else want to speak out?′′ The bright-eyed man asked, not lowering his gun.
Laila clung in fear to her mother. Snezhana sobbed and wailed in Ukrainian. The Nigerian tried to cover his wife and children with himself. The Russians darted forward, but the gamekeepers quickly reined them in. Sandra's pompous voice sounded in the ringing silence:
′′Let's greet our hunters!′′ She made an inviting gesture and armed men entered the area in front of the barracks. Another cameraman was circling around them, filming close-ups.
This time no one applauded. There were five hunters. A fat cowboy with a greasy look was stroking a rifle with a telescopic sight. A skinny blond man was holding a handgun in one hand and a cigarette in the other. A curly black-haired guy with a hooked nose was playing with a knife, flipping it from palm to palm. The hand of the tallest hunter in the team, who could easily have passed as a Viking raider in the first millennium, was demonstratively stroking the buttocks of the only woman in the group, slender and swarthy. It was the couple who were cuddling in the parking lot yesterday. The brunette smiled and sent an airy kiss to the camera.
′′Welcome to the hunt,′′ Sandra must have been paid extra for her sugary smile. ′′We guarantee at least five targets for each of you. You can choose any of them, but you can't hit more than one a day. You are also not allowed to pick one target for two people. Violations will result in a fine or disqualification. Our gamekeepers will watch you to make sure the rules are being followed. They will also assist you in the chase. Any weapon is allowed during the hunt. Mercy is not forbidden.′′
At the last phrase the hunters laughed, and Sandra turned to us:
′′Dear Contestants!′′
′′Fuck you!′′ Lesha yelled.
Ignoring him, Sandra continued:
′′You have two minutes to get off the set, and then the chase will begin. Ready… set… go!′′
Still hoping that everything that was happening was a bad dream, I rushed into the thicket, estimating the size of the forest and what distance I could cover in two minutes.
To my right, the Mexicans were breathing heavily as they trudged through the bushes and the Polish women were running to my left. The mother kept falling and Laila had to help her up. I stumbled over the roots sticking out of the ground a couple of times, but kept up the pace. A siren sounded from somewhere behind us… I guess the two minutes were up and the hunt was on. I turned sharply to the right when I heard the first shot and almost knocked over a guy in glasses wearing a checkered shirt.
′′Sorry…′′
He ran further without responding to my apology. I rushed forward. A few meters further Lesha caught up with me.
′′What the fuck is going on here?′′ he shouted on the run.
′′I have no idea. And I really want to get out of here.′′
Lesha was called out by his father and he ran to him. Both turned into the sparse spruce forest and soon disappeared among the trees. I stopped, trying to catch my breath. I heard gunshots and the hiss of radios behind me, the hunters talking to each other. I took off and, taking a wild guess, turned to the right.
From the barracks I could see only two walls. Both went far into the thicket, but even if the whole area was fenced off, there were probably holes in the fence somewhere. It was worth a try to find them.
The sounds slowly receded, and I froze again. What if I can't make it to the wall? I looked around. The forest wasn't very dense here though there were some tall trees. My brother had taught me how to climb them when I was a kid, so I decided this was a good time to brush up on my rusty skills. The thorns on the nearest wide aspen tree prevented me from climbing – the whole trunk was covered with them. The lower branches of a neighboring birch had been chopped off and I couldn't reach the upper branches. Well, they couldn't possibly have disabled every tree here! I rushed to check and soon abandoned the idea of climbing. I could not pull out the thorns, and the trees that had not had their lower branches removed could not support the weight of my body. Having found nothing useful but a few cameras, I moved on. Slowly at first, then back to running.
The gunshots behind me had ceased completely. I must have run quite far away from my pursuers. A figure flashed to my right and I crouched in fear, but it was only the guy with glasses. He didn't notice me but looked around and ducked into the bushes again. I straightened up and suddenly saw a dark-skinned gamekeeper in front of me. He fired and I barely had time to stretch out on the ground, hiding behind the bushes. The second bullet hit the tree trunk next to me. Trying to make as little noise as possible, I crawled along the bushes but the gamekeeper heard me and fired again. I jumped up sharply, darted to the other side and ran, expecting to be shot in the back, but either the trees prevented the guy from aiming or he did not intend to kill me. After running a few hundred meters, I turned to the right, hoping to find a wall, but soon realized that I had gotten myself lost. Maybe I should have made a small detour and gone back to the camp. They certainly wouldn't look for me in the barracks. I darted forward again, stopping only when I reached the wall. A burst of machine gun fire prevented me from reaching the wall. The guards were watching the area from the towers, not letting anyone get close. Maybe I should wait until dark. I wandered along the wall, not going deeper into the woods, away from the watchtowers, but the guards weren't the only ones watching my whereabouts. A shadow flashed to my left. I shuddered and retreated to the trees, trying to hide, but it was too late, a gamekeeper was approaching. The dangerous one, the one with the tattoos. I was too scared to make a move. And should I, when I'm in their crosshairs? Calmly, with no change on his face, the blond-haired man stepped closer with the same indifference he had when he shot the fat teenager a few hours ago. Staring into the black gaze of the muzzle, I held my breath. The blond-haired man took another step and the gun touched my forehead. I closed my eyes shut and shuddered imagining the bullet smashing through my skull.
′′Not in the head…′′ I didn't recognize my own barely audible whisper.
The gamekeeper was silent. The gun moved slowly, chillingly along my cheek as it made its way down to my neck. I opened my eyes in surprise. Tilting his head, the gamekeeper was watching my reaction. Suddenly, I remembered the saying that if a killer looked their victim in the eye for a long time, he couldn't kill them. It was worth trying. So, which one of us will blink first? As if accepting the challenge, he wasn't looking away. Chills ran down my spine again as the blond-haired man slowly moved the gun lower. It was now resting in the hollow of my chest. I held my breath.
Just when I thought he was going to shoot, the radio in his pocket went off:
′′Jason, did you find her?′′
′′Yes,′′ the gamekeeper said reluctantly, as he continued to hold me in his gaze.
′′Come out then,′′ the radio crackled. ′′You're in the blind spot′′.
Not putting the gun down, he shoved me in the shoulder. I turned and walked slowly through the thicket, pushed on by the prodding of his gun in my back.
Chapter 2
Outside the barracks, an exhausted Laila was sitting on the ground. A gamekeeper in a light suede jacket had brought her in and was now towering beside her, waiting for her to get up. Her clothes were soaked through and clinging to her body, but this only accentuated her slender figure.
′′Vogue, are you going to grow roots here?′′ Jason asked sarcastically, pushing me forward again. ′′Or are you just waiting for your redhead
