Chapter 7 Chiara
Chiara
I’m the second rabbit to be dropped off in the middle of nowhere. Snow’s falling much harder now. If I weren’t about to die, either of exposure or something worse, I’d be admiring how pretty it is out here. Wherever here is.
It occurs to me I should have asked someone where we are. Too late now.
The bunny suit doesn’t provide much protection, but I grit my teeth and vow to murder the bastard who laughed when he pushed the first woman out of the back of the truck. Not long after that, they moved us into a smaller trailer attached to a quad bike, which could better handle the rough terrain.
“Run, rabbit, run!” he calls after me, clearly enjoying his task. I take a mental snapshot of his ginger beard and the raised scar across his pock-marked cheek. If we meet again, I’ll stab him in the dick.
The brunette mouths run west before the quad bike pulls away and disappears into the murk. The sound of a distant male voice shouting, followed by a sporadic burst of gunfire, reminds me I can’t afford to hang around.
My friend advised me to remove the bunny suit, but now that it’s snowing, it makes more sense to keep it on. The white fabric stands out less than my dark jeans.
The cold sinks into my feet as I push up and force my body into moving. Because I have only one shoe, it affects my gait. While my left foot is moderately warm, the other is freezing. Small stones dig in, making me hiss in pain, but I swallow the discomfort.
Being out in the open is suicide, so I run for the trees, hoping this is west. I think it is, but without the sun, it’s hard to tell.
Trails and tracks crisscross the forest. I move as fast as I dare while trying not to make too much noise. My goal is to find a dense thicket where I can hide until it gets dark. It’s a shitty plan, but the longer I stay visible, the more likely I am to be found.
It takes forever to hike a relatively short distance. The terrain becomes increasingly inhospitable as the snow thickens and the path I’m following climbs higher.
I see no one, but I hear faint screams. Sound travels out here.
Each high-pitched scream makes me want to crawl into a hole and never come out. A terrified scream means some poor woman is hurting. Or dead.
It’s like the set of a slasher movie, and I’m the dumb blonde who’s too stupid to live.
I hope the bastards responsible for this sick game get their comeuppance.
I’m seriously regretting watching Squid Game now. What if the evil overlords who designed this game have placed giant dolls with machine guns in the forest?
The trees thin. I burst into a small clearing where a dead body lies in a pool of blood. Shock causes me to freeze. What the fuck happened? Is this the fucking Hunger Games now?
From his clothing, the dead body belongs to one of the asshole hunters, so who took him out? I scan the clearing but see no sign of anyone else.
My anxiety kicks up several notches. At this rate, it will be a heart attack that takes me out, not a hunter.
There’s a gun trapped half under the corpse, so I gingerly pull it away while trying not to vomit at the sight of all the blood. I spot a knife too, so I grab that as well.
Knowing I have some protection makes me feel a tad better. I have no qualms about shooting anyone who tries to shoot me. And if they get close enough, I’ll use the knife.
Be more like Katniss Everdeen, I tell myself before laughing hysterically. Fuck, I’d be the first one to die in the Hunger Games. No skills. I’m more like a female version of Peeta Mellark, the character everyone feels sorry for.
The path I follow away from the clearing narrows and gets steeper. I’m exhausted. My head spins from a lack of food and water, but I push on.
Even though the wall the other woman mentioned could be fucking miles away, I refuse to give up. There isn’t anywhere to hide around here. No dense thickets, just half-dead bracken and small shrubs. What I need is a fallen tree I can squeeze under.
The sound of a twig snapping to my left stops me in my tracks. Fuck. Have I inadvertently crossed a hunter’s path?
I freeze and listen. At first all I hear is the wind howling through the trees, but then a shadowy figure emerges from a small clump of trees a few feet away.
He’s tall, fit-looking, and relatively young. This dude’s no couch-potato exec on a weekend jolly. He’s the sort of guy who puts in time at the gym and posts photos of his clean meals on Instagram. I have a feeling he’s no slouch in the shooting department either, from the way he handles his gun.
We eyeball each other before he smiles. A smile almost as cold as I feel.
“Hello, little rabbit. Aren’t you a cutie? Now where did you find that gun? What an unexpected treat!”
I try to lift the rifle, but my hands are numb, and it slips from my hands into a patch of snow.
The man’s laughter breaks my paralysis. I’m not hanging around waiting for him to rape and murder me. Before he can make a move, I dash sideways, forcing my way between some bushes. My act of defiance amuses him, and he chuckles and follows.
I pant hard as I run. Adrenaline pushes me beyond my physical limits as I try to evade my captor. He’s fit and fast, but I’m smaller and more agile, which gives me the edge as the trees grow denser.
I hear him curse as he fights through the tangled undergrowth. Brambles shred my exposed skin, but I’m too pumped to feel any pain. No longer freezing either. If I can get far enough ahead, I’ll hide and then try to stab him at close range.
Assuming he doesn’t shoot me first, but something tells me he plans to toy with me for a while.
Just as I think I’ve put enough distance between us, I trip over an exposed root. My ankle twists. White-hot pain causes me to whimper as I fall against a felled tree.
The man appears. He sees me lying on the floor, the white rabbit suit now stained with mud, and laughs.
“Oh, my sweet rabbit.” The excitement in his eyes makes my stomach heave. I still have the knife in my left hand, out of sight.
“Fuck off!” I scream at him, baring my teeth. This is not where I thought I’d die. And I definitely didn’t anticipate meeting my end while wearing a fucking bunny suit.
Something moves behind us. A faint rustle. Possibly an actual rabbit. I hope the poor thing hides, or it might end up like me: dead.
The asshole smirks as he lowers his gun. He thinks I’m a defenseless woodland creature.
A whimper of pain escapes as tears track down my face. I hate feeling so fucking helpless. The knife in my fist is the only defense I have left against this dangerous predator.
The man reaches out and wipes my tears away with a smooth thumb.
“Poor little rabbit,” he croons, placing the gun on the ground, out of my reach. Before I can react, he grabs my bunny suit and tears it apart to expose my chest. I have my shirt on underneath, and he frowns. Did he expect me to be naked?
Memories of another time and place, a dark cab and a trucker who thought he could take what he wanted, threaten to overwhelm me. But I force the memories down. I can’t afford to black out and freeze like last time. If I do, I’m as good as dead.
Angelo isn’t here to rescue me.
There is no happy ending if this predator overpowers me. He’ll rape me first and then kill me. And from the sick excitement in his eyes, it won’t be a quick death.
I react on instinct as the man tugs at my shirt. The knife slides through the man’s jacket, and his eyes widen in shock. We both look down to see blood soak through the pale fabric of his khaki jacket. Before he can pull back, I withdraw the blade and stab again. Higher this time.
Blood sprays from a gaping wound in his neck. He reaches up, still faintly surprised, while trying to stanch the bleeding.
It doesn’t work.
“You should have been a vegetarian!” I yell, making no sense, even to me, but the man’s in no fit state to reply. He chokes on his own blood while trying to reach for his gun.
I lash out with the blade again, this time across his face. There’s a hideous gurgle, and then he falls.
Something feral inside me takes over, and I stab him again and again, fueled by adrenaline. Each time the knife sinks into his flesh, I sob out insults.
Eventually, my hands are so bloody that I lose my grip on the knife and it falls to the ground.
The man’s dead.
Nobody could survive that many stab wounds.
At least I hope not.
I laugh, but it’s more hysteria than genuine amusement.
I’m so fucked.
I killed a hunter.
I’m so fucked.
There’s a flash of movement across the clearing, and a second man wearing a skeleton mask appears. He freezes as he sees me slumped on the ground, covered in blood.
Two dark eyes drop to the steaming corpse, and I swear he chuckles.
What the actual fuck?
Why’s this one wearing a scary mask? None of the other men wore masks.
I snatch the hunter’s gun and aim it at the new man. He raises his hand, but I don’t bother asking questions. For all I know, he’s one of them.
Shoot first and ask questions later is my new strategy, I decide as I press the trigger and pray my luck hasn’t run out.