Page 49 of Taunting Tarran
Sal’s voice cuts in again, just enough to draw my attention. ‘Tarran is not too far ahead,’ he says, fighting against the interference. ‘Listen, you’re ahead of the other players, but not by much. They’re working on hot and cold cues – I’ve hacked the main feed – her – location. It looks like – on – track. Head towards the Rabbit Warren. With this weather, you’ll both need shelter.’
I don’t waste any time answering, and just fix my eyes on the thicket ahead. Tarran is close – I can feel it. And I won’t let anyone beat me to her. Not tonight. Not ever.
The Rabbit Warren.
I remember the days spent with my father, I must have been around seven when we traced the reserve on an old, tattered map. Each hideout marked with care – underground shelters equipped with paraffin lanterns and dry blankets, places of quiet refuge. They weren’t just shelters, though. Many of the dens doubled as hunter hideouts, cunningly positioned to ambush unsuspecting animals. The irony was never lost on me – what served as shelter for some became a trap for others. I can still see him, his weathered hands steady as he lit one of those lanterns, its warm glow flickering against the cramped, earthen walls.
Now, the forest feels alive in a different way. I pause, the sharp scent of pine and soil filling my lungs, grounding me asthe rain-soaked leaves drip around me, the distant flutter of birds startled by my presence echoes faintly through the trees. My eyes fix ahead, the path dipping sharply and disappearing into the shadows. Somewhere, down there, lays the Rabbit Warren.
‘Where is she, Sal?’ I growl into the static-laden earpiece as I grip the rifle tighter against my shoulder. My breath comes in sharp bursts, the cold air invading my lungs like knives. I scan the terrain, my eyes darting through the shadows.
‘She’s right there!’ Sal’s voice cuts through the interference, urgent and strained.
‘Underground?’ I snap, my patience fraying with every second.
‘No-.’ His reply dissolves into harsh static, the connection faltering just as the mechanical voice blares through the air.
‘RED LIGHT.’
Sal’s voice returns, fragmented but clear enough to make my pulse spike. ‘There’s someone closing in, boss. Tarran isn’t moving, but someone else is. They’re right on top of you.’
‘I know, Sal,’ I bite out. ‘And in red light, she’s anyone’s game.’
‘They’re about eighty meters north of your position,’ he adds.
FUCK!
My eyes dart through trees, searching for any sign of her, or the other player.
‘I can’t see her, Sal,’ I hiss in frustration.
My grip tightens on the rifle as I raise it, the scope narrowing my focus to a single, sharp circle of clarity.
Then,I see him – a man in my crosshairs. His gaze is locked in my direction, but his weapon isn’t aimed at me. His rifle is positioned high, pointed above my head. A shiver runs down my back as I follow his line of sight.
And there she is. Tarran. My pulse spikes, adrenaline flooding my veins.
I see her!
But so does he.
She’s barely visible, her body pressed against the rough bark, blending seamlessly with the canopy above. Her face is a storm of emotions – wild, feral, and alive with desperation that’s both terrifying and mesmerising. She clings to the tree like it’s the only thing tethering her to this world, and my heart stutters as I’m caught between awe and that he’s going to shoot her.
He’s going to shoot her.
In a fluid motion, I swing the scope back to him, my finger curling around the trigger. The rifle bucks hard against my shoulder as the shot rings out.
‘GREEN LIGHT.’
The man drops, but Tarran loses her grip, and before I can react, she’s falling, crashing through the branches before hitting the ground. I’m moving before thought even forms, the rifle slung over my shoulder as my boots pound against the earth. ‘I’ve got her, Sal!’ I bark into the earpiece.
Too fucking close.
Too damn close.
I hold her close, her fragile form trembling against me. Herbreaths are faint, each one a fragile thread keeping her tethered to life. The chill of her skin seeps through my clothes, but she’s alive – barely. That’s enough for now. It has to be.
‘You better hurry,’ Sal warns. ‘There are more closing in.’
