Chapter 24 Brek
brEK
My stress and fear have me so wrung out that I manage to sleep a little. I’m not sure if it’s for three minutes or three hours. It’s filled with nightmares, so not in the least bit relaxing.
The truck door slamming is what wakes me. I sit upright and watch the driver come around to the tailgate and pull it down.
“Out,” he says. Unlike the guy at the trailer, he doesn’t offer assistance. We shuffle along and drop from the back. My feet hitting the ground feel jarring. I’m reminded of how sore I am.
“Let’s go,” he says. His rifle looks like something out of an old mob movie. Sawed off something or other.
We follow the short trail toward the building, a short distance through the trees. It’s single story, covered in wood planks, and has barred windows as well as a steel door. Yep, that blends in if someone were to stumble upon it.
There are a couple of other men there. One with a knife. I watch as he slices off the zip tie of the man in the front. The man with the gun opens the metal door, and the first guy is ushered inside. It’s bright inside. Light washes the ground outside the door.
“Run and I shoot you,” the man with the gun says as one of the guys nearly jerks away once his zip tie is loose.
“I have a feeling that’s going to be more pleasant than whatever’s inside,” the guy behind me mutters.
I don’t respond, though I think they’re likely right.
No one runs. I’m not going to lie. The thought of running sounds somewhat appealing. Hopefully, they shoot to kill. But when the cold metal of the knife touches my skin as the man cuts off the zip tie, and my gaze catches on the number on my skin, I decide that’s likely not how this would play out.
They’re not going to shoot to kill. That would mean I don’t participate in whatever they have planned. They’d shoot to stop me. Not kill me. It means that I’d end up impaired in whatever game they have going on here.
The tie falls away, and I walk inside as the second man opens the door for me. I don’t know what I think I’m going to see, but a barracks isn’t top of my list of possibilities. There are three rows of bunks and guys throughout the room.
It’s not difficult to determine which of them has been here the longest. They range from those relatively clean, neat, and somewhat unscathed, like me, having just walked inside, to those who appear like they’ve been through a damn blender. No exaggeration.
A new fear ticks up inside me.
The last person is ushered inside, and the door shuts with an unmistakable clang. The walls may have looked as if they were made of wood from the outside, but the door shutting tells a different story.
There’s silence as we new guys stare at those already here. Only as I’m looking around, examining the faces, do I realize that while there are certainly far more men here than women, there are a few women.
“Welcome to the game of hell,” someone mutters.
“What does that mean?” a guy to my right says. “What is this?”
“Come in. You better get some sleep. A new game starts tomorrow,” a man at the side says. “Get as comfortable as you can.”
“Seriously, what is this place?”
“Have you ever hunted wild game?” a man asks. My stomach churns. Fuck, I don’t like where this is going.
I shake my head in answer, even as I feel all the blood draining in dread.
“This is just that. Only, we’re the game being hunted.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“From what I’ve gathered, people pay to hunt other people. Think along the idea of a purge, except it’s unfairly held where only one side gets weapons and the others are shoved out into the trees and try to survive until morning.”
My god, I’m going to pass out again. I sway on my feet and decide I need to sit down. A man on my right grips my arm and leads me to a bunk. He’s seen better days. He wasn’t one of the men who arrived with me.
“This can’t be real,” I mutter.
He snorts. “You must have been a shit person in a previous life,” he says, nodding. “Karma is punishing us all.”
I stare at the back of my hand, where the numbers burned into my skin are glaring up at me. A voice in the back of my head says I’ve always thought that, otherwise, I wouldn’t have been born to parents who never think I’m good enough to be part of their family.
“What do we do?” I whisper.
“For now, just sleep. Tomorrow, the board will light up with numbers. If yours is up there, you’re among the prey. A truck will be outside to bring you to your starting spot. If you make it back to the bunkhouse without someone killing you, you get to live another day.”
“This isn’t real,” someone says. “This is a fucked-up dream.”
“My name is Malcolm,” the man sitting beside me says. “I’m one of the… lucky ones. I’ve been alive for more than four months. One of the longest.”
I glance down at his hand. 643 looks back at me.
“Is there a strategy to survive?”
“Depends. Do you have any camping or hunting experience?”
I close my eyes as I shake my head. When I’m let out, I’m going to die. There’s no doubt in my mind. My number will be up.
“Sleep, buddy. Get as much rest as possible. You probably won’t be up for a few days since you just got here. Believe it or not, they like to give us a fighting chance. We eat well and get plenty of sleep. Hunts only happen twice a week.”
“I don’t know if that’s considerate or not,” I mutter as I lie down on the bunk he brought me to.
“It’s not considerate. It’s just part of the game.
If we’re already half dead right out the gate, they’re going to lose money.
The assholes who book these hunting trips are nasty people.
They want to cause someone pain. They want to kill us brutally.
Slowly. But if we’re already lying on the forest floor dead?
” Malcolm shakes his head. “That’s no fun for them. ”
“The best thing you can hope for is that you’re shot and die right away,” someone mutters a few beds away. “You’re going to wish you were dead if they get their hands on you.”
“There aren’t any rules here for them except that they can’t come to the barracks. Otherwise, we’re little more than animals. They can do whatever they want to us as long as we’re dead when they’re done.”
I’m going to be sick. “How do you… win the round?” I ask. “You said you’ve survived for four months.”
“You make your way back to the barracks before you become their target. If you reach the barracks, they’ll let you in, and that means you’ve won your round. You get to live until the next hunt.”
I squeeze my eyes closed and roll over, pressing my face into the pillow. Yes, there’s a pillow. Malcolm grips my wrist briefly before I feel the bed rise. He gets to his feet, and I’m left alone. As alone as I can be in a room full of people.
I think about what he told me. About this place. As much as I want to give in to the terror welling in my chest, I breathe through it. I don’t know how to survive in a situation like this. What do I do?
My breathing is loud in my head. Maybe that’s my pulse. I listen to the conversation around me. Listen to others asking questions. Listen to the answers.
Once a month, a new group of prey is delivered.
There are three barracks on the property.
From what they understand, two hunters are allowed out at a time.
The game property is big enough that they’re dropped in two very different areas, far away from each other, so there’s no chance that they’ll run into each other.
This is a wild animal refuge. The land is protected from hunters, which means it’s protected from random people snooping around and stumbling upon this operation. The number on my hand signifies how many people have come and died before me.
I fall asleep to their conversation. I’m shaking. Tears trickle down my cheeks, though I don’t let my sobbing fill the room. If I break down, I might never find the strength to survive this.
But then, what’s the point of surviving? To continue to be prey in their sick game? What keeps those like Malcolm fighting? This isn’t a life worth living.
I think about Voss as I fall asleep. I wish I could talk to him. I wish I could say goodbye. I wish I could thank him for treating me like I’m not just taking up space in this world.
I’m jolted awake, though I’m not sure what woke me. I sit up and realize it wasn’t a sick and twisted dream. I’m really in this nightmare.
“Hey.” I look up as Malcolm slides down from the top bunk. “Hey,” he says again. “Give me your glasses. I’ll get them cleaned up.”
I do. I don’t even care if he crushes them and laughs. He doesn’t. He returns a minute later with glasses I can finally see out of. Though I’m not sure I want to see.
“Breakfast,” he says. “Then we wait to see who is called up.”
“What do we do when we’re not being hunted?” I ask, not sure I want to know.
He shakes his head. “Nothing. We sit here and wait.”
“Like cattle in their stalls waiting for slaughter,” someone mutters.
“Great,” I say and follow Malcolm.
I’m surprised at the spread of food. Real food: eggs, bacon, toast, pancakes, fruit, oatmeal. I feel like I’m at a hotel breakfast offering.
“Like I said. They want us healthy, so we’re a challenge,” Malcolm says, handing me a plate.
“Don’t let yourself get weak,” the man behind me says. “Trust me. You don’t want to be caught.”
“Have you been caught before?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “No. But I’ve seen someone get caught. I was so frozen in horror at what I watched them do to that man… I couldn’t even scream.”
Chills race down my spine. How do I get out of this? I have to. I need to live. I need to get back to my friends and my life.
I eat in silence with Malcolm and two other guys. I’m not sure if they said their names. I see their numbers, though. 699 and 701. They must have been delivered with the herd of people before mine. The last delivery of human game.
They talk about survival strategies; how to find your way back to one of the barracks—it doesn’t matter which you stumble across.
All three are safe zones. The best strategy is to head back to the barracks as quickly as possible.
There are markers to follow. They denote barracks directions, which tell us where to go and keep the hunters away from them.
There are no weapons for us. Our only defense is to get away. The hunters have all kinds of weapons, not limited to guns. They have knives, bows, tasers. They have it all.
I tune them out when they note the different things they’ve seen the hunters do to their prey when caught. Sexual assault, mutilation, and torture were enough of a description. I don’t want to hear details. I’m going to fucking panic if I have to hear details.
Our plates are dumped through a slot in the wall. I’m slightly amazed when the entire table of food disappears through a hole in the wall, which then closes up smoothly. That’s… weirdly technologically savvy.
Which makes me think of Voss. I look around the room. Sure enough, there are cameras in the corners. Someone is watching us.
Voss is the Van Doren tech genius. All he needs to do is find this feed. But how the fuck will he ever find it? I stare, somehow wishing that he’s magically scanning every fucking security camera in the world for my face and facial recognition will find me.
That’s a thing, right? He can do that?
The sudden flapping of wings makes me look up. No, wait. Those aren’t wings. They’re shuffling cards. The rapid clapclapclapclap.
Everyone in the room turns to the board that Malcolm pointed out last night. The one where numbers are posted for the hunt.
I swallow, staring. Dread makes my chest tight. This can’t be real. It can’t be.
One by one, a dozen numbers appear. My heart races in my chest, and I see nothing else. Darkness makes my vision all tunnel-y, and all I see is the board.
The shuffling stops, and we’re staring at a dozen three-digit numbers. 718 isn’t one of them. I sigh in relief, but then see that 643 is on there. Malcolm has been called as prey. I’m never going to see him again, am I?
“Half an hour,” someone murmurs.
Is this what it feels like to be sentenced to death? Knowing in just thirty minutes, you’re facing your fate? What are my crimes? What have I done to earn this death sentence? Why was I chosen for this?
“What do you do to prepare?” I ask Malcolm.
“Me? I sit quietly with my thoughts. It’s a mental game as much as a physical game. If you’re scared, that impairs your judgment and ability to think rationally. Logically.”
“How are you not scared?”
“Don’t misunderstand me. I’m absolutely scared,” he says. “But this is a game of compartmentalizing. Recognize that you’re afraid and then file that away. This isn’t a time to let that fear overcome you. Are you familiar with how AI learns in science fiction?”
Weird change of topic. “Uh… I guess.”
“You and I are AI. We learn a little more about our enemy every time we’re released from here. We use that knowledge to win.”
“I see…”
He laughs. “If that analogy doesn’t work for you, find one that does. Think of it as a game where there are no rules. To win, you need to survive. If you don’t like the idea that we’re AI in this game, think of something else. The point is, learn, adapt, and survive.”
He grips my shoulder and gets to his feet. “See you later.”
I want to ask him if I will? Will I actually see him later? Or has his luck finally run its course?
The room is silent as we watch five men get to their feet and head to the door. I guess the other seven are split between the other two barracks.
The door opens, and the five men walk out. The door slams shut behind them.