9
The airport runway is crawling with reporters and curious citizens. The protesters are here, chanting that same chant as loudly as ever. I’m surprised President Volkov hasn’t had them arrested yet.
I wipe my hands on my silky pants and close my eyes, trying to think of something that might calm me. When no such thought emerges, I reopen my eyes. The vehicle slows down and forces its way through the crowd. People plaster their faces against the transporter’s windows as we pass.
Mai stands on a platform in front of the red, white, and yellow Savage Run aircraft. Is it the same one I saw earlier today up at Master Douglas’s house? I wonder how Mai managed to get here before us because when we left Pavlova Yard, she was still packing up all the registration forms.
Eighteen participants are lined up behind Mai. Seeing how some of their necks are as thick as tree trunks, their arms as broad as my waist, it causes me to shrink in my seat. Arthor is one of the strongest Laborers I’ve met, but he looks like a wiry twig next to some of these guys. I don’t even want to imagine what I’ll look like beside one of them. Other than Arthor and me, the rest of the participants look like they’re Advisors; a Laborer would never receive enough food to grow those kinds of muscles.
At first thought, it doesn’t make sense to me why a Class-2 Advisor would risk death when his life is already pretty good. I suppose if I were an Advisor, I’d still feel trapped by not being able to own land, vote, or run for office.
One second. That’s exactly how long it takes the reporters to swivel around after Nicholas has stepped out of the transporter. But he doesn’t even blink an eye, just walks calmly around the vehicle and waits for me to get out. The two Unifers who followed us here—I’m now convinced they’re his bodyguards—walk on either side of us up to the podium.
Mai reaches her arms out to greet me and pulls my ear to her lips. “My, don’t you look like you need some happy pills…,” she whispers. “Cheer up; this event is for champions, and you certainly don’t look it.” She places me at the end of the line, next to the tallest, most muscular guy here, and gives me a stern look. I pull my shoulders back and try to fit in.
Nicholas steps up to the stand, and the gathering—even the protesters—calms into a low simmer. “Welcome citizens of Culmination to the very first Savage Run,” he says. “I’d like to share with you a silly story, if you would be so kind to indulge me. As many of you know, I spent a few summers on a ranch right outside of Culmination. My favorite thing to do was to play outside—to swim in the lake beside our home and play in the woods, chasing after squirrels and harassing hedgehogs.”
The gathering laughs.
He continues. “But my favorite memory from there happened one spring morning when I was ten. My father had sold the ranch, and it was the last day before we moved to Asolo. Before my father could tell me no, I headed to the lake to swim.”
I smile a little.
“There was a chickadee that lived in the oak tree right outside of our door. She was constantly feeding her youngsters, their hungry beaks opening and closing, accepting the nourishment from their mother. That day, one of her chicks had fallen out of the nest. I saw the poor little creature abandoned on the ground, chirping, and left to die from starvation or to be eaten alive by a predator, anticipating life to end in the most excruciating way. Not thinking much of it, I helped the bird back into its nest. Later that day, I saw the bird I had helped fly away.” He pauses and grips the side of the podium. “That’s what these young men must feel like now—like that little bird must have felt. Waiting. Waiting for someone to help them. For someone…to pick them up and give them wings to fly.”
The gathering cheers.
“As you know, this Master class recruitment program is closed to the media and the public. However, I will personally inform you of the results after each of the three phases directly following the completion of each phase. Now, without further delay, we must bring these Savages to Volkov Village. Thank you.”
The gathering claps, and Nicholas steps away from the podium.
One by one the participants climb the stairway that leads up to the aircraft. Nicholas stands at the bottom of the stairs waiting for me, the last contender to board. Just as my foot touches the first step, I hear someone yell my name.
“Heidi!”
My heart plummets into my stomach when I recognize my father’s voice. My hand twitches and almost reaches for my locket. But I’m on my own now.
“Heidi, don’t do this!” he yells.
I’ve never heard him this desperate. A lump forms in my throat. I shouldn’t turn around, but since everyone else is doing it, they probably won’t suspect that I’m the one he’s calling for. My father is tripping over his legs to get to me, and some of the people in the crowd shove him and laugh as he stumbles to the ground.
“Heidi, don’t leave. I’m sorry I messed up!” He climbs back onto his feet, his gray hair sticking to his sweaty forehead.
Seeing what’s happening, Nicholas sends a couple of Unifers in my father’s direction. Once they arrive, they pull their clubs out and beat my father against his head and abdomen until he collapses to the ground. With every blow, I feel the pain deep in my stomach. My father covers his head to protect himself from the assaults. I want to yell out for the Unifers not to hurt him, but I hold back, too afraid it will give me away. Maybe more afraid that my father might think I care.
“Do you know that man?” Mai asks me.
My eyes are glued on my father, and pity overwhelms me when I see blood coming from his nose. To me, he seemed to be the strongest man alive. Now, with the Unifers pounding down on him, he appears weak and helpless, not even a man.
“No, I don’t know him,” I say. One last time, I look back at the person I have called father my entire life and feel like I’m betraying him by pretending he’s a stranger. But he has betrayed me countless times by treating me the way he has. I owe him nothing.
I turn my back to him. Each step toward the plane is another step away from my former life and the former me. Trying to fit into his mold never worked. And it never will. I clutch onto the handrail and run up the stairs.
Savage Run Book I Page 9
