Countdown

by Michelle Rowen

  failed me. I waited for a long moment before I decided to do as

  he said. I tentatively reached out to touch the skin of his forearm just below his elbow, pressing my fingers against his f lesh. “Close your eyes,” he said. “And focus. Flex your mind.” Flex my mind? I closed my eyes and tried to push away all

  other thoughts. Since my mind was currently rather full, this

  took a bit of effort.

  When my mind had cleared enough that I was able to fully

  concentrate on my task, I reached out with that something inside of me, that strange thing I’d been aware of for three years

  that scared me. I reached out toward Jonathan…

  Then it was there—like a dark pool before me. I waded

  into it ankle deep.

  This was different than before. I was actually trying this

  time, not coming across this situation by accident. It was real,

  not just my imagination. I had proof now, even if it was only

  Jonathan’s word. I had the chance to explore just a little deeper

  than I normally would.

  And I wanted to test myself, to know what I could do. It

  suddenly seemed like the most important thing in the world. I inhaled sharply as the sensations began to f low over me.

  It wasn’t anything coherent or totally understandable. Just

  f lashes of emotion. Snapshots of feelings.

  Jonathan felt tired. He felt angry, determined. Sincere. And guilty…about something. About everything. A sensation of goodness swept over me. Sadness. Despair.

  Hopelessness. A man who’d been forced to do things he didn’t

  agree with…

  Then a spear of pain lanced through my brain, and I let go

  of him, pressing my palms against the sides of my head. Agony!

  Now that was a sensation I recognized.

  After a moment, a cold cloth pressed against my forehead,

  and I opened my eyes slowly. The f luorescent lights above

  now seemed too bright, and I squinted. Jonathan held a wet

  towel against my forehead. He stared at me with wide eyes. “You sensed something, didn’t you?” he asked breathlessly.

  “I felt you in my mind.”

  The pain began to subside. “Did it hurt?”

  “No.” He frowned. “Though, it was a curious feeling. I

  knew you could do it. I knew it. Are you well?”

  I pushed his hand away. “Well enough, I guess.” “What did you sense from me? Enough that you now trust

  me to help you? Were you able to see that I’m not trying to

  deceive you?”

  “I wouldn’t go that far, but I saw enough.” If what I’d

  felt was real, I now knew he wouldn’t take much pleasure in

  watching me or Rogan die on a Network death game. Finally, I pulled at the sheets that covered my hurt leg. It

  was a small act of faith, but he seemed pleased by it. He undid

  the bandaging and inspected my injury.

  “Very good. It’s healed as well as I’d hoped.”

  I frowned and looked down. Where I expected to find an

  oozing bullet wound was only a soft, bright pink mark that

  had already nearly healed over. It didn’t even hurt when he

  touched it gently.

  Rogan had said I’d been out for eighteen hours. But even

  eighteen hours wasn’t long enough to heal a bullet wound. “How—?” I began.

  “We have a great deal of technology at our fingertips here,

  Kira. The company I work for has always had a hand in research—be it computers and artificial intelligence or medical

  research. That is why I originally came on board ten years

  ago. Unfortunately, due to recent rules and regulations and

  the nondisclosure agreement I signed, I’m unable to share this

  research with anyone outside of the corporation.” I touched my leg, running a finger along it. The wound

  was f lat. I was healed. From an injury that had felt as if it had

  torn my leg clean off.

  “What kind of a company is this, anyhow? And who is this

  Gareth guy? He has people doing secret medical research? And

  he’s the one in charge of this game?” I shuddered. “He sounds

  absolutely horrible.”

  “He wasn’t always.” Jonathan turned away from me to look

  toward the small frosted window on the opposite wall. When

  he returned his gaze to mine, it was f lat, hard. The emotion

  I’d seen there a minute ago had left the building. “Now, I

  must fill you in on the next level of Countdown.”

  Tears of frustration stung my eyes. “But I can’t keep playing. You need to help me. Please, Jonathan.”

  His jaw clenched. “I am sorry, but the only way you can

  escape the game is to win it. You used your empath skills

  to read me. You must know that there’s nothing I can do to

  change what is.”

  I had read him. The overwhelming feeling I’d gotten from

  him before my head nearly exploded had been hopelessness. We were silent for a moment.

  “Jonathan,” I began. “If I win…if Rogan and I both get

  through all six levels—”

  “It doesn’t have to be the two of you anymore.” My breath cut off. “What?”

  “I know the rules were never properly explained to you. Plus, they’re different for each team who plays. For you, after level three, both you and Rogan don’t need to survive to the

  end for one of you to be considered the winner.”

  I let this disturbing information settle over me. “What about

  the implants? We need to stay close.”

  “You still do. But if one of you is killed during a level, the

  other will be allowed to continue on.”

  I swallowed hard. He put such a horrible outcome so

  bluntly; it was as if someone had punched me in the stomach.

  “What happens if we do win?”

  “The champion or champions get to choose his or her own

  prize.”

  It was still difficult for me to find my breath. “Would I be

  able to request transportation and entrance to the Colony?” The smile reappeared on his face. “Certainly. First-class

  transportation to the Colony and a brand-new life.” “A brand-new life,” I repeated. “I like the sound of that.” Jonathan smiled. “I think you’d do very well in the Colony, Kira.”

  I let all the wonderful possibilities, the dream of freedom

  and a brand-new life, drift through my mind. “But we can

  still both win, right? Both me and Rogan?”

  “Yes, if you both survive, you will both win.”

  The tightness in my chest eased a little. “Maybe Rogan

  would like it in the Colony, too.”

  A crease formed between his brows. “You believe he’s innocent.”

  I nodded and arranged the sheets back over my legs. “That’s

  right.”

  “Did you use your empathic ability on him?”

  I tensed. “I tried, even though I didn’t know what it really was, what I could do. But I didn’t have enough time to concentrate long enough on him. So I just asked him. He told

  me the truth. I believe him.”

  The grim expression on Jonathan’s face was not setting my

  mind at ease. My heart began to race.

  “I see.” He rubbed his fingers over his short black goatee. “You see what?”

  I looked over at the door. Was Rogan still waiting outside?

  Had those men taken him away? He couldn’t have gone too

  far since my implant wasn’t giving off the ninety-feet-or-more

  warning signal.

  Jonathan didn’t say anythin
g for so long that my anxiety

  peaked.

  “Jonathan! You see what?” I said again, louder this time. “It is not my place to say. In fact, I’ve stayed with you too

  long already. I was to check your leg and inform you that the

  next level is a reward level.”

  “I don’t care about any reward unless it’s a ticket to the

  Colony and out of this game.” My voice had gone shrill and

  harsh. “What are you keeping from me? What do you know

  about Rogan?”

  He shook his head. “I must leave.”

  I grabbed his arm and forced my gaze to soften. “I got a

  read on you, Jonathan. I know you’re a good man inside, no

  matter what this Gareth guy is making you do. But if there’s

  something I need to know about Rogan—” I hated to even

  question it, but… “He’s…he’s not really guilty of those horrible crimes, is he?”

  I was afraid that I’d been a complete idiot to start trusting

  him—when I normally didn’t trust anyone. An idiot to trust

  my heart. My heart had been closed up tight ever since my family had been murdered, but somehow with Rogan, it had

  started to open up just a little.

  “I knew Rogan,” Jonathan said. “Before any of this insanity began. His father and I were friends.”

  My eyes widened. “I had a feeling you already knew each

  other. I could tell when you helped him with his wound.” He nodded curtly and began pacing the length of the sterile, white room, wringing his hands. “I met Rogan two years

  ago when his father brought him to me to be put into a thirtyday youth treatment program I ran for Kerometh addiction.” I inhaled sharply. Kerometh had been the drug of choice

  ever since the Plague. Expensive, but easy to acquire, easy to

  take. I’d never experimented with it, but I’d heard that it put

  you into a state of disorientation. A deep, mindless bliss. But it

  lasted only a short time—a few hours tops. After that you immediately plunged into the painful withdrawal that could last

  weeks unless you got another hit. If you didn’t, then violence

  and anger—they called it Kerometh-fury—took you over. “Okay, so he had an addiction,” I said. “So do a lot of people. Doesn’t mean he deserved to go to St. Augustine’s. Or

  Saradone.”

  Jonathan was silent for a moment. “There’s a reason you

  were chosen to be Rogan’s partner, Kira. Nothing is ever coincidental here.”

  “He didn’t kill those girls. He couldn’t have.” I swallowed

  hard past the thick lump in my throat. “Don’t you dare tell

  me he lied to me.”

  Jonathan shook his head. “No…he was telling you the truth.

  The murder of those nine poor girls was not his doing. He

  was charged and found guilty of the crime, but any proof was inconclusive at best. But with his prior record for drug posses

  sion and other minor crimes, the courts didn’t seem to care.” Relief f looded over me. “So he’s innocent of murder?” Jonathan was quiet for so long, I doubted for a moment that

  he’d answer me. “I believe he’s innocent of those murders.

  But he is a murderer.”

  Something in his tone made me tense up again. “The robot

  said that Rogan killed his roommate—that’s how he got his

  scar. But it was in self-defense.”

  “That’s not the murder I’m referring to.” Jonathan’s expression was bleak. “I know you’ve started to care for him. That’s

  why it’s vital that I tell you this now before it’s too late.” I shook my head. I didn’t want to hear what he was going

  to say next.

  “You have the right to know this.” He hesitated, as if summoning something inside of himself to speak the words to

  follow. “One night during his treatment program two years

  ago, Rogan slipped out of the facility. He was in withdrawal,

  experiencing severe Kerometh-fury. He began breaking into

  homes to steal enough money to buy more drugs. Yours was

  one of the homes he broke into. Rogan is the one responsible

  for murdering your family.”

  The silence that followed that statement was deafening. “What?” My heart pounded, a thundering sound in my ears. “He murdered your mother, father and sister. They were

  not the first or last of his victims that night. Rogan doesn’t

  know you were connected to this act at all. He’d never seen

  you before you met at the beginning of level one. His mind

  is finally clear of his former addiction after spending the last

  year and half in a secured and guarded juvenile detention hall.

  But it doesn’t change what he’s done.”

  “What?”

  I didn’t want to believe it, but…it made sense. It made such horrible sense. No coincidences on Countdown. Of course, that’s why they’d made us partners. Of course. They’d known all along who I was. Who he was.

  Rogan, the boy with the beautiful ocean-colored eyes; the boy my gut told me was innocent; the boy I’d begun to believe in, heart and soul, even after such a short time.

  He’d killed my family and taken everything from me. He’d stolen my life.

  He should have killed me, too. I wish he had.

  “I’m a very bad person,” Rogan had told me only minutes ago. “If you knew the truth about me, you wouldn’t be looking at me like that. You’d hate me. And you’d sure as hell not want to be this close to me.”

  I rocked myself back and forth for a long time, hugging my knees against my chest. Jonathan, the man my empathic ability had revealed to be truthful and honest and filled with guilt about the job he had to do, patted my back and gently wiped my tears away.

  “I’m sorry, Kira. Perhaps I shouldn’t have said anything, but I could see you growing closer to him. Too close. I cared for him once myself, I was like an uncle to him, but his addiction changed him so much—it created a monster. You don’t deserve any of this, and I’m so sorry. All I can tell you is what I told you before….”

  I waited for him to continue, but he didn’t. “What?”

  He cleared his throat before he spoke again, his expression stony. “Only one of you has to live to the end of Countdown. If Rogan dies in the next level, it won’t be held against you. You’ll still get your ticket to the Colony. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

  I just stared at him. “I think so.”

  He nodded and took out a small black handheld device from his pocket. On its touch screen were a series of red and yellow buttons. “I’m very glad to hear it.”

  “What is that?”

  His face was set in grim lines. “Now that I’ve determined you have healed enough, I’m afraid we must continue on to the next level. Are you ready, Kira?”

  I shook my head. “No, I just need a little time. Just a little—”

  “I’m sorry, but it’s already begun.” He pressed one of the buttons.

  Everything went black.

  I WOKE BUT STILL SAW ONLY BLACK. IT TOOK ME a second to realize I was wearing a blindfold, and my hands were bound behind my back.

  Damn it. I hated the darkness. Hated it.

  While I willed myself to stay as calm as possible, I concentrated on the announcer’s voice in my head. The voice I’d come to despise, ironically now the only thing keeping me from freaking out.

  “Yesterday in level three,” he said, “Kira received a bullet wound to her upper femur. Without proper medical intervention, she would have died from blood loss. She has now recovered enough to continue.

  “She has performed to an exceptionally high level and the producers of Countdown are thrilled with your reaction to her and realize you are hungry for more informati
on about our first-ever female competitor. We thank you for your patience.

  “Kira Jordan is sixteen years old and will be turning seventeen in four months. It pleases her to know that you, as Subscribers, are watching her every move as part of Countdown, as she and her handsome but deadly partner, Rogan Ellis, fight for their lives in the anticipation of winning the game.

  “On the streets since she was fourteen, Kira survived as best she could using her brain and her body to get what she needed. Desperate, destitute and friendless, six months ago, she decided to use that body to aid her survival. This is a path taken by many lost girls and it’s a story that inevitably ends in tragedy. Many prostitutes are beaten or murdered every day. At the very least, they typically succumb to Kerometh addiction.

  “The client who was to be her first found Kira on her darkest day. He was a man in search of a young girl—a lawyer who was the lead partner at his firm. His wife had already left to enter the Colony, and he was to join her in the days to follow. Little did Kira know that he planned to torture and kill her—a hobby that he’d recently acquired. She would have been his fifth victim.

  “However, Kira had already decided that a life of prostitution was not for her. A security camera in the man’s house caught the action to follow. As you can see on the video footage, when she asked to leave he struck her and she fell to the floor.

  “The lawyer’s wife collected priceless antique china. A bowl had broken next to Kira’s prone form. As the man began to beat her, Kira curled her fingers around the bowl, and she swung it toward his head, an act that succeeded in knocking him unconscious.

  “Before Kira fled the scene, she searched the man’s body for his wallet and took all of the money, which amounted to just under thirty dollars.

  “While his wife suspected her husband was unfaithful, neither she—nor Kira—realized that he was actually a demented murderer. Several bodies were later found in the backyard shed, and the man was arrested and brought to justice.

  “Through this experience, Kira Jordan realized that stealing would help her to live to face the next day. To fight for survival in a dying world. It has also led her here, to this very moment, to the next level of Countdown.”

  The blindfold was ripped from my face. I blinked. Two men in white coats stood on either side of me. The skies were darkening with an approaching storm. I felt shaken at hearing one of the lowest points in my life broadcast in a chilling singsong voice. I’d had no idea until a minute ago that that bastard had wanted to do anything but rape me—as if that hadn’t been bad enough. But he had planned to torture and kill me, too?