We started at 7:00pm (though the hunt didn't begin until 7:30) and prepared together for a night that would thrill, injure, and delight. Our innocent team of three (we picked up an extra at checkpoint 2, though she seemed unaffected by either color ribbon) made it past four checkpoints before our decent into madness.

I'll post photos once I see which were taken of me. I did not bring a camera. This is good. It would have been smashed in my epic fall into the hands of the red ribboned army.


This post would be longer if it were not 3am. . . that was fucking brilliant.



--Edit 1:40pm following day --

We did not know what we were getting into yesterday in the early evening. The wind and rain held off for most of the night and every sound startled us. Were the chasers behind us? Would they be on this back street, so far from most of the runners? Would they think to take this potentially dangerous trail by the highway?

Each individual in the city of Chicago arose suspicion with their presence. Is that an arm band? By late evening, it became difficult to determine the colors. Our new strategy. . . appear to be chasers. This held off many blue ribboners and we managed to clear the first two checkpoints quickly.

For some reason, we lost our sense of direction. We wandered near to checkpoint five when we were looking for checkpoint three. A quick ride on the red line caught us back up to the intended location, but not before wearing out members of our party. We found the third and fourth with great ease. The walk to five was mostly quiet. . . until we saw the slow-walking stalker.

We were nearly to the fifth checkpoint (on the home stretch!) when we noticed a person talking into a cellular phone. He was staring at us and slowly following. We looked natural. . . waited until we were out of his sight. . . then ran. We were nearing the turn into view of the diner when two red bands jumped out at us. We were earlier than expected, I know. They looked surprised. We three tired wanderers turned, intending to dodge into the empty street and run. My shoes gave out beneath me. The gravel betrayed my weight and we were caught.

My hands are still scarred this morning from falling into the street. No blood. No pain. We were red ribbons now. The night had come to a close for the hunted, but the hunters still wanted to see the finish line. We made it to the final ceremony before the crowd dispersed.

That night, we were hunted in the streets of Chicago.