Savage Run

by E. J. Squires

  “There you are.”

  I open my eyes and turn around. “Oh…I thought I lost you,” I say flatly when I see Arthor.

  “Never. We’ll run together, okay?”

  I haven’t had time to come up with the right words to say about how I think we should run separately. “I…uh…we shouldn’t…don’t you think…”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll help you.”

  “No, I…” Someone shoves me from the ground so I fall forward onto my hands and knees.

  “That’s where you belong, Imp.”

  “Leave him alone, Johnny,” Arthor says, shoving Johnny backward.

  Another guy steps in between them. I recognize him from our group. He’s the tall, blonde one. “Dude, totally not worth it. Johnny, if you continue, you’ll have two to fight against.”

  “Yeah, sure,” Johnny says. A Unifer walks by and Johnny moves farther down the line.

  “Thanks, Timothy,” Arthor says. They clasp hands and bump their chests together. “Good luck out there.”

  “Yeah, you too man. See you Joseph.”

  “Yeah.” I stand up and brush the dirt off my pants and palms. Maybe I can wait just a tad before I separate from Arthor. We line up with the other participants and my pulse accelerates. I wonder if any of the guys here are nervous, or if any of them think they’ll make it, or if the ones who will die somehow know. I certainly can’t tell if it will be me who will lose my life today.

  I see Clark at the end of the line and his face is like a stone. Above his head is a large electronic clock, presenting the countdown in red numbers and it shows we have thirty seconds to go. I wipe my sweaty hands on my pants. For every second that passes, the tension grows thicker and I can feel the other participants’ nervous energy like it’s a part of me.

  Then, from the corner of my eye, I see one of the young men slip underneath the red tape and sprint out onto the pathway. Does he actually think they’ll let him get a head start? Wasn’t he listening when O.J. said that there would be severe penalties to anyone who did such a thing? Before long, the young man stops running. He arches his back, and his hands flail out from his sides. I hear no gunshots going off, but he’s moving like he’s being pumped full of lead. He falls lifeless to the ground. My hand cups my mouth, stifling a cry—the first casualty of the Savage Run.

  “A sniper,” Arthor says, his eyes glued on the young man.

  I look around, trying to see if I can locate the shooter, but he’s too well hidden. They must be all over the place ready to shoot anyone who doesn’t follow the rules.

  “They weren’t kidding when they said severe,” he says through his teeth.

  A hovercraft flies over the dead body and sends out a cone-shaped ray, disintegrating the young man’s remains faster than my frazzled brain can register. This all happens so hastily; there’s still five seconds left on the clock. The marathon is continuing on as if nothing happened, as if some young man wasn’t just shot down—murdered.

  “Tread lightly,” Arthor says to me, and with that, the piercing sound of the start pistol being fired rings through the valley.

  Chapter 12

  The sound of the start pistol brings me right back to that moment when Gemma was shot. And suddenly all I can see is her lifeless body lying there, slaughtered like an animal.

  “Joseph!” I hear Arthor yell. “We have to go!” He pulls me by the elbow and I shuffle unwillingly after him. What am I doing here? I don’t belong here. It was a huge mistake to come here and now I’m suffering the consequences of my actions. There’s no way I can survive these obstacles and I was stupid to think that I have a chance. In the end, my father was right: I’ll bring shame to our family’s name.

  “Joseph! Snap out of it! We have to go!”

  Suddenly, my cheek stings and I’m back at the start line with Arthor. I don’t know how long I’ve been away, but every last contender has left.

  “Get your act together, Joseph!”

  “You slapped me?”

  “And I’ll do it again if it makes your feet move!” he says, shaking me.

  I snap my arm away from his grasp and dash down the wide, rocky pathway—not so much to start the marathon, but more to get away from him—both because he slapped me and I don’t want to run next to him. Soon he catches up to me, though we don’t speak. I’m running so fast that we’re panting. My legs are strong from having biked up the steep mountains in Culmination all these years and the anger from Arthor’s slap, combined with all that has happened over the past twenty-four hours feeds my speed. My heart rate finds a steady rhythm, and as I continue to move ahead, inching closer to the last contender in front of me, I feel warmth spread through my body and beads of sweat gathering on my forehead. Why am I doing this? When I planned this, it was to gain my freedom, yes, but it was even more to help Gemma escape. At least that’s what I’ve been telling myself all along. However, if I’m completely honest, she never asked for me to get her out of there. I just assumed it was for her best interest. I knew best. But I didn’t. I didn’t know anything at all. So why am I doing this? I pump my arms and move my legs faster, passing a few of the other participants. Nicholas’s question pops into my mind. What is the first thing I want to do? If I survive, I will have to answer that question. And more. What are all of the other things I want to do? I realize Nicholas’s question was exceptionally well placed. He must have known how down I was—how much I was struggling—and that I needed that question to move myself forward.

  Arthor is the first one to break the silence. “Sorry I…slapped you. I didn’t know…how else to get…your attention.” He’s sucking wind.

  I know he did it to get me going, but I’m still upset. Besides, I really wish he would just figure out that running alone is the best and safest option. Do I have to spell it out for him? Maybe if I try the opposite and run a little slower, letting all the others pass, Arthor will get tired of waiting for me and move ahead with the others. I slow my pace, but he keeps on me like a pesky mosquito. I speed up, but again, he’s right there with me. Finally, I run as close as I can to the barbed wires lining the edges of the pathway, thinking, surely, he won’t follow me there—or at least he’ll say something. But no.

  Doesn’t he get that if one of us sets off a landmine, we’ll both be blown to bits? Doesn’t he see that absolutely no one else is running together? They all seem smarter than this.

  I hold my tongue a while longer, and instead of continuing to mull over how upset I am at Arthor, I scrutinize the ground, searching for clues as to where the landmines are hidden. Then, I remember that there are shortcuts. But what shortcuts could there be in a marathon? Maybe there’s a safe zone, a part of the path containing no landmines. I decide to look for the safe zone—maybe then I could keep running with Arthor.

  I jog ahead, keeping at the tail end of the group with Arthor. Minutes pass, and I feel strong—like I could run forever. I thought for sure, by now, I would have heard or seen an explosion, but all I hear are the footsteps of the participants and an occasional shouted greeting between friends. After running for a good hour without seeing or hearing a single explosion, I relax a little. They never did mention how many landmines they had buried. Maybe there aren’t as many as I had imagined.

  “How far do you think we’ve run?” I ask, having almost forgotten that I was upset at Arthor in the first place.

  “I’d say we’re closing in on eight miles. You’re doing really great, Heidi.”

  I give him a mean look. “Don’t call me that here.”

  “Sorry. It just slipped out.”

  As we continue to run, Arthor’s face becomes increasingly redder. It seems like I’m not really perspiring since the Savage Run uniform absorbs the moisture right away. But I know from the wetness in the nape of my neck, and from the drops rolling down my forehead and sting my eyes that I’m sweating like a pig. Once I become dehydrated, my performance will suffer—all of ours will—and the bad news is I don’t think they will be providi
ng any water or refreshments along the way.

  We continue on for a couple more miles in silence and my mouth slowly takes on the consistency of rawhide. The muscles in my lower body start to cramp; I’m used to biking, not running. It doesn’t help that the clouds have evaporated and that the sun is scorching the skin on my face.

  When I hear the first blast, my chest feels like it will implode on itself. The blast is far ahead, but I still see the smoke rise and hear the clamors. Now I can no longer fool myself into thinking that the road is safe and continue to run alongside Arthor.

  Closing in on the place where the blast went off, I veer away as far as I can and keep my eyes glued forward. Still, my curiosity compels me to look and I slow down, falling behind Arthor.

  There’s a crater in the road, about the size of my trailer back home—though nothing else. No body. No blood. No smell other than the scent of smoke. But the strange thing is that I didn’t see or hear a hovercraft pass by. Was the landmine so powerful that it disintegrated the victim’s entire body, blood and all, not leaving a single trace of the poor guy’s existence? When the rogue Unifers usurped our land, it is said they used bombs that completely evaporated anything they came in touch with. Are these similar to the ones they used back then?

  I continue onward, trying to think of other things, forcing my mind to move beyond the shock. I see Arthor running in the distance and intentionally run very slowly so I don’t catch up with him. This blast makes me even more certain I absolutely should not be running with him. It will get me killed. But then the guilt sets in. He stood up for me when I needed, vouching I was a friend of his from school, telling me he’d help me if I needed it during the Savage Run. Slapping me…plus, he’s here running with me now when he could be solely worrying about himself. I think of how I betrayed Gemma and how much I regret not running to save her. But this is different—isn’t it? Out here we’re on our own. Back there, I was in charge of her.

  When a deafening blast goes off much closer to me, I cower at first, but then reflexively look toward the sound. A body flies through the air and lands with a bounce. I avert my eyes, but not before I recognize the boy as one of the participants from Culmination. I don’t know his name. His body lies lifeless—dismembered—on the rocks and dirt. Then there’s the god-awful smell of roasting flesh. My stomach revolts, and I bend over when I feel the warm and acidic fluid rise up my throat.

  “You okay?” Arthor rubs my back as I hurl.

  I wipe the sides of my lips with the back of my hand, wishing I had some water to rinse the vomit from my mouth. “I’m fine.”

  “Just try not to look or think about it,” he says.

  “Yeah.” I glance back at the boy, but there’s no use in going over to him to see if he’ll make it. His body is beyond repair—shredded—and the expression on his face is vacant—dead. A hovercraft zooms down from the sky and beams a ray on his leftovers, causing them to disintegrate. All the guys dying in the obstacles, is this the burial they’ll receive? What will their families say when they find out?

  Arthor runs ahead, but I intentionally wait until there’s ample distance between us before I continue to run. He stops and waits for me. As I catch up to him, I speed up. But instead of losing him, he’s right by my side. “What are you doing?”

  “What do you mean?”

  I have to say something. “It’s way more dangerous if we run together. Seriously, if one of us sets off a landmine, the other one will die.”

  “Oh.” He thinks for a moment. “But I’m looking out for you.”

  I huff. Why can’t he just recognize it’s a stupid thing to do?

  “If you think it’s…” he starts.

  “Yes, I think so.” I sprint ahead, leaving Arthor a good thirty feet behind me. Taking action is the best way to handle this situation—I mean, does he expect us to stand in the middle of the field and talk about emotions and how we should have each other’s backs and all that stuff? Why do I have to be the rational one? Still, I can’t help but glance back at Arthor and when I do, I see he’s keeping his distance. I feel bad for him, especially since I’m only acting out of self-preservation. He’s acting out of pure selflessness.

  The next few miles are uneventful as far as blasts going off close to me. From time to time I hear one or two in the distance, but once I reach the site of the explosions, there’s nothing but a gaping hole in the ground or some blood.

  I run on for a while—maybe five miles—and when I hear another landmine go off, I don’t initially react. However, when I hear a scream along with the blast, and continued wailing, I race toward the sound. I can’t just let the guy lie there and die alone so I run to his side and kneel down next to him.

  When I see him, I see that it’s Clark from the capsule.

  There’s blood everywhere—on his clothes, in his hair and even between his teeth. He reaches a trembling hand up toward me, as if asking me to help him. But there is nothing I can do for him except watch him die.

  “You did well,” is all I’m able to say before he closes his eyes and slips away. I exhale with him and don’t remember to take a breath until Arthor shakes my shoulder.

  “Come,” Arthor says. “You have to keep moving.”

  I hit his arm off my shoulder. “This isn’t fair,” I say. Arthor grabs me by the arm and stands me up. He nudges me forward, but my legs refuse to move on their own. Arthor shoves me again and somehow I’m able to move my legs one step at a time. He keeps on me, nudging me every time I slow down. But I can’t keep going! I swivel around and lunge toward him. “Leave me alone! Okay?” I take a swing at him, but he ducks.

  Grabbing me by the waist and turning me around, he says, “Keep moving!”

  “I don’t want to! Take your hands off me!”

  He wraps his arms around me and picks me up, leaving me helpless to do anything but kick my legs and scream. “You don’t have a choice, Heidi.”

  “Stop calling me that!”

  “I’m going to set you down now, so please calm yourself. I promise I’ll keep my distance as long as you continue to run. Will you agree to that?”

  “Fine,” I bark.

  He sets me down and takes three big steps away from me, holding his hands up, his palms facing me. “I’m just trying to help you. I don’t want to see you die out here, don’t you see?”

  “I don’t want to continue!”

  “You might be saying that now, but…there’s so much to live for. I mean…if we make it, our lives will never be the same again. Just hold that thought right there…” He lifts up his hand. “Right in front of you—like a beacon.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Yes, you can. I’ve seen how you bike up those hills in Culmination. Don’t tell me you’re not strong enough. And if you can work that hard for someone else, I think then you can manage to do the same when your freedom is involved.”

  I can’t face him since he’s right. “You don’t know what I’ve been through!” Turning around, tears spilling out of my eyes, I sprint away from him. I don’t want his help; I never asked for it. I just want to be left alone! But maybe I don’t want his help since whenever I’ve received it in the past, so much more is expected in return. Yet, I can’t deny that Arthor is different and doesn’t seem to want anything in return.

  As I continue onward, the muscles in my legs start to tremble. How much farther do I have to run? I still feel somewhat strong, but seeing how these young men have been blown to bits is wreaking havoc with my mind. If I could just sit down and rest for five minutes to think, to process it all, I’d be fine. I just need a moment. To gather my thoughts. To make sense of it all. But I can’t. If I stop, it’s the same as saying I’m dropping out. So I continue—counting my steps. Just one more. Then another. And another.

  True to his word, Arthor keeps his distance for the next few miles, only glancing back once in a while. Mile after mile, my mouth feels drier and drier. What I wouldn’t give for a glass of water right now, and a shot of p
ainkillers to dull the achiness in my feet. Biking is so much easier on the feet.

  All of a sudden, I hear at least ten landmines go off back to back in the distance. I stop when I hear the cries of the wounded young men, and immediately I plug my ears. I can’t listen to their screams when it’s as if their voices bleed into my bones. From the corner of my eye, I see Arthor zooming past me. What is he doing? When he’s about a hundred feet in front of me, he slows down to a jog and glances back at me. I keep moving. Reaching the place of the massive blast, I see that there’s nothing left. Nothing but craters and blood. No injured participants. No bodies. I suppose if one is too injured to continue, then one is taken to the hospital. For the sake of their families, at least I hope this is the case.

  My feet are dragging to the ground now. Surely I must be coming to the end of the marathon soon. I have to be. My right foot has gone numb and I need to pee, but there’s no way I’m going to stop in the open area to squat and relieve myself. That’s one thing that’s unfair about this; the guys can just whip it out and do their business. My head has been pounding for some time, and I know I’m in danger when I stumble over a small rock in my path. Catching myself with my palms, I let out a cry. They still feel sore from my fall yesterday, and the wounds reopen and start to bleed. I roll onto my back and rest my arm across my eyes to shield them from the sun. It feels so good to rest. Every last muscle in my body screams for me to stay down. But it’s not long before I hear footsteps, and when I uncover my eyes, I see Arthor standing above me.

  “Don’t you dare!” I shout, holding my arm out in front of me.