Run With the Hunted Read Online Free PDF Page A

can breathe?” asked Morgan.
    â€œHe can breathe through his nose,” I said.
    â€œYeah,” Hass agreed.
    â€œWhat’ll we do now?” Morgan asked.
    â€œThe prisoner is guilty, isn’t he?” I asked.
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œWell, as judge I sentence him to be hanged by the neck until dead!”
    Simpson made sounds from beneath his gag. His eyes looked at us, pleading. I ran into the garage and got the rope. There was a length of it neatly coiled on a large spike on the garage wall. I had no idea why my father had that rope. He had never used it as far as I knew. Now it would be put to use.
    I walked out with the rope.
    Simpson started to run. Hass was right behind him. He made a flying tackle and brought him to the ground. He spun Simpson over and began punching him in the face. I ran up and slammed Hass hard across the face with the end of the rope. He stopped punching. He looked up at me.
    â€œYou son of a bitch, I’ll kick your god damned ass!”
    â€œAs the judge, my verdict was that this man would hang! So it will be! RELEASE THE PRISONER!”
    â€œYou son of a bitch, I’ll kick your god damned ass good!”
    â€œ First , we’ll hang the prisoner! Then you and I will settle our differences!”
    â€œYou’re damn right we will,” said Hass.
    â€œThe prisoner will now rise!” I said.
    Hass slid off and Simpson rose to his feet. His nose was bloodied and it had stained the front of his shirt. It was a very bright red. But Simpson seemed resigned. He was no longer sobbing. But the look in his eyes was terrified, horrible to see.
    â€œGimme a cigarette,” I said to Morgan.
    He stuck one into my mouth.
    â€œLight it,” I said.
    Morgan lit the cigarette and I took a drag, then holding the cigarette between my lips I exhaled through my nose while making a noose at the end of the rope.
    â€œPlace the prisoner upon the porch!” I commanded.
    There was a back porch. Above the porch was an overhang. I flung the rope over a beam, then pulled the noose down in front of Simpson’s face. I didn’t want to go on with it any longer. I figured Simpson had suffered enough but I was the leader and I was going to have to fight Hass afterwards and I couldn’t show any weakness.
    â€œMaybe we shouldn’t,” said Morgan.
    â€œThis man is guilty! ” I screamed.
    â€œRight!” screamed Hass. “Let him hang! ”
    â€œLook, he’s pissed himself,” said Morgan.
    Sure enough, there was a dark stain on the front of Simpson’s pants and it was spreading.
    â€œNo guts,” I said.
    I placed the noose over Simpson’s head. I yanked on the rope and lifted Simpson up on his toes. Then I took the other end of the rope and tied it to a faucet on the side of the house. I knotted the rope tight and yelled, “Let’s get the fuck out of here!”
    We looked at Simpson hanging there on tip-toe. He was spinning around ever so slightly and he looked dead already.
    I started running. Morgan and Hass ran with me. We ran up the drive and then Morgan split for his place and Hass split for his. I realized I had no place to go. Hass, I thought, either you forgot about the fight or you didn’t want it.
    I stood on the sidewalk for a minute or so, then I ran back into the yard again. Simpson was still spinning. Ever so slightly. We had forgotten to tie his hands. His hands were up, trying to take the pressure off of his neck but his hands were slipping. I ran over to the faucet and untied the rope and let it go. Simpson hit the porch, then tumbled forward onto the lawn.
    He was face down. I turned him over and untied his gag. He looked bad. He looked as if he might die. I leaned over him.
    â€œListen, you son of a bitch, don’t die, I didn’t want to kill you, really. If you die, I’m sorry. But if you don’t die and if you ever tell anybody , then your ass is dead for sure! You got