Survival Rout

by Ana Mardoll

  "Up you go, newbie." Tony's voice, cool and distant, comes from behind as his hands slip under my shoulders.

  "This is gonna hurt," Reese warns, taking my feet and giving me a sympathetic smile. "But we'll get you on clean blankets and you'll be all set to sleep."

  I take a shallow breath, flashing him a quick smile and then gritting my teeth. "Go for it."

  "Ready, Tony? One, two, three." He counts, and on the third beat fire shoots through my chest. The pain is raw heat running under my skin, tearing my wounds open under their bindings. I bite the inside of my cheek until a trickle of blood runs over my tongue, but I manage not to scream.

  "Down we go!" Reese's voice cuts through the haze as they lower me onto the blankets laid out near the fire. Tony squeezes my shoulder before letting go, silent sympathy flashing over his face as he rises to help the others move Justin. I give him a smile to let him know I'm okay, but feel the strain around my eyes.

  Moving Justin from the puddle of drying blood to clean blankets is a four-person ordeal with Matías supervising. The wounded boy cries out in guttural whimpers as they move him, his agony as raw as ever but his voice hoarse after his earlier screaming. They lie him on the blankets near me where the fire can warm us both, but his head lolls away from the bright light.

  The other guys plop down on the floor around us, sitting with their knees pulled up to their chests and looking grim. I turn my head to watch Matías, groaning when my shoulder muscles tighten. "So, uh, now that Handler's gone, how bad is he, really?" I nod towards Justin, dreading the answer.

  Matías sighs and shakes his head, one hand absently massaging his knee as he stretches his leg. "He's pretty bad. I've seen worse wounds on fighters before, but Justin doesn't have a talent for healing."

  "We kept him alive, though," Christian says. He's frowning as he tugs at one of his cornrows. I see a flash of bronze in his hand; the bead for the braid must have gotten jostled off during the lifting and carrying. "That's a start. Usually they kill anyone wounded this badly. Maybe time, and those girls, can fix him."

  "Those girls aren't healers," Lucas snorts, scuffing the ground with the back of his heel. "A talent that removes pain isn't healing; it's just another way of giving pleasure. Might as well have that girl mouth-fuck Justin, for all the good it would do."

  "The important thing," Reese cuts in, his voice tighter than usual, "is that everyone is alive and kept comfortable. Keoki isn't too badly hurt. I reckon you'll be up and moving around in a cycle or two," he predicts, nodding at me while mustering a smile. "We'll change Justin's bandages when they get dirty, and keep him doused in water. It'll all be fine."

  "Until next bout," Tony adds, his voice so low I can barely hear him over the crackle of fire.

  "Got news on that front," Matías says, looking up with an air of announcement. "Handler says there won't be any more bouts for a while. The Master wants everyone rested up for a big show he's planning."

  Christian narrows his eyes. "Did he say what kind of big show?"

  "Handler didn't know," Matías admits, shaking his head. "But he did say we'd have an Auction before then. A few cycles from now, when Keoki is feeling better. He wants to boost morale and clear accounts, to keep everyone competitive. So that's something to look forward to."

  I don't understand the word 'Auction' in this context, but the mood in the cavern instantly lightens. Lucas perks up and Tony's shoulders relax, the tension rippling out of his arms. Christian leans back with a satisfied grin, hands laced behind his head.

  "Man, we need an Auction," Christian observes, his rich voice thick with amusement. "Hardest thing is gonna be deciding."

  "How do the accounts stand?" Lucas asks, leaning forward to focus on Matías. "Did Handler say anything about this bout? Was a kill awarded?"

  Reese laughs and claps him heavily on the shoulder. "Worried the newbie has more kills on account than you?" Lucas shakes the hand away, watching Matías for an answer.

  Matías seems uninterested in the subject; he shrugs and reaches for a nearby bowl of steaming grain, picking at the food with the tips of his fingers. "There was a kill. I doubt it was awarded to Justin, so I would think Keoki has three to his account now."

  Lucas shoots an ugly glare at the ground while Christian chuckles warmly. "Three, huh? Isn't that how many you have on account, Lucas?"

  Lucas opens his mouth to retort, but Matías cuts in. "I want everyone to rest up as much as possible. We don't know when this big show is and we've had fights dropped on us the cycle after an Auction before, so we need to be prepared. Practice, eat, and sleep. We'll take shifts to watch Justin and keep him drinking. Reese, fill one of these from a room fountain?" He hands an empty bowl to the other boy. "Everyone else should head to bed. Who's taking first watch out here? Reese?"

  "I will," Tony says, reaching for one of the bowls of food. "I'm still hungry, anyway. No skin off my back if I stay up a bit longer."

  "Just don't eat all the food yourself," Matías warns, a smile tugging at the edge of his lip. "Wake Reese when you get sleepy? Christian can take third watch, then Lucas. I'll take last watch before first bell." There is some token grumbling, quickly subsiding; the tangy scent of blood lingering in the air drains any will to argue.

  Plan in place, Matías grips the center of his cane and wedges it into the cave floor, using the angle to lever himself up while holding his bowl with his free hand. The other boys grab food for themselves to take back to their rooms, though the bulk of the feast is left behind. Reese returns with water and manages to get several sips down Justin's throat before the wounded boy turns his head away, lost in a haze of agony.

  Reese leaves the water bowl on the floor, pausing to squeeze my good shoulder. "You're gonna be fine, newbie," he promises. "Just focus on getting better, okay?" I grunt agreement and watch as he walks to his room with dragging footsteps. I wonder how hard he will take it if Justin dies before Reese wakes.

  How often have they had to do this? The thought strikes me as Tony settles down near my makeshift bed, picking through the bowls in search of something he can't seem to find. I haven't even lost anyone yet, and already I feel like a part of me is about to snap. I can't imagine doing this again and again, watching friends die without any relief in sight.

  "You hungry?" Tony asks, not looking at me. He's frowning as he picks through the bowls, his brow knit deeply with annoyance; he looks personally offended. "The food is always shit. They serve better stuff at auction, but it's still not right. Here, we'll have to make do."

  Without waiting for an answer, he pulls a small bread roll from one of the bowls. I watch as he breaks it open from the bottom, his deft fingers tearing out the fluff at the center. He scoops up a hunk of meat from another bowl, shreds it, and stuffs the meat into the hollowed-out shell. "Here," he says, shoving his creation at me. "It's not quite right, but that's the best I can do."

  I take the roll with what I hope is a properly grateful expression, trying not to grin at the adorable intensity written in his face and shoulders. "Thanks." I bite in, and my eyes flutter closed as the taste rolls over my tongue. The combination of crunchy crust with soft meat tugs at my memory, words and images and scents all roiling over each other. "It's a manapua?" I ask, the word warm and familiar on my lips.

  Tony looks up in surprise, brushing hair from his eyes. "What? No, it's supposed to be a cha siu bao. Reese calls it a pork sandwich, but that's not the right word." He shrugs, glancing away. "Anyway, the taste isn't the way I want it. Never is."

  I nod, too busy savoring another bite of the meat-filled roll to speak. He's right that it's not quite what it should be, but it's close enough to resurrect a memory. I find myself blinking back tears as I eat, frustrated by the gap between the way things are here and the way they ought to be.

  When I look up, Tony is watching me with a grave expression, understanding in his dark eyes. "So," he says. His voice is soft, almost gentle, and he hands me another roll before biting into one of his own. "Yo
u gonna try to snag that girl at Auction? She was making all kinds of eyes at you."

  I could kiss him for changing the subject, happy to talk about anything that will distract me from crying over my dinner like a fool. "The pretty goddess with the kinky hair? Oh, yes. Well, probably; first, someone needs to tell me what Auction actually is," I add, sticking my tongue out at him.

  He chuckles, giving me a teasing grin. "I forget you're such a newbie, Newbie. Auction is a big party. We get to visit the girls' room. It's got a pool so you can take a real bath instead of just washing with the room fountains. They serve better food there. The girls dance and sing and flirt and stuff. Everyone picks a girl to take back to his room. More kills on your account means you get to pick first, but as long as there's enough girls to go around, no one goes without. It's a reminder to work hard."

  My eyes are wide by the time he finishes; the whole thing sounds amazing. "Girls, food, and swimming? But we have to wait until I'm up and about? That's torture. So that's why Lucas was upset about my kills?"

  Tony nods, poking through the bowls as he talks but failing to find anything else he wants to eat. "I dunno how Handler will decide which of you gets first choice if you two are tied. Lucas likes going first. He usually picks Emerald because he thinks she's pretty and she isn't too mouthy, but new girls are always popular for the variety. Plus, Handler said your crush was valuable. Did you catch her talent, by any chance? Might be a good one."

  "She's the best one," I tell him, leaning back and smiling at the memory of her face. "Her talent is being perfect in every way. If I get her, you're gonna come share though, right? Pass the water."

  He laughs at my question, passing over the water bowl and holding it so it doesn't splash on me when I lean up to drink. "Not during Auction! You're on your own then; I'm getting my own girl."

  I hope my disappointment isn't written on my face; to fill the silence, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, moving slowly so as not to disturb the wounds on my chest and side. "Who are you gonna try to nab, if you're not planning to spend the time with me?"

  "I'm in permanent competition with Reese over Diamond," he says lightly, leaning back on his elbows beside me. I can feel the closeness of his body heat near my skin, a feeling separate and distinct from the glow of the nearby fire. "She's almost as good a trainer as Matías. If Reese snaps her up first, maybe I'll pick the healer and give her my bed; she did us a solid, so I figure I kinda owe her."

  Us. I nod, trying to stay cool and ignore the pounding of my heart in my chest when he says the word so casually. "She really did. She's cute, though; you think the competition will be fierce for her?"

  Tony shrugs. "Hard to say. Christian's torn between Ruby and Amethyst; he'd pick Ruby every time without question, except Amethyst does his braids and it's about that time again. And neither of the new girls is Matías' type; he likes them older, since he's been here awhile and feels bad picking the younger ones. I think he'd opt out of Auction entirely except he really does want the sex. He just never gets emotional over the girls. Don't get me wrong; he's friendly with them, just never acts romantic like Christian and some of the other guys do. He doesn't fall for guys, either." His gaze slides away from mine. "Guess that makes him smarter than everybody else."

  Silence stretches out for a long moment. I think about what it must mean to live in this place, making friends and lovers only to watch them die. My hand reaches out, seeking Tony's and finding it—warm and gentle, resting a few inches from mine. Strong, too, with calluses where he grips his sword in practice.

  He doesn't pull away from my touch, and after a moment's hesitation his hand squeezes me. Liquid fire flows from his hand into mine, spreading through my body until I think I might melt into a puddle from the heat of him. "You will come and share, though?" I ask him, staring into the darkness above us. "Not at Auction, but some other time? She's so pretty and, well, I'd like that."

  "Oh, sure," he answers, his voice matching mine in volume. He tucks his free hand behind his head, leaning back on it like a pillow. "If she'll let me. I liked her."

  I turn my head to grin at him, relief flooding through me. "Dude, how can she not like you? Have you met you?" His wry smile sends another wave of heat through me; emboldened, I take a deep breath and plunge forward. "You could come visit other times, you know. Not just when I have a Prize." Anxious energy forms a knot in my stomach. "You, uh, didn't come back after Handler took the last one away."

  He gives me a sheepish smile, almost wincing. "Yeah, I'm sorry about that. I got in bed after the girls left. Figured I'd lie there for a bit until the other guys were asleep, but I passed out instead." He squeezes my hand again, his dark eyes studying me. "I really will come visit, Keoki. It's just... we gotta be careful."

  I watch him in the firelight, the flickering flames casting dancing shadows over his face. I hate that I can't lie on my side to see him more easily; I'm stuck flat on my back, my neck bending at an uncomfortable angle. "Okay," I say, nodding slowly. "Why, though? I noticed you act kinda different when the guys are around." In a pretend-I-don't-exist kind of way, I don't add aloud.

  He takes a deep breath, reaching up with his free hand to rub his eyes. "If Handler finds out that we like each other, things could get real bad."

  I frown. "Bad how?"

  He shakes his head, his eyes fixed on the expanse above. "They use it against you. Schedule matches together, knowing you'll work extra hard to keep the other alive, and that it'll be more emotional if one of you dies. Might even schedule a one-on-one match us against each other, if they thought it would be dramatic enough." He shivers in spite of the heat.

  I stare at him, bile rising in my throat. "Tony?" My voice sounds small to my ears. "Did they do that to you?"

  He shakes his head but still doesn't look at me. "No. Matías said they did it once that he knows of. He was a newbie when it happened, and the whole stable nearly rioted over it. The Master purged a bunch of fighters and everyone calmed down, but it hasn't been done again." He takes a ragged breath and turns to face me, pain in his dark eyes. "But the thing about pairing people together for drama? Yeah."

  Time slows as the implications of his words sink in and I begin to comprehend the pain etched onto his face. "Tony, I'm so sorry."

  He squeezes my hand tighter. "It was a long time ago," he says. His voice is softer now, almost hoarse. "Matías and Reese are the only ones left who remember; everyone else has passed on and been replaced. It was a pretty good show for the audience. Not so much for me."

  I swallow back the lump in my throat. I shouldn't make his grief all about me, but damned if I don't want to hug him to pieces right now. "I'm so sorry," I repeat, my thumb stroking his hand. "It's no wonder you're so, uh."

  Amusement flickers in his dark eyes as he blinks back tears. "Guarded?" he prompts, smiling wryly at my having talked myself into a corner.

  "I was gonna say 'quiet'," I insist, pulling out my most dignified voice for the full effect.

  His grin widens but his expression is soft in the firelight. It's amazing how gentle he looks when we're alone and he allows his features to relax. I wish more than anything that I could take him away from this place. I'm not sure where we'd go or what it would look like, but he'd never have to wear that stony mask again.

  "The guys are mostly okay, and they'd probably keep a secret," he adds, closing his eyes. "But some of the guys before were jerks about it, and I just don't want to deal with that again. Even Christian can say stupid shit sometimes. It's easier this way, with no one knowing."

  I nod, determined to understand. I don't think stupid shit would bother me, but his comfort is more important than my ego. "Sorry I got cranky earlier, before my fight. I didn't realize."

  He opens his eyes again, blinking back fresh tears. "I'm sorry, too. I knew Justin wouldn't be much help, and I was afraid you'd be killed out there. I'm glad you weren't, but." His gaze sweeps my bloodied bandages and the cuts that stretch from my shoulder to my waist. "I
t hurts that I can't protect you. That I can't protect anyone. If I'm not out there in the arena, there's nothing I can do but watch. I hate it."

  "Hey." I tug on his hand, prompting him to move closer; he rolls until his face hovers over mine, his eyes studying my own. "I'm not gonna die. You won't lose me, Tony. I promise."

  "You're reckless," he points out, giving me a wary look.

  "I know." I laugh, shaking my head. "I admit it, you've got me there. But I don't want to hurt you. I won't be reckless like that again. Next time, I'll listen to you. I'll be really super careful. Honest."

  "You promise?" The question hangs in the air between us, his lips less than a finger's breadth from my own.

  "Promise," I breathe. With my good hand, I reach up to tangle my fingers in his hair. I mean to pull him down for a kiss, but he's there before me; his mouth covers mine in a long, slow, sweet kiss that drives away every thought of pain until there is only him and the fire and the warmth from them both.

  "You promised," he whispers in a teasing tone, his dark eyes dancing at me. His lips brush against mine as he speaks, all feathery touch and soft anticipation before he leans in to claim another kiss, harder and more deliberate than the first.

  I nod under the slow onslaught of his mouth, not wanting to break away but needing to reassure him, to make him know he won't be hurt the way he was before. "I did. I do. I swear." As I gasp out the words, I blink back tears of my own. My hand loosens its grip on his hair, and he turns his cheek into my palm as I slide my fingers down the length of his jaw. "I'm not gonna die, Tony."

  "You'd better not," he agrees, his voice hoarse. "I'm getting kind of attached to you, Keoki. Now shut up and kiss me. We don't have nearly enough time until I have to wake Reese to take his watch."

  I grin, my good hand moving to pull him closer. "We'd better make every kiss count, huh?" His leg is like fire pressed against mine and his hands trail liquid heat as they move over my arm and shoulder, avoiding my wounds yet determined to touch as much of me as possible. My mouth finds his in a series of desperate kisses that stretch and merge into one long embrace that, in a perfect world, would go on forever.