Monster Gauntlet (8 page)

“Nice,” he said. “But this isn’t doing to help you now.”

He dropped it and grabbed my breast with his free hand. My eyes were closed, so I don’t know if he cut the shirt with the switchblade or simply ripped it apart with brute strength. Tears ran out of the corners of my eyes.

My mind was going blank. I didn’t even know what god to pray to. The man was breathing faster now, and said, “Alright bitch. Now we’re going to ...”

 His enormous weight was suddenly off me. My eyes snapped open. I gasped for air and was finally able to inhale deep breaths. I sat up and shuffled to my feet. The mugger was several meters away, rolling around on the ground. There was another man entwined with him. It took me a second to register what I was looking at.

Marine!

I suddenly had a surge of hope, then more fear.

Marine was on the man’s back and the two of them were rolling around on the ground. It was hard to make out who was winning. The mugger pitched Marine off his back, but Marine kept his legs around the man, keeping him in “closed guard.” (I recognized the names of the moves from watching MMA with my brothers). Then mugger repeated punched Marine in the face.

I turned away to look for my knife. I found it. When I turned back, the positions had totally changed. Marine was on his feet. The mugger was coming at him in a crouch. Marine kicked him in the face. The man moaned. I rejoiced. But the tackle still worked, and both men went to the ground.

A scramble ensued. At some point, Marine cried out. Both men separated and staggered to their feet. Marine looked down at his hip and then held up his hand, gazing at the slick red blood glistening on his skin.

The faceless thug waved a bloody switchblade.

Marine winced. Then he growled and whipped out his own knife.

The thug switched the knife to his other hand and reached behind this back.

“Marine, he has a ...”

“BLAM! BLAM!”

The brute’s body staggered backwards.

“FTTT”

An arrow appeared in the middle of his right arm.

The pistol dangled from his fingers and fell to the ground. The man was still on his feet and even took a step forward. He raised the blade.

“BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!”

The man’s head exploded. The body crumpled and slumped on the ground.

Marine and I both stared in shock at the body, then at each other.

Bear and Trish stepped out from the trees. I exhaled in relief. I was unspeakably happy to see them. The feeling was not mutual.

“Next time you look for me to save your ass, don’t,” Bear said.

He moved towards the body, keeping his gun pointed at it. I saw the mugger’s pistol lying near his hand, and that snapped me out of my state of shock. I moved so quickly I practically ran. I had to beat Bear. I kicked the gun away from the dead man’s hand like you see cops do in the movies. When it was safely out of the reach the fallen foe, I scooped it up. I wrapped my fingers around the cold handle. The weapon was heavier than I expected. It felt good.

Bear looked at me as if he smelled something bad. He obviously wanted the gun for himself. He held my gaze as if he wanted to say something, but didn’t. He returned his attention to the body.

The gun was mine now. I pointed at the body, half expecting the headless horror to sit up and wave its outstretched arms, searching and reaching specifically for me. Even though the intruder was missing half of his head, I still found it hard to believe he was really dead. I cringed at the thought of what would have happened if my “friends” hadn’t helped. I wanted to squeeze the trigger and unload the gun into the body just to make sure it was dead and wouldn’t get up. I was about to when Bear said, “Put that thing down before you hurt somebody. I mean it.”

I looked at him, but the darkness in his stare told me he was not joking. I slowly lowered my weapon. Bear descended on the corpse like a vulture and started going through the clothing. He pulled the man’s jacket apart like a jackal spreading a victim’s rib cage open.

“Hah!” shouted Bear. “He’s wearing a vest! I knew it! It’s mine now!”

I turned to Marine while Bear’s hands scoured the man’s remains.

“You OK?” he asked me.

I nodded. I look at him holding his arm across his stomach. His hand was glistening red.

“You’re bleeding,” I gasped.

He laughed.

“What’s so funny?” I said. “You’re hurt.”

“No, nothing’s funny,” he said, smiling. “It’s not bad, really. I mean, to a civilian, it looks bad, but I was a medic in the gulf, remember? This isn’t bad.”

“It looks bad,” I said.

“Nah,” he said. “Jacket took most of the force. Still, I want to dress it and get moving. Mason, hand me your med kit.”

Mason, who had conveniently appeared from the darkness after the action was over, shifted uneasily. His eyes darted about like rodent’s, constantly scanning the surrounding for danger. He looked like a small animal in a world of predators, which, in fact, we were.

“Mason? The med kit.”

“Um, that’s mine.”

“What?” Marine uttered, voicing what I was thinking.

“It’s mine. You’ve got your own gear. Why should I hand my stuff over to you?”

Marine said, “Because I will fucking kill you if you don’t.”

Marine and Mason started getting into their fighting stances and I thought, Here we go. Boys and their testosterone.

I said, “Guys, we ...”

“OK, what the hell is this shit?” Bear said as he approached us.

“We have situation,” Trish said. She had a weird smile, like she was amused and looking forward to the violence. Again, I thought, These people are dangerous, maybe as much as the monsters. I’m with a bunch of psychos.

“Well, I’m outta here,” Bear said. “I don’t want to be near that body when the wolves or the vampires or who-knows-what shows up. I’m getting the hell out of the woods.”

On that note, we were all in agreement. Mason handed over the med kit. Marine cleaned the wound – a swallow gash across his stomach – with impressive speed and efficiency and handed the kit back.

Bear said, “I’m going back to the field. I’m ...”

He looked around and I watch the fierceness in his face fall and melt into fear. “What ... where ... which way?”

“That way,” Trish said. “I think.”

We pulled out the map and compass and picked the direction we thought would get us out. We weren’t that deep into the forest. It was scary how close we were to the edge and still got lost.

Everyone felt better when we were back in the gap between tree lines.

Slumping as if he had shuffled off a heavy burden, Bear was visibly relieved. We all felt the same way. Then, as if realizing that if he wanted to assume command again he needed to look the part, Bear drew himself upright and said, “OK. Good. We’re back. Now let’s get moving. No stopping unless I say so. I want to get to that fort and hunker down. Got it? Move.”

“Fort.” That’s what he called the castle. The very word conveyed as sense of power and purpose. It suggested strength and security, which was ironic. There was none of that here.

We hiked in silence. Bear like to tell people to shut up, which was ironic considering how he would think out loud, complaining to the universe and anyone who would listen.

“Goddamn idiots,” he said. “Picked knives instead of guns. This shit wouldn’t have happened if you’d all picked guns. Guess I’m the only one who’s not an idiot. I saved your asses and emptied half my clip to do it. Goddamn waste of ammo.”

We all wanted him to shut up, but then again, nobody said anything because he was big and had a gun. I hated to admit it, but in a way, he was kind of right.

We continued to trudge towards the castle in the north, and I was glad were still in a group. My situational awareness was shot. I was walking around in a daze, like I’d been out partying and binge drinking. I felt like I was pitching forward, and my feet seemed to fall into place. With my legs on cruise control, my mind was free to wander.

I thought about what had happened. I was attacked in the woods by a stranger. That was scary, but was it a monster?

Yes, I thought, It was. In fact, it was what everyone was afraid of.

Still, I somehow felt cheated. I mean, this show was about Scottish monsters. Where were the faeries and the like?

They’re still out there, I thought with a shudder. The thug and the cat were just to soften us up and wear us down, or maybe thin the herd by taking a few of us out. They’re saving the big monsters for the finale.

Still, the hoodlum was out of place. I didn’t associate that with Scotland. Crime and violence and guns weren’t things I worried about, especially not in Skye. London is a huge city, and like anywhere else, you have to be smart and have good situational awareness when you’re out and about. But even then I felt relatively safe. I was never afraid of being held up at gunpoint or being shot. Guns didn’t fit into Britain. No, guns and gun violence were American fears. The producers were imposing their fears on us and contaminating my country. It was disgusting.

I started to wonder what would have happened if Marine hadn’t tackled the brute. I quickly cut that movie from playing in my mind.

Suddenly, I had a startling realization. People had been watching that. Possibly millions of them. They were watching right now.

Really? I thought. Millions of viewers were watching at this moment, sitting on their couches, in bars, in college lounges, and in theaters eagerly awaiting the next attack. How exciting it would be when it came and somebody got killed!

My face screwed up as if I’d tasted something bitter. Really? Were people really going to sit around and watch and (oh God) possibly even cheer while I got raped and killed?

Would they be disgusted? Some would, like Alysh. She had a sense of decency. But what about the rest? Is that what they wanted to see?

Of course it was. They were tuning in to watch me get eaten alive or torn apart by monsters with teeth and claws, so why wouldn’t they enjoy watching me get torn apart by the rapist?

This was entertainment, after all. It was raw. It was real. And, in some people’s minds, this really was justice.

I stopped in my tracks. I looked up at the storm clouds in the Scottish sky that managed to be both foreboding and beautiful at the same time.

Guns? A rapist? I lifted my head and shouted at the sky. “How dare you!?”

Everyone stopped. Clouds continued to drift in the cold sky. The world didn’t acknowledge me back in any way, but unlike somebody ranting to the universe on her own, I did have an audience. Somebody was watching. I thought of Cain with his tailored suits and mask-like smile. It thought of Vasha and her insults, and of the directors and their misplaced pride in their “creation.” They were worse than the audience. This was their show, and they chose the monsters. It was their idea to send the faceless thug in the first place. I had a feeling that the rapist was deliberately chosen for me.

“How dare you!? You sent a rapist? I’m going to get you! You hear me!? I’m going to make you pay! I swear this on my life!”

“Easy, Blue. Hand over the gun.”

“What?” I screamed.

Bear stretched his hand out. “Give me that goddamn gun before you shoot yourself or one of us! I wasted ammo saving your ass so give me the weapon. Now.”

Give me your weapons. Right. The line that starts wars. ‘How to Start a Fight’ by Moira MacMillan. Say ‘Give me your weapons.’

Bear took a deliberate step forward. “Girl, I’m not asking twice.”

I pulled the gun out of my waistband and pointed at his face. He froze.

“Back off!”

Looking into Bear’s eyes was like staring down the barrel of a gun. Then I saw the change. He searched my eyes and found that he was NOT mentally stronger. He was staring down the barrel of a gun. My gun. I would kill him.

I saw the fear seep into his eyes and he raised his hands slowly.

“I’m just saying ...”

“SHUT UP!”

“Moira,” said a soft voice behind me.

Without turning my back on Bear, I whipped around and found myself pointing the gun at Marine’s head. It was shaking in my hands.

“He’s a man,” an alien part of myself said. “You can’t trust him. He’s going to hurt you. He wants to rape you. He wants ...”

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!”

I looked at Marine. His hands were up, framing a face that looked frightened. Unlike Bear’s eyes, which showed contempt and then fear, in Marine’s I found concern. He wasn’t afraid. He was worried about me.

I lowered my weapon.

“Oh God,” I moaned. “I am so sorry. I’m losing it. I’m just ... No. I’m cool. It’s over. I’m just freaked out because I almost got raped back there.”

Marine slowly lowered his hands.

“I’m good now. Really. I’m cool. I’m ready to go.”

I turned to Bear and said, “And I’m keeping the gun.”

Bear scowled but didn’t argue.

We started walking, and just as before, my body went on autopilot and my mind was free to wander. In one way, we were doing alright. We were still working together as a team. We had faced two monsters, and as of now, there were two dead monsters and five living, injury-free Runners (well, not including Marine). So far so good.

But then there was the other side of the coin. The contest had just started and I had almost been taken out. I hated to admit it, but I couldn’t have survived without help. I shuddered to think what was in store for us, and that this was only the beginning. The day had just started.

I was starting to lose my mind but regained control. I hoped that would last. I didn’t know how we were going to make it to the end of the day, never mind nightfall. And if did make it to castle to camp, what horrors awaited us in the night?

Again, the one recurring thought I kept trying to banish from my brain returned. We’re doomed.

We carried on northward until we came to a rushing burn. It was full of fast-moving water, which is typical from the rain-swollen weather. Fortunately, there were places where it was small enough to jump over. I knelt at its banks and plunged my hands into the icy water. I rinsed my mouth. At first I tasted traces of my own blood and spat. Then I drank the pure, cold water. I checked my teeth with my tongue. They were OK. My left eye was swelling up. I cut part of my sleeve to make a rag, dipped it into the ice-cold creek, and held the compact to my face. It helped keep the swelling down. Well, that, and a pill from the med-kit.