The Trophy Hunted Redemption

By Paul F. Rafferty

Jack is a husband and father who runs for his life after he is kidnapped while hunting in Africa. In the original book, The Trophy Hunted, Jack is whisked away to a secret ranch where he became the hunted. His ordeal forced Jack to realize that the lives of all animalsincluding his ownmatter. Ultimately, he is left for dead at an abandoned train depot.

In this sequel, those who followed Jacks plight now learn of his fate. To the surprise of many, Jack survived his near-death experience at the train depot, only to again find himself imprisoned at the secret ranch. Ultimately, Jack escapes his tormentors, leading to a thrilling final showdown where the secrets of Jacks survival and the ranch are revealed.

Who saved Jack at the depot? And will he ever return home to his family?

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Jan 23, 2017
• ISBN: 9781532015816

Paul F. Rafferty

Paul F Rafferty is a lawyer and writer who created a two book suspense thriller where trophy hunters became the hunted. Married to his wife of 25 years, and with two awesome children, Paul lives in sunny southern California.

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Copyright © 2017 Paul Rafferty.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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ISBN: 978-1-5320-1582-3 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5320-1598-4 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5320-1581-6 (e)

iUniverse rev. date: 03/13/2017

Contents

1 Can The Trophy Hunter Find His Way Home After All?

2 Every New Day Brings A New Opportunity

3 Comfy Digs Do Not Guarantee Comfort

4 It’s Time To Spend Quality Time With Your Friends

5 Loving Thy Nurse And Her Care

6 Living A Bad Dream Is Worse Than A Harsh Reality

7 A Chance For Jack To Repent To Others

8 Unless Lightening Strikes, The Hunt Resumes

9 Great Things Come To Those With A Good Story

10 How Does One Say Hello Unannounced

11 Spending Some Time With The Dearly Departed

12 Losing Track Of Time Brings New Friends

13 An End To The Wait To See If Life Will End

14 Standing Is Better Than Falling

15 Time To Learn Something New

To my non-two legged friends

Bob, Jack, Peanut, Puma, Elvis, Zuce, Annabelle, Scarlet, Otis, Peaches, and Fish.

1

CAN THE TROPHY HUNTER FIND HIS WAY HOME AFTER ALL?

T HE BUZZING IN HIS EARS stirred Jack from unconsciousness. His eyes crusted shut, Jack struggled to open them but he felt so weak. His eyelids were just too heavy. So, for a time, all Jack could do was listen to the irritating buzzing that seemed to be all around him. Jack also felt the sun on his neck, and in conjunction, realized through his closed eyelids that it was daylight.

And, apparently…, he was still alive. But, where was he and what was he doing? Jack couldn’t remember to save his life. Then again, maybe Jack was dead! Perhaps in death, his brain was attempting to rewrite what had just happened to him over the last few days. That made no sense. If Jack was dead, his brain would certainly have done a better job with the rewrite than placing him alone on his side, out in the middle of nowhere, with his eyes crusted shut. No, Jack thought. This sucks bad enough that he simply had to be alive. However, at least he still had his life. That was saying something after his last three days somewhere on the plateau of an African country called Amanbai.

Jack’s memory soon began to return. Jack had recently come to Amanbai to hunt a rare gorilla that many doubted even existed. As a trophy hunter, it was just another personal challenge for him at the expense of an animal’s life, but he killed that gorilla as her baby watched, and satisfied the goal of every trophy hunter; to find the animal and make the kill. Some kills were harder than others, but this time around, he had an expert tracker with him, and that made it possible to make his kill in the wild, not at some stupid animal ranch.

However, Jack did not plan on what would happen next. Jack met up with the wrong individual at a bar in a small town in Amanbai, and he had plans for Jack after he killed that ape. Jack was drugged and then taken to a remote ranch called Homo Sapien Ranch (HSR), where he was stripped of everything but his senses, and there he became the hunted. Jack later met up with two other trophy hunters who were in the same unfortunate situation. Together, the three of them did their best to outrun other trophy hunters who were just like him, but who had been convinced with lies from HSR that Jack and his friends should be hunted down like animals. Those hunters had been told that Jack was a criminal of the worst kind and deserved to die—and that made sense enough to the hunters to hunt him and his companions down.

None of that was true of course. Jack was just a chiropractor from Wisconsin. His friends were just as innocent as him. But, his love for killing animals for sport was not viewed favorably by those who owned HSR, and one by one, his two companions were brutally murdered by the hunters who then skinned them and took their heads for their own (obviously secret) collections. Jack was the lucky one of the three that had escaped, but the hunters eventually caught him at a train depot and killed him… or so he thought. As Jack lay on the ground with his eyes crusted shut in the light of that sunny day, he wondered whether he was still at that train depot, or just really dead.

Jack knew one thing. He needed to open up his God damned eyes. His other senses told him nothing. He smelled nothing. He tasted nothing. There was no noise around him, except for birds somewhere chirping happily.

Ah, the birds. He remembered now the birds of Amanbai, chirping and mocking him in his desperate situation. Jack remembered how much he hated those birds. But, he also vaguely recalled that the birds ultimately forgave him after Jack had an epiphany while being hunted for his life that he too was just an animal. After that, hunting other animals for sport just no longer made sense to him.

So, for Jack, while his journey to this point had been terrible, it had oddly been spiritual as well. The journey brought him back into the animal fold. He had once again learned respect, and perhaps even admiration for his fellow animals, and he no longer wanted to kill them for sport. Jack was grateful for the awakening, but next time, he’d prefer to get salvation over a beer in Wisconsin, not running for his freakin’ life in Amanbai.

That fucking buzzing. What is that?! He needed to pry his eyes open to see what the buzzing was all about.

Slowly, Jack pulled on his lids and slowly they came apart, one lid at a time. What he saw did not inspire him. The buzzing, as it turned out, came from flies that had surrounded his hand which had an arrow pierced through it. The flies were landing and chewing on the dried blood that had coagulated around the shaft of an arrow that had disappeared into the top of his hand, and had exited into a large bag that lay underneath him on the ground. Jack lay on top of the bag.

Jack continued to watch the flies feast on his dried blood for awhile, and he wondered whether he should even care. And then… he remembered more about how he died, but didn’t.

After getting surprised and cornered at a train depot by the trophy hunters, one of them shot an arrow into his hand to keep him from running. Pretty good shot really, Jack thought. Jack wasn’t sure he could have made that shot. But, anyway, now he looked down at the hunter’s work and wondered how fucked up his hand was, and whether it would be that way forever more.

Jack also remembered now that the shot to his hand was brilliantly intended to prevent him from running because the bag—another great touch—had secretly been left for him by the hunters, and it was filled with wood. Jack thought the bag was his savior, filled with clothes and supplies. But when he reached to pick it up, he was thanked with an arrow through his hand that pierced the fabric of the bag, and then stuck deeply into one of the large pieces of wood that was contained within it. Jack couldn’t then run, and the hunters sized him up for the kill.

But, he didn’t die. Why? Jack strained to recall the details, and slowly they came into focus. He remembered using the bag as a shield, and he remembered the hunter that was shooting arrows at him was unable to hit him with another arrow. Jack remembered that that hunter then got shot off his horse dead… but by who?!

Jack knew enough to know that he didn’t know who had fired that shot. But, that shooter ultimately took out both of the hunters who hunted him, leaving him facing Monroe… Jack’s abdominal muscles immediately clenched. Fear rose up within him.

Monroe…. What more could be said about a callous murderer who was the guide in charge of hunting him down, who led the other trophy hunters to him, and who personally supervised the murder of his friends. Monroe was an employee or principal of HSR and he drank its religion something fierce. It was this bastard Monroe who had drugged him originally, and then kidnapped him. It was Monroe who outsmarted—or just out-thought him. Honestly, Monroe had been smarter the entire time, repeatedly out-guessing him and his two mates, Alex and Robert, before ultimately finishing them off with arrows delivered by his paying customers. Monroe was evil. He even fed Jack when needed, but only in order to keep Jack healthy enough to kill him. He was a madman.

And… Monroe had been here, at the train depot. After the hunters failed to kill him, Monroe decided he was going to kill Jack himself. Jack could see now in his brain Monroe walking toward him with a knife while promising Jack that he would cut out his tongue and God knows what else. But, Monroe was interrupted by… Jack strained to remember….

The gunshots! Yes, that was it, Jack now recalled. Monroe was disturbed by the gunshots, and must have assumed he’d be next. Monroe then escaped on his horse but as he did, he looked deep into Jack’s eyes to let Jack know there would be another day where the two of them would again meet. Jack shivered. It made what little blood Jack had left within him run cold. Seeing Monroe again would be a big problem. Right now though, it may be the least of his worries.

Jack began to move, and instantly felt a stinging pain in his shoulder. That helped Jack recall that his assassins ultimately drove a second arrow through his muscle just above his clavicle after botching the shot that was supposed to kill him. Jack looked down and saw the gaping hole in his shoulder, surrounded by yet another dried circle of blood. From it, the aching came, and lucky Jack, now his hand began to ache as well. Jack surveyed his situation, and was reminded that he could be instead dead… so all in all it wasn’t so bad. Still….

Jack closed his eyes and opened them again. Nope, still alive. A small part of him was disappointed… until he remembered his family. His family. His family!! He was still alive and could again perhaps see his family! His wife Ann. His kids Jack Jr. and Beth. MY GOD, Jack whispered aloud to himself. His family needed him. But look at him now. There he lay, on a bag he didn’t own full of wood, with a hole in his shoulder and an arrow in his hand, bloody and weak, with flies relying on him for food. What a pathetic situation, he thought.

Jack desperately missed his wife Ann and his two children. He had been missing for days. He had obviously not shown up for his plane flight home as scheduled, he had not rescheduled, and he was no longer at the hotel where he had stayed. Perhaps his personal effects were still in the room, and perhaps someone would come looking for him. Or, perhaps HSR was smart, and had cleaned out his hotel room, leaving not a trace of him behind. Perhaps the hotel operator was a co-conspirator and erased the fact that he had ever been there.

Still, he knew his wife must be looking for him now, and she had to know something was wrong. Jack was just a chiropractor from Wisconsin, but he was dependable and Ann would know that his disappearance was not right. Ann would find him. Or at least, Ann would be raising a stink with the US Embassy in Amanbai, and they would certainly be looking for him… right? But, would they ever find him out here on HSR? Not likely.

Jack also wondered whether Ann would blame herself for his disappearance. While Ann had hated his now abandoned passion for killing animals for sport, she had mentioned Amanbai to him in the first place. As opposed to other countries that were known quantities, Amanbai was something of a mystery. Most had never even heard of the country, and frankly, when Ann first mentioned it, Jack had to look it up on the internet. Amanbai was a peaceful country from the outside. From the inside, it was the Wild West, where apparently, people could set up ranches to murder humans. Would Ann ever get over recommending his path to Amanbai?

Ironically, when he and Ann had met in college almost twenty years ago, she was a shooting enthusiast too and had been the better shot. Ann had also been on their school’s marksman team. Jack had grown up shooting as well with his Father, but he was no match for Ann. Ann wasn’t a hunter at all, but she never had a problem with Jack’s hunting trips to harvest animals for food. However, as Jack slowly wandered into the useless realm of killing animals for sport, she did not like it—at all. And sadly, the closer Jack got to trophy hunting, the less Ann cared to shoot any more. When they were young and had no kids, they would shoot together at target ranges a weekend or two a month—and it was fun, although Jack would always get beaten. After Jack chose to look down his sights for sport, Ann no longer wanted to look down them at all. She then saw their pastime as a form of encouragement for him do something she really hated. She had softly urged him to abandon his murderous sport. She had played the guilt card, the hurt feelings card, and even tried the be a good citizen on Earth card. Nothing worked, and she loved Jack. So, after years and years of hating it, she gave up trying to change Jack and just tolerated it in silent torment.

Now, he saw what Ann had always known about animals. And, he regretted inflicting on her the sadness of his stupid pastime. Jack sighed.

The only way to make it up to Ann now was to get home. So, Jack simply had to move. But where to go? Frankly, whether he could move at all remained unanswered as he lay there under a sun that was starting to set. Jack coughed, and that in turn caused him to flinch and brought a piercing pain to his injured shoulder. God, this sucks.

Ahead of him on the ground, a large red stain the size of a beach ball appeared. It immediately reminded Jack of another casualty of his recent past. A man named Motulu had saved him, only he too turned out to be a trickster who led him back to this place. Motulu found him in the wild, and then gave an award winning performance in enticing Jack to return to the ranch to get the bag that lay underneath him. It was supposed to be filled with clothes and help. Instead, it was filled with wood and death. Well done Motulu, Jack thought. Jack bit like a bass on a hook, and now, here he was, full of holes and all fucked up. Ironically, in thanks for his work, Motulu got an arrow in the back accidentally after one of the hunters who wanted to kill Jack missed, and killed Motulu instead. Looking at the dried pool of blood on the ground where Motulu had died, Jack could see a bloody trail leading away from it, indicating that Motulu’s body had been dragged away.

Jack looked back down below him, and there again sat the bag that had also tricked him into his latest situation. He’d been part of a few sleight of hands himself as a trophy hunter to entice animals to the necessary spot so that he could kill them, but this plan really took the cake.

What now. Jack took stock and returned his attention to his next steps. It was clear he need to untether himself from this stupid bag. Looking back down at his hand, that meant removing the arrow that pinned it, and him, to the wood that was stuffed into the bag itself. Jack took inventory of his supplies to work with. He wore a pair of dirty shorts that HSR had put on him when he was kidnapped. And…, well, that was it. The sum total of his resources was a pair of dirty shorts that he had probably urinated in when he went into shock and passed out. No sense looking down to find that out right now. Also at his disposal: A bag of wood… and the arrow. Shit.