He winks. Azlan and Wade get to their feet when we do. Everyone in the barracks is watching us. Suspiciously. Curiously. A few think we’re absolutely crazy.
Then there’s Malcolm, looking amused. I offer him a smile in greeting.
“Come sit, man,” he says and taps a chair. “Let’s see how your side is doing.”
I sit and raise my hand over my head. I haven’t looked at the wound. As he washes it with what is probably alcohol, based on how it fucking stings, I’m reminded of being shot. The loud pop echoes in my head, and I flinch. My breath feels like it was punched from my lungs.
“He really needs antibiotics,” Malcolm says. “That’s not something we have.” He offers me two pills. I examine them for a minute before meeting his eyes. “We have pain meds, though. Take them.”
I do and down some water. Someone brings me a plate of food, and I eat with Voss, Malcolm, Wade, and Azlan. We’re silent for a while. I’m not sure if we’re all waiting for the board to announce today’s victims or, like me, waiting to see what Voss has planned.
“Okay, man,” Malcolm says, his attention on Voss. “It sounds suspiciously like you ended up here on purpose.”
“I did,” Voss says. “My family doesn’t take kindly to someone messing with what’s ours. I’m here to retrieve what’s mine and tear this fucking place down on my way out.”
“That means you’re not just taking him and leaving the rest of us here, right?” someone else asks.
Voss shakes his head. “No. My family is closing in already. They’d already been on their way while we took the long route of being brought here as human prey.” He looks at his hand and frowns. “That man is going to be introduced to his fucking branding irons as he’s brought to death.”
“Are you part of the mafia?” someone asks.
Wade snorts.
Voss smirks. “No, honey. We’re far worse than that. After all, the mafia has proven to have a weakness, no? They’re all dead now.”
I don’t miss the way everyone exchanges looks.
“What’s the plan?” Malcolm asks.
“Depends. Who’s signing up to flip the tables on this operation with us?”
I’m not surprised when nearly everyone agrees. There are faces I don’t recognize who don’t readily volunteer. They’re new here. They haven’t been on a hunt yet.
Thankfully, I’m not the only one who notices. Malcolm turns to them and says, “Let me explain to you what this place is. When your number is called up on that board there,”—he nods toward it, and the three of them glance up—“that means you’re up. You’re driven into the middle of the woods and left there for a group of hunters to hunt you like wild animals. Only, you’d be so lucky if all they did was shoot you. They’re likely to beat, stab, mutilate, rape, or torture youbeforethey let you die. There is no sucking up. There is no getting on someone’s good side. There are no favorites. When your number is up, it’s all on you to live or die. So… which will it be?”
As if his words were the trigger, the board starts clapping. Fear fills their eyes, but I stare at the board and pray to the brainwasher that my number isn’t up there.
Flipflipflipflip. 689. 704. 719. 737. 740. 643…
I sigh in relief when my number isn’t up there. I look over all twelve sets of numbers and sag.
“You’re just getting away today,” Wade says, and I turn my attention to him. He’s looking at Azlan. “Take surveillance. Do some recon. Maybe scare the fuck out of the hunters, but you’renotkilling anyone today. Understand, Az?”
Azlan frowns.
My eyes drop to their hands. Azlan is 737. Wade is 738.
My heart nearly jumps when I grab Voss’ hand. 736. I nearly get dizzy with relief when he’s not one of the numbers on the board. However, one of the skeptical guys—he’s up. He’s looking a little green.
“I’ll show you what I know,” Malcolm says. “You can determine what’s useful.”
“Is there a weapon stash somewhere?” Wade asks.
Malcolm shakes his head. “Not that I’m aware of. I’m guessing that the guys who book their hunting bring their own weapons.”
“Where is the… admin?”
He shakes his head again. “That I don’t know, though I have an idea.”
