Chapter 5
Wyatt
“Woohoo!” I yell, hands cupped around my mouth, as I reach the first plateau on the hillside up the mountain. It echoes throughout the valley.
Oh my god, this is exhilarating!
After nearly eight months in a prison cell this is exactly what I need–freedom, and a challenge to test my body.
If we could throw in a few guns and a bad guy to hunt, I’d think we’d landed in Heaven instead of Hell.
Answering my prayers, an explosion below spikes the adrenaline in my blood as it tears through the earth further down the face of the mountain, at my five o’clock.
I’m not too egotistical to admit that my heart also does a little skip and has a moment where it thinks we’re the one who has died.
But I quickly recover, and with a little less bounce in my steps I continue up the path to get a better look.
It seems a few of the fellow prisoners tried to take the straight route and have paid for their mistakes.
Okay, so this is a booby-trapped hike. My lips tug at the new challenge I’m facing. I love nothing more than getting my adrenaline going and this just pushed it to the max.
Scanning the rest of the crowd, I note how we’ve all fanned out.
Some are to the left, others are still trying to tackle the steeper but direct route, and a final bunch decided on the grassier route to the right.
I bet a waterfall runs down there in the spring, by the amount of plants and shit growing there.
The path I’m on, which looks a bit like an old animal track, is mostly gravelly rocks and a few sprigs of tough little bushes.
About half of my prison mates are strung out along the first section of it, the fittest of us racing out ahead.
Do those trying to take shortcuts not see that this path has been marked?
Are they really so lazy that they are willing to cut corners, or in this case try to go as the crow flies?
For a second, I question my own judgement.
I’d noticed the little wooden markers dipped in yellow from the starting point.
They are spread out enough that they weren’t obviously a marked path but as you reached each one you could see the way tracked out to the next one.
And we’re not being timed, it’s not the quickest who wins. You’ve got to be smart.
A second landmine detonates, sadly sending a few more bodies firing up into the sky, making it rain blood.
I hope it’s none of the cool people I’ve met in the last month.
But if they’ve gone and got themselves killed then clearly they’re not as cool as I first thought.
And I guess it means I have less competition already, for whatever this recruitment process is.
Not going to lie, the whole ‘we’ve landed in Hell and are now fighting to work for none other than Hades himself’ thing seems a tad dramatic.
I’ve heard of experimenting on prisoners, scientists using them like human mice to test new drugs, or run fucked up mind tricks on, but this is a new one to me.
And I’ve lived in the morally dark grey shadows for nearly all of my thirty-five years.
So, why am I playing along? A competition was laid out and there’s nothing I love more than a challenge.
Beating a load of highly trained criminals, fuck yes, I’m all over it.
Do I believe we’re actually in Hell? Pfft.
Come on. Although the portal was a good trick.
And how we landed in the countryside from the canteen hall, I’ve yet to figure that out.
My brain doesn’t feel fuzzy like I’ve been drugged.
I’m ninety-nine percent sure this isn’t some Matrix level bullshit, but then again how would I know?
Wherever the fuck this is, it beats the prison cells.
There’s a sudden commotion behind me, from within the grassy channel running down the hillside, and what I see might be making me re-evaluate the whole drugging theory.
Several of the prisoners are being attacked by what look like fairies!
Tiny humanoid creatures with wings, are flapping about, dive bombing and flying circles around the screaming inmates.
As the group in orange jumpsuits run past, trying to escape, I get a closer look at the things chasing them.
Their skin has a greenish tinge, and they have little pointed ears, but other than those features, and the wings, they look completely human.
A female one comes to an abrupt halt as she spots me completely rooted to the spot.
“What are you?” I ask in wonderment.
She cocks her head and offers me a bright smile. “I’m a Sprite, have you never seen one of us before?”
Shaking my head, I take in her tiny form, she’s barely longer than the palm of my hand. “A Sprite?”
Instead of staying to chat, she zips off, giggling as she goes.
Blinking hard, I watch the chaos for a few more minutes.
Either I am drugged or this is real. More Sprites continue buzzing around some of the others until they’re out of the grassy plateau.
It looked like an easier climb from the starting line, but clearly we are not going to be allowed to go that way.
The Sprites all give up the chase once every prisoner has returned to rocky, gravel covered land.
Deciding to stick to the marked out path for now, I spot the next little yellow marker about three-hundred metres away and start walking, albeit with my wits far more alert for whatever traps could lay ahead.
A flash of bright rainbow colours catches my attention in the crowd now in front of me, I’ve fallen into the middle of the pack with my little break.
The woman, number Ninety-Eight, is jogging along, overtaking with ease as most of us have slowed to walking.
I swear we’d left her behind. She’d not moved a metre as the rest of us started racing for the mountain.
I thought she was probably refusing outright to join in.
Not that I’m keeping tabs on her or anything.
I’m not bitter about her flat out rejection. I’m not.
The twist now in my gut is purely from the exertion.
She moves with precision and poise, like every step is calculated but also already choreographed, like a dancer.
I really want to know what she did to land herself in this prison.
Her aura reminds me of a trained killer, but I would have come across her, I’m sure.
I’ve been a hitman for the last fifteen years and was at the top of the game before I stupidly got caught.
I was the one who would take on the most challenging cases, the highest stakes, and was damn good at it.
But it’s not like it's a big profession, and despite our need for anonymity you get to know your colleagues when you reach my level. There’s a playful banter over jobs, we applaud intricate plans that are pulled off and laugh at dumb mistakes each of us makes.
It’s not like I know every single highly paid assassin in the world but this one I wouldn’t have forgotten.
Her big brown eyes that are so fierce, and those full, fucking kissable lips; those I would’ve remembered.
And would’ve had wrapped around my cock if she’d let me.
Maybe she’s not a killer at all. But like I said, I know my profession, I can read people, and she is danger personified.
And I really want to play with her.
I take off again but the path narrows, making it harder to overtake, especially as it seems more of the convicts have learned from our peers' mistakes. Fewer are trying alternative routes after seeing what lurks off the beaten track.
However, my frustration at the slow pace grows as I fail to close the gap on my target. Looking higher up, I see one of the markers practically above me…
No, dumb idea. I’ve seen what happens to those that deviate from the path. Buuuuuttt… it would get me back to the front, and in front of her.
Fuck it. I’m smart, I can avoid any further landmines and tackle any fairies that might fly out of the rocks.
Assessing the climb, it’s probably a seventy percent incline, so I’m going to need to scramble.
The rocks look mostly stable and I’ve scaled more dangerous things.
Granted, for those I used a harness, but it’s not like this is a glass building–which I have done by the way, and made one of the most satisfying kills whilst doing it, thank you very much.
Grabbing some of the soil from the track, I rub it into my palms in the absence of any chalk.
Then I start to climb. Testing the first few rocks thoroughly, they feel solid enough, so I start to move a bit quicker.
I’m about a third of the way when I notice a few of the stragglers behind me see what I’m doing and start to copy.
Hauling myself up, ensuring my footing is secure before each move, I keep Ninety-Eight in my sights.
She’s zigzagging a section further over and talking to another female, a small blonde I may have already made out with.
She’s hot and was down for a little fun one night, although we got no further than necking in a corner before a guard spotted us.
I wonder what they’re talking about as they traverse the climb.
The distraction costs me as my left foot slips off the rock I’d just put all my weight on.
Quickly gripping the handholds a little tighter, I swing my left leg up a little higher to the rock above.
That one is even less stable and pulls out of the mountainside entirely, bouncing down the steep slope.
I hear a cry as it hits one of the people below me and there’s a sickening crunch before the sound of rubble increases and more rocks start sliding.
It takes a quick hop and balancing my weight entirely on my right hand but I finally manage to find my footing once more.
Glancing down, the tumbling rocks have caused some damage. Number Forty-One is sprawled out on the path at the base of this section, his shoulder not looking as it should.
“Fuck you, Wyatt!” he screams up at me as he stands.