A helicopter is standing idle on the airstrip. I scan the perimeter, but my scope shows no trace of Erik or his men. When my ears grow hot and the hairs on the back of my neck rise, I know they must be close.

‘Freeze,’ sounds from behind me. Twenty metres away, my mind registers coolly while my heart drops to my toes. ‘Lower your rifle. Now, kneel.’

Sharp flavours of brass and iron coat my tongue. Finally, I can see Erik’s trap in its entirety. He set up the camp in full view and waited for us to find him; heavy weapons, even a helicopter and a rocket launcher. We were drawn to it like flies to dead flesh. Then he moved one pathetic-looking ship, showing us only part of his fleet. And again, we were drawn to it. He split our forces in two, kept Runner and me busy, maybe even studied me because he wasn’t sure if I might be useful to him. Then he snapped his trap shut and sent a fake message to let my friends believe Runner and I were in great danger. He moved our forces on his game board. Then, with a flick of his finger, he killed his own men and my people, and, in the same move, called me to him, knowing I’d not say no.

I want to punch his throat and rip out his airways.

A hard shove sends me to my knees. The stupid suture tears, yet again. My ruck is yanked from my shoulders, my face slammed in the dirt, my hands tied behind my back, as pistol and knife are taken from me. There’s no more effective way to strip a sniper naked than to take away her rifle and her partner. And only now does it hit me: Runner’s mother and sister had been taken by the BSA and he’d been unable to do anything about it. He hid in a cow carcass. Today, history repeats itself for him. I couldn’t have been more ignorant. Why did I not see it in his empty expression, the paleness of his eyes, the grim set mouth? Why did I not find the right words to make this easier for him?

Suddenly, I realise he didn’t promise me to stay alive. Something breaks inside my head; I can even hear it — must be sanity.

A bitter laugh erupts from my mouth. I never learned how to comfort people, how to feel for them and with them. Nothing about me has changed in the past months. Only now, I’m an effective killer.

‘Erik…. There’s something I need to tell you.’ Come closer. Come closer! I’ll take you away with me.

‘Blindfold her.’ A deep, rasping command. It’s the first time I hear my father speak. Strawberry flavours tickle the root of my tongue. A grating sensation — much like rows of small seeds and tiny hairs on a smooth berry — spreads on my palate. It mixes with the metallic taste of danger. I gag.

A bag is slipped over my head and tied around my neck. I’m in my own small bubble. I can poison only myself. He’s taken my last defence from me.

Bristling fury surges through me and I do find the right words then, and let them out in a cold growl. ‘Motherfucking son of a bitch!’

The kick to my injured side comes as a relief. This pain I can handle.