by Paul Emil
“Goddamn idiots,” he said. “Picked knives instead of guns. This shit wouldn’t have happened if you’d all picked guns. Guess I’m the only one who’s not an idiot. I saved your asses and emptied half my clip to do it. Goddamn waste of ammo.”
We all wanted him to shut up, but then again, nobody said anything because he was big and had a gun. I hated to admit it, but in a way, he was kind of right.
12
We continued to trudge towards the castle in the north, and I was glad were still in a group. My situational awareness was shot. I was walking around in a daze, like I’d been out partying and binge drinking. I felt like I was pitching forward, and my feet seemed to fall into place. With my legs on cruise control, my mind was free to wander.
I thought about what had happened. I was attacked in the woods by a stranger. That was scary, but was it a monster?
Yes, I thought, It was. In fact, it was what everyone was afraid of.
Still, I somehow felt cheated. I mean, this show was about Scottish monsters. Where were the faeries and the like?
They’re still out there, I thought with a shudder. The thug and the cat were just to soften us up and wear us down, or maybe thin the herd by taking a few of us out. They’re saving the big monsters for the finale.
Still, the hoodlum was out of place. I didn’t associate that with Scotland. Crime and violence and guns weren’t things I worried about, especially not in Skye. London is a huge city, and like anywhere else, you have to be smart and have good situational awareness when you’re out and about. But even then I felt relatively safe. I was never afraid of being held up at gunpoint or being shot. Guns didn’t fit into Britain. No, guns and gun violence were American fears. The producers were imposing their fears on us and contaminating my country. It was disgusting.
I started to wonder what would have happened if Marine hadn’t tackled the brute. I quickly cut that movie from playing in my mind.
Suddenly, I had a startling realization. People had been watching that. Possibly millions of them. They were watching right now.
Really? I thought. Millions of viewers were watching at this moment, sitting on their couches, in bars, in college lounges, and in theaters eagerly awaiting the next attack. How exciting it would be when it came and somebody got killed!
My face screwed up as if I’d tasted something bitter. Really? Were people really going to sit around and watch and (oh God) possibly even cheer while I got raped and killed?
Would they be disgusted? Some would, like Alysh. She had a sense of decency. But what about the rest? Is that what they wanted to see?
Of course it was. They were tuning in to watch me get eaten alive or torn apart by monsters with teeth and claws, so why wouldn’t they enjoy watching me get torn apart by the rapist?
This was entertainment, after all. It was raw. It was real. And, in some people’s minds, this really was justice.
I stopped in my tracks. I looked up at the storm clouds in the Scottish sky that managed to be both foreboding and beautiful at the same time.
Guns? A rapist? I lifted my head and shouted at the sky. “How dare you!?”
Everyone stopped. Clouds continued to drift in the cold sky. The world didn’t acknowledge me back in any way, but unlike somebody ranting to the universe on her own, I did have an audience. Somebody was watching. I thought of Cain with his tailored suits and mask-like smile. It thought of Vasha and her insults, and of the directors and their misplaced pride in their “creation.” They were worse than the audience. This was their show, and they chose the monsters. It was their idea to send the faceless thug in the first place. I had a feeling that the rapist was deliberately chosen for me.
“How dare you!? You sent a rapist? I’m going to get you! You hear me!? I’m going to make you pay! I swear this on my life!”
“Easy, Blue. Hand over the gun.”
“What?” I screamed.
Bear stretched his hand out. “Give me that goddamn gun before you shoot yourself or one of us! I wasted ammo saving your ass so give me the weapon. Now.”
Give me your weapons. Right. The line that starts wars. ‘How to Start a Fight’ by Moira MacMillan. Say ‘Give me your weapons.’
Bear took a deliberate step forward. “Girl, I’m not asking twice.”
I pulled the gun out of my waistband and pointed at his face. He froze.
“Back off!”
Looking into Bear’s eyes was like staring down the barrel of a gun. Then I saw the change. He searched my eyes and found that he was NOT mentally stronger. He was staring down the barrel of a gun. My gun. I would kill him.
I saw the fear seep into his eyes and he raised his hands slowly.
“I’m just saying ...”
“SHUT UP!”
“Moira,” said a soft voice behind me.
Without turning my back on Bear, I whipped around and found myself pointing the gun at Marine’s head. It was shaking in my hands.
“He’s a man,” an alien part of myself said. “You can’t trust him. He’s going to hurt you. He wants to rape you. He wants ...”
“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!”
I looked at Marine. His hands were up, framing a face that looked frightened. Unlike Bear’s eyes, which showed contempt and then fear, in Marine’s I found concern. He wasn’t afraid. He was worried about me.
I lowered my weapon.
“Oh God,” I moaned. “I am so sorry. I’m losing it. I’m just ... No. I’m cool. It’s over. I’m just freaked out because I almost got raped back there.”
Marine slowly lowered his hands.
“I’m good now. Really. I’m cool. I’m ready to go.”
I turned to Bear and said, “And I’m keeping the gun.”
Bear scowled but didn’t argue.
We started walking, and just as before, my body went on autopilot and my mind was free to wander. In one way, we were doing alright. We were still working together as a team. We had faced two monsters, and as of now, there were two dead monsters and five living, injury-free Runners (well, not including Marine). So far so good.
But then there was the other side of the coin. The contest had just started and I had almost been taken out. I hated to admit it, but I couldn’t have survived without help. I shuddered to think what was in store for us, and that this was only the beginning. The day had just started.
I was starting to lose my mind but regained control. I hoped that would last. I didn’t know how we were going to make it to the end of the day, never mind nightfall. And if did make it to castle to camp, what horrors awaited us in the night?
Again, the one recurring thought I kept trying to banish from my brain returned. We’re doomed.
13
We carried on northward until we came to a rushing burn. It was full of fast-moving water, which is typical from the rain-swollen weather. Fortunately, there were places where it was small enough to jump over. I knelt at its banks and plunged my hands into the icy water. I rinsed my mouth. At first I tasted traces of my own blood and spat. Then I drank the pure, cold water. I checked my teeth with my tongue. They were OK. My left eye was swelling up. I cut part of my sleeve to make a rag, dipped it into the ice-cold creek, and held the compact to my face. It helped keep the swelling down. Well, that, and a pill from the med-kit.
I had lost all sense of time. Out of all of the tools we’d been offered, nobody had thought to ask for a watch. I had no knowledge of and no control over my time. I hated the feeling. Unfortunately, the helpless feeling sort of fit my mood. My sense of time and my ability to plan accordingly were just more things I had no control over.
One thing the group agreed on was when it was time for a break. We found some large rocks to sit on and we ate. I shared my food with the others. Bear scowled at my generosity. He probably figured I owed it all to him for saving my life (which he kind of did), but I didn’t let that sway me. I was sure cared less about my life and more about “wasting ammo.”
At some point, Marine nudged
me. I looked down at saw him holding a metal canister. He was handing back my mace.
“You found it!” I exclaimed. Then, after some thought, I said, “Keep it. I have a gun now.”
He shook his head. “No,” he said. “It’s yours.”
Then, with a sly smile, he added, “Don’t worry about me.”
His weird smile made me wonder just what type of secret weapon he might be packing, or if he really thought he was that badass with just a knife and grenade. Either way, his confidence was sexy.
Bear growled, “Sorry to interrupt your love fest over there, but’s time to get moving.” Everyone agree, and we did.
–––––
We crossed the creek and clouds descended on us like gaseous monsters creeping their way down from mountaintop haunts. Wind and rain pushed us about, then subsided to a moist lull between storms – typical Scottish weather. Even after the storm subsided, the clouds in the sky churned and swirled like gambling gods looking down and deciding out fate.
At some point the trees parted as we passed through an isthmus between wide open spaces. The walls of forest closed in like the jaws of a death trap. I felt better when we passed through to the other side,” but then I tensed up almost immediately. Far off in the middle of open area up ahead was a large mound – a bump in an otherwise flat field. It pushed up from the earth like a something hiding under the covers at the foot of your bed at night. On top of it was something that looked like a crucifixion.
We passed the base of the knoll with weapons drawn. The wooden cross looked like a capital “T”. There was a figure bound to it with rope. It was unmistakably female. She was wearing a ragged strips of clothing that might have been a dress in a previous life. Her head was slumped forward, and wet, tangled, black hair hung down and hid her face.
“It’s a woman,” Mason said.
“No shit,” said Bear.
Mason said, “So, are we going to check her out?”
“Of course,” Bear said.
Trish rolled her eyes.
“You know that’s a monster,” she said. “Why can’t we just move along?”
“She might not be,” said Marine. “She could be something else.”
“Like what?” I asked.
“Like bait. Food for a monster.”
“Great,” Trish grumbled. “Another reason to keep moving.”
“This is where they want us,” Mason said, his eyes darting around like rodent constantly on alert for predators. “We should just move.”
I hate to admit it, but I could really see his point. This was obviously some type of trap.
“We should at least see if she’s alive,” Marine said.
Everyone’s gaze went from one person to the next. Finally, Bear said, “I’m going to see if she’s alive.”
A huge knife appeared in his hand. Then he said, “If she is, and she’s human ... well, let’s just make sure first.”
He held up the knife and smiled with an inappropriate amount of delight and an overexcited twinkle in his eye that made me shudder. I subtly brushed my palm against the reassuring bulk and weight of my gun.
We climbed the knoll. Bear shouted in the woman’s face.
“Hey! Hey you! You alive? Wake up!”
No response.
The bare arms and legs of the woman were pale and smooth. Her body reminded me a little of Alysh’s, with bigger boobs. I know the men noticed.
“Hey you! You want to live? Look up.”
Still no response.
Holding the knife in his right hand, Bear slowly extended his left hand to part the black curtain of hair hiding her face.
“Bear! Don’t!” Trish hissed.
I knew how she felt.
Bear’s hand moved closer in slow motion. Just before the fingertips touched the hair, I took a step backwards and closed my eyes.
The woman moaned.
My eyes snapped open. Bear’s hand swept her hair aside. Her face was beautiful. Bear was smiling. I took a deep breath and exhaled.
Bear pinched her jaw and turned her head to either side, exposing a long neck. The woman was unconscious – drugged, or something.
“No vampire bites,” he said approvingly. Then he added, “Doesn’t mean they aren’t somewhere else.”
Then he brought the tip of his knife and placed it between her breasts. I had no I idea what he was doing. My first thought was that he was going to stab her in the heart.
Bear made a small slit in the fabric. Then, like a gunslinger in reverse, he put the knife away in the time it took to blink. With both hands free, he inserted his fingers into the slit in the dress. He took a breath, and it one motion, ripped it apart.
The woman’s breasts fell out like two huge melons. Bear’s eyes widened and he gasped.
“Looks human to me,” he said, grinning. “Only one way to be sure.”
He started to grope her. I had no idea how far this was going to go. If this was supposed to be a diversion, a stalling-tactic, or just another thing to fight over, it was working. I was about to say something but Marine beat me to it. He said, “Dude. Seriously? You’re going to rape a woman with millions of people watching?”
Bear’s smile disappeared as we were all suddenly reminded that we were on a live TV show. I saw Bear’s hand twitch like gunfighter’s hovering over the handle of his pistol.
In a voice that was eerily quiet, he said, “Nobody tells me ...”
“Nobody’s going to get raped,” I said.
Bear turned and found himself staring at the muzzle of my gun.
Bear growled, and said, “Girl, you better ...”
“Shut up!” I said, shoving the gun in his face.
The man looked from the gun to my eyes. His stare bored into me with an intent to kill. Most people would be intimidated. I shoved my gun even closer. His gaze went from the gun to my eyes. Our eyes locked, and after seeing no signs of weakness or bluffing, his will crumbled and he backed down.
“Fine,” he spat, putting up his hands. “Let’s just move.”
The woman groaned. All of our heads turned when towards her. I took my eyes and gunpoint off of Bear. The woman was waking up.
“What’s your name, girl?” Bear said. I didn’t like how he called that.
“H-Help me,” she moaned without looking up, her we hair partially covering her face.
“Oh that is totally a monster,” said Trish.
“Shut up!” I said, still holding my gun. Trish looked at me defiantly, then saw the expression on my face, and shut up. I almost smiled. I felt powerful with the gun in my hand. I was powerful. Maybe this was why people got off on guns so much.
“Give me an arrow,” I ordered Trish.
Her face said no, but her mouth wisely wouldn’t. Instead, she said, “Why?”
“Just give it and let’s get this over with,” I said. Slowly, she withdrew one and handed it to me. I was secretly grateful that I didn’t have to point the gun at her face to get my way.
I turned to the woman on the rack.
I took the tip of the arrow and dragged it across her arm, leaving a red line as if I’d used a marker. The woman jolted, cried out, and woke up. Her arm was bleeding.
Holding the shaft of the arrow, I wiped the bloody arrowhead in the wet fabric in what little was left of the woman’s clothing.
I leaned closer to the woman.
“What’s your name?”
She looked up, defeated, and said, “Cleona.”
“Cleona?”
“Call me ... Clea.”
“Where are you from, Clea?”
“Here,” she said. “Scotland.”
“What are you doing here, tied to this stake?”
“They took me.”
“Who?
“They took me,” she repeated, “and brought me here. This is my punishment. They said, ‘Now you will be dependent on the kindness of strangers.’”
I looked at Marine, trying to gauge his thoughts. I looked at the oth
ers. They just stared, deferring to me. I had taken charge, and they were waiting for me to finish the interrogation. I definitely had a lot more questions before...
Somewhere in the woods behind us, maybe about a kilometer away, something huge crashed through the trees and roared.
“What the fuck was that?” Mason gasped.
“Something fucked up,” Bear said.
Marine said, “We’ve got to move. Now.”
I looked at the woman, and then at Trish, whom I considered my main opponent in this. I handed her back the crossbow bolt.
“Silver-tipped arrows, right? They didn’t burn her skin. She’s not a werewolf. She’s not a vampire. She’s human.”
“I know what she is,” Bear barked. “She’s bait! And we’re standing right here at Ground Zero!”
As if to confirm Bear’s statement, another roar echoed in the distance from the forest. It sounded closer this time.
I hated to admit it, but Bear was probably right.
I didn’t know what to say. I looked around at the view from the knoll for the first time.
“Look!” I said with a sudden spike of delight. “There’s the lake! And I can see the castle! We’re close!”
Sure enough, there they were, about two kilometers away. The lake looked like distant mirror reflecting the bleak sky.
I thought this good news would bring hope and a moment of peace and agreement to our group. Of course it didn’t.
Bear rightfully pointed out a stone tower, standing on hill beyond the bank of trees on the left.
“So?” Bear said. “There’s the tower! It’s closer!”
It did look closer, about one kilometer away, but I know that it could’ve been an illusion. Sometimes things in the distance look close but are actually a lot further than they appear when you walk to them. Of course, the same could be said of the castle and the loch.
“We should go to the tower,” Mason said. “We’ll get there faster.”
“But we’d have to go through the woods,” Marine said.
“So? There’s a path,” Trish said.