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"I don’t know. I never officially killed him. He may have bled out in the forest, but I have no idea. He’s gonna kill me isn’t he? Like Liam. Sam’s gonna kill me." Payton looked like he was on the verge of tears.
"Stop," I said. "Don’t think like that. You can’t know what that psycho wants or doesn’t want to do. I had the same problem. Almost the exact same thing happened to me. I didn’t kill my person either. I’m still alive. Right?"
He didn’t look like he fully believed me but agreed nonetheless. "You are alive. Maybe I’ll be okay. I guess we’ll see."
I stuck a heavy bandage on his arm and asked what I’d wanted to ask the whole time he’d told his story. "Did you see the chapel out there?"
"I’ll be honest, once I made it out there, the adrenaline ran pretty high. It wasn’t even something I thought about. I don’t remember seeing it."
That was irritating but understandable. I would have had a hard time looking for something too while in the middle of hunting a human for god’s sake.
"Head on to your room. Shower up. I’d say try and keep that wound dry for a couple days though."
After helping Payton to his feet and seeing him off, I went back to the kitchen to finish making mashed potatoes and green beans for dinner. The whole time I worked, I kept a picture of that chapel in my mind. It wasn’t a good image either. Deep down, I didn’t think it was some sort of saving grace or refuge. It had the dark surreality of something out of a nightmare.
At dinner, the others were mostly quiet. No one even asked about Payton’s hunt or his bandaged wound. Though Bri did keep giving him confused glances. Probably surprised to see him alive and well. I’d finished my meal, sopping up the last of the gravy on my plate with a biscuit, when Sam interrupted us.
Bong.
"Shit, looks like it’s my turn," Elise muttered.
"Good evening," Sam said. "Dahlia, prepare for another hunt. You will be going out again tonight."
The others glanced around in confusion. Me? Again? Elise hadn’t been out yet, she’d been correct to assume she was next. Why the fuck was he making me go out again? Drake squeezed my thigh under the table.
With a shocking display of insolence, Elise looked up and spoke. "I’m supposed to go. Right? Can’t you keep up?"
Bri’s eyes went wide as she looked at Elise.
There was a long pause, during which I was absolutely sure Sam would tell us to torture and kill Elise. e responded with more venom than I’d ever heard in his voice. "Did I stutter?"
Elise shrank back in her chair, duly chastised by Sam’s tone.
"It’s fine," I said and stood.
Drake looked at me apprehensively. He looked more terrified than I did. If Sam intended to send me out after Mr. Cartwright again, then at least I had some idea who I was looking for, and this time he was injured. Maybe the gunshot to his ear had infected. If he had a fever, he’d be even easier to catch.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I left the dining room and headed upstairs. The weapons room was unlocked. I glanced at the guns but remembered the ridiculousness that happened the last time I tried to use one and decided against them. Rather than using something I had no experience with, I chose simple tools that would do the job. A machete I lifted fit my hand perfectly, and would do well. Along with that I addeda container of pepper spray into the pocket of my sweatpants.
Back in the dining room, the others watched me go in silence. Drake’s face was strained and he looked like he wanted to say something. But he just gave me a simple wink of encouragement.
The evening was humid as hell out in the forest. It was fucking misserable. I didn’t give a shit what I looked like. I yanked my sweat shirt off, leaving me in a sports bra. Compared to the last time I’d been out here, this outfit was practically fit for a wedding. At least I had goddamned pants this time around. I left the shirt beside the rolled up garage door and headed into the forest, the machete held out at the ready.
Without knowing where the hell Cartwright was, I decided to head off in the direction of the chapel to get a better look at it. Even in the dark, I managed to get on the right path, in part because I found the trail of trampled vegetation I’d left the last time I’d come through before..After finding and leaping over the small creek that ran through the forest, I continued on. A few yards later, the steeple of the chapel appeared above the treeline. Drawing nearer, the bright white paint of its walls eventually shone through the foliage, reflecting the light of the moon. Beside the front door was a tiny glass window. I froze, seeing a wavering orange glow radiating from within. Someone was inside, and they’d lit a candle or torch.
If one of the victims we were hunting had been allowed into the building, then that meant I was free to go in also. Right? It was still early in the hunt. Rather than rushing in, I nestled down to sit. Keeping my eyes on the window and door, I waited. I watched. Was this what it was like when hunters stalked deer, boar, or bears? Sitting, silent and watchful, waiting for something to happen?
I waited nearly an hour, until I could be absolutely sure no one would come out or go in. Climbing to my feet, I readjusted my grip on the machete and dusted myself off. Pine needles crackled beneath my feet as I inched my way closer to the chapel. Sweat trickled down my chest and across the flatness of my stomach. Every sense I had was increased tenfold, enhanced by the adrenaline surging through my body. Exhilaration coursed through my veins, knowing that an unsuspecting person awaited inside. Imagining what I’d do to them, I played it over in my head, while they had no clue. A quivering rabbit, wholly unaware of the wolf stalking toward them. Doling out punishment to a piece of shit and making them scream to their last breath? The very thought made me excited, my panties growing wet in anticipation. A thought that grew less shocking and horrifying the longer I remained in this place. I’d been a different person back then.. Before I’d become a true hunter.
At the window, I lifted myself up on my toes and was barely able to look inside. The interior really was a chapel. Pews ran up and down each side, six in total, three on each side of the aisle. Huddled on the floor beneath a small wooden podium was a slumped and heavy form. I gritted my teeth. It had to be Cartwright. The fat ass fuck. I imagined the little boys he raped screaming for help, gasping for breath as his massive frame almost suffocated them as he rammed his cock into their poor little bodies. I would enjoy this.
I tiptoed up the three steps to the door and slowly spun the knob, making sure to be as silent as possible. The building had been taken care of: the doorknob spun soundlessly as though it had been freshly oiled. The hinges swung as quiet as death too. Within seconds I stood over Cartwright as he took heavy wheezing breaths. His eyes were closed, dead asleep. The ruined ear had caked, dark dried with blood until it looked like it had been covered in burnt plastic. A tiny rivulet of white puss dribbled down from the wound across his cheek, moving toward his mouth. My stomach lurched thinking about the fluid slipping into his mouth as he slept.
Beside the podium was an ancient looking wooden chair. The legs were spindly and fragile looking. It wouldn’t be strong enough to kill or knock someone out, but it would do for what I wanted. I sat the machete aside making sure the metal didn’t clink off the floor. With both hands I lifted the chair, raised it above my head and then brought it down on Cartwright’s head with all my strength.
The fragile chair exploded into a dozen pieces when it slammed into his head and face. The wooden armrest cracked against the wound at the side of his head, reopening it, sending blood and a pulse of puss down to his neck. Startled awake by the sudden shock of pain, Cartwright screamed a surprised yelp and tumbled to the side, a fresh gash above his right brow sending blood pouring into his eye.
Before he could get his bearings I grabbed the machete and straddled his massive chest, pinning his arms with my knees and glaring at him.
