“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.
