Hour 31

As Rico watched Emi retreat he felt a surge of excitement rush his body. Though her eyes were undeniably tinged with fear, there was something else: the way her body language emanated confidence even while she ran was something he couldn't help but pick up on. She was afraid of him, but it wasn't fear that made her run like the countless other people he had killed; she ran because she knew she'd be at a disadvantage in a head-on battle; she ran because she realized her current environment didn't favor victory, not because she was afraid of death... She ran because she wasn't prey. Prey ran because they were driven by fear, and Emi ran out of necessity.

As Emi dashed back up the same steps she had just descended she felt an odd sense of annoyance. Was this just her life now? Would she just keep running? But she knew Rico wasn't someone to test her luck on; her best option would be something beyond challenging him head-on with brute strength, so running was only natural. She ran past the second floor, having no urge to end up in her old house again with her zombified mother, and then ran past the next floor for good measure. It was at this point her wounded ankle from Victor's scissor stab ached through the adrenaline flooding her body. She didn't have much time to reflect on this, though, because she could hear Rico in the distance, so she passed through the second door on her left.

With Emi's injured foot, Rico would've normally caught her by now, but the throwing knife Akachukwu had dug into his abdominal wall rocked with each step and subconsciously stunted his gait. Though he lost sight of her up the stairs he easily followed the blood trail left by her injured ankle, a red pattern that printed a fresh route to the second door on the left. He entered the door and found himself standing in a school hallway on the other side; the door he passed through was built into a grey wall with strict white lines. He couldn't know this, but he was in Alex's school, standing at the very door to his classroom right now, the same one Emi had spent time with him in when their mother couldn't make it for parents' day. He couldn't hear anything in the hollow hallway so he took a knee and examined her blood trail more closely, a small but consistent trail, one painted with every step. There was enough blood to suggest it wasn't a superficial injury but not quite enough for a critical one, and as he looked upon it further, he remembered the way Emi had limped while she ran. He scraped some of the blood from the floor with the tip of his machete and thought, "This isn't a head injury; the spacing is off. Could be a body injury but most likely a leg wound, probably below the knee judging by the consistency of the blood with each step." As he stood back up, he concluded, "Also, areas with thin skin bleed easier, so I'd guess it's closer to the foot." Hunting her blood trail through the dim hallways with such a carnivorous drive activated a feeling of intrinsic joy, a pride in his intuition. When was the last time prey had tugged at his primal instincts like this? Sure, he had found his victims in the race through the jungle, but those weren't a direct challenge like this; he had found them secretly and assassinated them before they could resist. Emi was different, a moving target who knew he was specifically after her. His heart thundered in his chest with a gratifying synergy to his mental state, he felt alive again, awoken from a deep slumber of killing mediocrity and finally presented with a worthwhile meal. As he rounded the corner of the corridor, he was presented with a blood trail that led to the science lab, room 314, Mrs. Powell's anatomy class. He soundlessly entered the room and took note of its layout; desks furnished the clean floor in a single file, only a few breaking the natural pattern, while a teacher's desk in front boasted all the accessories of a well-loved educator next to a large whiteboard scribbled with text. The back of the room was populated with examination tables, sinks, an eye wash area as well as an emergency shower head. He noticed Emi's blood almost too obviously led to one of a few large, black closets in the back. He listened intently but still couldn't hear anything, meaning if she was in here she was breathing as quietly as possible. He smirked as he leaned his blade on a desk and took his phone out, more than ready to sniff out her deception. He dialed her number and heard her phone ring behind him. Emi obliterated a glass bottle against the back of his skull.

After entering the science lab, Emi had naturally run to the back in hopes of locating a hiding spot, but that's when she became aware of the gaudy splotches she was generating with each step. She made sure not to break her stride to alert Rico, who was undoubtedly tracking her and walked to the first closet. She then bought a 2-minute invisibility, lowering her 39 hours to 9, and took off her shoes. She fiddled with them before ducking behind a sink built into the countertop in the back, her new bloody prints now hidden with invisibility. As Rico entered, she knew it was now or never.

As the glass shattered against Rico's head, his eyes were scalded with Formalin, a solution housing a decent amount of Formaldehyde, among other chemicals. His eyes burned like hellfire as Emi grabbed for his machete, but even through his blinded pain, he reacted, grabbing her neck with his maimed hand. He put all the force he could into it but the wound from Sang-Wook using Margaux's hammer was too debilitating, saving her from being choked out and allowing her to break free. She tried to regroup, but as she ran for the door Rico used his superb hearing to ascertain her location, digging out the throwing knife from his stomach in a visceral plucking motion and launching it at her. It connected with the back of her lower right thigh and painfully made her miss a step, causing her right leg to clip the teacher's desk and bring her body to her knees. As she tried to stand again, her bleeding ankle throbbing in pain, Rico was already on her; even through his blindness, he navigated the area with ease. If he saw it once, he'd remember it, the layout of the classroom was still fresh in his mind as he bounded down the aisle of desks and tackled her into the teacher's work table. In an almost artistic formulation of pain and joy, he blindly sank his blade just above her head, cutting off a decent chunk of her brilliant blonde hair. She shoved her hand into his wound, still oozing from the throwing knife he had extracted, loosening his body, which had pressed against her for but a second, and allowing her to slam a stapler into his face. She rapped it on his left cheek 3 times, embedding the thin steel frames into his facial tissue, and was about to sink it into him a fourth time when he threw her off the desk and into the bookshelf, banging her head on its thick base, and sending a snort of blood from her nose. Her phone fell from her pocket as she tried to stand up, and he heard it hit the floor, instinctively bringing his knee into her lower back to prevent her from steadying her balance. As he collected her phone, nothing happened; his stolen vision was unable to perceive Victor's phone was useless to him. She kicked him away, rocking his chin with the heel of her shoe, but he turned the machete on her again and, this time, impaled her hip. Stunned by the sudden trauma to her body and unable to move, he shoved his hand into the pocket opposite the one Victor's phone had fallen from. As he triumphantly took what must be her phone, he couldn't realize he had just grabbed Alex's phone, the phone she kept on her at all times to remember him. Emi bolted up as she tore the throwing knife from her leg and tried to slice his neck but fell prey to a powerful palm strike that diverted her attack to his wrist. He withdrew the machete from her hip with a grisly force, and though he aimed for her head, the split-second delayed motion of being forced to use his left hand as opposed to his mangled right allowed Emi to react just in time, rolling her body and utilizing her backpack as a desperate shield. As the blade penetrated the material she shifted sideways with all her weight and shoved him off balance. He landed on his maimed hand, causing him to hesitate as reflexive pain commanded his attention.

Earlier, when Emi had fumbled with her shoes, she had been undoing her shoelaces, the only weapon she could come up with from her immediate bodily possessions. Now, as she jumped on his back, she dug her shoelaces into his neck from behind at a crippling angle, cutting off his blood flow. He tried to grab at her, but she wouldn't budge; this was her last stand, the last stand Alex had allowed her with his long dead phone. As Rico's consciousness dissipated, he realized he had been chasing an impossible goal. He spent his whole life hunting, but one day we all become the hunted, even if it's just the birds pecking our flesh or worms munching on our organs. He had become so infatuated with the chase that his own hubris had gotten the best of him. Though it took the dying efforts of many people from different walks of life including Sasha, Margaux, Sang-Wook, Akachukwu, and now Emi, Ricardo Guzman took his last breath.