Hunt and Pray by Cindy Sutherland Page A

version of solitary confinement about four hours after they’d let Drew go. The dark, sweaty little hut they’d locked him in had barely been big enough for him to stand in, and he’d gulped the fresh air gratefully.
    They’d beaten him before stuffing him in there, and Ezra had accidentally banged his head into the frame as he’d helped him through the door.
    Before setting him free, they’d taken his cell phone and rifled through his pack, removing all the ammunition and his gun. He was left with his knife and some food and water, the same things they’d sent Drew out with.
    He looked up at his father, love and hatred warring in his head. He was shocked when the man chuckled at him.
    “Now, Chance, this is what’s going to happen. He left in that direction.” He pointed into the forest just beyond the cut line. “You’re going to hunt that cock-sucking pervert down and cut his throat. I want you to watch him die and remember that it could just as well be you next time.”
    His voice kept getting louder.
    “No son of mine is going to be a deviant, do you understand? If you’re a faggot, you’re not my son and then you will be nothing to me except another hunt.”
    Chance could see the smirk on Ezra’s face, and he knew the man wanted the opportunity to hunt Chance.
    “You’d better be back here tomorrow with a trophy for me to prove you did the job.” He looked at his accomplice. “What do you think, Ezra? A hand? Seems easy enough to remove and bring back with you.”
    Chance nodded at him, but in his head there was a strange disconnect from it all, like it was happening to a stranger.
    “If you’re not back here by 9:00 a.m., Ezra and I will come looking for you—and, Chance…?” The colonel’s eyes were lit with some kind of lunatic joy Chance no longer recognized. “If we have to come looking for you, you won’t ever be coming back.” There was nothing but ice in his father’s voice, and Chance knew saying anything would be futile.
    He took one last look at the only family he had in the world and walked into the forest in the same direction Drew had gone. He knew the next time he saw his father, one of them would end up dead.
    It hadn’t been hard to pick up Drew’s trail. The man hadn’t even bothered to try and hide it; instead, he’d obviously opted for distance. He’d done a fairly good job of keeping his heading east, and Chance had thought to find him quickly.
    But Drew surprised him with how fast he’d moved. It had taken Chance until nightfall to catch up with him.
    He watched Drew now, crouching quietly in the thicket. He wouldn’t be able to get any closer without alerting Drew to his presence, and Chance really needed to think before trying to convince Drew he wasn’t here to kill him.
    Chance sighed, wondering if there had ever been a point when he’d believed he could do it. Following his military training and killing an enemy from a distance was a lot different than killing an innocent man with his bare hands.
    And it wasn’t like Chance ever really liked being a sniper. It was just another in a long line of decisions that had been made for him by his father and he’d been too scared to go against.
    The fact that he was good at it disturbed him a little, but it was all a matter of survival. Chance had gotten very good at surviving in his twenty-three years.
    He hadn’t had Drew’s life… hadn’t had love and comfort and family… not since his mother died when he was three.
    He snorted at that thought. Saying she’d died was like saying she’d had cancer or been killed in a car accident. It hadn’t been anything quite so innocent. The official cause of death had been suicide, but Chance knew better.
    For years, he’d suffered from flashbacks of his parents fighting: his father with his hands around his mother’s neck, and the absolute terror in her eyes when she looked at her son for the last time before the light faded from them completely.
    His memories of