Oh my god, I’m going to die.
There are sounds to my left. Like someone is pacing me. Are they going to come at me with a knife?
I run for as long as I can before I don’t have a choice but to stop. My side hurts so fucking bad. I lean against a tree. For just a second, I remain upright. Then I’m bent over vomiting up everything I just ate.
Ew.
When I’m relatively certain I’m finished throwing up, I move away and crouch down within a thicket of brush at the base of a tree to catch my breath. I remain absolutely still and force myself to breathe quietly.
What if I stay right here and just wait it out? Eventually the hunters will vacate for the night, right? But how the hell will I make it back in the dark?
I close my eyes and concentrate on calming down. I try to recall everything Malcolm said. I’m doing exactly what he said not to do—letting my fear control me. Overtaking all my senses and thoughts.
The unmistakable sound of running has me opening my eyes. Very carefully, so I remain as silent as I can, I crouch down further, trying to hide myself. I’d really love to merge myself into the trunk of the tree. Try as I may, that doesn’t seem to be an option.
The running gets louder. I can hear their breathing. The sounds they’re making. Apparently, they weren’t cautioned about their noise.
I keep my mouth shut and my body as still as the fucking tree and stare out at nothing. Only because I’m tracking the movement getting closer do I manage not to jump out of my skin when a guy comes into view.
I’m immediately disturbed by how young they are. There’s no way that guy is more than a teenager. I’m not talking like eighteen or nineteen, but maybe fourteen or fifteen.
His obviously young age has me nearly calling out to him. But then I see the very thing I don’t want to. Something whizzes through the air and plunges into his back. He screams anddrops. I stare in horror at the stalk of an arrow sticking out of his back.
He gets to his feet, trying to run on. I hear his sobs. His begging.
Footsteps of the individual I assume shot him are now audible. While I’d really love to close my eyes and block it out, I can’t. I can’t look away.
The man with the bow slung over his back isn’t in a hurry as he walks toward the teenager. The kid screams as he tries to get away, but he’s bleeding too profusely. I think the arrow might have pierced his lung.
I watch in absolute horror as the hunter begins hitting him with his fists first. Then he takes a short knife from his body and brutally murders him.
When the boy is nothing more than a bloody heap, the man stands over him, chest heaving. If I were a hero, I’d run out and use that damn bow on him. Make him become the hunted.
I’m not a hero.
I remain where I am, staring in terror. Shaking. Trying desperately to remain silent and still. For a long time, the man stands there and looks at his victim. Then he turns to retrieve his bow and walks away.
Walks away like nothing happened. Like he didn’t just murder an innocent boy.
Tears trickle down my face as I stare at the body crumpled on the forest floor. An hour goes by. Maybe four or eight hours. I can’t look away. My stomach churns.
As the sun begins to go down, I force myself to get to my feet. I haven’t heard movement in… hours. Many hours. After the murderer walked away, this part of the woods has been silent.
Cautiously, I move toward the boy and then stop. I shake my head. I have no idea what happens to the bodies, but I don’t think I can stomach getting a closer look at him. I turn and begin walking.
This time, I’m very aware of my surroundings. I walk as quietly as possible, keeping my focus on every single movement and every tiny sound. For a while, I simply walk away from the murder. I don’t have any direction. I don’t know where the barracks are. So I walk.
Eventually, I come upon a tree with a marker, pointing me in the direction of the barracks. Malcolm said the signs toward the barracks are for us. The hunters aren’t allowed near them. This isn’t an ambush. This is hunting humans as wild game. They’re not allowed to stand outside the barracks and kill as we step out.
Having said that, I don’t know where their circle of hunting land ends, so I continue to keep as quiet as I can and follow the trajectory of the arrow. Which proves difficult. There’s no path. I haven’t seen another arrow in a while. Try as I may to walk straight, I constantly have to move so I don’t run into trees.
It’s dusk when I come across another arrow. This time, there’s a sign that says, ‘No hunters beyond this point.’ I’m in the safe zone.
That safe zone is relatively small. I don’t take more than a dozen steps forward when the barracks come into view. I have no idea if this is the same one I left this morning. I imagine it is. I don’t think I ran far enough in the woods to come across another, andI’m relatively certain I was running in the direction the truck had come from.
There are three men standing outside the barracks with rifles in their hands. They see me coming. They’ve probably seen me coming for quite some time. None of them react to my appearance.
My feet slow as I get closer. Iamapproaching armed men. Men who work with people who hunt humans for sport. They’re not safe.
