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Frilly Dress.
The Director.
I expected only three of them, not five.
All five of them are gruesomely naked, SunBlock Lotion whipped over their bodies like buttercream frosting. Where the lotion has worn off, open sores gouge their skin like volcanic craters, glistening red raw even in the dark. The effects of a whole day in the library with sunlight pouring in. It is their eyes that are the most chilling, the naked anger bristling behind their eyeballs, raw hatred mixed with a pulsating lust for my blood.
“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” I say.
They edge forward, snarling at me. Slowly, a few yards at a time, creeping towards me.
Something is wrong: this is not how I envisioned the scene would play out. They are much too controlled; an unbridled feeding frenzy was what I imagined, bodies soaring at me, fangs bared, a race to get me, to tear through me. That I would be ripped into a dozen different pieces within seconds. But this seems too methodical.
“Did you not get your beauty sleep today?” I say. “Because you all look terrible.”
They start to spread out in a wide arc.
My eyes are on all of them, but especially the Director, directly in front of me. He is the calmest of the lot, his breathing steady, his feet stepping with fastidiousness on the desert gravel. His long left arm is dangling down, his nails delicately tapping his kneecap, his right arm kept strangely behind his back.
“We’ve decided to play a game,” he says.
“Do tell.”
Gaunt Man is on my far left, hunkering lower even as he continues to move down an imaginary arc.
“I’m trying to decide what to call this game. The Sharing Game and the Savouring Game are probably the top contenders.”
Frilly Dress is rolling on my right, slowly, like a guttered bowling ball, her eyes filled with wet anticipation. Her mounds of fat loll downward off her body, like pregnant water droplets about to drip off. Her teeth are bared, a faint hiss sluicing out. She continues to roll right until she hits up against the boulder.
As does Gaunt Man on my left. Each of the hunters holds position; they look at the Director as if for further instructions. Then they edge closer, the circle shortening, tightening.
“See, we need to make an example of you,” the Director continues. “You’ve made a mockery of the Hunt, of the Institution, of the Ruler. And of me. My reputation has been irreparably damaged. What kind of heper expert wouldn’t be able to detect a heper right under his nose?” And for the first time, his voice betrays emotion. A hitch. “It is not enough to simply devour you. That would be too quick – for us and for you. So, we have decided – my suggestion, of course – to share you, to savour you. Slowly. Luxuriantly. One piece at a time.”
And still they inch forward, eyes swivelling back and forth, examining me, behind me.
Crimson Lips suddenly darts forward at me.
“Stop!” the Director yells, and Crimson Lips falls into a frozen crouch, her body erect, like a startled cat. And for the first time I see a FLUN in the Director’s right hand, pointed at Crimson Lips. It must be Ashley June’s FLUN, the one left behind in the library.
Crimson Lips retreats back into formation.
“It’s hard to play this game, sometimes our excitement can get the better of us.” He swivels his head about at each of the hunters. “Proceed,” he says.
They creep closer, the circle enclosing, everyone staying in formation. Eyes constantly on the move, scrutinising me. “We will take you piece by piece, each of your limbs at a time,” the Director says. “The two male hunters will rip off each of your arms, and the two ladies will rip off your legs, one by one. We’ll space it out, maybe five minutes between limbs? We’ll be sure to keep you alive through it all. It will play out so well for the book, see? Draw out this ending, really keep the readers on edge. A heart-thumping climax like no other.” He stares at me, his eyes glistening wetly over as if drooling. “Last to go will be me. I get your head.”
“And then what?”
The Director leans back like a wolf howling at the night sky, scratching his wrist with rabid delirium. “Did you really say, And then what?’ What does it matter to you? You’re dead!” He pauses, studying me. “Oh, are you concerned about your heper buddies? Don’t you worry about them. We’ll get to them eventually. Even in this large desert, we’ll find them.”
They don’t know where the other hepers are, I think.
“And then we go back to your girlfriend and tell her what we did to you!” Gaunt Man sneers, drool now leaking out of his mouth.
“We will do that,” the Director cuts in, shooting a cold look at Gaunt Man with the irritated expression of a man deprived of the punch line he’s been chomping at the bit to tell. “And, eventually, we will do the same to her. Limb by limb. The Savouring Game. Oh, I quite like that name, actually, I think that’s the name that’s going to stick.”
The circle encloses on me even more. Their bodies percolate with ravenous excitement now, heads bobbing up and down, arms twitching at their side, weird nipping sounds escaping their lips.
“Who do you think will scream louder, you or her? She’s got a lot of passion, that girl, so perhaps she’ll scream louder. But then again, she’s got quite a bit of spine, wouldn’t you say, what with that stunt she pulled? Not at all like you, running away like a squirrel and leaving her all by her lonesome.”
Abs cries out in frustration and impatience, “Enough talking, let us have at him already!” Her tongue darts across her scabbed lower lip, hard and insistent like a callus filer. “Let me in on him!” She crouches low, readying herself.
The Director lifts his head, scans the scenery, an establishing shot for the viewers back home. “Very well, then, remember to take only the left leg and nothing else. Everyone else stay in line,” he says, tapping the FLUN. “You’ll have your turn. And now, for the pleasure of the Most Excellent Ruler and for the delighting of his good citizens, I now—”
And even before he’s finished speaking, Abs is bounding towards me, on all fours like a rabid hyena, her hair streaming behind her in impossibly straight lines. And though she is moving with lightning quickness, everything seems to slow down. I see everything: her lips pulled back, her face nothing more than a yawning black hole of sharp teeth, her eyes burnished with a red glow.
And I see the other hunters, a split second later, leaping forward as well, their bodies unable to resist, their back legs uncoiling like a cheetah’s, propelling their streamlined bodies through the air, their nails and claws finding traction in the desert gravel as they land and then push off again, sailing towards me with a grace that belies their violent intentions.
I see the Director, his face bland but eyes filled with seething anger, lifting the FLUN at Crimson Lips and Abs, his hand shaking with rage and surprise.
And Abs launches herself at me for the final time, arms stretched out, soaring through the air, saliva and snot flailing behind her, her opened mouth turning sideways as it homes in on my Adam’s apple.
A harsh beam of light, then a brief white blindness. A scream pierces the night. The stench of burning flesh fills my nose. A second later, I see Abs curled on the ground, screaming, a hole burning where her collarbone is. Used to be.
The Director, staring dumbly at his FLUN, does not understand.
Another beam of light shoots out, from behind and above me. From someone standing on the boulder. This one hits Crimson Lips in her upper thigh just as she is taking off for me. “Cha!” she yells, reaching down uselessly with her hand. Smoke shoots out from her thigh.
“Gene! Get down!” screams Sissy.
And I fall to my knees just as Frilly Dress soars towards me, her momentum carrying her over me, her nails ripping the back of my shirt. She lands on my other side with an efficient somersault, starts coming at me again instantly.
Another shot from above, this one wildly off target, hitting empty desert ground.
From the periphery
of my vision, I see a dark shape – Gaunt Man – leaping up the boulders. “Jacob!” I shout. “Watch your side, he’s flanking us on your side!”
Frilly Dress is leaping towards me, her snarling mouth like a smile.
Someone screams behind me – David? Ben? – naked fear ringing out.
Another beam shoots out, this one from the far side of the boulder, a complete misfire into the sky. I hear Epap – “Sissy! Help me over here” – his voice whittled with fear.
Then a series of flashes creates a strobe-light effect: Frilly Dress’s lunge at me is staccato-like and jagged. And then she is suddenly flying above me, descending with her terrible size and weight. Her eyes are fixed on mine, intense and focused as a lover’s.
A circle of light flashes from above; her head is instantly haloed by a nimbus of light. Halfway down, her body goes limp.
Her body crushes over mine, sagging. I pry her off, the smell of charred flesh rancid and nauseating. Smoke billows out from the back of her head. I glance up. Sissy stares down at me, then turns to Epap at the sound of his voice: “I’m out, Sissy, I’m out of the first FLUN!”
I spin around, scan the scene before me. Only Frilly Dress remains prostrate on the ground; Abs and Crimson Lips are leaping to their feet now, their bodies scorched with burns but adrenaline and anger and hunger propelling them off the ground. They’re running to the boulder, launching themselves up.
Jacob, atop one of the boulders, is bent over his FLUN, uselessly pulling and pulling on the trigger. The safety switch, he’s forgotten to disengage the safety. He hasn’t fired off a single round; that’s one reason the plan is failing so miserably. Yards away, Gaunt Man has crested the top of the boulder, is beginning to leap for Jacob.
Nothing is going as planned. Because of the hepers’ inability to use the FLUNs, all advantage is gone: a crisp ambush from the hidden recesses of the boulders – gone; the element of surprise – gone; an overpowering, coordinated attack – gone. My plan is now torn to shreds. As we all likely will be soon, unless something is done. And quickly.
