Dead Winter: A gripping crime thriller full of suspense (12 page)

Chapter Fifteen

Day Eight (28th December – 9:45PM)

With my arms raised to the sky, I felt a bead of cold sweat run down the side of my head along with a sense of dread. Whatever this was, it wasn't going to be good for us, only bad things could come of something like this.

"Keep them up!" the voice called at me, I kept my arms raised as high as I could, resisting the urge to grab my handgun. For now, I would do as I was told, I wasn't ready to die just yet.

"Good! Now turn around, let me get a look at you." called the voice again as I slowly turned around to face the man behind me. He was a decently-sized man, with a gruff expression, his facial hair was unkempt and rather wild looking. But what caught my eye most was the weapon he was carrying; it was a sawn-off shotgun.

So that's what it was. We were being hunted.

"What the hell do you think you're doing!?" Paul shouted at the other man, who was pointing a composite bow directly at his head, an arrow strung in preparation.

"Quiet! All we want is what you got." the other man declared.

"Like hell you're getting our stuff!" Paul spat angrily, staring down at the ground in contemplation.

"Look at this, Randy. We got ourselves a fighter!" jeered the man holding Paul hostage.

"Heheh. Now tell me, you just came from the city over yonder, did you not?" the man known as Randy said to me, his eyes locked with my own.

"And what if we did?" I retorted, with a hint of sarcasm lingering in my voice. The night was young, and the cold had yet to fully sink in, yet I found myself frozen in what could only be described as fear.

"Then that means you should have some pretty nice kit, doesn't it? I see you've got some guns on you as is!" Randy sneered, raising the shotgun slightly to point at my face. He was only spitting distance away from me.

I wondered how many of them there were as I quickly glanced around at my surroundings, Paul wasn't in my line of sight and nor was the other man, but I still wondered if we could take them. I briefly heard a small tinkle and assumed John was now sneaking out of his tent.

"Oh, fuck this!" I heard Paul shout, I turned my head just in time to see him duck out of the way of an arrow to pull out his gun. But he hadn't moved quickly enough, as an arrow planted itself in his shoulder.

He shouted and pulled the trigger with his other hand, sending a bullet flying towards the unnamed hunter; but to no avail, as the bullet sailed straight past him.

"Son of a bitch just tried to kill me!" the unnamed man shouted at Randy as Paul writhed around on the floor in agony, dropping his gun and clutching at his shoulder, where the arrow had sunk deep.

"Then I think we need to make an example of him, George!" Randy shouted, moving his shotgun closer to my face, he was a mere few yards away from me now, but I didn't dare make a move in case he blow my head off.

An example?

"Get up! And you two, weapons down! We have you both surrounded!" shouted George, pulling Paul to his feet as he drew out a large combat knife and pressed it to Paul's throat.

As he did, three more men appeared from behind the trees, pointing weapons at John and Dave, who quickly dropped their own to the ground and raised their arms in defeat.

"I'll... fucking kill you." Paul groaned at the hunter, blood trickling down his arm from the arrow stuck in his shoulder.

"No. Not at all. Now pay attention, men! This is what happens when you try to fuck with us!" George cackled, pressing the blade of the knife against Paul's throat, slowly dragging it through the skin and flesh. Paul let out one final scream as the hunter cut his throat.

"Motherfuckers! You're not getting away with this!" John shouted at the hunters, spitting in rage as George dropped Paul to the cold, grassy ground. He weakly clutched at his neck, letting out a quiet gargling sound, unable to breathe as blood oozed from his neck until he moved no more.

"I think you'll find we are." said one of the other hunters as two of them proceeded to knock John and Dave out with their weapons.

"Do we need to knock you out too, or will you be a good boy?" Randy sang, laughing at the end of his sentence as he slowly walked towards me, pulling out a length of rope from his bag.

"I think I'll pass on the whole being knocked out thing." I hissed, seething with rage and dreadful thoughts of what I might do to these people if I had the chance.

"Good man!" he said, grabbing my arms and tying them quite tightly behind my back, I felt a shiver run down my spine as he took the handgun from my pocket, then I began to walk slowly as the hunter jabbed me in the back with his shotgun.

"Hold up, boss! We've got ourselves a girl in here!" shouted one of the hunters near the tents, I felt my heart leap up into my throat as he pulled Claire out from the tent, kicking and screaming.

Oh shit, why didn't she run?

"Be quiet, you little bitch! You'll call out the ramblers!" the hunter carrying her said, whacking his in the back of the head with his gun, knocking her out cold.

The four men began to ransack our little camp as the other seemingly went away to bring in their vehicle. They were looking for supplies and weapons, which they soon found a minute or two later as they converged in a group. I was kneeling on the ground with my hands still tied behind my back, biting down hard on my bottom lip.

"Right, boss. You'll love what ponytail had on him." George said, pulling out John's kukri from behind his back, handing it over to Randy, who appeared the be the leader of this group.

"Oh, man. I haven't seen one of these in years!" Randy exclaimed, turning the blade over in his hands as he examined it.

If he thought that was cool, wait till they find my sword.

"We've got a few handguns too, but no big guns." George sighed, turning over the guns to Randy, who put them in his backpack along with the spare magazines I had found.

I'd kept the sword hidden underneath my sleeping bag before I'd come out here to take guard, I wondered if they'd find it, it was only a matter of time as the hunters were gradually making their way through the tents.

"There's some food in this tent! It's all canned!" one of the hunters shouted, bringing over our bag of food which Claire had been keeping in her tent as a thought occurred to me.

"Hey, you. Big guy." I said loudly, cutting off the mutterings of one of the hunters as I directed my attention to the boss of the hunters.

"Yeah? What do you want, small fry?" Randy spat at me as he made his way over, bending down to look me in the eyes. He had cold, piercing eyes that would normally have made me feel a little scared, but not now.

"That was you who broke our car, right?" I asked him as calmly as I could, determined not to show an ounce of fear, even though I was quaking slightly on the inside.

"Naturally, what of it?" the boss said, his breath reeking of cigarette smoke and what seemed like alcohol.

"Why didn't you hold us hostage then instead of now? Why all these games?" I continued, demanding answers from the man.

"Now, my dear boy. That wouldn't have been as much fun! It's all in the thrill of the hunt, kid." Randy jeered, laughing to himself as he stood up straight again.

I sat there for about a minute as the events of the night finally started to hit me. Paul was dead, and we were being taken prisoner? Was this normal now?

"Boss! You're going to absolutely fucking love this!" George shouted as he ran over to Randy, holding in his arms a long and curved object that I recognised straight away. They'd finally found it.

"What the hell is that?" Randy muttered as the other hunter pulled the sword from its sheath, the moonlight glistened eerily across the blade as he moved it slowly through the air before handing it over.

"A ninja sword? This yours?" Randy said to himself before directing his question at me.

I nodded, spitting bitterly at the ground as my anger continued to build up. I wanted nothing more than to escape my bindings, rip the sword from his hands and take his head off. Seething with rage still, I pushed those thoughts as far back into my mind as I could.

"Where the hell did you get this?" he breathed at me as I wondered whether or not I should tell him. I had a sneaking suspicion that he would do something to me if I refused to answer.

"You really wanna know?" I asked him, narrowing my eyes slightly to glare at him as menacingly as I could.

"Don't get so cocky, boy. Now tell me where you got this." Randy said snidely, a smirk breaking across his face as he stared me down.

"Well, to be honest with you. I killed someone for it." I answered, biting lightly at my lip after I had finished speaking. The hunter laughed at me, calling out to his fellow companions.

"You hear that, men? This little fuck killed someone for this sword! We've got a bad-ass over here!" he mockingly shouted, raising the sword into the air for all of his 'friends' to see. There was a roar of laughter as the other hunters turned around to look at their boss.

"That's the truth." I muttered, staring down at the muddy ground, which was now starting to frost over a little bit.

"So what? You think we haven't killed someone before tonight, in THIS world?" Randy laughed, sheathing the sword as he handed it over to one of the other hunters.

It really was kill or be killed in this world.

There was a quiet rumbling noise in the distance that gradually grew louder as the headlamps of a vehicle came into view from behind the trees. After about ten seconds, a pick-up truck parked up next to the tents, by the still-burning fire.

"About damn time, Kenny!" one of the hunters shouted at the man in the truck. A minute later, the hunters began to place the still unconscious John, Dave and Claire into the back of the truck along with all the supplies they had taken from us.

I felt almost naked without my weapons as I had become used to having them by my side during the time we had spent in the city. Feeling a strange longing to have the sword by my side, I began fumbling with my bindings, which felt as though they were growing a little slack, but I still couldn't free myself, not that I dared to at this point.

"Alright, kid. On your feet and into the back of the truck!" Randy hissed at me, dragging me up to my feet and prodding me in the back with his shotgun.

I grudgingly began to slowly walk over to the truck, glancing across the camp-site as I moved. My eyes fell upon the now lifeless corpse that had been Paul and felt intolerably dismayed. The loss of one of my friends was slowly taking its toll on me. I breathed heavily and tore my eyes away from the crumpled heap.

"Just remember, you make a move like that and it'll be you next time." said one of the hunters next to me as I picked up my pace slightly, passing by my tent. I felt a strong urge to spit in his face as he glared at me, holding my handgun tightly in his hands.

"Whatever.." I sighed, climbing into the back of the truck, sitting next to the unconscious body of Dave, the three of them had been propped into a sitting position in the back of the truck.

Randy and George swiftly climbed into the back of the truck with us, sitting on little crates near the cab. The boss of the hunters kept his gun trained on me as the rest of their group climbed into the truck and we began to move away from the camp.

The moon hung low as I looked up at the sky, rocking roughly back and forth as the vehicle moved over little bumps in the grassy path, taking us to who knows where.

And I couldn't help feeling like I'd never see the light of day again.

Chapter Sixteen

Day Eight (28th December – 10:42PM)

Time is ticking away, one minute at a time.

Still trapped in the back of the truck, I began casting nervous glances at the rest of my group. John was beginning to stir from his state of unconsciousness and sat bolt upright, attempting to raise his hand to his head.

"Son of a..." he muttered, struggling against his bindings. All four of us had our hands tied together behind our backs with a decently-sized amount of rope.

"Rough night?" I asked, casting a worried look at the other two, still slumped across each other. I could barely make out their features in this light.

"This is.. hardly the time for jokes, Ethan." John sighed, clutching at his head once more as he gazed weakly at one of the hunters in the truck with us.

"Be quiet!" Randy shouted, moving his shotgun through the air slightly in a threatening gesture of dominance.

Trees passed us by as the truck moved slowly through the forest path; at least, I thought they were trees as all I could see were black shapes and little patches of dark green here and there. The three men in the front of the truck were busy talking amongst themselves, but I was unable to make out a single word through the thick glass.

After a few more minutes had passed, Dave and Claire begin to wake up, rising to a sitting position one after another. Like John, they both immediately tried to reach for their head, but found themselves bound with thick rope.

"Where are you taking us!?" cried out Claire, who was squirming around as she attempted to escape her bindings, only to find them cutting into her wrists.

"I told you to be quiet!" roared Randy, making her cower in fear.

"The question still stands, where ARE you taking us?" I demanded, trying to mask my fear and uncertainty, though I probably came across as cocky.

"Pipe down, little killer. We're taking you lot to our camp." Randy said, leaning down close to me until his words almost had texture. The other hunter began rifling through his pockets until he pulled out a carton of cigarettes, sliding one out into his mouth as he raised his lighter.

"And then what?" John asked, raising an eyebrow at the lack of detail in his response.

"Well.. Then we decide what to do with you!" he responded calmly, raising his voice a little towards the end of his sentence.

That didn't sound promising at all.

What was the deal with these people? If they just wanted our supplies, they could have taken them with apparent ease just by holding us at gunpoint, they could have just let us go. So why were they bringing us to their camp and holding us prisoner, what did they want from us?

More trees, bushes and wet grass passed us by as the vehicle swung around a corner, knocking my back into the hard metal frame of the back of the truck. Mumbles and unintelligible chatter could still be heard from the cab, followed by laughter.

Eventually, a building came into view from behind the trees as we reached a clearing of sorts, with a series of fields only just visible from behind it. It looked like a farm.

"Here we are, home sweet home." muttered the other hunter in the back with us, flicking his cigarette onto the grass as the vehicle came to a stop.

The three men in the front of the truck opened the doors and swung themselves out, walking towards the farmhouse. A couple of minutes later, a couple more people walked out of the building with the three hunters, armed to the teeth with knives and rifles.

"We did a number on one of them before we got here." said one of the hunters that had accompanied us here, directing his speech to one of the newcomers.

"I'll bet they're pretty riled then." said a stern face woman with a rifle slung over her shoulder. Their speech was barely audible as they walked up towards the truck.

"Like you wouldn't believe. They've got some cool stuff though." the hunter responded, chuckling to himself as he told her what they had found in our camp.

My anger had not yet subsided, still burning white hot with little flashbacks to their 'execution'. Every second I was reminded of what they had done was another bit of fuel to the fire that was my anger.

"Alright, fuckers! Out of the car, one at a time! No funny business unless you want to end up like your smart-ass friend." Randy called as he climbed out of the back of the truck, pointing his shotgun at us as we slowly made our way onto the slippery ground.

"What do we do with them?" the woman asked, running her fingers through her shoulder-length blonde hair.

"Put them in the small barn, keep someone on watch outside just in case they try to escape." Randy, the boss of the hunters stated. The other people crowded around the vehicle as they slung bags over their shoulders that I assumed contained our supplies.

"And what do we do with these?" George asked, nodding his head towards the bags of weapons and food.

"Lock them in the shed, everyone's got a key right?" he answered, grabbing one of the bags for himself. In the dim light, I saw a thin object poking out of the side of the bag; it was my sword.

We were marched at gunpoint towards a small, wooden building that resembled a large shed. I grit my teeth together as I felt a sharp pain in my side, one of the hunters had jabbed me with the butt of their weapon for some reason. They laughed and jeered at us as we trod towards the building.

It was hardly a hospitable part of the small community; it was dingy and the smell was harsh, creeping through my nostrils with every short breath. There was compacted snow piled up against the walls on the outside of the shed.

"You, take guard of them while we hold a meeting." Randy said to one of the hunters that had been in the front of the truck. He nodded with a sigh as Randy handed him John's kukri.

"Right, listen up you bastards. Anyone does anything funny and I'll lop your arm off!" the hunter-guard exclaimed as the rest of his group headed for what I assumed would be the farmhouse.

"You haven't got the balls to handle that blade." John spat in anger, glaring daggers at the guard, who proceeded to punch him across the face. John spat blood onto the ground, where hay was lazily strewn here and there.

"Don't piss me off, hard-ass." the guard sang, slashing the blade through the air in a mocking gesture. It was then that I noticed John's lack of a hat, it must've been left behind at our camp.

A couple of minutes later, we were huddled in the corner of the stable while the guard leant against the entrance. We were deep enough into the building that he wouldn't hear us if we whispered to each other.

"What the fuck are we going to do?" Dave hissed, trying to keep his voice down as he looked at us for answers.

I felt my hand slip a little as I tried to fight against my bindings again. It seemed the rope holding my hands behind my back were growing a little looser every time. But I couldn't draw attention to myself.

"I don't know, I really don't." John sighed, his face twitching slightly as though he had an itch he couldn't scratch.

"I'm going to fucking kill them for what they did." said Dave, spitting down on the ground beside him.

"And how are you going to do that, exactly? Kick them to death?" John whispered as he moved his hands a little behind his back. I wondered if John knew how to escape from situations like this, it honestly wouldn't have surprised me if he did.

"For fucks sake.." Dave groaned, sitting down on the damp ground.

"I'm pissed off too, man. I've known Paul for ages. But we can't let it blind us. It's not what he'd want." John said, glaring down at the ground as he spoke.

"He'd want us to survive, not get ourselves killed." Claire whimpered, her eyes glazing over with tears.

"Right.." Dave said to himself, casting a glance towards me, his expression was sombre and full of defeat.

An hour or so passed us by as we remained huddled in the corner of the stable. Every few minutes, the guard would turn to face us with a mean look on his face, still brandishing the blade in his hand.

"Well at least we know where they're keeping our stuff." I uttered to the rest of the group, John nodded slightly as he glanced over his shoulder towards the doorway.

"Means nothing if we can't get to it." Dave groaned, also looking over his shoulder at the guard, who was fumbling around in his pockets with his free hand.

There was a little clicking sound as the guard lit a cigarette and began puffing away on it. In this distance I thought I heard a door slam, and I was proven right as a couple of the hunters came into sight at the doorway, whispering to the guard as they approached us.

"Get the girl." one said to the other.

"What!?" John roared, trying to get to his feet. He was stopped by another blow to the face as the hunter punched him before grabbing Claire by the collar.

"Get them off! I don't wanna go!" Claire screamed, kicking her legs out. She fell to the ground as her balance slipped and found herself dragged by the arms towards the entrance.

"If you fuckin' lay a finger on her, I swear to god.." John piped up, his face contorted in rage.

What the hell were they doing?

"You'll do what? You should realise by now that you ain't in control any more." the other man chimed, smirking happily as his friend dragged Claire out of sight, her screaming and cries still perfectly audible.

John climbed to his feet, striding across the ground towards the entrance until he found his path blocked by the guard, who kicked him to the ground with a single flick of his feet. He then leant down and held the blade of the kukri to John's neck.

"Get the fuck back over there or I'll cut you wide open!" the guard bellowed. John could only comply as he shuffled back over to us. The guard resumed his position at the doorway, making a sweeping motion through the air with the blade, clearly thoroughly enjoying his actions.

"Don't get so riled up, man. They'll kill you." said Dave, shuffling closer to the wall so he could lean his head against it.

"And do what? Throw a party? The fuck do you think they're doing to her in there? Having a nice little chat? Not fucking likely. I don't want to think about what they're going to do.." John spat in livid rage.

"Try not to think about it, you'll only get us in deeper shit." Dave said to him, trying to calm his burning anger as best he could.

About thirty minutes of damning silence later, I began moving my hands around a little again, and I felt the rope slip slightly. I glanced over my shoulder at the guard, who was looking at the sky above him..

As he was distracted, I began fighting against my bindings as quietly as I could, biting down on my lip as I tried to free my hands. Dave and John cast confused looks as I felt my hand slip free of the rope. I held my index finger to my mouth to silence them as I slowly climbed to my feet.

Untying the rope properly, I held it up with both hands and slowly crept towards the guard who was still busy looking up at the sky for some reason.

This was insanely risky. But I wasn't afraid. The hunted ought to be feared.