“Recon,” Voss agrees. “Be careful.”
“Finish eating,” Malcolm says.
The room is silent except for Malcolm coaching the new guys. Only one of the three is called up to go out and die. Honestly, I think he’s going to die. Then again, I probably looked like that, too. I recognize the way he’s staring at Malcolm as if seeing through his eyes.
Disbelief. This can’t be real. It’s inhumane. It’sillegal. It’s sick.
Terror. I’m going to die today.
The two mix until it feels like an out-of-body experience. Like you’re watching from a distance. Watching your body as you slowly have a mental breakdown.
The door opens, and one of the armed men waits for the four on the board to head outside. When the door closes, Voss says, “I see twelve numbers and only four men left.”
“There are two other barracks,” someone answers. “From what I can guess, the numbers are pulled at random. Sometimes, only one person leaves here. Sometimes eight. There’s no rhyme or reason, so I think the numbers must be randomly generated.”
“That makes sense,” another man says. “They’re tracked when we return. Those who don’t return, their numbers are taken out of the rotation.”
Voss nods. “Good to know. Keep talking. Tell me more. I need every observation, every memory, every detail you can think of, even if it feels menial and useless.”
“You’re not concerned about your friend dying out there?” one of the new guys asks.
Wade laughs. “Azlan is a psychopath.” When no one reacts, he smirks. “A clinically diagnosed psychopath. He’s now the scariest thing in the woods. Trust me. He’ll be back without a scratch.”
A beat passes in silence before one of the guys who sleeps on the bunk behind me says, “I think we’re always dropped in the same spot. Based on the distance we travel in the truck and how long it takes me to find my way back, I think it’s a couple of miles northeast of here. Four miles tops. I’m nearly confident we’re dropped in almost the same spot because I’ve marked a tree, and I almost always find it. We arenotdropped with the guys from other barracks, and it’s rare that we cross paths or end up in another barracks. I don’t know whether that means they’re quite a distance away or we simply run in the direction we came, knowing that relative safety is right there.”
“Good. Do we have paper? Pen?” Voss asks. “Let’s use everyone’s estimation of where they’ve run and what they’ve seen to make a kind of map.”
I munch on the remnants of food on my plate as I watch Voss. I’m safe now.
33
VOSS
My plan had always beento keep Brek at the barracks, but when he started showing signs of a fever two days ago, I not only moved our plan forward to the next time one of us is called up to the hunt but also used my phone in the middle of the night to call my father. I needed to make sure Doctor Mark was on his way or here already.
We have a decent map. Azlan and Malcolm returned very late the first night they were called out. They returned as buddies. I actually saw Azlan smile. It was freaky as fuck.
I’ve never thought Loren was freaky, but I can understand now why someone might think he is. Smiles don’t belong on faces where nothing but ice is seen out of their eyes.
They told us late in the night how they scared the fuck out of one of the hunters, and stalked him like he was the prey all the way back to the place where his truck was parked. There’s a lodge on a riverbank, and they’re using the river to generate electricity.
The guy ran inside, remained for several minutes, and then ran out and into his car. He drove away. They continued to watch the lodge for quite a while. No one else came out.
They remained there until the other hunters returned, noting that one dropped their weapon inside and the other took theirs with them. They stayed long after dark, waiting for someone to come out of the lodge. Someone who might work there.
I think about the IP address originating out of Florida and note that whoever is in the lodge isn’t here in the middle of the woods of Northern Colorado. It would have been useful to be able to continue hunting down whoever operates this thing while waiting here.
It’s been four days and three hunts. My number hasn’t come up yet. As we sit and eat breakfast in silence, I know it’s about to. I look at Brek, and my anxiety increases. I bet his will too, since it hasn’t come up again either.
On the one hand, I like the idea of having him with me. On the other hand, I’m confident he’s struggling with an infection from his gunshot wound. After he told me he rolled down a fucking hill into a stream—which explains all the puncture wounds and lacerations covering his body, as well as the ankle injury—I’m sure that’s what the fever is caused by.
We need a minimum of three able-bodied people out of here to begin this operation. Two door guards. One driver.
The entire barracks watches the board in silence as the minutes tick closer to the time when a hunt is announced. There wasn’t one yesterday, so we’re guessing there will be today. Malcolm says they’re clearly changing the rules of the game.
Greed? They want more money? Is it a demand increase? More people are asking for this excursion, so they’re opening more slots? New ownership? Is there a place on the dark web for selling nasty businesses like this? Hmm.
Theflipflipflipflipcommands everyone’s attention. Even though I’m prepared to be called up, my heart still skips and jumps when my number settles on the screen. Holy fuck. The fear is real. Wade’s is there. Brek’s is there. Malcolm’s is there. Two others are there.
