Chapter 5
Chapter Five
brIAR
Dust kicks up behind me as I sprint into the abyss, the darkness swallowing us whole until nothing remains but the frantic echo of our footsteps.
I don’t know what I was expecting, but the surrounding darkness gives me pause.
My pulse pounds against my ribs as I force my eyes to adjust, the tunnel stealing every sliver of light with each stride.
The air grows colder the deeper I go, damp earth replacing the stale scent of concrete, and before long, I can't tell whether the ragged breathing I hear belongs to the girls scattered somewhere ahead or me.
Dampness clings to the air, filling my lungs as I push forward.
I’m suddenly grateful for the outfit I opted to wear because I can’t imagine how the girls in miniskirts and crop tops are going to fare once we’re outside.
Clearly, common sense was lacking when these girls came to the run—or maybe it was desperation.
The distracting thought causes me to bounce off the wall of the tunnel, scraping my shoulder against the brick, causing me to stagger in my pursuit.
“Fuck!” I grunt, sliding my hand across the wall to stop me from slamming into it again. I rub the offended shoulder with my other hand, glad I have my leather jacket for armor.
I feel my way along the wall of the tunnel. I don’t want to lose time, but I also don’t want to trip and hurt myself. That would only make things worse.
Thankfully, the tunnel isn’t small. I can faintly see the arch of the brick above me, and when I stretch my arms out, only my left hand brushes over one wall.
I think about the men at the tunnel’s entrance and wonder how they hunt. How do they see in here? How can they walk in a straight line without knowing where they’re going? Then I realize that they’ve probably done this run a hundred times, so they’ll know the layout like the back of their hands.
Luckily, the tunnel is the only thing I’m unfamiliar with.
Once I’m in the forest, navigating it won’t be a problem.
Though I don’t even know where to start when it comes to locating any of the flags, at least I have my knowledge of the land on my side.
And once I’ve captured the flag, the only thing I have to worry about is evading getting caught.
I realize that might be the hardest part: finding the flags. Obviously, the guys will know where they are, which gives them the advantage. Their game plan for hunting could be to head towards the flags and hope they come across one of us.
Then again, knowing what I know so far about the run, I figured chasing us is where they get their kicks. Or maybe it’s not the chasing, but what they do after.
While the main guy wearing the glowing mask read out the rules to us, I was trying to work out my own game plan.
The girls seemed to think that sticking together is the way to win this, but I’ve never been much of a team player, and I’ve decided that being a single target is better than being a big one.
To distract myself, I wonder what it would be like to lose.
Though it’s not even a possibility I’m considering, I think about what they would want in terms of servitude.
The NDA we had to sign was vague, but I caught the main points of it: we agree to being chased in the woods, we accept that any injury is our own fault, and we can’t sue.
There were other points, more intriguing ones, like agreeing that everything that happens during the run is consensual, including but not limited to sexual interactions.
Though the clause said we can say no at any point, I imagine the girls who are less equipped for the run came to lose.
But that’s just an assumption I come up with as I make my way through the dark.
More thoughts come to mind, more questions. Ones that I’m not sure I’d ever be prepared for the answer.
Would it be sexual slavery? Would they ask us to do something we’ve never considered before?
Would we be chained like dogs and expected to bark for them like they’re our masters?
I shudder at the last thought, the feminist in me questioning whether this is really all worth it for my brother.
Of course, the answer is yes. I’d do anything for him. And if I have to wear a collar around my neck, so be it. But I’ll do it with fight. I won’t roll over easily, not when my brother’s death is at the forefront of my mind.
Though none of the men are exactly repulsive—based on my reaction to the half-naked men who dominated the room with their presence, I don’t know how I’d feel if I was caught up with one of them, or all three of them. How does that even work?
I curse myself for my ignorance. I read the terms of the NDA. I signed my goddamn name faster than I could say it because it was the first break in luck I’d had since Beckett’s death. I needed this not just for me, but for my twin, too.
The rules are a blur, and I try to recount them.
I guess the game is simple enough. I’ve already broken it down into three phases.
One: locate a flag—whichever one I find first, preferably.
Two: find a safe place to hide, and try not to die of hypothermia in the process.
Though the last part is least likely, being cold isn’t ideal.
But the alternative isn’t something I want to consider.
I’d have to keep moving every so often to keep myself warm.
Three: wait it out until dawn, and don’t attempt to go back until the last second.
Once the steps are laid out, they’re easier to follow.
It’s how I traced Beckett’s last movements before he died.
Though it didn’t get me far, I still managed to find out a few things that the police never included in their report.
Whether they discovered it and never disclosed it, or they didn’t do their jobs properly, is to be determined.
But I did, and that was the start of the breadcrumbs.
Determination surges through me as I take a deep breath, picking up my pace and keeping close to the wall in case I stumble.
After a minute or so, the scent of pine begins to overwhelm the dampness, the air feeling clearer as the sight of concrete steps appears in the distance.
I can hear the trees bristle in the wind, the soft whistle catching the opening at the end of the tunnel.
Slowing my approach, I inhale the scent of cedar and use it to ground me, to steady my heart rate.
My boots pad against the short set of steps as I push past the twigs and foliage that obscure the opening.
Stepping into the forest, the breeze catches against my skin, and a fresh wave of sadness hits me.
I know these woods better than most. Beckett and I spent countless summers weaving through the trails, building dens from fallen branches, and racing each other between the pines until dusk chased us home.
I can still hear my brother laughing as he chases me through the trees, following the trail that backs up to Hollow Creek, a river that runs through the town, past the forest to the base of the mountains.
Beckett’s voice is like a whisper in the wind, his weightless chuckle reverberating in my brain.
We built a fort out here years ago, spending two weeks making it perfect.
It was our safe space when our mother passed away.
A place we could escape to when things at home became too difficult.
It’s a shame that the weather turned rough and dangerous once autumn came, rain making the Creek too dangerous to venture close to.
I half wonder if the fort is still here, but I doubt it’s anything more than bare branches lying in the dirt, battered by the decade of harsh and unforgiving weather.
I’m deep in the woods now, not far enough to hear the water rush by from the river, but enough to hear peaceful silence. Not even the heavy bass from The Den can be heard out here, nor the motorbikes revving their engines like they have something to prove.
It’s just pure, unadulterated quiet.
I head in the direction of the Creek, assuming that the flags are planted farther away to extend the duration of the run.
Twigs snap under my feet, mud squelching as I navigate through the dark.
My breath fogs the cold night air, and I shudder in my jacket as I follow one of the smaller trails of the woods.
At least I came prepared. Sort of. I can’t imagine how the other girls are doing. The redhead in her sports gear looked like she’d do well tonight. I wish I could say the same for the others.
After ten more minutes, I figure I’m far enough in the woods to take a breather. I’ve got six hours to go, and I can’t risk wearing myself out too quickly. I need to keep my wits about me, play it smart, and evade capture for as long as possible. I can’t do that if I’m exhausted.
I spot a large tree just up ahead, its branches towering over me as I approach it. The winter has been cruel, the bark peeling and roots snapping as I reach it. Above me, the moonlight barely passes through the canopy of leaves. I can just make out its condition as I run my fingers over the trunk.
A strange feeling swims through me, like sadness, only it’s laced with nostalgia. I lean my back against the tree and take a deep breath. Closing my eyes, I inhale the scent of cedar and fresh mud, a calmness settling over me.
It doesn’t last long, though.
A howl rips through the darkness, sending shivers up my spine.
Time to go.