Monster Gauntlet by Paul Emil Page A

female. She was wearing a ragged strips of clothing that might have been a dress in a previous life. Her head was slumped forward, and wet, tangled, black hair hung down and hid her face.
    “It’s a woman,” Mason said.
    “No shit,” said Bear.
    Mason said, “So, are we going to check her out?”
    “Of course,” Bear said.
    Trish rolled her eyes.
    “You know that’s a monster,” she said. “Why can’t we just move along?”
    “She might not be,” said Marine. “She could be something else.”
    “Like what?” I asked.
    “Like bait. Food for a monster.”
    “Great,” Trish grumbled. “Another reason to keep moving.”
    “This is where they want us,” Mason said, his eyes darting around like rodent constantly on alert for predators. “We should just move.”
    I hate to admit it, but I could really see his point. This was obviously some type of trap.
    “We should at least see if she’s alive,” Marine said.
    Everyone’s gaze went from one person to the next. Finally, Bear said, “I’m going to see if she’s alive.”
    A huge knife appeared in his hand. Then he said, “If she is, and she’s human ... well, let’s just make sure first.”
    He held up the knife and smiled with an inappropriate amount of delight and an overexcited twinkle in his eye that made me shudder. I subtly brushed my palm against the reassuring bulk and weight of my gun.
    We climbed the knoll. Bear shouted in the woman’s face.
    “Hey! Hey you! You alive? Wake up!”
    No response.
    The bare arms and legs of the woman were pale and smooth. Her body reminded me a little of Alysh’s, with bigger boobs. I know the men noticed.
    “Hey you! You want to live? Look up.”
    Still no response.
    Holding the knife in his right hand, Bear slowly extended his left hand to part the black curtain of hair hiding her face.
    “Bear! Don’t!” Trish hissed.
    I knew how she felt.
    Bear’s hand moved closer in slow motion. Just before the fingertips touched the hair, I took a step backwards and closed my eyes.
    The woman moaned.
    My eyes snapped open. Bear’s hand swept her hair aside. Her face was beautiful. Bear was smiling. I took a deep breath and exhaled.
    Bear pinched her jaw and turned her head to either side, exposing a long neck. The woman was unconscious – drugged, or something.
    “No vampire bites,” he said approvingly. Then he added, “Doesn’t mean they aren’t somewhere else.”
    Then he brought the tip of his knife and placed it between her breasts. I had no I idea what he was doing. My first thought was that he was going to stab her in the heart.
    Bear made a small slit in the fabric. Then, like a gunslinger in reverse, he put the knife away in the time it took to blink. With both hands free, he inserted his fingers into the slit in the dress. He took a breath, and it one motion, ripped it apart.
    The woman’s breasts fell out like two huge melons. Bear’s eyes widened and he gasped.
    “Looks human to me,” he said, grinning. “Only one way to be sure.”
    He started to grope her. I had no idea how far this was going to go. If this was supposed to be a diversion, a stalling-tactic, or just another thing to fight over, it was working. I was about to say something but Marine beat me to it. He said, “Dude. Seriously? You’re going to rape a woman with millions of people watching?”
    Bear’s smile disappeared as we were all suddenly reminded that we were on a live TV show. I saw Bear’s hand twitch like gunfighter’s hovering over the handle of his pistol.
    In a voice that was eerily quiet, he said, “Nobody tells me ...”
    “Nobody’s going to get raped,” I said.
    Bear turned and found himself staring at the muzzle of my gun.
    Bear growled, and said, “Girl, you better ...”
    “Shut up!” I said, shoving the gun in his face.
    The man looked from the gun to my eyes. His stare bored into me with an intent to kill. Most people would be intimidated. I shoved my gun even closer. His gaze went from the