Savage Run Book I

by E. J. Squires

  10

  The cabin hostess waits by the open door and smiles at me as if I’m the most important person in the world. Once I enter the aircraft, it becomes easier to forget the desperate look in my father’s eyes, especially when I notice the other participants pausing to size me up. Some of them laugh. A few nods greet me with sincere expressions, but most frown and scoff, rolling their eyes as I squeeze by.

  “Welcome aboard, young man. Let me show you to your seat.” The cabin hostess beams and guides me deeper into the aircraft. Most seats are forward-facing and stand in double rows on either side of the aisle. However, on the left side of the walkway, and about halfway back, two of the seats face backwards, creating a booth of four inward-facing seats. She stops and gestures to the booth. “The forward-facing window seat is yours.”

  Mai is already sitting in the window seat directly across from mine, holding a small mirror and applying red lipstick. Next to her sits a black-haired muscle head. He stares at me as I sit down. Each seat has its own set of buttons to select movies or listen to music, and the cabin hostess proceeds to show me which button to push to make the chair fold down into a full-length bed. “And if you need anything at all, press this button.” She gestures to a red knob above my seat.

  I thank her, and she walks to the back of the aircraft.

  “Just get me out of this godforsaken place,” Mai grumbles to herself more than to us.

  I’m about to ask her why she would call Culmination a godforsaken place, but the guy sitting across from me says, “Couldn’t get a job shoveling manure?”

  I squint my eyes. “What?”

  “You think you have a chance against all of us out there?” He pops a grape into his mouth, the juice squirting out as he bites down on it.

  Mai rolls her eyes but remains silent.

  “No, I just…”

  “Good, then we agree.” He pops another grape in and chomps on it with his mouth open, the smacking sound unbearably irritating.

  Nicholas takes the seat next to mine and nods to the grape guy. “Johnny, this is Joseph. Joseph, Johnny. I trust we’ll be able to have a pleasant flight together?” His eyebrows rise.

  “Doubtful,” Johnny says at exactly the same time I say, “Of course.” I sink in my seat.

  “The flight to Volkov Village is just over two hours. Let’s make it a pleasant one.” Nicholas straps himself in, and seeing that I have problems figuring out how to fasten my seat belt, he reaches across my lap and secures the buckle. His forearm brushes mine, and his skin is surprisingly warm. The captain announces that we’ll be taking off shortly, and before I know it, the aircraft speeds down the runway. I dig my nails into the armrests, my stomach tightening as we lift off the ground. I feel dizzy. As the bumpy ascent calms, my grip loosens a little.

  “The numbers are in, and there are two thousand and thirty-nine contenders in the Savage Run,” Mai says, reading a report on an electronic device. She glances at me, I think with pity. “Well, I’m exhausted.” She puts a cheetah-print sleeping mask on and pulls a blanket up to her shoulders. Johnny extends his seat into a bed and shuts his eyes.

  I rest my forehead against the window to my right and look outside. I can’t see anything at all, only bright whiteness. I wonder what happened to my father, if the Unifers imprisoned him or let him go. I don’t really know why he came after me; I was always in the way—eating too much or not doing enough. Lazy. Ungrateful. But, he wasn’t all bad. Occasionally, he would compliment me about how well I was doing my job or tell me I had exceeded his expectations. I savored those words because pleasing him used to be everything. In time I came to learn that whenever he was friendly, he wanted me to do something for him—give him a back rub, or fetch him something across town, or deliver a message to one of the people he counseled. Praise was never just given for its own sake. There was always a long string attached.

  Nicholas nudges me with his knee. “You should get some sleep, too.”

  I’m tired, but I don’t think it will be possible for me to sleep—too many memories are creeping to the surface. I sit in silence for a while, but what I really need is something to distract myself from my thoughts. I try to think of something to ask Nicholas. I don’t want to give the impression that I want special treatment, so I stick to safe personal questions. “So, does anyone ever call you Nick?”

  “No.”

  What a conversationalist he is. “So…have you ever participated in an obstacle course?”

  He glares at me for a moment. “I’m sorry, but I’m not here to be your friend.”

  I feel a flush of blood rise to my cheeks.

  “Besides, you really should get some rest. There won’t be much time for that once the obstacles have begun.” His lips squeeze into a thin smile.

  “Fine.” I nod as I turn toward the window, hoping he won’t notice my red face. But then I catch myself. I’m just acting as my old Laborer self: a mindless, obedient sheep. I sit up straight, then search through the side pocket of my seat and find a magazine. I begin leafing through it without really paying attention.

  After a minute, Nicholas asks, “What in the world are you doing?”

  “Reading.” I keep turning the pages.

  He puffs. “Let me clarify. Why aren’t you sleeping? You really should be…”

  I interrupt him. “I can’t, so instead, I’m distracting myself while reading about…” I hold up the page that I landed on and see the red lingerie on a model pouting her glossy red lips and standing in a very uncomfortable pose.

  Nicholas’s eyes widen for a split second, but then a hearty laugh escapes his lips. “Joseph, I didn’t know you liked that kind of girl.”

  I quickly close the magazine and return it to its holder, my face hot. “Not really, but I hear that you do,” I say accusingly, as a desperate attempt to have something to say. Stupid.

  “Yeah, that’s what most people believe.” The playfulness in his eyes turns solemn.

  “I’ve seen you in the papers, you know.” I need to stop talking now.

  “Oh you have, have you?” His eyes stare me down, but they’re not angry, only confrontational.

  “Yes, with different girls…”

  “And…your point is?” His voice is flat and stern, but he smiles like he doesn’t care. “Not many people know me, and since I’m the president’s son, everyone has their own opinion of me. You included, it would seem.”

  I hate to be lumped together with everyone else.

  “I’m going to take a nap now,” he says. He leans in closer and whispers, “Heidi.” Sitting up straight again, he says, “And if you’d like, you can do the same. Or not. It’s completely up to you.” He presses the button on the armrest, transforming his seat to a bed.

  I pull the blanket close up to my head. I don’t want anyone to notice how flushed my face has become.