by Shade Owens
Although it was improbable that a man geared up from head to toe would sneak inside, we couldn’t rule it out. For all we knew, both he and Black Panther had rushed past the electric fence after we’d turned it off. I hoped to God that wasn’t the case and that no one had infiltrated. Regardless, I needed to sweep the Village’s perimeter over and over again until I felt certain my people were safe.
“You go that way, and I’ll meet you on the other side,” I said, twirling a finger in the air.
Fisher’s brows came together over the bridge of her nose. “You want us to split up? That’s the dumbest—”
With flat eyelids, I stared at her—a look meant to convey, Do you seriously want to argue right now?
“If we don’t split up,” I said, “we could be walking circles all night. If someone’s stuck between the fence and our wall, we need to trap them.”
“And if one of us gets attacked?”
“Then you scream,” I said. “That’s what the tower guards are for.”
Fisher didn’t seem convinced of my approach, and I didn’t blame her. Going at this alone was a risk, but the longer we stood here bickering about the endless possibilities, the more time we were wasting. What if one of them was trying to dig a hole under our wall or setting up some sort of climbing mechanism? Every minute was crucial.
“Keep your knife on you and get ready to fight,” I said.
Going forward with this plan was a bit reckless, but what option did we have? I held onto the idea that it was doubtful one of the players had rushed past the electric fence. For all I knew, the two remaining players were far away from here and had yet to find us.
On the other hand, if Player 1 was right, every other player had taken advantage of his tracking skills and had followed him to the Village.
Clenching both my sword and torch, I lifted them in front of me and nodded at Fisher. When she turned around, I did the same, making my way along the left side of the Village.
As I moved, my eyes darted toward the blackness of the jungle. If there was one thing I despised more than venturing through the jungle at night, it was doing so with fire on me. It reminded me of the real world and how my mom used to leave her blinds open at night. I hated that. Anyone bold (or creepy) enough to stare into our window could see everything inside as if my mother and I were on display. Across the street from us was another apartment, and several tenants there did the same thing as my mom. Had I had binoculars—not that I had any interest in other people’s day-to-day lives—I could have easily watched their every move.
As I followed the dirt path along the Village wall, I tensed, anticipating an attack from out of the dark. If either of the remaining players were skilled with guns or throwing weapons, I didn’t stand a chance. I might as well have been walking with a huge neon sign above my head.
The only control I had was speed. Quickening my pace, I hurried toward the back of the Village, searching for Fisher’s orange glow. While I wanted to inspect the ground for footprints, it was no use—there were already far too may footprints and the ground looked like disturbed earth.
At the far end of the back wall, an orange glow came into view. Same as me, Fisher jogged my way, the fire of her torch dragging with the wind.
“Anything?” she hissed.
“All clear,” I said. “Nothing suspicious on your side?”
She shook her head.
I gazed into the darkness of the jungle as if last minute, I might catch a glimpse of a figure. “Let’s head back.”
She nodded, her shadowed brows and cheekbones making her look angry, and followed me when I turned around. But before I took a step, something appeared in the corner of my eye.
“You okay?” she asked.
Slack-jawed, I turned the upper half of my body and raised my torch, its warm glow illuminating the Village wall’s wooden planks.
“Holy f—” I breathed.
“Are those—” Fisher said, her mouth agape.
Up along the entire height of the wall was something I hadn’t expected to find—muddy footprints. They were laid out so perfectly as if their wearer possessed antigravity technology.
“That can’t be—”
I didn’t give her the time to finish. Swinging around with a tight grip on my sword, I charged toward the front gates. “He’s inside!”
CHAPTER 4
It was almost as if these women had forgotten the meaning of danger. The assigned Village guards, who had been specifically trained to handle high-stress situations, stared at me with big bug eyes and wrinkled noses.
Had they forgotten how to speak English? What the fuck was wrong with them?
“Now!” I shouted, pointing at the Village sconces.
Nodding, they scattered in different directions in pairs of two, ordering the tower guards to light the Village sconces. One by one, balls of fire lit up the Village perimeter, casting an orange blanket across the wooden tents and cabins.
“Close the gates,” I growled.
If this son of a bitch was still in here, he wasn’t getting out.
Turning to Fisher, I said, “Get me the horn.”
She hesitated, which was understandable. We’d never once used the emergency blowing horn. When the Hunters brought back their first water buffalo after the war, I’d asked Hammer to carve off one of the horns and turn it into something capable of producing a sound loud enough to reach the entire Village and the Working Grounds.
* * *
“You sure it works?” I asked. Before she could respond, I pressed my lips against the small hole at the end of the horn and blew out a mouthful of air.
Hammer rolled her eyes and yanked it out of my grip. “You have to blow hard.” The corner of her lip twitched upward, and she squinted playfully. “So, if I can do it—” she mumbled, placing the horn against her mouth.
With ballooned cheeks, she blew air through the horn and a deep musical sound filled up her entire tent. It was so loud that I instinctively cupped my ears and she stopped.
“See?” she said, handing it back to me.
Brushing my fingers along its rough grooves, I smiled up at her. “This is perfect, Hammer. Thank you.” She’d done an immaculate job. The horn was massive—easily the length of my entire forearm—and curved upward with a wide opening at one end. She’d even wrapped a decorative rope around it and fastened a suede string from one end to the other to create a handle.
While I didn’t want to worry the women by explaining to them that a new emergency protocol was to be implemented, we needed to remain vigilant even if our enemies had been defeated. There was no telling what else was out there; having an alarm system was crucial.
The blowing horn signified one thing: imminent danger to every life inside the Village.
I’d already decided on the different tonalities and their meanings. One blow would signify a predatory threat, ordering every single woman inside the Village to prepare for battle—with the exception of mothers. Two blows would signify a natural disaster, ordering women to seek immediate shelter.
* * *
Fisher rushed back with the blowing horn in her hands.
Without saying anything, I took it from her, raised it to my lips, and did as Hammer had taught me. I filled my stomach and lungs with as much air as possible, sealed the tip with my lips, and blew out hard.
Vibrations tickled my hands as the powerful sound exploded from the instrument and spread across the entire Village. At once, doors flung open and women rushed out with clenched fists and startled looks. While I didn’t allow women to carry any form of a weapon inside their sleeping tents, I’d clearly explained to them that if the horn were to ever be used, they were permitted to rush to Hammer’s tent and grab any weapon they wanted.
As women came running out, more and more sconces lit up, lighting up the entire Village.
No one spoke. It was almost as if we’d trained for this daily since we’d won the war against the Northers when in fact, we’d only practiced the
blowhorn twice—once by creating a fictitious scenario in which an entire clan had infiltrated the Village, and the other in preparation for a natural disaster.
But these women were prepared. They ran in silence, created a line outside of Hammer’s shop, and passed weapons to each other.
When I caught a glimpse of someone in my peripheral, I turned sideways to catch Ellie poking her head out of our cabin. With a tight grip on my bow, I ran toward her, my feet slapping the cool grass.
She stepped back as I rushed inside. Behind her, Robin moaned in her sleep, but she hadn’t completely awakened, which was shocking given how loud the blowing horn had been. Ellie stared at me, her plush lips parted and her brows high on her face.
She didn’t have to say anything for me to know she was freaking out.
“It’s okay,” I whispered. “I’ll take care of this, okay?”
“What the hell’s going on, Brone? You’ve never used that thing. I didn’t think you’d actually ever have—”
Grabbing her fingers, I stepped closer and planted a kiss on her cheek. This seemed to soothe her.
“I think one of the bad guys made their way inside the Village,” I said. Realizing I was sugarcoating the truth, which was something Ellie hated, I cleared my throat. I didn’t think—I knew. “Black Panther made his way inside.”
“H-how do you know?” she said. “I mean, how’s this even possible? We have the electric fence and everything—”
Sighing, I bowed my head. Was this my fault? Had he snuck in the moment I’d shut off the fence? Or, had he been in here for quite some time, and the reason we’d found out about it was because I’d turned off the fence?
“I know, I know,” I said, gently brushing the back of her hand with my thumb. “But we had to turn the fence off, there was a kid—”
“You did what?” she said.
While part of me understood why she was so upset, another part of me couldn’t help but feel resentful that she was questioning what I’d done. I already had the weight of the entire Village on my shoulders—the last thing I needed was to be made to feel guilty about a difficult decision I’d made in a split second.
That’s what being a leader was all about—making impossible decisions. I wouldn’t always make the right choices, but it was better to choose than to choose nothing at all.
Swallowing my frustration, I said, “It was a risk, Ellie, but there was a kid stuck outside the electrical fence. What did you want me to do? Leave her there? Risk her getting mauled by an animal? Burned to a crisp if she grabbed the fence?”
Ellie averted her gaze. “N-no.”
She must have sensed my anger. Although levelheaded and calm in almost every situation, Ellie wasn’t the type to back down when she felt passionate about something. And while my people were more important to me than anything, so was the life of an innocent child.
Surely, she understood that.
“You would’ve done the same thing,” I said.
With a blank expression, she stared ahead and nodded. “Y-yeah. You’re right. I would have. So what now? What’s the plan? What do you need from me?”
“I need you to stay inside with Robin,” I said. “Lock the door and don’t let anyone in.”
Before I turned around, she pulled me in tight. “Be careful.”
“I will,” I said, pressing my lips against the warm skin of her neck.
Regripping my bow, I opened the cabin door and stepped out into the firelit Village, where countless women stood carrying weapons and waiting for my command.
CHAPTER 5
The women stared at me with bloodshot eyes. Despite how fatigued they must have been, the adrenaline coursing through them was enough to prepare them for battle.
“We’re after one man, but he’s extremely dangerous,” I said. “He’s somehow managed to get over the wall. Everyone, split up, stay vigilant, and search everywhere. Remember to keep your eyes on the walls at all times. if he’s still in here, I don’t want him getting out. When you find him, kill the son of a bitch.”
Everyone pumped their weapons into the air and let out deep growls before running in opposite directions. They scattered across the Village, their footsteps causing the ground to tremble, and searched everywhere.
He had to be in here somewhere, right? Was it possible that he’d snuck out as fast as he’d come in?
“You think he’s still in here?” came Fisher’s voice, as if she’d somehow read my mind.
I wanted to say, “Yes, and we’ll find him,” but I wasn’t convinced.
This guy was supposed to be an expert—a professional in his field. If that was true, it meant he wasn’t an amateur and he wouldn’t be so easily caught. It wasn’t like we’d find him standing at the back wall surrendering with two hands in the air.
For all we knew, he had advanced camouflaging equipment.
Sighing, I turned to Fisher. “I have no idea. If he is, maybe we can trap him before he escapes. But for all we know, he’s already gone.”
“What would’ve been the point of that?” Fisher said. “Why infiltrate a village simply to run away a few minutes later?”
“It’s obvious he’s cautious,” I said. “And we have no idea when he came in. Maybe he’s preparing something the way BlueVolt did. Some sort of trap…”
Then, Rocket appeared, along with Elektra, Biggie, and Quinn. Seeing my friends reminded me of my other friend—Coin. I’d gone to check up on her before going to bed that evening, and Iskra had assured me that she was recovering nicely. She’d managed to kill the infection in Coin’s leg and dose her with some heavy-duty pain killers—some concoction Tegan had made using coca leaves.
With any luck, she’d be back up on her feet soon.
“Listen,” Rocket said, “we’ll find him, okay?” She stared at me a bit longer than necessary, no doubt trying to ease my guilt. It was as if she understood that being the leader of the Village took a huge toll on me by making me feel responsible for everything, including any death.
While I hated that feeling, I appreciated that Rocket understood it. In a sense, it made me feel a bit less alone.
“Let’s get out there,” I said, preparing my bow.
Fisher followed me, and together, we walked along the Village’s perimeter, searching the wall for more prints.
“Where the fuck is this guy?” Fisher hissed. “People don’t just disappear into thin air.”
“Player 1 warned us,” I said. “This guy isn’t your average killer. He’s trained for this. God knows how many years he spent in the military. We have to be prepared for anything.”
Around us, women crouched, stretched, and even contorted their bodies to search every inch of the Village. Some women even protested as their tent doors were kicked in, but it was crucial to search everything—not merely the land outside.
Black Panther might have snuck inside one of the tents to use it as a hideout. It would have been the perfect plan. Women didn’t alternate between sleeping tents. Everyone had an assigned space, and out of respect, no one stepped foot inside someone else’s tent. So if he was hiding out in a tent, the only way to find out was to search every single one.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” one woman snapped. She slapped the woman who’d entered her tent and slammed the door shut.
The one who’d been slapped charged for the door again, blasting her fists against it. I didn’t blame her—all she was doing was precisely what I’d ordered her to do.
“Fucking bitch!” she shouted, still pounding away.
I let out a sharp whistle and her eyes shot my way. This wasn’t the time to pick a fight, and my stare must have translated that. Straightening her posture, she moved on to the next tent and opened it up.
“What the hell?” came a shrill voice.
The women inside the tents being searched were likely terrified and doing their best to protect their children. So when an armed woman came barging in, it was no wonder the mothers reacted with so muc
h aggression.
“We have to inspect everywhere!” said the woman who’d entered the tent.
“See anything?” Fisher asked, pulling my attention toward the Village wall.
I shook my head. Why weren’t there any prints? If he was still inside, why couldn’t we find him? This didn’t make any sense. Was he that good? Good enough to conceal himself from several hundred women?
Walking faster, I made my way around the Village—the sooner I ruled out Black Panther’s escape, the sooner I could start helping with the real search. When I reached the halfway point, however, a high-pitched scream sent shivers down my arms.
I swung around to find women charging toward a single cabin, their weapons held up in front of their chests. Had they found him? My heart thudded hard against my ribs—a rhythmic beat reminding me I was still alive. Without saying a word, I charged toward the cabin, shoving women out of the way to get by.
Why wasn’t anyone fighting? Why were they all standing around like a bunch of sheep? Had Black Panther been killed? Were they staring at his dead body?
“Move,” I ordered, elbowing my way through.
When I entered the tent, however, my stomach clenched. Black Panther wasn’t there—at least, not anymore. Instead, beneath the dim glow of a poorly lit torch was a pale woman lying in her bed, eyes wide open and a bloody gash across her throat.
CHAPTER 6
“Would someone shut that thing up?”
“Thing? It’s a fucking baby!”
“I don’t care! Shut it up!”
The dead mother’s baby cried so hard her plump little face darkened three shades of red. It was a bubbly cry so heart-wrenching that one woman rushed toward the crib, reached inside, and scooped her up. “Shhh, it’s okay, sweetheart.”
One woman carrying a battle-ax scoffed. “It’s okay? How the fuck is any of this okay? We aren’t even safe in our goddamn homes!”
A few more women joined in on the outrage, so I quickly raised a hand to silence them.
