by Ann Christy
Greg was behind her and she felt a steadying hand on her shoulder. Zara did the same for Leo. It didn’t really help but she gave him a half-smile over her shoulder anyway. The last few steps before they crossed the threshold to the landing were hard to take. She had the unexpected feeling that she should just turn around and forget the whole thing. Maybe take a nap instead. By the time she finished the thought, it was already too late.
She and Leo stepped out together and there was an instant roar of applause and yelling. It was so loud that it felt like it should shake the silo apart. It was all Lillian could do not to clap her hands over her ears. It was just the way the big open space bounded by concrete echoed each voice. She reminded herself of all she was taught about it and tried to mentally snap it into a box for the moment. Later, she could take out that box and examine it, but for now she’d just leave it alone. With her eyes clamped shut for a moment, she pushed it back and when she opened them again, it wasn’t so bad.
Greg winked at her, a little encouraging nod accompanying it and motioned her forward to the line. There would be no speeches and no ceremonies. No glad handing and certainly no showing off happened before the race. The schedule always got right down to business. The racers came to the event fresh and gave it their all and that was the way it always was. Looking around at all the faces and waving arms behind the blue lines of barrier cloth, she was glad.
At the line, the Race Director and the official starting party waited on a dais just to the side. Since there could be no stair travel on the levels being used by the race, there were generally fewer people at the starting line and only a couple of council members to see them off. At the finish line was where the majority of those would be waiting.
As her toes hit the near edge of the line, the Race Director called out in a thin voice that needed all the amplification it received, “Wish your competitor luck!”
It was tradition that each racer would do so before the race started. It was a little awkward with it being just the two of them. Leo stuck out a hand and Lillian took it as if to shake, but pulled him into a hug instead. The crowd cheered. The fact that they were so alike and so closely related had added an allure to this year’s race for many people.
When they separated, Lillian whispered, “Good Luck, Other-Head.” Leo grinned in response and tapped two fingers on his wrist. It was strange because Lillian really did wish him luck, while at the same time she wanted with all her heart to win.
They settled themselves at the line and Lillian adjusted her stance for her best start. She kept the Race Director in her side vision and it seemed to her like time slowed as he counted off and hit the buzzer, filling her whole world with the sound that meant ‘run’.
Neck in neck they ran the first long hallway, all the way to the outer edge of the silo. The closed doors of the passageway zipped past in a disorienting series of different shades and colors. At first the gray outer wall seemed far away, but it came up so quickly that Lillian had to press her feet to the concrete in hard, joint jarring steps to slow enough for the turn. Leo did the same and she heard the loud slap of his hand as he braced for his turn on the edge of the hallway wall.
He had the inside track but the hallway was narrow enough that it didn’t worry her yet. He pulled ahead a step or two by the time they reached the end of the long curved passage. There, with the course turning right and back toward the interior, the blue line of fabric stretched across the path and a few hearty souls stood behind it, cheering them on. Lillian pulled in and used the wall as a brace in her turn with the same hand stinging slap as Leo and nearly stepped on him as the gap closed.
He pulled away again, stretching those longer legs out and eating the distance. She was a full two or three strides behind him when they reached the landing again. Here the crowd wasn’t huge, but people lined the blue fabric with no space to spare. It felt to Lillian like she was entering a closing tunnel and she understood why they called it ‘threading the needle’. The prospect seemed to disturb Leo because his strides shortened and he looked from side to side far too much. It slowed him enough that Lillian steeled her gaze forward and let her legs take her to just one step, maybe less, behind him. He was close enough that she could see his cheek and one of his widened eyes.
The stairs were coming and she needed to focus, but so did he. She sacrificed a breath and called out, “Focus!”
On the stairs she made her mark. The rules were that every single step had to be touched by the racer. In the past, before that rule had been put in place, runners tried risky things like spinning the rail or skipping several steps. It was a good way to wind up with a broken leg or neck and the step rule was the result. Longer legs were a hindrance and it was all about foot-eye coordination, something Lillian had in spades. Keeping track of the stairs and turns was the hardest part of the stairs when her feet moved so fast. She could hear the crowd above her, leaning over the rails and hooting at her speed.
Rounding the last spiral, she heard the cheers of the people on Level 6 filling in the decreasing volume of those on Level 5. There was no way to turn and see where Leo was, but she didn’t need to. She could feel the pounding of his feet and knew he was half a turn above her. She would need this lead with the three straight runs coming up.
Her breathing was still strong, but she was doing it faster and her throat was dry as a bone. As her foot hit the landing she hazarded a quick swallow and took off. After the short fast steps on the stairs, she felt like she was stretching her legs in huge steps on the flat floor. The relative silence of the hallway was a relief and she could hear Leo behind her, closer than she wanted him to be. At the edge, she slapped the wall at the turn and tried to keep her lead. When she turned toward the landing, another long residential hallway in front of her, she heard Leo’s slap just a second behind hers.
The metal of the landing was almost a relief when she reached it. Her advantage had dwindled and she knew it just from the way the crowd yelled. It was the kind of yell that told her it was a close race. It would have been a more decisive yell—whether it would be positive or negative depended on the watcher’s preference and bet status—if her lead was enough to seem definitive. She hit the stairs and felt the difference in her stamina even from the first step. It was hard work to run with every fiber of her being and far harder than any practice run in her life. The crowd sucked the air right out of her lungs.
Whether it was a second wind or just the natural rhythm of the stairs, she felt her speed picking up as she spiraled down and she could feel that Leo was falling behind. The landing on Level 7 hit her feet like a hammer as she tried for a short stop. The jolt made her grimace and lost her one step. Her feet didn’t let her down though and within a few steps the stinging had retreated.
Level 7 was a short level for the race. They had to make only one circuit of the landing, take a tight turn and come back via a separate inner lane, all kept in line by the long run of thin red cloth. From her perspective, it looked like a maze. She heard the clank of Leo hitting the landing after she was already a quarter of the way around and the tight turns would give him no chance to catch up. She wanted with all her heart to turn around and cheer him on, but it was a stupid feeling she needed to stuff down inside herself.
The turn was sharp and she almost flew off her feet by not slowing enough. Two wide sloppy steps took her to the side of the red and several more saw her passing Leo on his way to the turn. Her quick glance took in his reddened face and focused gaze. He looked just as sweaty as she felt but he looked far from running out of steam. She steadied her pace and pushed herself a little harder.
At the landing Lillian could feel that her pace was slower than it had been, her feet not quite as nimble as she readied to take the stairs. The little pause was noticeable to her and based on the shift in sound from the few that chose the small area on Level 7 to watch the race, they noticed it too. She gritted her teeth—which made her think of Greg—and concentrated harder than she ever had in her life on
touching each step quickly and carefully.
On Level 8 the race would end and it couldn’t get there fast enough for Lillian. Her breath was bellowing in and out like a bad ventilation pipe and sweat coated her like a blanket. Drops ran into her eyes and stung, but it was a familiar sting and that worked for her, too. Leo was still well behind her, at least ten big strides, maybe more. There was no way she was going to risk a look backward and wind up tumbling head over heels only to become a cautionary tale for future racers. Still, the temptation was so strong it made her neck ache to keep facing ahead.
The crowds were bunched over on the other side of the landing, where the finish line was. She wouldn’t have thought it possible, but their noise was almost a background hum rather than the frightening distraction of before. The loudest thing in her ears was the sound of her own system, working hard to keep her fast and upright and running.
The red signs led her through the dirt farms. No one was working on the route, but she could see a group of farmers using a plot just off her path as a good viewing platform for this last bit of the race. They waved race colored streamers of red, blue and white as she hit the swept path before her. This was the sturdy side of the dirt farms. On one side there was corn, tall and green with little ears growing like handles along a strangely formed ladder. The other side held the more tender crops, shorter and bushier and just the right height for the farmers to watch from.
Lillian repressed the urge to wave at them. The air was filled with the smells of dirt and green, growing things. It was hot in the farms under the lights and she felt the energy draining from her, but the verdant smells worked against the heat as did the relative quiet. The route circled the fields and wove through them in a circuitous fashion that favored her talents. Leo was behind her and had gained perhaps a step or two. She could hear his labored breathing better than before but it was hard to tell if it was because the space was quieter or because he had gained.
The dim rectangle of the exit to the landing was ahead of her so suddenly it felt like she had lost time. The bright light inside the farms made the landing beyond look dark. As she approached she could feel the cooler air flowing toward her. It felt delicious, cooling the sweat on her body and making the exhaustion seem less intense, if only for a moment.
The moment her foot crossed from the solid concrete of the farm floor to the grated landing beyond, the noise of the crowd increased in a chorus of yells, hoots and cheers. She couldn’t stop herself from looking at them, their faces happy—or sad depending on their bets—and all of them looking at her. The red line led directly across the landing, following the curve, and ended before the dais. This was always where she had relaxed in her own practice sessions, knowing that whatever arbitrary end point she had set for herself was close by and she would grab a shower and continue on with her day.
The trainers had said over and over that this habit, for it was an ingrained habit, was the one she would need to conquer. All of the racers had it, they had said. It was just human nature. So she did what they trained her to do. She pulled up every remaining point of energy she had within herself, from her toes to her hair, and focused on pushing her body forward.
It seemed like time slowed when she did. Her feet felt like they were moving so slowly that she was going no faster than a casual stroll. Slower even. She blinked her sweat stung eyes but everyone around her was moving as slowly as her, their arms waving in slow motion and their mouths like dark maws stuck while opened wide. The red banner that signified the end of the race was there so suddenly that she almost missed when she crossed it. She veered to the side, around the dais and only stopped when she was behind it and the people on it. They turned to look at her, almost as one.
Lillian leaned over as soon as her feet stopped, feeling like she might vomit and glad that she was behind the dais if she did. It wouldn’t be the first time. She had seen it before. It was almost like a badge of having worked as hard as the body would allow and then gone beyond it. Vomit was a sign of a race well run in a sense. But it was one she would happily skip and not feel like she missed out on anything.
One of the medics jogged over from the closest place they were stationed along the route and put a gentle hand on her back.
“You gonna blow?” he asked, rubbing her back in that professionally concerned way they had.
There was no way she could speak. She was breathing so hard it felt like her lungs were getting chapped. Her throat felt crackly and raw. She swallowed quickly and shook her head, arms still braced on her shaking knees and head down. Suddenly, she had a thought. Where was Leo?
It was with great effort that she straightened and took the stumbling dozen steps around the side of the dais. Leo was there and bent over in the same way she had been. A little pool was splattered at his feet. She made her way over and threw an arm over his back, squeezing with a weak hug. He turned his head to the side and butted it into her side, almost throwing her off balance, but she understood. He was sad for himself and happy for her, bitter disappointment mixing in with it all. His shoulders shook just once and she adjusted her grip around his head to hold him to her.
Those on the dais were standing and looking down at them. The mayor had come down, expecting to hold up a winner’s hand and let the applause wash away the fatigue of the runner. Instead he was standing there, awkward and unsure, while the two racers consoled each other, both feeling the loss and the win. The noise of the crowd had lessened, though it could not be called quiet. When Leo straightened and pulled Lillian’s arm into the air, they roared their approval and the mayor smiled in relief. He reached down and grabbed her other hand to do the same.
It was only at that moment, when she saw her family on the dais behind her with a quick turn of her head, and felt the stretch of her arms above her head that she finally realized what had happened.
She had won.
Twenty
The party rolled on around her and all Lillian could think of was how much her legs were aching. Race day was a holiday and everyone treated it as such. There were parties all over the silo. This one was for her but all she wanted to do was lie down, drink water and sleep. The race support team, various council members and the union leaders were all here, as well as those selected via the lottery to attend. It was hard to get through all the smiles, handshakes and pats on the back so hard they almost knocked her down.
She kept an eye on Leo as she made her rounds with the Mayor and the Race Director. Every time he caught her eye, he smiled a smile that said, “Better you than me.” He wasn’t alone by any means and it wasn’t just family. He had run a great race but had been foiled by the twisty nature of the route that year. It was the part of the race determined by the luck of the draw that had beat him, not any lack on his part. Every girl not yet matched was maneuvering to get close to him and wrangle an introduction. The predatory girls were beginning to scare him a little and Lillian laughed when he went so far as to step halfway behind his mother when a set of very pretty—and very tall—twins loomed over him suddenly.
The sigh she let out after a few hours of keeping a smile plastered to her face earned her a sympathetic look from the Mayor. He said, “Don’t worry. You’ll be able to scoot soon.” He nodded toward her family. “They look as ready to leave as you.”
He made good on his promise, easing her out of the social whirl and announcing that the racers had earned a bit of rest and wanted to say goodbye. He nodded toward her and she took his place at the microphone. She had to come up on her toes, a move that made her calves scream, to reach it and she grimaced a little. A few ‘ahhs’ answered her grimace and she felt her face redden.
“I want to thank you all for being so very supportive and encouraging. The racing support staff deserves as much credit for every win as the racer because without them, it wouldn’t be much of a race. In particular, our trainers deserve to be recognized.” She paused there and nodded with her head toward the spot where Zara and Greg stood, surrounded by a cluster o
f other trainers. She clapped and it took only a beat before the rest of the room joined in. Greg looked a little embarrassed while Zara gave her a look that she associated with extra exercises during training. She grinned back at them and raised her hands above her head, clapping even harder.
When she lowered her hands, the clapping slowed and she leaned into the microphone again. “It’s been a really long day and while I know that Leo agrees with me that there’s nothing more we’d like to do than stay and enjoy your company, I’m about to drop.” Polite laughs greeted that and she winked at Leo, who was clasping his hands in a parody of supplication for it all to end. “So, before I actually do drop and embarrass myself, I’d like to bid you good night for both of us.”
The applause was polite but the looks were understanding ones. She and Leo had been able to grab a shower and change into their race coveralls, now sporting new patches someone in support had quickly tacked on, but they had been given no chance to rest or even sit down for more than a few minutes. Her legs felt incredibly tight and the soreness of overworked muscles was coming on faster than it ever had before. Leo’s stiff gait spoke of the same feelings. Plus, she wanted to sit and talk with him. And with her mother, whose face had remained brave and smiling throughout the party, but who Lillian knew well enough to see the strain beneath the smile.
With their families in tow, the two racers made their way out of the party and up the single level where their rooms were from the night before. The landing on Level 6 was loud but on the stairs that noise was joined with the softer noises from the party on Level 1 and other parties on other levels. The dim time was well underway and the soft red light lulled them into quiet as they climbed and then walked.
The two trainers were berthing elsewhere that night and the two families had been re-arranged so that Lillian and her family were in the same apartment while Leo and his family would live in the one that had held both families the night before. Lillian had no idea where the trainers would be, where Greg would lay his head that night. She hadn’t had the chance to tell him, but when she snuggled against him— his arm heavy around her shoulders and his warmth against her back—he had given her a restful night. The hours of sleep she had gotten had been more than enough if today were any measure.
