The Chase

by Bradley Caffee

  The mirror showed the face of a teenage girl that she recognized as herself. Brown hair, brown eyes, and a heart-shaped face like that of her mother. The hatch next to her revealed a fresh blue uniform fitted for her average frame, this time with a yellow team leader armband folded neatly atop the pile. All team leaders wore one. Seeing the band passed to her meant only one thing—their team leader Diego was dead. She choked as she picked it up.

  “Breathe, Perryn. Move forward, exactly like every other time.” Her hands shook as she dressed.

  Still fixing her dark brown hair behind her head, she found the hallways were vacant when she exited her room. The corridor to the mess hall was usually a flurry of activity in the mornings as teams shifted between the common room, mess hall, and training sphere. It wasn’t until she found no one eating at breakfast that she realized what day it was. The Chase had taken place during her recoding. Everyone would be gawking at the screens to see what was happening.

  She grabbed her food tray from her panel on the wall and headed for the common room.

  The common room was a jumble of colored uniforms jockeying for position to see the end of the Chase. From the chatter, she gathered that someone had fallen during the race and an unexpected winner was about to pass a new law. She could hear the crowd on the monitors chanting about the Law in response to the chairman.

  She didn’t care about any of it. She would never run in the Chase. All she desired was to stop being recoded and make it to twenty-one so she could retire and leave this place.

  Not every nation practiced genetic recoding. Some alliances saw recoding as disgusting, an impure practice. Others couldn’t afford it. Everyone knew the truth, though. Alliances like hers who practiced recoding won almost every year. Finding naturally talented racers was difficult, and recoding allowed alliances to focus on the few exceptional ones they had. In addition to allowing racers to almost instantly overcome serious injuries like her ankle from the previous race, each recoding was meant to systematically minimize the genetic flaws in a given racer’s make-up, but Perryn understood too well that the process wasn’t without cost.

  The recoding process gradually altered the runner’s personality, and she struggled to remember who she was before she began training. The young girl who started with dreams of a becoming a famous Chase runner were gone, replaced by a loser with a high gen-code. All that was left was the shadow of herself in the mirror, but that is what it meant to be a part of the Western Alliance. Loyalty to the Alliance meant doing whatever it took to win. Loyalty meant days like this one where she woke an invader in someone else’s body.

  Though not as frequent as in her childhood training, recoding was still a monthly possibility. It meant little, though, as the improvements it gave her this late in her training were small and gave her no advantage over the other more talented trainees. There were limits. The WA had seemingly perfected the process, but even they were scarcely able to get to the hundredth recoding before the genetic material was beyond use. You either raced well enough, or you were recoded. You raced, or you were recoded into extinction.

  Extinction. She fingered the new yellow armband. Is that my fate?

  “St-st-st-stop, T-t-toad,” came Dex’s voice across the room. She turned in her chair to see Toad mocking her teammate. She gritted her teeth as she considered trying out her newly recoded fists on Toad’s freckled face. Dex couldn’t help who he was. He was tall and gangly with sandy-colored hair and could run like the wind, but his habit for tripping at the worst moments of the race crippled his confidence. He was a bluey like her. They were all rejects of the system. Some kind of commotion was taking place between the Red Team and Black Team, but she wanted nothing to do with it as soon as she saw that Dex was left alone.

  Her anger quickly melted away as she returned to the arm band in her fingers.

  “What am I going to do with this?” she whispered to herself. She stared at the stars on the screen wishing she could escape to one of them.

  “Hey, P-p-perryn. You wake up okay?” Dex waved at her as he approached.

  “Yeah,” she responded, not wanting to get into a conversation. She curled the armband in her fist so he wouldn’t bring it up. “You?”

  “Woke up early this time. Got to see the whole Chase run this morning!” He was trying to be cheerful, but Perryn could still see the hurt in his blue eyes from Toad’s comment.

  “Hey, don’t worry about what Toad said,” she comforted.

  “Oh—that.” He was suddenly downcast. “It’s fine.”

  “No, it’s not. Just because he’s one of those arrogant Red Teamers doesn’t mean he can abuse anyone he wants.”

  “Don’t tell him that. If he keeps trying to pick on Creed, we won’t have to worry about him much longer.”

  Perryn chuckled at the idea. “Is that what is going on over there?” She gave a slight grin.

  “Yeah,” Dex’s smile returned. “He’s so short, I’m not sure Creed could swing low enough to hit him.” Dex’s face flushed in embarrassment when she didn’t laugh at his joke right away. “So, you think it might be us next year? The Chase, I mean.”

  Perryn’s frowned. She opened her mouth and closed it without speaking. She looked again at her hands. “Let’s get ready for today.”

  Dex bounced off to the barracks. He was young and one of the newest to the station.

  She threw the arm band onto the table in front of her. She didn’t want it. As far as she was concerned, it still belonged to Diego.

  Blue Team had long been the band of misfits put together to ensure the better racers were never recoded at the elite levels. Recoding came with risks and ultimately the death of the racer. The formation of Blue Team became the Alliance solution to maintain the threat of recoding without putting the elite racers in any real danger. Young, eager runners who had little hope of being elite were often advanced early and ‘blue-teamed.’ She had been one of them, coming to the station full of hope to find that she was constantly recoded and would ultimately be replaced when she either died or retired.

  Diego had changed that. He was the first to pull the Blue Team together as a group. He’d noticed the strengths of the group and played into them. After a few runs, he had the team threatening to overrun Green Team in the training runs. Last week was the closest they’d come until Dex fell, taking out Diego and Amber. Perryn had tried to rescue her team by getting to the front but couldn’t make up the ground. She didn’t have the wheels. The team had been recoded a couple days later to try to enhance their DNA, but Diego’s hundredth coding ended in his death. The doctors always attempted the hundredth coding, trying experimental techniques to break the ‘coding barrier’ as they called it. It never worked.

  He doesn’t understand. Not yet anyway. She went back to staring at the screens.

  “Look at her! As if I’d post our picture with her in the background!” Cleo laughed. Starr and Lacey cackled in unison to the mocking comment.

  Perryn had been trying to ignore the three goldies since they’d approached her previously quiet side of the common room.

  “All right, ladies, this one’s for the fans.” Cleo waved the others in closer. The three in their gold uniforms leaned as Cleo reached out to snap their latest selfie shot. Their uniforms had been altered to their liking, as much as was allowed within regulations, and each had done their hair in a different, yet perfectly manicured style. All three wore matching gold lip gloss.

  “Finished yet?” Joanne sighed. The Gold Team leader stared at her teammates as they posed and smiled for the camera.

  “Never!” Starr rebutted. “We’re never done giving our fans some love.”

  “Seriously, Jo, you need to chill,” Lacey agreed.

  “Come on. We have the track for the next hour. If we’re going to overtake Red Team this year, we’ve got to figure out that second level,” Joanne called as she started for the archway.

  “What—” Cleo started.

  “—ever!” Lacey finished. �
��Can we leave Jo out of the calendar this year? She’s no fun to be around when she gets all serious like this.”

  “One more, Jo.” Cleo held the camera out to the other two. Without hesitation, both assumed a ‘candid’ pose that emphasized their best side. “Sweet, ladies. Let’s catch up to Jo before she cracks.”

  The three girls started their model runway exit from the common room. As they passed the last row of tables, Cleo turned and placed her manicured nails on the corner table. “Oh, and Perryn, don’t waste our time trying to sneak into one of our shots again. Like any of our fans wants to see your face.” The three girls didn’t disguise their laughter as they walked through the archway.

  Perryn sat at the table without acknowledging the comment. She had been there long before those three had shown up, but she hadn’t the energy to argue with them. Not that they’d get it, anyway. Logic wasn’t exactly their friend. Silently, she cursed the goldies. For all their glamor, they were good racers—good enough not to be stuck on the Blue Team.

  She sat in silence as racers slowly drifted out of the room to prepare for the day of training.

  Chapter Four

  Willis’s eyebrows creased as he watched the Gold Team’s mockery of Perryn in the corner. He nodded his head toward the exit, and Kane had to keep one huge hand on Toad to drag him from the common room. Toad, feeling over-confident with Kane around, had continued his blustering. Willis smiled. Toad appeared like a tomato as his flushed face was indistinguishable from his blazing red hair.

  Jez crossed her thin, muscular arms in disgust and stormed out behind them.

  Willis’s stomach clenched as he checked the time. They’re distracted. I hope they don’t bring all the fuss over the Chase ceremony and law-passing to the track.

  He eyed Perryn as he approached the archway. She sat facing away from the silver table with an untouched meal sitting behind her. His eyes lingered on her brown hair, noting a few strays that hadn’t quite been pulled back with the rest of her hair and hung down the sides of her head, an imperfection that he’d always liked from afar. He imagined it meant she was easier to talk to than some on the station, though they rarely spoke. He bit his lip, wondering if he should speak to her.

  Perryn’s gaze was fixed to the monitor as if she were watching for something. Her arms hung limp as both hands rested on her lap. As he got closer, the arm band on the table explained her indifference to her surroundings. It was the same band he wore, the one that all team leaders wore.

  “You guys almost had Nico’s crew last week.” He cringed as the words came out of his mouth, and she frowned. She obviously wanted to be left alone. “Look, I’m sorry about Diego. He was a good kid.”

  Perryn’s eyes left the screen as she turned to stare at Willis. The dampness of tears still clung to her lower eyelids. He hadn’t noticed that. He saw dashed hope in her brown eyes.

  “He was our first real chance,” she whispered. She reached for the arm band.

  Startled at her vulnerability, Willis stood motionless. He should say something comforting. The silence finally awkward, he didn’t have a choice. “At least you get to be team leader.”

  Oh, the stupidity. That was insensitive. She was right. Diego had been their real hope.

  Perryn’s hands balled into fists, crushing the arm band in her grip. She stood, her chair scraping the floor as she kicked it out of the way. She gazed up at him, not angry, but determined. For an instant, she stood taller, and Willis saw that she had strength left in her. Then, it was gone. Her momentary fiery eyes dimmed to their usual exhausted appearance. Without a word she turned and walked to the archway.

  His parents were famous for saying that everyone had a role in the Alliance. Blue Team had theirs. Recovering from recoding meant lost track time, which then meant less training. They could never keep up with the other teams. Willis sighed heavily. It was a lousy card for anyone to draw, but the Alliance understood what it was doing. The system of protecting the elite racers while recoding others kept the Western Alliance competitive in the Chase, winning every few years. Winning is what mattered. It was in moments like these that he wished he could ask his parents to explain it all to him.

  Reaching the archway, he watched Perryn from a distance as her brown ponytail swayed with her tired steps. He shook his head and hoped that he’d never experience what she was going through. He rubbed at his ear, reminding himself who he was, as he headed to change for their training run.

  Chapter Five

  “I can’t do it,” the woman whimpered, her voice cracking with sorrow.

  “It’s the only way we can save him. They’ll take him away as soon as he’s walking,” a male voice nearby pleaded. Sadness dripped with every word.

  The soft sound of unstifled sobs filled the air with a tangible anxiety. “What if he hates us for it?” she continued. Her voice muffled as she buried her face in the man’s arms. A long moment passed as they wept together.

  “He won’t. Not when he’s old enough to understand,” he said, caressing her face with his hand. “Here, you hold him. I’ll take care of it. You don’t have to watch.”

  Pain. Excruciating pain.

  Willis had been experiencing the dream for as long as he could remember, but he still had no idea what it meant. The images were too fuzzy. The faces too blurred.

  And the pain.

  Not that the pain was real. He knew it was the idea of pain, but it felt real until he woke up. A few seconds of inspection were all that was required to realize his body was covered in sweat but still intact. He swore his right leg ached for an hour after each dream, but it must be imagined. His hands shook as he wiped the perspiration from his forehead.

  Who were the people in the dream? Why did he keep dreaming about them? The answer wouldn’t come to him. It never did. Once, he’d entertained the notion that they were his parents, but he’d dismissed it. That made no sense to him. Every instinct he had about his parents said they were kind, alliance-loyal parents who had gladly handed him over for training, and he had years of letters from them to prove it. The images he saw in the dream didn’t fit with what he knew to be true. Even when he focused, the indistinct faces felt barely out of reach. His breath shuddered as he tried to calm himself. It’s a dream—nothing more.

  He stared in the mirror over his sink, studying the lines on his face. His short, medium-brown hair sat matted and sweaty on his head. Dampening his fingers, he tried to straighten it. He studied his own blue eyes and debated if he understood what was asked of him this year. Thoughts of the previous day’s practice run at the track invaded his attention. The team had worked the top level for most of their hour. If they could shave time off their start, there was no way the other teams could catch them.

  He tapped a button and a panel next to his bed opened, revealing a single, fresh red uniform. He pulled them on—the son of two racers, he was a superb physical specimen, designed to be an elite runner. A separate racing uniform, a single, conforming piece would appear in the same place in time for their training run later today.

  The red lights of his barracks greeted him with their indirect glow when he entered the hallway.

  Willis stopped at the edge as he turned into the main corridor. The door to the track was open, and the smell of metal and recycled air came from the door. This current track had five levels and formed a tight cubicle structure that appeared to float in the middle of the empty sphere except for the few beams that hooked the entire track to the outer panels. As usual, he used their first run of the week to do a complete run-through of the track. The team would then shower, and over their next meal, try to determine which parts of the track were problematic. The rest of the week would then be focused on these areas alone rather than constantly running the entirety of the track.

  Even after spending the entire run on the top level yesterday, Toad still hadn’t mastered the first obstacle. Toad better have some answers. Willis had tried to offer suggestions, but to his frustration, Toad wouldn’t li
sten. Willis silently rehearsed the various points he’d cover with Toad at breakfast. He insisted on a detailed strategy. It was the kind of leader he liked to be, but the thoughts kept him up late. Perhaps his weariness explained the occurrence of the dream.

  Toad’s height was his liability, and the team knew they’d have to assist to get him over. He continually stumbled as he climbed the wall, driving Jez insane with irritation. Jez was probably up all night fuming. He chuckled to himself. At least breakfast wouldn’t be boring.

  “You’re going to keep your mouth shut, that’s what!” Jez spat into Amber’s face. She pinned the Blue Team runner to the wall, her right forearm pressing the girl’s left jawline. “You think I’m going to take pity on a bluey like you?”

  “I’m not sure I’m the one to be pitied,” came Amber’s muffled voice.

  Willis took in the scene as he approached them outside the Blue Team dorms. What Amber had done to elicit the violent reaction, he couldn’t imagine. Jez would snap her neck if she believed she could get away with it. He should probably tell Perryn to talk to her team about watching what they said.

  “You little good-for-nothing. How dare you!” Jez’s eyes went wild. “How many times did they recode you over there, huh? Came here with no number, simply to get tagged by this Alliance. Serves you right for running from your alliance, you little traitor.”

  “You think your captain would like to know?” Amber smirked.

  Jez whipped her head around to see that Willis was a few steps away. Her teeth were bared in a furious grit.

  “You going to introduce me to your new friend, Jez?” Willis joked.

  “We were about done here,” Jez responded. Without warning, she reared back and slammed Amber’s head into the wall. She crumpled to the floor holding her right temple, blood appearing between her fingers. “You shut your face, dirtbag, or there will be far worse coming.”