The Hunt by Brad Stevens Page A

slightest effort could see what was going to happen in the next decade, the Nazi era. He says it's like a serpent's egg. Through the thin membranes you can clearly discern the already perfect reptile. Everyone thinks Britain was so civilised earlier this century. But there's never been any shortage of politicians wanting to control women's bodies. Abortion was legal for a while, but conservative MPs were constantly trying to restrict abortion rights, and they finally won the battle. Abortion was never legalised in Ireland. Even the uniform isn't a new idea. In some places, women had to wear abayas or burquas which completely covered their faces whenever they left home. And back then, there was something called Female Genital Mutilation. Do you know what that is?”
    Julie shook her head.
    “It's almost unbelievable. Certain parents - motivated by vague notions of religion, honour and tradition - would make their daughters take part in ceremonies where they were forcibly restrained while a razor blade was used to remove their clitoris, inner labia and outer labia. Parents who were particularly religious, honourable or traditional demonstrated these qualities by obliging girls - who had absolutely no say in the matter - to undergo infibulation. After everything had been cut away, whatever skin remained was stretched across the vagina and stitched together, leaving only a small hole for urine and menstrual blood. All this was usually done without anaesthetic. Technically the practice was illegal, but it obviously had the tacit approval of the British authorities. Thousands of women were mutilated every year, but there wasn't a single prosecution. The Hunt seems almost mild by comparison. The most these bastards are allowed to do is pierce us with needles.”
    “ You don't think they'd really do anything like that, though, do you? I read the Hunt pamphlet, but I can't believe they'd actually do those things.”
    “ I think we need to be as careful as possible not to let them find us.”
    Julie removed the bottle of water from her pocket and took a drink. Mara couldn't see clearly in the dark, but after Julie replaced the cap and placed the bottle on the floor, Mara picked it up and shook it. From the sound, she guessed it was almost empty. She desperately wanted a drink herself, but the deviousness of the Hunt planners' scheme was only now becoming apparent to her. Food and particularly drink were essential to survival, yet women taking part in the Hunt could only use a vending machine every six hours, obtaining just a single food item and a single drink item. And these small packages provided little more than token nourishment or refreshment. So even if a woman managed to remove her tracking device and find a relatively safe hiding place, she'd still need to go outside and use a vending machine at least once a day. And the Hunters would undoubtedly be staking out these machines, waiting for potential victims. Throw body heat detectors, infra-red goggles and Tasers into the mix, and a cynic might conclude that the decks in this particular game were not stacked in the women's favour.
    Mara picked up her own bottle of water. Turning to Julie she said, “We need to make the water last as long as possible. I'm going to have a small sip now, and we can share the rest tomorrow morning.”
    Julie nodded, she didn't have to be reminded what was at stake.
    Mara took the smallest sip possible, but even that drained more than a third of the contents. Reluctantly putting the bottle's cap securely back on, she set it down near where they were sitting. Neither woman felt particularly hungry, so the sandwiches remained in their pockets.
    After a few minutes of silence, Mara stood up and looked out the window. The streets were dark, though lighted windows in the Hunters' apartment block, the one building with electricity, could be seen in the distance. Mara wondered if any of her comrades had already been caught, and were undergoing torture