G. H. BRIGHT
LIFE AFTER THE APOCALYPSE. EBOLA, Modified Ebola, Reluctant Hero Archer, Apocalyptic, Adventure, Thriller, Adult Murder Mystery, Sniper, Manhunt, Killer, Horror, Scary, Thriller, Love and War
Animal Hunt, books one, two and three
Animal Hunt 1 ASIN BOO9JUOGTW
Animal Hunt 2 ASIN BOOGWTYUDG
Animal Hunt 3 OUT NOW
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Copyright G. H. Bright
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Cover by G. H. Bright, taken from an original by freedigitalphotos.net © victorhabbick.com
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Book 1. Blood Lust.
'The bullet, or Round as I prefer to call it, hit me chest height, just above the heart, knocking the wind out of me and producing adrenaline and fear in equal measures. I dropped to the ground, concealed by gorse bush, and checked myself over. The Round had entered my shirt, ripped through cotton and flesh alike and carried on into the wilderness. I was cut but not really injured. Luck had spared me. That or an unlucky shot from the gunman depends which way you look at it.' 'The Hunt was in full swing, I'd been chased by these guys for hours and I had been running for what seemed half a day but really had been just over an hour and a half. Sweat and fear rushed through me and gave me speed and agility I didn’t know I had. It might be hard to believe I was feeling excitement as well, but I was. The thrill of the chase is a necessity to me. 'Although it wasn't working out as I had hoped, it has to be remembered that this is the ultimate hunt. You have to be prepared for anything and everything the game throws at you. I live for the buzz, so outnumbered or not, and threatened with my life, I was still enjoying this to an extent. Maybe I'm crazy, maybe not, I got 'Blood Lust', or so I'm told, so maybe that's got something to do with it. So, there I was, enjoying the chase, that is, until the Round nearly ended it all for me.' 'Don’t get me wrong, I entered this whole nightmare, I knew what I was doing. I don’t expect sympathy. The thrill of the Hunt is everything to me, even when losing. And whereas I didn't have much choice in the matter, there was still room for skill and luck alike. I trust luck a lot, maybe more than I should, but I rely on Lady Luck as well as my skills.' 'Three men were tracking me, three murdering bastards to be exact. They had promised me a slow and painful death, and I didn't doubt their enthusiasm to carry out the threat.' 'Jack, Ruben and Gerry they called themselves. Their last names I didn't know, except Ruben's and frankly, the names escaped me at the time anyway. I remember details like that normally, but honestly, that info really didn't matter right then. You can call me, Harris, by the way, my first name, don't matter.'
Book 2. Assassination
12.00 Saturday 14th.Amsterdam, Holland. The Bride and Groom were all smiles. Their two children were as happy as can be too, mum and dad had got married, and they were elated at that, they had wanted this for so long. They had to change names at school now too and that would make them centre of attention as well. The slow songs done and the guests filtering onto the floor to join them signalled to the disk turner that Shania Twain was called for. "I feel like a Woman" blasted out of the speakers at the special request of the bride and everyone else rushed to the dance floor, eager to strut and pretend to be the singer herself. Everyone was happy, slightly drunk and having a great time being sexy on the dance floor. That was also the time when the bullets rushed in and tore the place to bits. People began screaming and running in blind panic. They didn't strut their stuff any more, they just ran; they just ran about like headless chickens looking for a way out of the marquee, out of the line of fire, wherever the hell it was coming from. Two grenades went off, killing dozens and injuring more. The rapid fire of an Uzi made mincemeat of the happy couple and the two adorable kids. The fabric of the marquee ripped asunder, caught light and burned with the phosphor of the smoke grenade also lobbed into the fray. Within minutes the assassin was in a car which sped off from the carnage. An hour later he was on a small jet headed for England. The car and the driver turned up days later. The car burnt, the driver very dead. The flames didn’t kill him; the shots to the head did, two shots, a "double tap" to the head and any hope of a quick answer to this massacre was gone. Literately up in smoke!
Book 3. To The Death
The woman ran for all she was worth. Naked save for a small pair of briefs and with her hands bound together, she ran through the woodland with tears streaming down her face. Her mind raced, thoughts jumbled, bounced together and came out just as confused as they started. She had no idea why she had been singled out, no comprehension as to what this man really wanted but sure, deep in her heart, that these were her final moments alive. Branches whipped her face, cut her breasts and stung her thighs, but still she ran. Blind from tears she ran headlong into a large pine, bounced sideways, lost her footing and just as quickly regained it, god knew how, and ran onward desperate not to scream out. She sobbed, there was no was she couldn't, but she refused to cry out and give herself away. She was not going to give him the satisfaction of her screaming! He could go to hell! She would not give herself away, she couldn't do that; the other girls depended on her. She part fell down an incline, holly or nettles stinging her legs, a thin harsh line of something, perhaps the stalk of a fern, sliced through her left shin but still she kept going. Lungs burning heart hammering, she climbed out of the hollow. Wiping her eyes she could see a downward path between trees and what she hoped was somewhere she could hide. Her heart came out her chest. It exploded out between her breasts and she dropped like a stone to the leafy earth of the forest. It took a long time for the shooter to get to her, but then he had been a long way off when he pulled the trigger. The big bear-like man stood over his latest victim and smiled. The hole in her back was large, but nowhere near as large as the one caused by the exit of the round. Bending, he took her left ankle and strolled back through the forest, dragging the dead woman, whistling as he went.
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