Free Monster Gauntlet by Paul Emil Page B

were imposing their fears on us and contaminating my country. It was disgusting.
    I started to wonder what would have happened if Marine hadn’t tackled the brute. I quickly cut that movie from playing in my mind.
    Suddenly, I had a startling realization. People had been watching that. Possibly millions of them. They were watching right now.
    Really? I thought. Millions of viewers were watching at this moment, sitting on their couches, in bars, in college lounges, and in theaters eagerly awaiting the next attack. How exciting it would be when it came and somebody got killed!
    My face screwed up as if I’d tasted something bitter. Really? Were people really going to sit around and watch and (oh God) possibly even cheer while I got raped and killed?
    Would they be disgusted? Some would, like Alysh. She had a sense of decency. But what about the rest? Is that what they wanted to see?
    Of course it was. They were tuning in to watch me get eaten alive or torn apart by monsters with teeth and claws, so why wouldn’t they enjoy watching me get torn apart by the rapist?
    This was entertainment, after all. It was raw. It was real. And, in some people’s minds, this really was justice.
    I stopped in my tracks. I looked up at the storm clouds in the Scottish sky that managed to be both foreboding and beautiful at the same time.
    Guns? A rapist? I lifted my head and shouted at the sky. “How dare you!?”
    Everyone stopped. Clouds continued to drift in the cold sky. The world didn’t acknowledge me back in any way, but unlike somebody ranting to the universe on her own, I did have an audience. Somebody was watching. I thought of Cain with his tailored suits and mask-like smile. It thought of Vasha and her insults, and of the directors and their misplaced pride in their “creation.” They were worse than the audience. This was their show, and they chose the monsters. It was their idea to send the faceless thug in the first place. I had a feeling that the rapist was deliberately chosen for me.
    “How dare you!? You sent a rapist? I’m going to get you! You hear me!? I’m going to make you pay! I swear this on my life!”
    “Easy, Blue. Hand over the gun.”
    “What?” I screamed.
    Bear stretched his hand out. “Give me that goddamn gun before you shoot yourself or one of us! I wasted ammo saving your ass so give me the weapon. Now.”
    Give me your weapons. Right. The line that starts wars. ‘How to Start a Fight’ by Moira MacMillan. Say ‘Give me your weapons.’
    Bear took a deliberate step forward. “Girl, I’m not asking twice.”
    I pulled the gun out of my waistband and pointed at his face. He froze.
    “Back off!”
    Looking into Bear’s eyes was like staring down the barrel of a gun. Then I saw the change. He searched my eyes and found that he was NOT mentally stronger. He was staring down the barrel of a gun. My gun. I would kill him.
    I saw the fear seep into his eyes and he raised his hands slowly.
    “I’m just saying ...”
    “SHUT UP!”
    “Moira,” said a soft voice behind me.
    Without turning my back on Bear, I whipped around and found myself pointing the gun at Marine’s head. It was shaking in my hands.
    “He’s a man,” an alien part of myself said. “You can’t trust him. He’s going to hurt you. He wants to rape you. He wants ...”
    “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!”
    I looked at Marine. His hands were up, framing a face that looked frightened. Unlike Bear’s eyes, which showed contempt and then fear, in Marine’s I found concern. He wasn’t afraid. He was worried about me.
    I lowered my weapon.
    “Oh God,” I moaned. “I am so sorry. I’m losing it. I’m just ... No. I’m cool. It’s over. I’m just freaked out because I almost got raped back there.”
    Marine slowly lowered his hands.
    “I’m good now. Really. I’m cool. I’m ready to go.”
    I turned to Bear and said, “And I’m keeping the gun.”
    Bear scowled but didn’t argue.
    We started walking, and just as