Chapter Summary: The Most Dangerous Game (Sequel)
The Most Dangerous Game (Sequel)
Rainsford jolted awake for the ninth time that night, breathing rapidly as his eyes darted to every crevice of his room. It had become a commonplace routine for him to wake up in such a manner, but today seemed different than it was yesterday. Once he finally calmed down, Rainsford glanced at the calendar, July 31, 1928. “ Why have I been awoken again and again?” Rainsford muttered to himself as he ran his fingers through his messy locks of hair. “No wonder. It’s been five years since--,” he cut himself off as goose bumps shuttered up and down his back. His breathing hitched as the memories of the aristocrat came flashing back towards him. The hunter could remember every single detail of that man’s face from the snow-white hair to high cheekbones and sharp turned nose, but the thing that he could recall the most about the man were his eyes. They were black eyes that could easily be mistaken to be bright and lightly, but in actuality belonged to a man filled with nothing but insanity and malicious intent. “Ugh! Get it together Sanger!” Rainsford slapped himself back to reality as he glanced at his mahogany, teakwood nightstand with a small digital alarm clock. The time read 4:30 a.m. as the faint sound of alarms blared from loudspeakers outside of the château. Groans from Cossack …show more content…
soldiers could be heard from the outside as Rainsford arose from his bed. After putting on his uniform, the hunter stifled a yawn as he trudged outside of his château towards the mess hall. “Soldiers, attention!” Rainsford yelled as immediately after slamming open the rusty, metal doors. After the death of the first general, Rainsford chosen to become the new general. Once he took control of this position, he began to safe proof every single little aspect of Ship-Trap Island. He’d place signs at every fatal area and gradually trained every hunting dog to hunt down rabbits and deer instead of humans. The soldiers instantly straightened their backs, formed into a line, and saluted their general. The feeling of anxiety fell deep into Rainsford’s stomach. His heartbeat through the roof as he took a breath and began to speak. “As you all know, today is Tuesday,” he started marching towards a back corner of the vast room where a titanium keypad was implemented into the aging, wooden walls. There, Rainsford began to silently whisper to himself the password as he pressed each button with a precision and grace that only someone as skilled with his fingers could. A once locked vault almost immediately opened. He walked into the vault. “And as you all know,” Rainsford returned with his own personal hunting rifle.
“Today is hunting day. After breakfast we shall go hunting for rabbits.” The hunter stared down at the rifle with such love and compassion that he had forgotten all about everything that happened half a decade ago and rather reminisced about the memories held within the general idea of hunting. Those memories where he and his father would travel to a local forest where they’d hunt and bond. There would be those rare occasions where he would actually shoot the animal down and he and his family would sit down at the table and have dinner like a normal
family. Rainsford's daydreaming was cut short when one of the soldiers clumsily fell onto the sodden tiles of the mess hall. Now slightly irritated Rainsford stomped over to the graceless soldier, recognizing who he was. “Private Kostyshyn, get up now.” Normally, Rainsford would have the soldier do 25 push-ups, but today the hunter would rather get outdoors as quickly as possible and thus let the private get up. “A-apologies, sir!” The now nervous and flustered man managed to stand back up. Kostyshyn stumbled across the room in the direction of the other soldiers. Rainsford followed suit. Rainsford was never the type to eat like a glutton, he'd much rather consume more simple foods such as bread, cheese, vegetables, and whatever animal he'd kill that day. The food in the kitchen tried and failed to allure him towards them.
Rainsford jolted awake for the ninth time that night, breathing rapidly as his eyes darted to every crevice of his room. It had become a commonplace routine for him to wake up in such a manner, but today seemed different than it was yesterday. Once he finally calmed down, Rainsford glanced at the calendar, July 31, 1928. “ Why have I been awoken again and again?” Rainsford muttered to himself as he ran his fingers through his messy locks of hair. “No wonder. It’s been five years since--,” he cut himself off as goose bumps shuttered up and down his back. His breathing hitched as the memories of the aristocrat came flashing back towards him. The hunter could remember every single detail of that man’s face from the snow-white hair to high cheekbones and sharp turned nose, but the thing that he could recall the most about the man were his eyes. They were black eyes that could easily be mistaken to be bright and lightly, but in actuality belonged to a man filled with nothing but insanity and malicious intent. “Ugh! Get it together Sanger!” Rainsford slapped himself back to reality as he glanced at his mahogany, teakwood nightstand with a small digital alarm clock. The time read 4:30 a.m. as the faint sound of alarms blared from loudspeakers outside of the château. Groans from Cossack …show more content…
soldiers could be heard from the outside as Rainsford arose from his bed. After putting on his uniform, the hunter stifled a yawn as he trudged outside of his château towards the mess hall. “Soldiers, attention!” Rainsford yelled as immediately after slamming open the rusty, metal doors. After the death of the first general, Rainsford chosen to become the new general. Once he took control of this position, he began to safe proof every single little aspect of Ship-Trap Island. He’d place signs at every fatal area and gradually trained every hunting dog to hunt down rabbits and deer instead of humans. The soldiers instantly straightened their backs, formed into a line, and saluted their general. The feeling of anxiety fell deep into Rainsford’s stomach. His heartbeat through the roof as he took a breath and began to speak. “As you all know, today is Tuesday,” he started marching towards a back corner of the vast room where a titanium keypad was implemented into the aging, wooden walls. There, Rainsford began to silently whisper to himself the password as he pressed each button with a precision and grace that only someone as skilled with his fingers could. A once locked vault almost immediately opened. He walked into the vault. “And as you all know,” Rainsford returned with his own personal hunting rifle.
“Today is hunting day. After breakfast we shall go hunting for rabbits.” The hunter stared down at the rifle with such love and compassion that he had forgotten all about everything that happened half a decade ago and rather reminisced about the memories held within the general idea of hunting. Those memories where he and his father would travel to a local forest where they’d hunt and bond. There would be those rare occasions where he would actually shoot the animal down and he and his family would sit down at the table and have dinner like a normal
family. Rainsford's daydreaming was cut short when one of the soldiers clumsily fell onto the sodden tiles of the mess hall. Now slightly irritated Rainsford stomped over to the graceless soldier, recognizing who he was. “Private Kostyshyn, get up now.” Normally, Rainsford would have the soldier do 25 push-ups, but today the hunter would rather get outdoors as quickly as possible and thus let the private get up. “A-apologies, sir!” The now nervous and flustered man managed to stand back up. Kostyshyn stumbled across the room in the direction of the other soldiers. Rainsford followed suit. Rainsford was never the type to eat like a glutton, he'd much rather consume more simple foods such as bread, cheese, vegetables, and whatever animal he'd kill that day. The food in the kitchen tried and failed to allure him towards them.