Authorities on Omega agree that a Hunted man experiences a change of
character. If he were able to look upon the Hunt as an abstract problem,
he might arrive at certain more or less valid conclusions. But the
typical Hunted, no matter how great his intelligence, cannot divorce
emotion from reasoning. After all, _he_ is being hunted. He becomes
panic-stricken. Safety seems to lie in distance and depth. He goes as
far from home as possible; he goes deep into the ground along the
subterranean maze of sewers and conduits. He chooses darkness instead of
light, empty places in preference to crowded ones.
This behavior is well known to experienced Hunters. Quite naturally,
they look first in the dark, empty places, in the underground
passageways, in deserted stores and buildings. Here they find and flush
the Hunted with inexorable precision.
Barrent had thought about this. He had discarded his first instinct,
which was to hide in the intricate Tetrahyde cloaca. Instead, an hour
before dawn, he went directly to the large, brightly lighted building
that housed the Ministry of Games.
When the corridors seemed to be deserted, he entered quickly, read the
directory, and climbed the stairs to the third floor. He passed a dozen
office doors, and finally stopped at the one marked NORINS JAY,
SUB-MINISTER OF GAMES. He listened for a moment, then opened the door
and stepped in.
There was nothing wrong with old Jay's reflexes. Before Barrent was
through the doorway, the old man had spotted the crimson hunt-marks on
his face. Jay opened a drawer and reached into it.
Barrent had no desire to kill the old man. He flung the government-issue
needlebeam at Jay, and caught him full on the forehead. Jay staggered
back against the wall, then collapsed to the floor.
Bending over him, Barrent found that his pulse was strong. He bound and
gagged the sub-minister, and pushed him out of sight under his desk.
Hunting through the drawers, he found a CONFERENCE: DO NOT DISTURB sign.
He hung this outside the door, and locked it. With his own needlebeam
drawn, he sat down behind the desk and awaited events.
Dawn came, and a watery sun rose over Omega. From the window, Barrent
could see the streets filled with people. There was a hectic carnival
atmosphere in the city, and the noise of the holiday celebration was
punctuated by the occasional hiss of a beamer or the flat explosion of a
projectile weapon.
By noon, Barrent was still undetected. He looked through windows, and
found that he had access to the roof. He was glad to have an exit, just
as Jay had suggested.
By mid-afternoon, Jay had recovered consciousness. After struggling with
his bonds for a while, he lay quietly under the desk.
Just before evening, someone knocked at the door. "Minister Jay, may I
come in?"
"Not at the moment," Barrent said, in what he hoped was a fair imitation
of Jay's voice.
"I thought you'd be interested in the statistics of the Hunt," the man
said. "So far, Citizens have killed seventy-three Hunteds, with eighteen
left to go. That's quite an improvement over last year."
"Yes, it is," Barrent said.
"The percentage who hid in the sewer system was larger this year. A few
tried to bluff it out by staying in their homes. We're tracking down the
rest in the usual places."
"Excellent," said Barrent.
"None have made the break so far," the man said. "Strange that Hunteds
rarely think of it. But of course, it saves us from having to use the
machines."
Barrent wondered what the man was talking about. The break? Where was
there to break to? And how would machines be used?
"We're already selecting alternates for the Games," the man added. "I'd
like to have your approval of the list."
"Use your own judgment," Barrent said.
"Yes, sir," the man said. In a moment, Barrent heard his footsteps
moving down the hall. He decided that the man had become suspicious. The
conversation had lasted too long, he should have broken it off earlier.
Perhaps he should move to a different office.
Before he could do anything, there was a heavy pounding at the door.
"Yes?"
"Citizen's Search Committee," a bass voice answered. "Kindly open the
door. We have reason to believe that a Hunted is hiding in there."
"Nonsense," Barrent said. "You can't come in. This is a government
office."
"We can," the bass voice said. "No room, office, or building is closed
to a Citizen on Hunt Day. Are you opening up?"
Barrent had already moved to the window. He opened it, and heard behind
him the sound of men hammering at the door. He fired through the door
twice to give them something to think about; then he climbed out through
the window.
* * * * *
The rooftops of Tetrahyde, Barrent saw at once, looked like a perfect
place for a Hunted; therefore they were the last place a Hunted should
be. The maze of closely connected roofs, chimneys, and spires seemed
made to order for a chase; but men were already on the roofs. They
shouted when they saw him.
Barrent broke into a sprint. Hunters were behind him, and others were
closing in from the sides. He leaped a five-foot gap between buildings,
managed to hold his balance on a steeply pitched roof, and scrambled
around the side.
Panic gave him speed. He was leaving the Hunters behind. If he could
keep up the pace for another ten minutes, he would have a substantial
lead. He might be able to leave the roofs and find a better place for
concealment.
Another five-foot gap between buildings came up. Barrent leaped it
without hesitation.
He landed well. But his right foot went completely through rotted
shingles, burying itself to the hip. He braced himself and pulled,
trying to extricate his leg, but he couldn't get a purchase on the
steep, crumbling roof.
"There he is!"
Barrent wrenched at the shingles with both hands. The Hunters were
almost within needlebeam distance. By the time he got his leg out, he
would be an easy target.
He had ripped a three-foot hole in the roof by the time the Hunters
appeared on the next building. Barrent pulled his leg free; then, seeing
no alternative, he jumped into the hole.
For a second he was in the air; then he landed feet-first on a table
which collapsed under him, spilling him to the floor. He got up and saw
that he was in a Hadji-class living room. An old woman sat in a rocking
chair less than three feet away. Her jaw was slack with terror; she kept
on rocking automatically.
Barrent heard the Hunters crossing to the roof. He went through the
kitchen and out the back door, under a tangle of clotheslines and
through a small hedge. Someone fired at him from a second-story window.
Looking up, he saw a young boy trying to aim a heavy heat beamer. His
father had probably forbidden him to hunt in the streets.
Barrent turned into a street, and sprinted until he reached an alley. It
looked familiar. He realized that he was in the Mutant Quarter, not far
from Myla's house.
He could hear the cries of the Hunters behind him. He reached Myla's
house, and found the door unlocked.
* * * * *
They were all together--the one-eyed man, the bald old woman, and Myla.
They showed no surprise at his entrance.
"So they picked you in the Lottery," the old man said. "Well, it's what
we expected."