Yelling jolted me awake. My head throbbed painfully as someone screamed directly into my ear, making the situation unbearable. As I turned my head toward the source of the noise and opened my eyes, a rush of wind mixed with blood hit me. I watched in horror as Sarah's head was severed and fell to the ground; her body remained tied to the wooden post next to me, her hands bound behind her back with rope. Blood splattered across my face, and panic set in. I wanted to scream, but my mouth felt as if it were sewn shut. When I tried to wipe the blood away, I realized I couldn't move my hands. I, too, was tied to the post like the unfortunate woman beside me. In front of me stood several soldiers, Major Clark, and two casually dressed civilians. Shock took control of me as I watched the sand become soaked with blood.
"You fucking cunt."
Sam! Sam is alive. As I looked to my left, I saw Sam, tied to a post a few steps away, hands bound behind his back and his forehead smeared with so much blood that it dripped from the tip of his nose to the ground. Sam was badly hurt, but at least he was alive.
"You are a fucking cunt, Richard, why?" Sam yelled, glaring at him. Richard just stood there, not bothering to look at Sam or us as he prepared for something, lacking the time to meet the eyes of those he had betrayed. He and his friends donned hunting gear, ignoring us as if it were just another day.
"Not enough," a bold, deep voice said. I raised my head and noticed Richard nodding to a hooded man before walking toward Sam.
"Don't take it personally; both of you are just trash. At least now your lives have some meaning. Not everybody gets a happy ending," Richard said, his voice calm and controlled as he approached Sam. Sam stared into Richard's blue eyes, opening his mouth in an attempt to speak, but no words came out. At that moment, my heart sank upon realizing why Sam had stopped—Richard's knife, buried in his chest, was oozing with blood. My throat tightened, tears blurred my vision, and my mind went blank. Richard pulled the knife from Sam's body and began walking toward me, the bloodstained blade glinting in the light as he waved it in the air to shake off the blood. I wanted to yell, scream—he had just killed my only friend before my eyes—but I couldn't form the words; only strange sounds escaped my lips as I gasped for air.
Richard stood in front of me, placing his hand on my shoulder and pressing the knife against my heart. Looking into my eyes, he applied more pressure. "Let's not keep Sam waiting," he said with a demonic smile. I saw only bloodlust in his eyes at that moment—the Richard I had met in the bar had vanished, never to return. There was no emotion in his twisted smile, no hint of regret. He was not human; he was a monster. Strangely, I felt no fear of dying; instead, I was consumed by an anger I had never experienced before. I wanted to tear him apart.
"He's coming; get ready to attack!" yelled somebody in a black jacket with a hood over his face. When Richard heard it, he pulled the knife away and began to run. Tears filled my eyes, and my hands shook as I watched everyone flee and take cover behind rocks. But what attack? As this thought crossed my mind, the ground shook. Bait—me and Sam—were just bait for some monster. Is this what our lives are worth to them?
I understand that now. Everybody was in on it except for me, Sam, and that poor girl, Sarah. I glanced at her, who had been filled with excitement and happiness just a few minutes before. Sadness overwhelmed me as I realized this messed-up place would be my end. As the reality set in, I saw the post and the headless body starting to sink into the sand. Something was moving beneath. As I turned my head to look at Sam, I heard a giant thud. A worm bigger than a school bus leaped out of the sand toward the hunters. The battle began between the worm and the hunters; the worm leaped at them while a hunter rushed out of its way. The chaos erupted as shouts filled the air, and weapons clashed against the creature's tough skin.
This was my chance to escape. There wouldn't be another opportunity. If this overgrown worm doesn't kill me, then they will. I started twisting my hands, trying to get loose, but the rope was tight. It was painful to move. I could feel the rope digging into my skin but didn't stop, even when I sensed blood dripping from my hands. I kept going. I could feel it—the rope was loosening enough that I managed to free one hand. Twisting and pulling, I tried to get my legs free. In the midst of frustration and pain, the hunters managed to injure the worm badly. The worm was much weaker than the hunters, but it was swift, and this was its environment. Black blood mixed with sand covered the battleground. The worm had cuts and burn marks on its body, and someone had plunged an axe into it, leaving only the handle protruding. I wanted to get out of there, but now I wasn't the only one with a plan to escape. As I freed my legs, the rope still tingling at my wrist, loud yelling echoed across the battlefield: "Don't let it get away." The earth beneath me shook again, sand flew towards me with a deafening bang, and the earthquake was so strong I lost my balance and fell to my knees. I looked behind me; the worm was making its escape, digging into the ground, while hunters dashed toward it, only part of its tail still exposed, the axe embedded within it with only the handle visible. I stood up, staring at the monster and the hunters rushing toward us. Richard caught sight of me standing there; our gazes locked, and suddenly, the same dagger that had claimed my friend's life soared towards me. Just before the knife could make impact, the rope twisted around the handle of the axe, and a strong pull swept me off my feet again, dragging me into the hole. The pain was overwhelming; the pressure of the sand collapsing around me and the rope strangling my hand felt like it would tear it off. With no way to breathe, everything went dark again.