structure primarily. George didn’t keep a tunnel. He wanted to go down fighting if it came to it. He always planned on walking to the store. They apparently had caught him while he was bent over his garden. A quick jab and a bit of a struggle later, he had managed to down one of them, and got off two bullets in the process before subdued by the other 5. The boys of the deceased team mate tossed him over the cliff due to being an apparent “baggage”. They took him to the store and started dismantling him to get him to talk.

The hall congregated with the thirteen families and everyone was dressed for war! James looked at them and smirked. Wish the world knew whom they invited back from the dead!

James had a smile over his face. A smile that didn’t reach his eyes. With a fierce glade in his eyes, he thought – the game just changed and the hunt was about to begin.