by Tracy Lauren
Angrily, I pace my cage. My freaking cage! This is so wrong. This is huge. I’m going to be on the news, I realize, wiping dust off my clothes and patting at the knot that is my teased hair. Of course I’m dressed like this the day I’m going to be on the news, I lament. It only makes me more angry at whoever put me in here. Though to be honest, I can’t think of a single frat house stupid enough to pull a stunt like this. I mean, clearly, this is an outrageous crime.
My thoughts are still racing when I notice activity coming from the other cages. “Emily!” I call out. A low and steady clicking sound is my only reply.
My outrage grows and I scan the bars of my wooden enclosure. Maybe there’s a weak point? I’m sliding my hands over the wood, paying close attention to the side that looks like a door when suddenly, it just pops open.
Finally, now we’re getting somewhere.
I stride out, stopping a few feet in front of my cage and crossing my arms over my chest. These assholes are about to hear it.
I see another girl come out of her cage. She doesn’t look familiar to me and I figure she must be from another sorority… though her clothes are strange. I look to the next person and am perplexed by the costume they’re wearing. There’re no other parties planned for tonight… I mean, who in their right mind would throw an event competing with our 80’s night?
But sure enough, more costumed students come out of their cages. Only, these don’t look like the typical party supply store costumes. Save for two other girls, the rest of them all look like they’ve got on full stage makeup.
Prank show is the only thing I can think of, though the prospect doesn’t make me any less pissed off. This still feels like a damn kidnapping to me and I am three weeks deep in a Women’s Studies class, so I am not to be fucked with. “I did not sign any consent forms for this!” I shout, but other than a few sideways glances, no one seems to be paying any attention to me.
Then, something like an audio system kicks on. The others stiffen as a voice fills the air, but the sounds are completely unintelligible.
“What the…” I wonder aloud.
A buzzer blares and I jump, covering my ears. Everyone begins scrambling for a stack of things lying between the cages and a large glass building.
“What the fuck is going on here? What is everyone doing?” I wail as some of the group darts out into the dark trees. People are running every which direction and their frantic behavior begins to wear on me in a different way. Fear starts to creep in. I lock eyes with a dark-haired girl, but she quickly looks away and heads to the pile of items before us.
There’s another girl nearby and I march over to her as she desperately clutches a few items to her chest. I grab her by the arm, ready to demand answers, but when I look into her eyes I pause. I have anger and questions, but this girl seems to be in the same position as I am, so I’ll give her my questions and save the anger for someone who deserves it.
“What is happening?” I plead.
Panic stricken, she looks from side to side. “You don’t have a translator?” she asks.
“A what?”
“Look, you need to run. There’re a few supplies left, some food, a little water. Grab a pack, fill it with anything you can carry and fucking run. There are hunters coming!” she warns me, her voice weighted with fear.
“You’re not making any sense--”
“I don’t have time for this, I’m sorry,” she says, shaking her head and pulling away from me. “They’re going to kill you if you don’t run. You need to get out of here.”
“This is a sick joke,” I tell her and despite the fact that my brain still thinks this is some kind of fucked up prank show, my eyes begin to prick with tears.
“Look at me,” she says. Her voice is desperate. “You will die if you stay here. Please, just run.”
She leaves me then, alone in the clearing. There’re only a few others left still fighting over the diminished pile of supplies. Two costumed men are struggling over something, I take a step back and try to process what’s happening.
One of them is bent over, but as he straightens his body just seems to keep going up, up, up. He reaches for the other man with long arms, arms so long his knuckles could scrape the ground. The other one crouches, his body looking more animal than man and his tail whips in agitation.
I back further towards the trees as they begin to swing at each other with dangerous looking fists. There’s guttural growling coming from each of them and I watch the scene in confusion and horror. The crouching one gets hit hard and his body, much larger than any man’s, comes sliding through the dirt in my direction. It stops only a few feet away. With eyes wide and a gaping mouth, my attention shoots to the other one and it looks back at me. His eyes are like giant orange marbles but instead of two, I count four.
There’s a scream frozen inside of me. I can’t seem to suck in enough air to get it out and I stumble backwards until the forest envelopes me.
“Please, just run,” the other woman’s voice echoes in my mind.