Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Jensen
“ D amn, how can this fucker run as fast as he does? He weighs a ton,” Jonas complains as he and Hals carry him through the woods.
For a brief moment, I thought taking him down would be harder, but the guys did an amazing job of distracting him, allowing me to sneak up behind him. But right before I could stick him, he started to turn around so Hals clocked him in the nose.
It was fucking amazing and gave me the perfect chance to stick the needle straight into his neck while they restrained him.
Ketamine is the shit. Good thing one of our dads is a doctor and makes sure we always have it readily available when we need it.
We finally make it to the ATVs and they drop him into the cart with no regard that his head smacks against it. Who cares if he has a headache? He’s not going to be feeling anything soon.
“Let’s go,” I order, as I climb on the ATV. Jonas and Hals get on the other one, and we take off with them following behind me.
I’m anxious for the kill; it just sucks that they have to stand back and watch unless we change the rules and each of us plays with all of them.
As we near the patch of woods we’ve scouted to play with the first kill of the night, we slow to a stop. We made sure to have them far enough apart that no one from the party could stumble upon us, and also far away so we could revel in their screams.
Can’t have anyone reporting us, and ending our fun before we begin.
Hals pulls further ahead than I do, stopping just before the two trees we plan to use. We have four chains wrapped around it—two up high at shoulder level, and the other two down low.
“Let’s get our shit on and strap him up before he comes to,” I order. We step off our ATVs and take the bags out we stowed earlier. Each of us slips into our black jumpsuits, sliding the masks over our faces, concealing our identity, and putting the game into full effect.
It takes a few minutes, one of us holding him up while the other two place the straps around his wrists and legs, until he’s hanging with his head slumped forward. I take advantage of the moment, stepping up behind him, and giving him a donkey kick right in the back. Jack stirs briefly but passes back out.
“Did we fucking give him too much? I mean, I did measure the dosage according to his weight and may have given just a little extra for good measure,” Jonas jokes.
“I’ll get the water.” Hals steps over to the brush, moving branches out of the way, and picks up a bucket of water. Some of it sloshes out as he steps over to where Jack hangs between the two trees.
He lifts it up, taking hold of the bottom and the rim before splashing it into Jack's face. The asshole lets out a scream as he instinctively struggles against the restraints holding him in place.
Jack’s eyes widen, and his face pales as he frantically looks around. His gaze stops in our direction, as he squints his eyes. It’s clear he can’t see us where we’re standing, just in the shadows of the trees. We’re probably a blur to him, especially with the ketamine still coursing through his system.
“Let me go!” he begs, tears staining his face as he tries to break free from his bounds.
“Now, why would we do that? Especially after all the work we did, planning and getting you here.” My deep, evil laugh feels the air.
“I didn’t do anything! Come on, let me go and I won’t tell anyone.” Jack gives the chains another tug, but all he’s doing is tightening their hold on him, pulling his arms further from his body. “I promise,” he finally whimpers at the end.
“You’re right about something, Jack. You won’t be telling anyone about this, because you’re not going to be alive for much longer.”
We step as a unified trio out of the shadows, giving him the first look of us in our masks, wielding our tools for the night. If he wasn’t scared shitless before, he definitely is now. The wet stain on the front of his pants is a dead giveaway.
“I didn’t do anything!” he cries, his eyes pleading with us to release him. He jerks again, fighting a useless battle to free himself from the precarious situation he’s found himself in. “Who are you? Why are you doing this to me? If it’s a sick joke, you’ve had your fun. Let me down.”
“Aww, isn’t it cute? He’s trying to reason with us.” Hals laughs.
“Oh, I assure you, Jack, this isn’t a joke. It doesn’t matter who we are, only that we know who you are. Jack Schwartz. Cross-country runner, from a semi-respectable family. You don’t have wealth, but your grades are good enough to get you a sports scholarship with your family paying the remaining balance themselves.”
“What the fuck does that have to do with anything?” he growls back. “You’re going to pay for this once I’m free.”
“Seriously, you think you’re getting out of this?” Jonas steps closer to Jack, swinging his bat, wrapped in barbed wire. Jonas loves it so much he never cleans all the blood from it, just the pieces of flesh.
“Boys, what do you say we break from tradition tonight, and let's all have some fun with him?” I ask. “But I get to draw blood first.”.
I gently run my hand along the blade of the cleaver, ensuring to be careful and not cut myself. Jonas and Hals shout in approval as I move closer to Jack until I’m right in front of him.
“You like to boast about how fast you run. Of your ability to break records that you haven’t in fact done. Do you enjoy getting praise for accolades that aren’t yours?” I question, placing the blade of the cleaver on his chest, not enough to puncture his skin, but enough he can feel it through his shirt.
“Who the fuck are you?” he snarls before gathering the saliva in his mouth and spitting in my face.
A wave of fury shoots through me as I pull back my fist, punching him square in the mouth. His head flies back before falling forward, blood dripping from his lip.
“It doesn’t matter who I am. Only that we”—I gesture to the guys behind me—“are your worst nightmares come to life. But it’s time to stop playing and get to work. We still have more fun to have tonight, and I’m quickly becoming bored with you. I had hoped you’d be more fun, but alas, you are not.”
I move around his hanging body, being careful when I step over the chain attached to his legs. Wouldn’t bode well for the badass persona I’m dishing out to him if I tripped.
Standing behind him, I don’t need to think. I know what I’m going to do. Bastard likes to gloat about how fast he is so I’m going to handle that Achilles. Jack won’t be running anywhere when I’m done, not that he has a chance of getting away to begin with.
I kneel, firmly holding onto the cleaver with both hands, pulling it back and swinging. It sticks in the heel of his right leg, jerking back slightly against the resistance of the chains holding him in place. But that’s not good enough. I go to pull away, but it’s lodged pretty good, so I have to put more force into removing it.
I’m so lost in the enjoyment of the growing pool of red blood at his feet that I miss the joy of his screams. I need to get my head on straight and stay on track so I can fully enjoy the moment.
I repeat the process again on the same leg, then move to his left. Jack is a crying mess, begging for mercy. His breathing is ragged. Jack’s suffering has me grinning from ear to ear.
My blood races as warmth radiates through me. This feeling of power and control and the sight of blood, as I inflict pain on someone, is what I’ve been dying to feel since our last thirteenth.
I stand up and lift my mask, sliding my tongue along the flat surface of the blade. The intoxicating taste of the coppery substance sends shivers through my body.
Fucking delicious.
Jonas and Hals are whooping in joy. Both of them are bouncing on the balls of their feet, aching for their chance to play.
“Who wants to go next?” I ask, pulling my mask back in place, stepping out from behind Jack’s body.
Jonas doesn’t hesitate. He takes off at a run, bat pulled back until he gets closer, swinging it, making contact with his stomach. The barbed wire digs into Jack’s flesh through his shirt as he screams before his head flops forward and he goes silent.
“Did he just pass out?” Hals steps over to me asking.
“It appears so.”
“That won’t do.” He hands his machete to me before walking away.
Hals steps over to the woodline, picking up another bucket of water. Jonas, knowing what he plans to do, steps to the side as Hals thrusts the contents in Jack's face. Jack’s head jerks up as he sputters for air.
“No sleep for you. You’re going to be wide awake while we have our fun. And guess who’s turn it is now?”
Hals holds his hand out to me, and I return his prized machete to him.
“Let me go. Please,” Jack’s whiny voice begs.
“It’s mine.”
Without another word, he swings the machete, slicing into Jack’s side. Blood spews everywhere, sending us all into shouts of fucking glory.