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??At first we wanted to send Simon alone,?? Ian admitted. ??As the smartest of us. And the most athletic,?? he blushed when he saw my skeptical look. ??Well, relatively athletic.??
??But the three of us were asked to participate together,?? Barty interrupted him. ??And only now we know why.??
??Because no one will miss you that way,?? I nodded understandingly.
But I'm not a freak! I will be looked for. By Vika, at the very least. Most likely she's already flooded me with messages. And when she gets no answer, my friend will start calling the show managers. First she'll be fed promises that I'll call back after the competition is over, telling her about the privacy policy. Then she'd want to come, but it's unlikely she'd be able to trace my route from Krasnoyarsk airport. If Vika shows excessive zeal and succeeds in the search, she and Sergey will be killed as well. What relatives they have will not go beyond the TV show ?Wait for Me?. The show organizers have foreseen everything, choosing people from small towns, mostly lonely and unremarkable, and invited their entire families. Fitting into this group, like I was one of them, left me with a dismal feeling. My gloomy musings were interrupted by Ian who tried to pass me a joint. I kept stubbornly refusing but he wouldn't let up and made faces.
??It's the best antidepressant, believe me,?? he said. ??See how mellow I am???
His grimace made even Lesha snort loudly. But he immediately faded away in embarrassment seeing his father's stern gaze.
The lights in the barracks were out so I could see the guys' faces only thanks to the lit end of the joint. Simon was squinting myopically, Barty was smiling, giggling intermittently, and Ian was staring off with an unfocused gaze. It was a wonderful group, a depressed Russian woman and three stoned American freaks.
Ian passed out on the floor, not letting go of the joint. Simon and Barty, choking with laughter, dragged him to bed but they couldn't get him to the top bunk.
When the guys fell asleep, I wrapped myself in a blanket and sat on the bed for a long time, staring at the only star visible through the narrow window. The silence in the barracks was broken only by the buzzing of the ubiquitous mosquitoes, the snoring of a German guy, and the heavy sobs of Laila. Even Diego and Snezhana finally fell asleep, having had enough of each other. As I listened to the night, I thought about how the day before I wanted to fail the competitions if I didn't like the show. Now that I hate everything going on around me, my only goal is to make it through. To win at least one more day without going through death's door.
I woke up as dawn broke through the narrow windows of the barracks. Who knows, maybe this is the last day of my life. I have to make the most of every moment. I grinned. The second day of the hunt and I was already a philosopher. A lyrical poet. No, it really was easier when I was depressed.
I got out of bed and cautiously looked out the window. The color of the cloudless sky brought tears to my eyes. It looked unnaturally blue, like it had been processed with a color filter. The guards were unloading thermoses of coffee and plastic-wrapped sandwiches from their carts. I learned from their conversations that the hunters had a lot of fun during the night. Stu especially hit it big. Hopefully the hangover would affect their marksmanship. The conversation suddenly died down as the Viking's girlfriend, in her tight T-shirt and gym shorts, was crossing the courtyard, apparently returning from her morning jog. She looked like a model in a sports commercial. When Sandra caught the guards looking at the slender huntress she shouted and they began unloading the cart, doubling their effort.
After breakfast, pushed on by the gamekeepers, we went out to the area in front of the barracks where the hunters were already waiting for us. No one showed any signs of a hangover. The cowboy grinned, staring at the girls. I hid behind Simon's back.
??Hey, Armand,?? the Viking looked at the curly brown-haired hunter with the humped nose. ??Wanna bet? Wanna shoot that blonde over there???
Snezhana shuddered, and the brunette grimaced.
??He's more into the muscle guys,?? chuckled Stu, who obviously had time to brag to everyone about last night's successes.
The Viking's girlfriend laughed too. Ignoring the mockery, Armand scrutinized the crowd, pausing to look at the sturdiest men, like the biracial man killed on the first day. A short, blond-haired man took a cigarette out of a pack and lit it.
??Eric, are we hunting or not??? he asked the Viking, letting out a puff of smoke.
??Patience, Frost,?? he grinned. ??Letty will take her pick now, and then we can begin.??
With a smile on her thin lips, the brunette studied potential targets displayed on the screen and then turned her gaze to the crowd. No one seemed to be looking at me. I hope none of the five deviants were interested in me yet. But before I could relax, the crowd parted before me, and Jason emerged. He grabbed my forearm roughly and dragged me along with him. My knees buckled from fear. Outcast shoved a screaming Snezhana out of the crowd too.
??These two have an extra minute each,?? he explained.
I closed my eyes and took a breath, but the relief was replaced by panic. Oh, shit. Shit. Dammit! I'd agreed to run with Simon today. I looked at him questioningly, and he shook his head. No waiting, then. That's noble.
In the woods we split up: Snezhana ran forward, and I, coming across a camera, turned towards the wall. The siren howled. I had to hurry.
After about a kilometer, I realized that I had poorly remembered the way and had gotten myself lost in an unfamiliar spruce forest. I circled around it, trying to figure out the right direction, but no matter where I ran, the wall was nowhere to be seen. There was a clearing on one side, while the spruce forest turned into bushes on the other. Trying to avoid the cameras, I walked along the edge of the trees, staying away from the open space.
There was a small hill far ahead, and I decided to go around it. When I went round an embankment, I had to duck – Armand was in front of me. The hunter drew his pistol and reached for his knife, but his hand froze midway. A gamekeeper in a leather vest stealthily appeared from behind and shoved me with the butt of his gun. I fell down to my knees.
??Are you sure you don't want this one???
Armand shook his head and started climbing up the embankment while the gamekeeper went around me, keeping his sights on me. I closed my eyes. He leaned over and hissed right into my ear:
??Run!??
He didn't have to say it twice. I jumped up and dashed across the clearing.
??Satyr,?? Sandra's voice sounded in the radio behind me. ??Stop fooling around and get her away from the wall!??
??Don't be jealous,?? grinned the gamekeeper.
I didn't hear Sandra's answer because I'd run a fair distance away from the gamekeeper. When the clearing and the embankment were far behind me, I sat down for a moment, catching my breath. If Satyr and Armand caught up with me, I wouldn't have to worry: the Frenchman wouldn't touch me – I was too minor a target for him.
The wind was rustling the leaves in the trees overhead, the birds were chirping; as I closed my eyes and leaned my back against the tree trunk, I found myself enjoying the sounds of the forest. Perhaps nature could have cured my depression after the death of my loved ones. However, that would have been in that former life. In the present one, there was only the countdown to my own demise.
A shot rang out in the distance echoed by Eric's contented voice and Letty's laughter. Forgetting the beauty of nature, I ran again. My legs carried me toward the wall. As I jumped over the creek, I landed on one knee. It was sure to leave a bruise, but it was more important not to damage the joint. Sitting on the ground, I carefully bent and unbent my leg, felt the bone, and tried to stand up: my knee hurt in both cases, but it was tolerable.
??Poor thing hurt her knee,?? the mocking chuckle of Outcast behind me took my mind off my leg.
I'd forgotten to look around while I was nursing my leg! Not looking back, I dashed back across the creek. Two bullets hit the ground to my right. I fell onto the ground with my hands over my head, and the gamekeeper, whistling and hooting, kept firing at me, and only stopped when a pair of combat boots grew before my eyes. I looked up, already knowing whose face I was about to see. Given my pathologically bad luck, it could only be Jason.
On the other side of the creek, Outcast kept laughing. There were no hunters nearby, which meant that death had once again added to its daily quota of taken lives. Not waiting for orders, I got up. Jason indicated with his head the direction to go and we headed through the woods. Outcast went the other way to help the others. As we walked toward the barracks, I found myself thinking that I would certainly try to talk to any other gamekeeper. This one scared me more than any of them, even more than the hunters. He didn't say a word; I could only hear his footsteps behind me, and in that heavy silence the feeling of fear did not recede. Perhaps it would have turned into panic had I not slipped on a mossy log. Trying to keep my balance I waved my arms but stretched out on the ground anyway, hitting both my tailbone and the back of my head. For the first few seconds I couldn't even get up: my head was buzzing, and the dense crown of trees swirled in a vague circle before my eyes. The figure of Jason loomed over me from one side. I tried to get up, groaning.
??Don't move,?? his voice sounded through the humming in my ears.
Or did I imagine it? I followed Jason's gaze, and froze, not because I was ordered to, but because paralyzing fear came over me: a snake had slid out of the grass and onto the log. It came right at me, a large viper! It may have been of average size, but it was as frightening as an anaconda. They say you can survive its bite, but that possibility was not in the cards for me – I was unlikely to find a doctor within a 5-kilometer radius. The viper twisted through the moss onto my unmoving boot and slithered higher up my leg, to my knee. I opened my eyes wide in terror. Either the snake didn't like being stared at, or I twitched and it noticed the movement. The viper froze, rising to an aggresse stance. Keeping my eyes on it, I saw Jason leaning in slowly through my peripheral vision. Enjoying the spectacle? Or making sure the viper would definitely bite me? My neck stiffened, but I couldn't move. The snake's head swayed in a hypnotizing dance. Now it will strike at me, and my part in this game of survival would be over. A flashing movement! A shadow flickered across my face and I barely had time to draw in air. I thought for a moment it was the snake, rushing forward like lightning, but the viper didn't have a chance to attack. Jason had grabbed its head and was slowly lifting it, staring at it. It was writhing in his fist, trying to close its jaws. The tail dangled in agony right in front of my eyes. He must be nuts… was he going to strangle it with his bare hands? But Jason just tossed the viper aside. Was it a twisted form of mercy? Or a tribute to his own kind?
??You didn't… kill it…??
I was struck by his expression as he stared at me, as if digesting the fact that I had dared to talk to him. And I couldn't tell if that made him angry. Or was he not even taking my impudence seriously?
??The snake is a perfect predator,?? he said curtly, stepping toward me and lifting me up by the collar of my T-shirt.
Interesting classification. I'm clearly lower than reptiles on the food chain.
??Quadrant two five,?? the radio on Jason's shoulder came to life. ??The rat is in the noose. You wouldn't believe how that fatso got himself tangled up in it! You should see it!??
There was a distinct chuckle.
??Bronx, stop cluttering up the airwaves,?? Jason cooled down the funnyman.
Bronx is probably that dark-skinned man. A typical ghetto dweller.
??Quadrant four-two,?? Jason looked around, as if he were estimating the distance. ??Satyr, over.??
??Quadrant six one.??
The roll call continued.
??Englishman, over.??
??I'm in quadrant three one,?? said a voice with a distinctly British accent.
??Quadrant four two. Intercept.??
??Copy that. Ten minutes.??
I didn't remember Englishman and got to see him better when he emerged from the nearby thicket, purring to himself. He was of medium height, dark-haired, with a two or three day stubble. He gave off a perfectly ordinary appearance and looked seemingly harmless, except for the mere trivialities of a sniper rifle, a huge number of magazines in his vest pockets and a handgun in his waist holster.
Jason disappeared behind the trees without giving any explanation. The gamekeeper took aim at me and pointed with his head in the direction of the camp. Rubbing the sore back of my head, I headed forward, watching my step to avoid another encounter with a viper. Behind me, Englishman kept humming an unfamiliar tune while I worked my way through the roll call on the radio in my head. The gamekeepers divide the area into quadrants, and there are at least six of them. I couldn't get a mental estimate of the total area, but I hoped the guys could do it if I recounted the dialogue to them. While I was thinking this over, we arrived. Englishman pushed me into the barracks and handcuffed me. I looked for familiar faces. Simon, Barty, and Lesha were already sitting in their beds. The latter smiled when he saw me.
Waving back to them, I rushed to the shower where I spent a long time washing the clumps of earth and cobwebs out of my hair and rinsing my jacket and T-shirt. It was impossible to take them off completely with the handcuffs on, but I couldn't walk around in dirty clothes anymore, my skin was itchy. I tried not to think about the smell. I washed the jeans and put them on soaking wet. They would dry out quicker that way. When I returned from the shower, I saw that dinner had already been delivered. All the survivors had finally been rounded up.
I was reluctant to count the dead, but it happened automatically anyway. The cowboy kept his promise, Laila didn't come back. One of the Germans was killed. Also the big guy with the beard, whom Armand had been eyeing this morning. The curly-haired fellow who had assumed someone would be left alive out of the twenty-five targets. And… Ian wasn't in the barracks.
A grim-faced Simon sat cross-legged on the floor with his back resting on the legs of the bed. Barty was half-sitting next to him, twirling a half-empty water bottle in his hands.
??I'm sorry,?? I knelt down beside them and added, taking the bottle away. ??But you shouldn't. Or do you want to be sleepwalking all day tomorrow???
Chapter 3
Simon, Barty and I were lying across the bed so that our faces were covered by the top bunk. A joint from Ian's supplies passed from hand to hand, but we just pretended to smoke. Better to be underestimated. Bending my knees I spread a tattered meal box with a mapped layout of the camp on my hips, blocking it from the cameras. All of my makeup was in the suitcase, pens and pencils were gone, too, but Barty had a box of matches.
??Here's the creek,?? Simon said, drawing a curved line with the charred end of a match. ??It goes right up to the wall and under it. It's impossible to get under the wall, there's netting, and two guards.??
??The lookout towers are here and here,?? I drew two X's on the layout. ??We have to pick a place between them, wait for darkness, and climb over the wall.??
??There's only one question,?? Barty concluded. ??Where to wait for nightfall.??
After marking all the known traps on the cardboard and roughly dividing the area into quadrants, we moved closer to the window. We could see only part of the site through its narrow opening. While the guards were on watch outside, slowly strolling along the barracks, we kept watch at the window from the inside, hoping to learn something new. The surveillance didn't reveal anything new. Throughout the whole day we didn't see any of the hunters. They either lived further up or preferred to spend their free time in the cottages. Outcast hung out near the trailers for a while. After lunch Satyr appeared from under the canopy at the entrance to the camp with a trap on his shoulder and disappeared into the thicket. The woods were being prepared for the hunt again.
??The guards change every six hours. That makes at least eight people watching us every 24 hours,?? Barty calculated.
??I wonder how much they get paid for their silence??, Simon chuckled. ??They look pretty well-fed. I don't think they're undernourished.??
??Maybe they're killed as unnecessary witnesses??? I shrugged. ??It's cheaper.??
??Where would they hide so many bodies???
??Maybe there's a crematorium here?? Barty assumed. ??Or a cold room.??
??It's costly,?? Simon disagreed. ??It would consume too much electricity.??
??It's easier to drown them in the swamp,?? I agreed. ??There are quite a few on the grounds here??.
??Enough with the theories,?? Barty reached for the map. ??Let's see what we know about the traps. So far we know for sure about the wolf pit and the steel traps.??
??They're not the only ones here,?? Lesha was obviously attracted by our playing spies and joined in, despite his father's disapproval.
I hurriedly charted everything he told me: the loop in which one of the Germans had gotten tangled yesterday, and the net along one of the glades that Snezhana had almost fallen into.
??Keeping an eye on her??? I winked.
The boy blushed and looked down, not knowing what to say.
??Come on,?? I reassured him. ??She's pretty. And you're a hundred times better than Diego.??
But either not needing my approval or failing to appreciate it, he retreated, muttering that he needed to talk to his father.
We put the new info on the map and hid it in the toilet in case we were searched.
The next day we were herded out of the barracks as soon as it dawned. The sky was overcast, and it seemed even darker in the woods. Sandra greeted the party with her usual pomposity, and we raced forward followed by the blasting sound of the siren. Simon and Barty wanted to run with me but there were too many gaps in the map so we split up to explore them.
I stopped when I heard the gunshots and turned my head, trying to figure out the direction they came from. I couldn't figure out which way to go, so I crouched down and waited. There was no point in running in a random direction, I could run into a hunter. It turned out to be the right thing to do because I soon saw one of them. Vogue flashed between the trees first, followed by Frost. Walking stealthily, like a cat, the hunter slowly moved forward, gesturing to the other. I ducked, hiding behind the remains of a stump. Both were still too far away to see me. I huddled in the grass, holding my breath and occasionally looked up. They were slowly turning to the right, coming closer, but they still weren't looking in my direction. Finally Frost raised his gun, taking aim. I couldn't see his target, but when he pulled the trigger, his satisfied smile told me that he hadn't missed.
??With one shot,?? Vogue nodded approvingly.
??When has it ever been otherwise??? Frost asked self-contentedly, pulling out a cigarette.
Instead of answering, the gamekeeper saluted him with his gloved hand.
I waited until they started moving away in the opposite direction and slowly followed them, not something they'd expect me to do. But I was unable to sneak into the camp unnoticed: one of the nets that wasn't marked on the map ruined my plan.
When I hit the wire, I instinctively threw myself to the side and that was fortuitous. The net opened in flight but it only entangled my legs, pulling them together rather tightly. Twisting, I tried to take it off. The rope bit into my fingers, but I'd rather lose some of my skin than my life. Having broken free, I looked around. No one had noticed me yet, but I was undoubtedly drawing attention to myself by thrashing through the woods like a bear. Unwilling to tempt fate, I ducked and continued on my way, crouching.
Catching movement in the corner of my eye, I darted behind a tree just in time. I was being shot at. I had to run away again.
Gasping for breath, I raced through the woods, weaving through the trees. My heart was pounding frantically as if it was going to explode. Wet branches whipped my cheeks but I ignored them, dashing through the brush. I didn't even realize it was raining and that the grass was wet until I ran into the clearing and fell down. The camera on the pole in the middle of the clearing slowly turned in my direction. Another, on a special crane, came down to get a close-up of my face. I was tempted to give the invisible viewer the middle finger, but it could have cost me my life. This was not the time to play Katniss Everdeen. Not wasting valuable seconds, I jumped up and ran again.
In three days I had explored the area only partially: I barely remembered this sector of the forest. I hesitated at the fork in the trail and turned to the left. I almost fell into the hole of a wolf trap: slowing down sharply, I slipped on the wet ground and fell, inertia dragging me forward. The distance was enough for my legs to overbalance, pulling me into the trap. Imagining the sharpened stakes below, I grabbed at everything within reach and hung on the edge. I tried to get out by pressing my toes into the trap walls, but the rain was making my shoes slip. There was a scream in the distance, interrupted by a gunshot. I pulled myself up again, whimpering in pain: two fingernails were broken and splinters were stuck under the rest of them. ??Think positive,?? I was trying to urge myself on. A shot means a hunter, and a scream means death. And that death means that at least one more killer's daily limit is exhausted. It really doesn't take much in this life to become a cynic. Just three days of running through the woods from armed degenerates eager to kill you. Another push and I climbed out of the trap for good, falling on my back with a sigh of relief. I was alive. But the smile was immediately wiped off my lips by the crackling of a broken branch: they were close. The hunters' footsteps were barely audible, but I knew he was among them. He was following me, raising goosebumps all over my skin. I have felt his presence since the first day of the hunt. And here it was again, the quintessence of danger and fear…
There were three pursuers. They were approaching from the right, and there was nothing I could do but go past the trap deeper into the woods. I had hardly run five meters when a bullet chipped a piece of bark off the tree in front of my face and made me freeze. I got the message, I was not allowed to go that way. I rushed to my left, but another bullet stopped me again. I could see the gamekeepers encircling me, but I kept darting from side to side, twisting and weaving. They weren't going to kill me today. They were just trying to scare me, as they routinely do. The circle tightened, and another pirouette brought me too close to one of the gamekeepers. He swung his rifle at my ankle, knocking me down. Well, that was that. This is it. I knelt without raising my eyes, and could see two silhouettes on both sides. The cold metal touched the back of my neck. I couldn't see their faces, but I knew exactly who was behind me, and whose gun was pointed at me. Jason.
??Freeze.??
The warning was unnecessary: in his presence I was afraid to even breathe.
With a yank, he made me get up, and pushed me toward Outcast standing nearby. I limped forward, but before I'd gone ten meters, he had me pinned against a tree.
??You know what the blondie did to get the fat man to let her go, don't you? I can let you go too, if you want??? he hissed into my ear with a nasty smile.
I could feel his tobacco-soaked breath on my face. Mixed with sweat, it turned into a nauseating cocktail of smells. The greasy hair touched my cheek. I jerked to the side, but Outcast was holding me tight.
??Come on, doll, work your mouth,?? he grabbed me by the hair and tried to pull me down on my knees.
??Get your hands off me,?? I gritted through my teeth.
??Outcast,?? Jason called out to him. ??We're running out of time. There are four more to find.??
The gamekeeper pulled away in annoyance.
