Page 41 of Deadfall

“Did it teach you not to break?”

A soft scoff. “Everyone breaks eventually.”

“Then what’s the point?”

He slid a few mags my way, but when I went to grab them, he held my wrist until I looked up.

“Nothing can prepare you for the real thing,” he said. “That’s not what it’s for. But, it does give you a solid fortress to operate out of which gives you time, and in captivity, time is what will save you.”

That all sounded horrible, but also necessary. It sounded scary as fuck too. But, my future plans were dangerous and there was every possibility that I could get captured and tortured. Maybe, it wasn’t such a bad idea to go through the training.

“Don’t think about that right now, though,” Sacha said. “Focus on the hunt.”

When we were done, Sacha walked by my side to the front door. He held out the hunting knife I’d brought back—it still had Jas’ blood on it. My adrenaline spiked as I gripped the hilt and watched Sacha’s eyes turn to steel.

“Show them what it means to have you as an enemy.”

22

EMERSYN

Age 18

My nerves were in my throat on the walk back around the lake toward the campsite. I wondered what Sacha meant by making it uncomfortable for them to leave, but I quickly found out about a half-mile before I reached the camp. Blood appeared on the path. I paused long enough to get a picture of what happened.

Two men. Moving quickly. Their tracks were sloppy. At one point it looked like they froze and turned in circles. Sacha must have shot at them. Their tracks retreated back down the trail, this time in panic. Their strides were stretched like they were running, and there was more blood on the surrounding foliage. One or both of them were injured.

I picked up my pace and followed the tracks. The unknown slowly dropped away as I settled into a hunter’s cadence. There was no room for invasive thoughts or hesitation—just action. I followed the trail all the way back to the campsite. I thought I’d feel some sort of way once I reached the scene of the crime, but the campsite was nearly unrecognizable. It looked like someone had ransacked it. The tent was half-taken down with poles thrown all over the clearing. The fire looked like it’d been kicked haphazardly, and there was trash and general camping debris strewn as far as the shore of the lake.

My gaze caught on the pieces of orange rope that had been used to bind me. My chest seized and there was a brief minute where my mind tried to blare a warning to run away. I clutched my rifle, my jaw tight—all the emotions collided, trying to vie for my attention, yet I only had interest in one—rage.

I found where the trail picked up outside of the camp. The blood was fresher here—I prepared myself to make contact.

It wasn’t long before I heard them. Up until that moment, I’d been convinced I’d just shoot them and be done—but as I crept closer and gained on them, I knew I needed to look them in the eye. These men had taken from me, made me feel helpless and afraid, and I was going to make them feel all of those things and more.

Sacha’s words lingered in my mind: Show them what it means to have you as an enemy.

I wanted them to know it was me. I knew for sure that was the right choice as soon as I rounded a bend in the trail and saw them. I simply wouldn’t be satisfied with anything less than their blood running over my hands, like Jas’ had. The thought sent chills of excitement down my spine.

“Jesus, fucking speed it up, Pete,” Harry snapped.

He had Pete’s arm slung around his shoulder. Pete was obviously the one Sacha had hit. A bloody, but not fatal, hit to his calf. It had bled through the hasty binding they’d fashioned out of part of a shirt.

“There’s a gun in the truck,” Pete panted. “Just leave me and go grab it.”

“Are you sure?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, I’d feel better—these woods are creepy as fuck, and whoever shot me could come back.”

“Alright, well, keep going—” Harry grabbed a large stick for Pete. “Use this.”

“Thanks, man.”

Harry took off through the trees at a jog. Pete limped after him. I didn’t know how far the truck was, but I also knew Sacha had disabled it, so I wasn’t too worried about that. I also knew, without Sacha having to tell me, that he’d most likely searched the truck. There definitely wasn’t going to be any weapons for Harry to find. I let Pete get a few hundred yards more down the trail and crept after him until I got bored of watching him struggle.

I aimed at the stick he was using as a crutch and pulled the trigger. The stick broke in half, flew out of his hands and sent him sprawling. He shrieked and scrambled towards a tree where he patted himself and tried to see if he’d been hit. I pulled the trigger again; this time I aimed above his head. He cursed and crawled back to the trail where he attempted to get to his feet. He made it a few steps before he crashed back to the ground.

I stepped out of hiding and walked up behind him. My boot pressed down on his calf and he cried out. He begged and sobbed, his hands over his head, face buried in the dirt as he pleaded with me to spare him.