Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
I stare at a streak of…something on my window. It’s still dark outside, although the sky is starting to lighten. I think I’ve been here all night, I’m not sure. I’m not sure of anything anymore.
At some point, I woke from a haze, not sure what day it was. Stumbling downstairs, I learned that the ‘hunters’ were all out, playing the game. The chef had looked at me funny while busy preparing food. Asked why I wasn’t out there, too. Asked if I needed medical.
I don’t know. Do I need medical? Vaguely, I remember what happened with Kyan, and it made my face burn. I remembered the way everything floated, and I came down his throat. The best orgasm I’ve had in years.
And as I stared at the chef, his words rolled through my mind. Hunters. Hunters. The knife they gave me.
Is this some fucked up version of the hog hunt Jeremy’s dad went on? Only…I had a sickening feeling it wasn’t hogs they were hunting.
So I went back upstairs and have been staring at the smudge on the window ever since.
It can’t be. They aren’t hunting…people, are they?
But the more I think about it, the more it seems like a reality. And the more that seems like a reality, the more all I can do is stare at that one spot of old, smudged bird poop. I’m frozen.
The sky starts to lighten to gray, and as it does, the smudge starts to blend in. And as I stop being able to tell the difference between the smudge and the sky, I freak out.
What if Holland is out there? What if she’s out there being hunted because I put her there?
Heart racing, I look for the smudge.
What if I put someone in danger? Real, actual danger.
I couldn’t…I can’t…I can’t live with myself if I did. Standing, I run my hands through my hair as I feel my shoulder twitching.
I didn’t want this! I just wanted to prove my love to Poppy. I didn’t want any of this.
You’re not worthy of her love.
My thoughts spiral, and I pace more frequently.
I need my phone. My computer. Something.
I need to get away from the thoughts. Need to look at my notes.
Poppy wouldn’t stop loving me. I remember writing that she did the dishes for me and kissed me that one night.
And another time, she charged my headphones when I had forgotten they were dead.
She wouldn’t stop loving me, right?
Only, she would. I literally put a woman at risk because of my love. Poppy would never forgive me for that. She would never love me.
Dread grips my chest, and the feeling of inevitability washes over me. I get dizzy looking for that spot, then my heart races and my chest feels tight.
No! No. I yank on my hair, shooting pain through my scalp. No, this isn’t real. I didn’t know, and I can fix it. I can fix it!
Slowly, I blink.
I can fix this. I’ll just go find Holland and bring her back to my room, then get us both out of here.
As I think about it, it slowly becomes a real plan in my mind. And as it does, the crippling death throes of anxiety loosen.
Finding a backpack in my closet, I find water bottles and snacks inside, like peanuts and pretzels, and a watch.
At the bottom, there’s a small first-aid kit, and that makes my stomach turn.
Ignoring why that was included, I slide the knife into my waistline.
I was wearing jeans and a t-shirt the day I left, and I brought nothing else.
I didn’t realize we were getting on a plane until I was staring at it, drunk. And when I was drunk, I didn’t care.
Now, I stink, and my clothes are sweaty, but I realize with horrifying clarity that that is the least of my problems. The knife makes me nervous.
I’ve never used one on anyone else before.
After that failed hunting trip, I never volunteered for anything again.
Now, with the long end of the sheath poking into my thigh, my breath quickens. Will I have to use it?
Shaking my head, I clear away the anxiety. I’m getting Holland, and I’m getting out.
Downstairs is crowded. Everyone is there wearing masks, and they all look shifty. There's an energy in the air that’s rank and excited at the same time. Loud guffaws and pats on the back and mocking laughter make me feel like I’m back at summer camp and we’re about to go down the biggest slide.
Only, the knife pokes into me, making my stomach sink.
I get a few looks, but I ignore everyone, and when they open the doors, I let everyone out first. I don’t know what I’m doing or where I’m going. I heard them talking about a supply drop that they think all the ‘prey’ are headed toward.
I almost vomit hearing them talk about people like that, but I manage to keep it in.
And when the outside air makes it through my mask, I suck in a deep breath.
Everyone else disappears into the woods, following a well-worn path.
I follow at a distance for hours, ripping my mask off after the first twenty minutes so I can breathe.
That only lets the bugs at my face, and they swarm me, biting my neck and humming by my ears.
Finally, I start to see the sparkle of water through the trees and see that a beach has appeared.
It’s beautiful and lonely and windy, and I break out of the trees to let the wind blow the bugs away.
Sweat drips down my body, and I scratch the back of my neck. I’ve had hours to think about what I’m going to do if I find Holland. The longer I’ve walked, the more I’ve realized finding her in this vast expanse of land is going to be…damn near impossible. The thought makes me want to cry.
I have to find her. Not finding her is not an option.
My shoes sink in the sand, and I find myself wishing I had learned how to track. Jeremy talked about it all the time before our trip. How to track animals by the marks they made on the ground and the things they left behind. You can do the same for a human, right?
Only, I don’t know how. And what if someone gets to her before me?
And as I hike, I hear a motor behind me.
Jumping into the treeline, I turn to see a golf cart flying down the beach. As it gets closer, I see Wyatt in his mask driving a loaded golf cart.
It’s going to be a bloodbath. My stomach churns. Holland could get caught in it.
Some items fall off the cart, but Wyatt keeps going. I’m not sure if he noticed, but he doesn’t look like he does.
Then, a small figure darts out of the woods. It goes right to the items, dropping to their knees and ripping open a backpack.
I squint, staring at the small person. Her hair flashes in the sunlight. Blonde hair.
Blonde hair and pale skin. Just like Holland.
I’m too far to see her face perfectly, but I dart toward her anyway.
“Holland!”
The woman’s head whips toward me, and I recognize her immediately. Only, I’m struck by how haunted she looks. What I saw in the pictures was a well-put-together businesswoman with clean hair and a practiced smile. Today she’s covered in grime, and her eyes are wide. Frantically, she stuffs the bag.
“Holland, wait!” I’m about thirty feet from her. Trying to run in the sand is next to impossible. My feet keep sinking, but I have a fresh bout of energy. I found her! I found her, and now I can somehow get her and me off this island. We can go back home.
Holland scrambles up with her bag.
“Wait!” I call, but she turns and starts running. “I’m trying to help.”
Fuck, don’t run from me! I put on the speed, gaining on her. I can’t let her disappear into the trees. I get close enough to reach out, snatching at her clothes. “I’m trying—”
Holland whips around, a feral scream on her lips.
And then something is flying at my head.
I don’t see what it is until a sharp pain lances across my skull and lights flash in my vision.
She slams into me, knocking me backwards.
I fall on my ass, and there’s a weight on top of me.
It’s Holland. She’s beating her fists down on me, screaming, the sound loud and harsh.
“Fuck.” Rolling, I try to dislodge her from my hips. “Shhhh!” She’s going to attract the other hunters.
Bucking my hips, I throw Holland to the side, rolling on top of her in the sand. My head pounds, and I feel warmth dripping down my face.
Holland struggles under me. Finally, I make eye contact with her, and I am met with the most crystal-clear blue eyes. For a second, they take my breath away.
Then, she spits at me.
Sucking in a breath, I stare in shock. “Fuck, I’m not going to hurt you.”
“I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you motherfucker.” She’s thrashing, but she’s small, and the backpack on her back is restricting her movements. I wince, looking around to see if anyone has heard us.
“Please, be quiet,” I plead. “I’m here to help you.”
“Suck my cock, motherfucker!”
I check the treeline. Oh my god, people are going to hear her. I try pleading with her again, but she continues to fight me. I don’t want to put my hand over her mouth. I don’t even feel right pinning her down.
Then, I hear the motor of the golf cart.
Panic laces through my veins. Fuck, Wyatt is coming back. He can’t see me trying to help her.
So, I get up.
Holland darts to her feet and starts to run down the beach.
I cuss, following after her. “Holland, please.” I need her to disappear into the treeline with me. I need her to understand. “I’m here to get you out.”
She keeps running. Fucking fuck. I chase after her, grabbing her arm.
She whirls on me, and I raise my free hand, starting to pull her toward the trees. “Please, I’m so sorry. Let me help you.”
Holland punches me in the eye. It’s a hard hit, and my head snaps to the side. I’m stunned for a second.
And a second is all it takes for Holland to break free. I reach out to grab her, but she’s running again, and I’m dizzy. My head throbs, and the world spins. I try to run, but I end up falling to my knees. The overwhelming need to vomit overtakes me, and my stomach clenches, my body taking over.
When I look up again, Holli has disappeared into the trees.