The Hunt

Chapter 9

     My heart is pounding so hard I think that it will pop out of my chest. I am breathing heavy, but I know I need to catch it so that I can run as fast as I can once we enter the Hunting Grounds. They won't put the wolves onto our trails until the second day, so I need to make it as far as I can in the first day.

     I am going through strategy in my head as the Hunter stands on a podium in the courtyard of the main square where everything to show to the Zones is broadcasted from.

     I am zoning out*, replaying moments from previous Hunts in my mind as the reality that the Hunt is nearing sets in. Suddenly Veda starts sobbing. She has broken. She is sobbing and sobbing, and there is makeup running down her face.

     All I can think is about where she found makeup. I can't focus. My brain is melting. My words feel like mush slipping off my tongue. Why am I talking? People look at me. The Hunter glares. I am falling. Falling. Falling. The ground is slipping closer. Grays, browns, greens, pinks, the vivid purple of Veda's dress standing out like black on white.

     Looks. Words. Floating. Falling. "Dakota."

     That one word brings me back. I was caught up in the mess of the Hunt. It has broken me already, but not like Veda. It broke me differently. I don't sob. I just float away on the sea of my thoughts. They encompassed me so much, I thought I could never break free.

     I look to see who said my name, and see Jaxton. Suddenly it feels like I am caught in another spell, and everything falls quite as we look at each other, the mutual understanding that he saved me from losing sponsors and embarrassing myself, passing between our eyes in a split second. Then he averts his gaze to the Hunter who has begun to recite the Poem Of The Hunters. I raise my hands and clasp them like a bird, the thumbs hooked together tightly and my other touching fingers forming the wings.

     This represents an eagle, the hunter of prey**. Brendi stands with her arms at the sides, her lack of fingers keeping her from doing the motions. Everyone starts singing the poem when the Hunter repeats it for a second time.

     The song is slow and melancholy:

           "There we were so helpless victims,

          Of the fate that was brought to us.

          Our generation cursed with

          Looks that are beneath us.

          "So came the mighty Hunters,

          Ridding us of all evil.

          We will be a perfect

         Society and we will prevail.

         "They created the Hunt,

         Getting rid of what we don't need.

          Imperfections go away and they say:

          Consider yourself doing a good deed.

         "We will be a perfect

          Society and the Hunters will prevail."

     I shiver, the air is getting colder and the song always makes me uneasy. We put our hands down and continue marching while holding the chain. Up ahead I can see helicopters. We learned about them in an invention Pod. Suddenly I long for the comfort of home. The warm fire as my family sits around the room. I can't help but think about what they must be doing now.

     Are they watching me march to my death? Are they enjoying a nice meal using the money that the Hunters gave them to make up for me not being there? Are my brothers back from the fields yet to help mom cook and clean and take care of the little ones? With Dad dieing, there is always more work to do. Or was, I can't work there anymore. My feet are growing weary and the night is turning darker as we walk to the helicopters that suddenly seem farther away. We leave the city behind and are almost to the machines when Cullen trips and falls.

     His scream pierces through the silent night like a tornado raging through the town last summer. The road just turned to gravel, so Cullen must not have seen a rock or stick and went sprawling. I rush over to help, and so does Jaxton, Scroto, and Brendi.

     Then I feel a searing pain as something smacks my back. I know this pain. It is a whip. Brendi cries out next to me. We are driven back to the chain and told that if we don't follow orders, we will be left right here to starve.

     They whip Cullen, too, until he rejoins the line with us. His face is battered and bloody, and as we continue walking the moon glints off something in the gravel in the shape of hard, sharp pieces. My guess is that Cullen cuts his face on glass.

     We keep trudging on, and finally we each climb into our own helicopter.

     My pilot turns around in his seat, white-blond hair flashing in the moonlight. "Lie down in the bed." He says gruffly, and points to the corner. There is a small sink, bed, and toilet.

     "Wash your face." He grunts, and I comply, not wanting to cause trouble. I turn the faucet handle and cup my hands under the cool water. My hands start to sting and they lose feeling, but I just assume that is because the water is too cold. I turn the water warmer and splash my face. As I turn the water off, my face tingles and I sit down on the bed, suddenly feeling queasy. My vision blurs, and I lie down as the room seems to swoop around me in great, big sweeping arcs.

     "Good girl. Just lie down and sleep until we are at the Hunting Grounds." The pilot says as he starts the helicopter. It suddenly occurs to me that they aren't starting us today after all, and that we will be released in the morning. It must be far away, because this has never happened before.

     I don't even get to see out the window in my first vehicle ride as my vision goes black. The funny thing is, I can still hear.

     So I hear while the pilot speaks into his radio and tells the other pilots that I'm asleep and ready to be injected with the tracker.

     I hear while he turns the helicopter onto auto pilot and comes to me and gives me a strange liquid through my mouth.

     And most importantly, I hear when he discusses with the other pilots what the terrain for a small section of the Grounds is going to be.

     So it doesn't take long for me to realize that I, Dakota Jackson, have an advantage, before I drift off to real sleep.

A/N ~ 

     *No pun intended (zoneing out)

     **Pun intended(the hunter of the prey)