A horrified whimper gets trapped in my mouth as I panic and take stock of my body. I pat myself over as hot tears start to slip down my cheeks. I bite back a relieved sob when all I sense is a sore hip and the weeping cut on the side of my head. I can deal with a little blood and bruises. Those are manageable. What’s not is the fact that I’m in the middle of nowhere, naked and hurt.
Is this some sick fuck’s idea of a joke?
Bile singes the back of my tongue, and I’m immediately pissed at myself for not listening to my gut earlier. Something about this town tripped my worry wires. Stupidly, I’d tried to slather my fears with excuses and second-guessing, just like foster mother number four always covered blackened toast with extra jelly. I know better and yet I let myself label my unease as misjudgment.
“Good job. Now you’re a dead woman,” I whisper to myself, teeth chattering as I cinch the edges of the cloak—my only protection from the elements.
At least it’s soft.
Quivering, I stand, using the tree next to me for support. I survey my surroundings, trying to breathe past the terror that makes me want to curl into a ball and cry until all of this is over, whatever this is.
But I need to get away. I need a plan. I don’t know what in the fucked-up Handmaid’s Tale is going on here, but I won’t sit around and wait for whoever did this to me to come back.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I curse with each step. Pine needles, sticks, and dead leaves scrape at the soles of my feet as I wobble unsteadily away from the tree I woke up next to. My left eye feels dry and is having trouble focusing. I’m pretty sure I have a concussion, maybe some bruised ribs to go along with my blackening hip, but I box up any concern about my injuries and shove it away.
Survive first. Then worry about the pain.
I picture the hospital bed I’ll be recovering in after I escape this shit, and I don’t know if I’ve ever longed for anything more.
Something in my periphery moves, catching my attention, and I snap my head in that direction, causing an ache to shoot down my neck. It takes me a beat to make sense of what I see, but when I do, I stop in my tracks.
Silent.
Frozen.
Terrified.
About twenty feet away, lit by the light of the full moon that’s peeking through the branches, is someone else wearing the same red cloak that trails along the ground behind them. A delicate hand emerges from underneath the cloak and raises a lantern, which glows as bright as a golden star in the dim, tree-cast shadows.
The lantern is shoved quickly onto a bare tree branch where it sways, the beams of light shakily painting stripes across the leaf-littered ground.
Surprise at finding someone else in the woods wearing a red cloak quickly morphs into wary distrust.
What are the chances…？
I squint, trying to focus on the other person, but a hood hides their face. They’re turned away from me, just standing there as though expecting something or maybe someone to appear from that part of the forest. Apprehension and unease skitter across my skin like insects as I watch the cloaked person, unsure what to do.
Is this my attacker?
Or were they ambushed and dumped here too?
I open my mouth to call out but then slowly close it.
What if it’s whoever took me, or what if they’re in on what’s happening? Why do they have a lantern and I don’t?
The cloaked person doesn’t look big enough to be a threat, but I also have some kind of head injury, and I don’t know if I’m thinking clearly. I huddle closer to the trunk of the tree behind me, hoping it will shield me if someone looks my way.
I look around, as though the trees and bushes will tell me what they know, when I spot another red-cloaked person on my other side. I tense, unease twitching through me, as foreboding slithers up my spine. Five huge pine trees separate us, the shadows dripping between them so dark that the person is nearly hidden from view. I worry they’re going to spot me, but just like the first mysterious cloaked figure, they’re staring into the forest in anticipation.
What the fuck is going on?
My mind slowly processes the scene, ticking along like an old wind-up watch at the end of its run. I’m sure I’m missing something, but my brain can’t increase its speed right now because every thought feels fuzzy.
Wait.
More red-cloaked individuals come into focus. They’re farther away than the two on either side of me, but each of them is clearly spaced out in a line. There have to be at least half a dozen others that I can see from where I’m standing, dabs of red painted across the deep blue darkness.
All of them are staring off in the same direction, just…waiting.
Shit.
The terrifying idea that some warped sicko brought me out here into the forest morphs into the gruesome realization that some sort of cult abducted me instead.
If it was just one man, I could try to fight—not with a ton of skill, but I might be able to hold my own.
A whole cult?
Chance and hope lock the door, sliding the bolt closed and leaving me trapped on the other side.
Oh god. Please don’t tell me I’m some kind of human sacrifice.
Dread creeps up the sides of my throat, my gaze passing anxiously over each of the cloaked figures.
Thank fuck none of them move or even turn toward me. I’m not sure they’ve noticed I’m awake, which is surprising because I’m certain that my pounding heart and gasping breaths are as loud as a fighter jet right now. My head and ears are pulsing expectantly, anticipation churning a boiling, bubbling lava through my veins. Any second now, this line of cloaked figures is going to pivot toward me and realize that one of these things is not like the other.
My hands clench with apprehension.
But they just keep waiting.
Waiting for what?
The hairs on my arms rise with warning, and fear screams at me that I don’t want to know what else could be in these woods.
I start to back away, trying to be quiet and discreet.
Something in the air changes.
Maybe it’s the way the nocturnal noises of the forest suddenly stop or my adrenaline is working on overdrive to sharpen my senses in an effort to survive whatever is coming, but—all at once—I know, without a shred of doubt, that something is coming.
I freeze, even though everything in me is begging for me to run, to escape.
My shallow, dread-filled breaths are too loud as they saw in and out of my lungs.
Terrified, I watch the other red-cloaked figures, each of them locked in place just like me.
Are they…are they not in on this? Are they clueless and hurt too?
But I’m out of time to ask questions.
A stick snaps in the distance and the air in my chest retreats.
Tension thickens the cold night, pressing in against me, and I taste acrid fear. I want to spit to remove the taint from my tongue, but I’m too afraid to move.
Two glowing orbs suddenly appear out of nowhere. I stop breathing as they slowly, steadily move closer, floating three or maybe four feet above the ground. It takes my panicked mind a moment to understand what I’m seeing.
It’s a pair of eyes.
Yellow eyes, set in a dark gray and silver furred face.
The biggest wolf I’ve ever seen seems to coalesce out of nowhere.
It’s as though the beast materializes from the darkness itself, one paw moving in front of the other as it stalks its prey. The only problem is I’m pretty sure I’m the prey.