My Stockholm Syndrome. Бекки ЧейзЧитать онлайн книгу.
costly,′′ Simon disagreed. ′′It would consume too much electricity.′′
′′It's easier to drown them in the swamp,′′ I agreed. ′′There are quite a few on the grounds here′′.
′′Enough with the theories,′′ Barty reached for the map. ′′Let's see what we know about the traps. So far we know for sure about the wolf pit and the steel traps.′′
′′They're not the only ones here,′′ Lesha was obviously attracted by our playing spies and joined in, despite his father's disapproval.
I hurriedly charted everything he told me: the loop in which one of the Germans had gotten tangled yesterday, and the net along one of the glades that Snezhana had almost fallen into.
′′Keeping an eye on her?′′ I winked.
The boy blushed and looked down, not knowing what to say.
′′Come on,′′ I reassured him. ′′She's pretty. And you're a hundred times better than Diego.′′
But either not needing my approval or failing to appreciate it, he retreated, muttering that he needed to talk to his father.
We put the new info on the map and hid it in the toilet in case we were searched.
The next day we were herded out of the barracks as soon as it dawned. The sky was overcast, and it seemed even darker in the woods. Sandra greeted the party with her usual pomposity, and we raced forward followed by the blasting sound of the siren. Simon and Barty wanted to run with me but there were too many gaps in the map so we split up to explore them.
I stopped when I heard the gunshots and turned my head, trying to figure out the direction they came from. I couldn't figure out which way to go, so I crouched down and waited. There was no point in running in a random direction, I could run into a hunter. It turned out to be the right thing to do because I soon saw one of them. Vogue flashed between the trees first, followed by Frost. Walking stealthily, like a cat, the hunter slowly moved forward, gesturing to the other. I ducked, hiding behind the remains of a stump. Both were still too far away to see me. I huddled in the grass, holding my breath and occasionally looked up. They were slowly turning to the right, coming closer, but they still weren't looking in my direction. Finally Frost raised his gun, taking aim. I couldn't see his target, but when he pulled the trigger, his satisfied smile told me that he hadn't missed.
′′With one shot,′′ Vogue nodded approvingly.
′′When has it ever been otherwise?′′ Frost asked self-contentedly, pulling out a cigarette.
Instead of answering, the gamekeeper saluted him with his gloved hand.
I waited until they started moving away in the opposite direction and slowly followed them, not something they'd expect me to do. But I was unable to sneak into the camp unnoticed: one of the nets that wasn't marked on the map ruined my plan.
When I hit the wire, I instinctively threw myself to the side and that was fortuitous. The net opened in flight but it only entangled my legs, pulling them together rather tightly. Twisting, I tried to take it off. The rope bit into my fingers, but I'd rather lose some of my skin than my life. Having broken free, I looked around. No one had noticed me yet, but I was undoubtedly drawing attention to myself by thrashing through the woods like a bear. Unwilling to tempt fate, I ducked and continued on my way, crouching.
Catching movement in the corner of my eye, I darted behind a tree just in time. I was being shot at. I had to run away again.
Gasping for breath, I raced through the woods, weaving through the trees. My heart was pounding frantically as if it was going to explode. Wet branches whipped my cheeks but I ignored them, dashing through the brush. I didn't even realize it was raining and that the grass was wet until I ran into the clearing and fell down. The camera on the pole in the middle of the clearing slowly turned in my direction. Another, on a special crane, came down to get a close-up of my face. I was tempted to give the invisible viewer the middle finger, but it could have cost me my life. This was not the time to play Katniss Everdeen. Not wasting valuable seconds, I jumped up and ran again.
In three days I had explored the area only partially: I barely remembered this sector of the forest. I hesitated at the fork in the trail and turned to the left. I almost fell into the hole of a wolf trap: slowing down sharply, I slipped on the wet ground and fell, inertia dragging me forward. The distance was enough for my legs to overbalance, pulling me into the trap. Imagining the sharpened stakes below, I grabbed at everything within reach and hung on the edge. I tried to get out by pressing my toes into the trap walls, but the rain was making my shoes slip. There was a scream in the distance, interrupted by a gunshot. I pulled myself up again, whimpering in pain: two fingernails were broken and splinters were stuck under the rest of them. ′′Think positive,′′ I was trying to urge myself on. A shot means a hunter, and a scream means death. And that death means that at least one more killer's daily limit is exhausted. It really doesn't take much in this life to become a cynic. Just three days of running through the woods from armed degenerates eager to kill you. Another push and I climbed out of the trap for good, falling on my back with a sigh of relief. I was alive. But the smile was immediately wiped off my lips by the crackling of a broken branch: they were close. The hunters' footsteps were barely audible, but I knew he was among them. He was following me, raising goosebumps all over my skin. I have felt his presence since the first day of the hunt. And here it was again, the quintessence of danger and fear…
There were three pursuers. They were approaching from the right, and there was nothing I could do but go past the trap deeper into the woods. I had hardly run five meters when a bullet chipped a piece of bark off the tree in front of my face and made me freeze. I got the message, I was not allowed to go that way. I rushed to my left, but another bullet stopped me again. I could see the gamekeepers encircling me, but I kept darting from side to side, twisting and weaving. They weren't going to kill me today. They were just trying to scare me, as they routinely do. The circle tightened, and another pirouette brought me too close to one of the gamekeepers. He swung his rifle at my ankle, knocking me down. Well, that was that. This is it. I knelt without raising my eyes, and could see two silhouettes on both sides. The cold metal touched the back of my neck. I couldn't see their faces, but I knew exactly who was behind me, and whose gun was pointed at me. Jason.
′′Freeze.′′
The warning was unnecessary: in his presence I was afraid to even breathe.
With a yank, he made me get up, and pushed me toward Outcast standing nearby. I limped forward, but before I'd gone ten meters, he had me pinned against a tree.
′′You know what the blondie did to get the fat man to let her go, don't you? I can let you go too, if you want?′′ he hissed into my ear with a nasty smile.
I could feel his tobacco-soaked breath on my face. Mixed with sweat, it turned into a nauseating cocktail of smells. The greasy hair touched my cheek. I jerked to the side, but Outcast was holding me tight.
′′Come on, doll, work your mouth,′′ he grabbed me by the hair and tried to pull me down on my knees.
′′Get your hands off me,′′ I gritted through my teeth.
′′Outcast,′′ Jason called out to him. ′′We're running out of time. There are four more to find.′′
The gamekeeper pulled away in annoyance.
′′I'll do you tonight,′′ he promised, shoving me in the back.
I almost ran to the barracks. The rain was getting heavier. Streams of water ran down my face and into my eyes, hindering my vision. My jacket and jeans were soaked through and my boots were sloshing with water. Outcast's radio crackled behind me announcing the statistics: two targets had been caught in pit traps, and the snare traps remained undisturbed. The first thing I did when I crossed the threshold of the barracks was to look for Simon and when I found him, I was relieved: he was alive. Outcast chained me to the wall, giving me a nasty goodbye groping. I broke free from his hands. Simon jumped up, followed by Lesha, but I shook my head: don't mess with him.
′′Wow,