CHAPTER 22
THE BUTCHERBIRD
Fingernails sink into my bicep, dragging me from the vehicle with a force that leaves no room for resistance.
Muffled sobs of the others, their fear feeding the beasts that hold us captive.
My legs betray me, folding beneath me, and I collapse onto the gravel, the sharp sting of stones biting into my skin.
‘Get her up,’ one of the men growls. Their eyes meet briefly, an exchange of power and purpose, before they herd us together like lambs to the slaughter.
Jessica’s scream pierces the air as a boot connects with her back. She crumples, her face meeting the unforgiving ground.
‘The clients won’t be here yet, let’s have some fun.’
My blood boils as I watch him pass his gun to the other guard, his hands already moving to the buckle of his belt. My heart pounds, but I don’t hesitate.
‘Get off her!’ I yell, like a threat of its own.
His head snaps towards me, his eyes darkening with a sneer. ‘Shut your mouth, whore,’ he hisses, before he lifts his hand, pulling it back with the intent to strike.
Whack.
Blood splatters across the gravel as his hand cracks against the side of my face, the sting radiating through my skull.
‘Juan! No!’ one of the others yells, the voice distant and frantic.
I hit the ground hard, my body twisting as I land on my side. The guard towers over me, his eyes locking onto mine.
‘You want to go first?’ he sneers, ‘You only had to ask.’
I thrash around, kicking him away. ‘I dare you to fucking try.’
A smirk spreads across his face. ‘I’d like to see you run, would you run from me?’
‘Yes, after I’d killed you,’ I spit.
He chuckles, leaning in closer, his tongue licking the side of my face. ‘That would be rather difficult without your legs. That would be the first thing I’d do. I’d cut your legs off.’
I swallow.
‘Juan, por favor. The clients will be here any minute.’
He stands up, zipping up his trousers. ‘ Puneta , wasting my time.’
Jessica’s eyes meet mine, a fleeting connection in the chaos. Her lips move silently, mouthing, ‘Thank you.’
The words hitting me harder than I had expected.
The guards yank us to our feet, their grips bruising our skin as they drag us forward.
The sound of heavy boots crunching against the gravel, mingle with the metallic clink of chains.
Ahead, a set of towering gates loom, and one by one, we’re shoved through, the gates groaning as they swing open.
The cuffs bite into my wrists one last time before they’re unlocked, the weight of them replaced by something heavier – collars.
‘Hurry!’ the piece of shit says. ‘Our guests will be here soon.’ His eyes return to mine. ‘You might want to start running.’
The girls exchange panicked glances, all but me and Jessica, they set off into the woods behind us. I lean towards the gate, clutching the metal tightly. ‘Please,’ I beg.
The guards’ laughter echoes around us, sharp and cruel, mocking even, as the biting wind whips against our skin. My stomach churns as a black SUV screeches to a halt, the tires spitting gravel. My breath quickens, each inhale like shards of ice slicing through my chest.
The car’s doors swing open, and figures spill out, their voices low and casual, as if it’s just another day for them.
One of them, a woman with raven-black hair pulled into a tight braid, knee-high boots clicking against the ground with each step.
A handbag made from a human skull swings from one shoulder, while a crossbow rests on the other.
Her eyes lock onto mine, and a smile spreads across her face. The guards’ laughter fades into nothing as she approaches. She’s the first to stride towards the gate, her voice cutting through the laughter.
‘Oh, this one is making it rather easy. All that money! How disappointing. Glad I never won that bid.’
The woman raises her crossbow, her movements deliberate and unhurried.
The guard pushes her weapon down with a firm hand as other people approach.
‘I’m afraid you’ll have to wait,’ he says, his voice steady and authoritative.
‘All prizes are entitled to a half hour head start. Unless this is your prize, you’ll be penalized and withdrawn from the game. ’
A tense silence falls over the scene as the woman hesitates, her grip tightening on the crossbow.
The guard continues. ‘The rules are clear.’
Finally, she lowers the crossbow, her eyes still burning with determination. The guard steps back, keeping a watchful gaze on the group. The other guards remain on high-alert, their rifles cocked and ready.
The woman’s fingers glide to her skull-shaped handbag, the dramatic flair in her movements unmistakable as she unclips the clasp, lifting the top of the skull – each gesture crafted to command attention.
From within, she withdraws a cigarette, the faint metallic snap of the lighter following close behind.
The flame flickers, casting a shadow across the curve of her thin lips, as they curl into a smile.
‘Fair enough,’ she concedes. ‘But, I’m coming for you, Butcherbird.’
More black SUV’s pull up as large speakers blare into the darkening wilderness behind me.
‘Girls,’ the voice from the speaker booms, ‘from here on, you will be known as prey. You have twenty minutes to hide before the hunt begins.’
The words hang in the air. The trees seem to shudder with the weight of them, the wind carrying the echo far beyond where we stand.
The guards remain motionless, their eyes scanning newcomers.
In front of me, the five heavily-armed figures shift nervously, their weapons catching the fading sunlight, gleaming promises of violence.
Every instinct tells me to run, but the woman’s stare pins me in place.
But the clock is ticking. She exhales a plume of smoke, the curl of it twisting in the cold air, her eyes locked onto mine with a predatory gleam.
It’s not just a look – it’s a challenge, a dare.
The countdown echoes in my ears, each minute a hammer striking against my chest. I bolt towards the woods, my feet pounding against the earth as the mechanical voice drones on, counting down to something I don’t want to face.
The trees blur around me, shadows stretching, gnarly branches reaching out to grab me.
Then, the voice cuts through the chaos again.
‘ATTENTION, all prey. When the red light shines, you must stop immediately. Failure to comply will result in immediate elimination.’
I freeze, my body locking as the words themselves seized control. My eyes dart to the sky, searching for this ominous red glow. I don’t know what’s coming, but I know one thing – I can’t afford to make a single mistake .
They want us to run, but then they want to immobilize us while our predators catch up. It’s rigged!
I duck and tear through the underbrush, searching for a place to hide, then a red beacon flashes from a tall pole casting that eerie red glow across the landscape.
‘RED LIGHT,’ the mechanical voice declares.
The atmosphere is tense – the red light signaling a temporary halt. The silence is almost deafening, broken only by the distant rustle of the hunters closing in.
Then, as suddenly as it began, the red light flickers off, and the voice returns.
‘GREEN LIGHT.’
The forest returns to its green hue, and I see the other girls ahead scrambling to gain ground. The red light may have given us a moment of respite, but the danger is far from over.
I catch up to Jessica who is breathing heavily.
‘Come on,’ I urge.
‘I can’t,’ she cries.
The red light illuminates, this time without warning, no voice, but I freeze regardless.
Her thin, almost translucent hand grasps my arm. ‘Let me go, you’re going to get us killed,’ I say through gritted teeth.
‘Please,’ she begs, digging her nails into my arm.
‘Let. Me. Go,’ I growl, as the red light casts a red, thick fog.
‘Fine,’ she snarls.
‘Don’t. Move!’ I whisper, without moving my lips.
I’ve played this game before. It’s reminiscent of hide and seek, a game I used to play at Grandpa’s estate.
I imagine, we as prey must conceal ourselves within the wilderness to evade our hunter’s watchful eyes – but I’m sure in this game, the goal isn’t just to find, but to capture, with the consequences far more dire than a simple tag.
Jessica throws herself back, her frustration erupting in a flurry of frantic movements. She stomps her feet, her voice rising in a panicked crescendo. It draws unwanted attention.
‘Jessica! Stop!’ I hiss through clenched teeth, but she doesn’t listen.
An arrow and a bullet hit her simultaneously, two shots, the force sending her crumpling to the ground.
Her cries replaced by the echo of the shot.
My face contorts as blood splatters over it, but even so, with the red light still glowing, I don’t move.
The red light flickers off, plunging the forest into darkness once more.
The sudden silence shattered by the distant wail of a disappointing kill, no doubt.
The mechanical voice blares through the speakers again.
‘JESSICA HAS BEEN ELIMINATED FROM THE GAME. WILL BUYER 034 PLEASE RETURN TO BASE.’
Another anguished wail cuts through the air, chilling and desperate.
It rolls towards me, her buyer’s realization – they’ve lost. Time has slipped through their fingers, and now all that’s left is the bitter taste of rage and despair.
It seems, they too are caught in a web, ensnared by the defiance of their prey – our refusal to be captured and controlled.
Our ability to move during red light empowers us to take ourselves out rather than allow our buyers that satisfaction certainly adds an interesting layer to the game.
They’re faced with the bitter truth that their prizes can slip through their fingers leaving them with empty pockets and a boring weekend.
I wipe the blood from my face, and set off further up the mountain. They’ll face a relentless fight with me, for I’ll never surrender.
I recall my last visit to see grandpa, and his words etched into my memory as I feel the hunter’s eyes on me.
I know the forest well. I crouch low, my body mimicking the contours of the underbrush.
The scent of the pine and earth fills my nostrils as I brush past, masking my scent.
I inch forward, my eyes sharp and focused.
Now and then I scan the terrain behind me for any sign of movement.
If he’s a true hunter, he will know better than to approach me directly.
He will move at an angle, his path a careful arc that brings him closer without drawing attention to himself.
I pause, close my eyes momentarily, and attune my ears to the forest’s whispers, the rustle of leaves, the distant call of a bird, and the soft crunch of twigs underfoot. Every sound is a clue, every whisper a warning. My heart pounds in my chest, a steady rhythm that keeps me grounded .
I remembered my grandfather’s lessons, the way he’d whisper in my ear, ‘Patience, always patience. The forest rewards those who wait.’ I hated him for it, but now those words are my lifeline. I move slowly, deliberately, each step calculated. The forest is my ally, its shadows my shield.
My ears strain to catch a sound – the cock of his rifle, or the soft, mechanical creak from his compound bow’s cams and pulleys engaging.
If he’s in mid draw, I might hear a slight whooshing from the string and cables, and if he’s fully drawn, I might hear a faint, tensioned hum from the bowstring and limbs, but by then, it would be too late.
I spin around the trunk of the pine tree, positioning my ear to scan the forest. Owls hoot in the distance, hogs grunt contently downwind.
But I know someone is out there, hunkered down among the foliage, watching from afar – it’s what I would do – wait, until my prey made the first move.
It’s been ages since I last wandered the woods.
I remember the rutting season for the deer; my grandfather would take me down to the river.
We’d set up a couple of deck chairs by the water’s edge.
He’d flip open a Tupperware lid, revealing a writhing mass of maggots, and deftly pop them onto the bait hook.
We’d sit and laugh, listening to the stags bellow like bulls, their calls ending in a series of coughs as if they’d run out of breath.
We cradled our rods for hours, waiting for the fish to bite.
Growing up, I knew the best time to hunt red deer was October or November.
Even then, you were only allowed to hunt females unless you had a special permit.
My grandfather didn’t care much for the rules.
Out here, who would know if you broke them anyway?
We spent countless hours in the wilderness, stalking animals. I preferred to shoot them with a camera instead of a gun, but it taught me a great deal about survival. Even though I didn’t enjoy hunting animals, I knew how to do it. It was important I knew how to do it. Only now do I realise why.
And there it is – the tell-tale sign that someone else is out here, close by.
I’m not alone.
The hairs on my arms rise, a primal alert to someone’s presence.
Someone is watching me, lurking in the dark woods.
A twig snaps, and I open my eyes, taking a deep breath.
There, to my right, I see them, their focus unwavering.
I’m within their range. In a heartbeat, their hand pulls back, drawing the bow in a fluid motion.
With a swift release, the arrow flies, silent and deadly, hurtling towards me.
I’ve never been in this position before, now I know how a deer feels when it’s being hunted. My breath comes in rapid bursts as I dash for cover. I have to calculate my next move. If I run, I’ll make too much noise. I need to stay calm, think clearly.
I had tried ever so hard to remove all the triggers from my life, to build walls high enough to keep the past at bay. Yet, here I was, back in the very place where it all began.
Why did I let myself be dragged back here? I should have stood my ground, shook my head, and said no. Spain was off-limits .
Instead, I rolled my eyes and laughed, played along, and caved in. It was easier to pretend, to go along with the charade, than to confront the painful truth. Now, they’re dead, and the weight of my decisions presses down on me like the oppressive humidity of this forest.
I call out in response to their threatening call I’m coming for you , clutching my hands around the razor-sharp makeshift branch, my thumb brushing over the sharp edge, ‘Oh, but where’s the fun in that?
It’s much more thrilling to watch you squirm, to see the fear in your eyes.
Soon, you’ll understand just how close I’ve been all along. Ready or not, here I come.’