The Chase

by Bradley Caffee

  “One day, Jez. One day your little secret is going to catch you. I’ve seen it. They kept files on all the elite racers where I came from. We studied them. You act tough, but I know who you are.” Amber began to slink away, still holding her head.

  Jez’s nostrils flared as she stepped toward her, but Willis caught her arm. Jez lived as though she loathed everyone, but it bothered him to see her react so violently. He couldn’t imagine what Amber knew that would make her respond like this. He could feel every muscle in Jez’s body ready to unleash her hatred. She yanked at her arm trying to free it.

  “Jez, look at me,” Willis spoke softly. Daggers shone from her eyes, a sharpness that lessened when she peered into his. “Let her go. That’ll land you a week in an isolation chamber, and that’s not what we need.” Her body relaxed, and her breathing slowed as she listened.

  “The bluey better keep her lies behind her teeth,” Jez hissed.

  “What was she talking about?”

  “Nothing. Lies.”

  “You sure? I heard what she said. What does she know about you?”

  “It’s nothing. Leave it. I’ll deal with her later.”

  “I think she got the message already.” Willis took a deep breath and glanced in the direction Amber had walked. He dismissed the idea of going after her. It would make Jez angrier if he continued to intrude, and he needed to direct her energy. Today’s run was the most important thing. “We need to focus if we’re going to get through practice today.”

  Jez sighed and shot a glance to either side as if not wanting to meet his eyes. “Okay. Seriously, what a—”

  “Seriously, I’m hungry,” Willis interrupted, hoping she’d let it go. “Let’s eat. Save some of that fire for Toad. He’d better get today’s run right.”

  “Or I’ll beat the snot out of him,” Jez whispered as they walked.

  The mess hall was plain, square with color-coded tables for each team. The smell of vitamin enriched eggs and fruit filled the air. Like nearly everything else on the station, it was designed with function in mind. Willis liked that. No distractions—all business. It kept Red Team fixed on their next run. The walls were the light source in the room, lighting every direction with a fluorescent glow. Next to each table were four panels, one for each team member. Willis walked up to the one labeled with his name, scanned his fingerprint, and removed the tray from the space that appeared in the wall.

  Toad was already at the table, keeping his head down, when he and Jez arrived. Willis supposed he wasn’t ready to make eye-contact after yesterday’s practice.

  Jez slammed her tray down on the table next to Toad making Willis jump.

  “You’d better get it right today, or so help me, I’ll hurt you into next year’s Chase,” she barked, shattering the near silence of the room.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” Toad said. Willis glared at him to make certain he understood that Jez wasn’t kidding.

  The few people in the mess hall looked up at Jez’s outburst before returning to their meals.

  Willis marveled that Toad was idiotic enough to mouth off to Creed but cowered at the prospect of facing Jez. A noise to his left revealed Creed’s Black Team, arriving together as per their precise schedule. They ate in silence, preferring to discuss team business in private. To the right, Nico was busy instructing the greenies in quiet whispers. Behind him the gold table sat empty except for Joanne. The other goldies were probably still prepping their hair.

  In the corner, he saw Perryn once again ignoring her meal. One hand held up her droopy head like she hadn’t slept much. Dex sat nearby stuttering his way through forced conversation, but she didn’t appear to be responding. She still wasn’t wearing her arm band. If Chief Administrator Blacc caught her, he would cite her for uniform code. As he considered walking over to her to warn her, Jez continued her tirade.

  “You little runt, yesterday was supposed to be a simple run through level one. We’re supposed to be working on the second level today, but no, we have to return to let you mess it up one more time.”

  “Okay, Jez. He gets it.” Willis tried to calm her as he sat down opposite Toad. Kane was to his left eating almost silently. He never talked in meetings. In fact, Willis had never heard him talk more than a grunt here or there. He was big enough to break almost anyone in two. Willis didn’t know how he could spend life on the station in silence. What did they do to him in that prison? Rumor was that Kane had been imprisoned for murdering someone, a person in a subway tube or something, but no one knew what was rumor and what was fact. Whatever it was, the Alliance apparently believed his ability to race outweighed his crime and sent him here. Willis was just glad he was on his team.

  “See, Jez? Willis is okay with it,” Toad shot back.

  “Toad, she’s right.” Willis corrected quickly, afraid Jez might turn on him. “You get one shot today on the track to figure out that jump, and we’re moving on. If you get recoded this week, I’m not going to cry about it.” Toad’s head returned to its downward angle. “We run the track right after Blue Team today, and I want to make the most of this practice.”

  Willis was in his element. This was where he thrived. He was an elite racer, but his real gift was leading the team. Teamwork was critical. The Chase took place over two days. The first day was a team event, and it determined the start for the individual race the second day. While the Chase was ultimately won by a single racer, it could be lost by a team that couldn’t work together.

  He walked them through the obstacles they’d work on today. Kane nodded in silent agreement as Willis assigned him the task of hoisting Toad over the level one hurdle. Level two would require Jez, their best climber, to run ahead and shimmy up a pole to release the rope needed to cross a gap. Willis would handle crossing the wire web himself. Each obstacle had to be crossed by at least one team member who would hit a button right beyond. That button would briefly make the obstacle easier, giving an advantage to the teams that leveraged the abilities of their members the best. One blown assignment could mean costly seconds. The team hung on every word. Even Toad, who rarely stopped running his mouth, paid attention.

  Willis was born for this. His parents had both run in the Chase before he was born. The Western Alliance had barely missed a win that year, his parents getting edged out by another runner. There was celebration anyway, though, because the conclusion to their training for the Chase brought the announcement of his parents’ relationship.A few months after the Chase, the Alliance watched as his parents had married, started a life together, and followed with the news they were pregnant. Willis was the hope of the Alliance. People had often told him this. The son of two elite racers would surely have the genetics to win the Chase. His parents’ occasional note to him said as much. He knew they meant to be encouraging, but he daily felt the pressure.

  He arrived at the training station at a record young age, and the years hadn’t brought disappointment. Recoded once, too young to remember why, he led the best team with a year to prepare for the Chase, and it was his race to lose.

  “Suit up. We train in one hour.” Willis dismissed his team, the last to leave the mess hall.

  Chapter Six

  Sheila picked at her meal on the flight. She was rehearsing her speech to Chuck, her editor. Chairman DeGraaf’s failure to remember the name of the young winner highlights the flaw of a system where any nobody, given the right circumstances, could become a Law-changer. The words from her report repeated in her head. She would have to answer for her critical comments about the chairman and the Coalition. Chuck didn’t like any unwanted attention from the Alliance censors. All was supposed to be well and good in the Alliance—all the time. She knew differently. Anybody who had eyes to see the world around them knew differently.

  Even the plate in front of her spoke to the unevenness of this ‘utopia’ that had been created. Her supersonic airliner was state-of-the-art. A single column of plush seats ran the length of the roomy cabin. Flight attendants kept co
nstant watch on the passengers, seeing to their every need. The Alliance had spared no expense for the planes it sent, carrying dignitaries and authorized press to the Chase. They wanted them to arrive in style to show the world what happens when you were a dominant presence in the Chase.

  That is, to the extent they could.

  The flight had been restocked in the United African Cooperative where the race had been held this year. They had been hit hard under sanctions levied upon them for attempting to cheat at the Chase three years ago. A runner had attempted to break onto that year’s course before the day of the Chase. It was a foolish move, and he barely made it a quarter mile before he was discovered and arrested. The Coalition had made an example of him to the world, returning him to his alliance after weeks of interrogation and punishment. He hadn’t been seen since, likely dealt with by the justice that can come from a mob of people.

  Food rations and supplies had been limited to near crippling levels, yet the UAC was expected to host the Chase this year. The development of the course had nearly bankrupted the Cooperative. The Coalition had done its job well.

  She’d been there. She picked the camera angles to fill the lens with the stage and ceremony, but all the while one eye had remained fixed on the poverty behind the camera. Children in rags. Mothers half-starved giving what little they had to children with even less. You would never know these conditions existed in the world if you were from places like the Western Alliance.

  “Would you like something else?” The flight attendant interrupted her thoughts.

  She stared down at the ugly piece of processed meat covered in who-knows-what. This was probably more than most of the people in the Cooperative ate in a day, and yet they’d stocked their plane with what they had. A lump of guilt rose in her throat as she entertained the idea of not eating it. A pile of greasy, nutritionless mush sitting on the tray of a luxury airliner, it was a silent testimony of the world that few grasped.

  “No. Thank you,” she replied.

  She was sure her stomach would make her pay for this. She picked up her fork.

  Chapter Seven

  “Don’t forget the new plan for level two. Toad, you’ll hold until Jez gets past her first obstacle. Got it?” Willis’s gaze froze on Toad for a second as he gave last minute instructions outside his barracks.

  “Yeah, I got it.” Toad smirked.

  “Do you?” Jez’s lip curled. “Ruin this run, and I’ll—”

  “He’s got it, Jez,” Willis interrupted. “You good, Kane?”

  Kane nodded.

  Jez’s lips pressed as she motioned for Toad to focus, but Willis wasn’t worried. After the early mishaps of the week, the team had put together three perfect practices. Each had worked hard, preparing themselves. Even Toad had set aside his usual constant mouth to get this track down. They were ready for today’s run—and good thing. With all the excitement over the annual Chase, the Chief Administrators had moved the monthly elimination run up to this week to get the teams into focus. The last team to have a runner cross the finish line would be recoded.

  “Let me check you guys out.” Willis stepped toward his teammates. A year ago, his yellow leader’s arm band had been too loose and caught on a wire. The mistake nearly cost them the race. Since then, he made a habit of checking their uniforms before each elimination run. Their racing uniforms were made of a single, heavy duty material designed to allow for a freedom of movement. Theirs were entirely red save for the black stripes that ran from forearm to wrist and knee to ankle. The other equipment they used was a set of training helmets, required by the Alliance for safety during training.

  “Toad, your sleeve is bunched up on your left arm. Jez, your helmet strap is twisted on that same side. Kane, check that left shoe.” He double-checked his arm band one more time. “Bring it in.”

  The three stepped toward him. He laid his hands on the shoulders of Kane to his right and Jez to the left. The others did the same to each other in a sort of loose huddle, except that Jez reached up her right hand and covered Willis’s hand. He ignored the gesture.

  “Team, the Alliance is counting on us this year.” Willis nodded to each of them.

  “You mean they’re counting on you, Will,” Jez corrected. “You are the hope of the Alliance.”

  “It may only take one racer to win, but it takes a team to get him there. We’re a team. We train as a team. We run as a team. We win as a team.”

  Nods came from everyone in the circle, a determined expression on their faces. Willis knew how to inspire.

  “Be the best,” he started.

  “Beat the best,” they answered stoically.

  “Let’s race,” Willis said as he turned for the door, the team falling in behind.

  “Who do you think you are, puke-brain?” Willis recognized Chief Administrator Blacc’s voice several meters before they entered the door. Blacc wore a perfectly pressed, drab gray uniform, his shoulders sported yellow Alliance officer stripes designating him as Chief Administrator of the station. He stood with finger outstretched, pointing at Stone-zee. Blacc’s face flushed crimson as he yelled, and Willis could see the color spread to his scalp underneath is short-cropped hair. “That uniform is the pride and joy of the Alliance. You’re privileged to wear it, you little snot-nosed wimp! And you disgrace it with your lack of discipline.” Blacc was close enough to Stone-zee’s face that Willis believed he saw him spit in the Black Team member’s eye.

  “Team leader!” Blacc shouted.

  “Yes, Chief Administrator!” Creed’s spine stiffened.

  “I hold you responsible for the discipline of your team. What say you about your teammate’s complete lack of respect for the Alliance uniform?”

  “No excuses, Chief Administrator.” Creed dared to shoot a glace over at Stone-zee’s uniform. The sleeves were short as though cut. “I take full responsibility for Black Team.”

  “In case your sorry backside gets recoded after this race, be sure to tell the doctors to keep this memory in that pea-brain of yours. Next time your team shows up with a member treating the goodness provided to them by our Alliance like it was a Christmas present from their grandma, I’ll recode the lot of you for the fun of it. Do you hear me, boy?”

  “Yes, Chief Administrator!”

  Willis could see the fury on Creed’s face. Stone-zee never fit the high-discipline Creed brought to his team and regularly acted out, but this was brazen considering it was a recoding race. His unwashed, black hair flopped to his collar, too long for regulations. His angular face and green eyes presented indifference as though the entire exercise bored him. Creed had long given up trying to correct Stone-zee, so he pressured Stone to keep her twin brother in line as she was the lone person to which Stone-zee would listen. Stone would have to answer for her brother’s uniform later. The dampness in Stone’s eyes told Willis that she was already thinking about what was coming to her.

  Protocol on this track was to begin at the top, racing downward from one level to the next of the cubical structure. The starting gates were located at the beginning of a narrow stretch of floor that extended out to the cube in the middle of the room. Willis had brought his team to the platform in front of the gates at the last second as was his habit, hoping that Blacc’s venom had already been dispensed on the other teams. Peering down the line to his right, he could see that he’d done his work.

  Each team had lined up shoulder to shoulder, their two-toned racing uniforms creating a rainbow of racers. Beside Creed’s red face topping his black and white uniform like a cherry on a sundae, he could see Green Team appearing rather shifty from a tongue lashing Blacc must have given them prior to Willis’s arrival. Gold Team, always concerned with appearances, was keeping their plastic smiles on, but Joanne was clearly dwelling on something that was said to her. Blue Team was at the far end of the line, too far for Willis to see their expressions.

  He could see Perryn rubbing her neck with her arm, her yellow-banded arm moving back and forth as she tr
ied to calm down. Blacc was never easy on new team leaders. Willis was sure he’d done his worst. What caught his attention, though, was the figure beyond her. Diego’s replacement had arrived. From this distance, he could tell he was average sized with not a bad build for a racer, but there appeared to be nothing special about him. Probably another poor sap that thinks he was promoted to the station early because he’s exceptional. Poor kid is going to be recoded before he spends a single night in the dorms.

  “Something about our new bluey of interest to you, boy?” Willis hadn’t noticed Blacc move toward him until he was right in his face. That was a mistake. “The Western Alliance’s little golden boy thinks he has a new friend down the line. You eyeing the newbie? Is that what you’re doing?”

  “No, Chief Administrator.” Willis snapped his head forward to attention.

  “Blue leader, send your baby-faced rookie down the line. Our boy down here has a bit of a man-crush on him already.” Willis could see out the corner of his vision the movement of a blue uniform slowly making its way down the line. “Face your new friend, bluey.”

  He was older than Willis expected. He guessed eighteen. The boy stood before him silent, his brown eyes staring at Willis. His brown hair was short and neat and framed a face that reminded Willis of his father. In fact, Willis and he could have passed for brothers in another life. He was as tall as Willis, but with a little less muscle tone, not having had the benefit of the training at the station.

  “So what do you think of your new friend, red leader? Like the look of him? Wish he was on your team?”

  No. You aren’t doing this to me. Willis involuntarily clenched his jaw and flared his nostrils. He focused on slowing his breathing, trying not to give Blacc any more clues that this bothered him. Blacc was a master at dividing the teams. Jez had been ready to kill Toad all week, so theirs was a delicate truce.