Arena Two tst-2

by Morgan Rice

  Without thinking, I leap into action. I tackle the kid, a second before he stabs him. I drive him down hard to the ground, and the knife goes flying. I spin him over, planting his face in the ground, and twist his arm behind his back, all the way, nearly breaking it. He screams out in pain.

  Charlie, beside me, looks down and realizes what I’ve done.

  I look over at the floor, for his knife, and am surprised to see it’s already gone. I look up, and see Flo standing there, holding it.

  “ Let him go,” she says, coldly.

  I lift my knee off the kid’s back, and back away. This is her fight now.

  Flo grabs the kid by the back of his head, and without hesitating, reaches the knife around and slashes his throat, quick and clean, muscles rippling in her arms and shoulders. The kid hardly has time to scream, as blood pours out of his neck. He dies.

  Flo stands erect, looking all around her to see if anyone will challenge her. Nobody does; they quickly turn back to eating. I see the remorseless look in her eye, and finally realize she is a natural, trained killer.

  Flo takes two steps forward, and puts the knife back into Charlie’s sheath firmly. She grabs him by the shoulders and looks him in the eye.

  “ Never leave yourself exposed again. Do you hear me?”

  Charlie nods back, dazed.

  Flo turns and looks at me. Slowly, her scowl subsides.

  “ You saved Charlie’s life,” she states.

  I shrug. “I just reacted.”

  She looks me up and down, nodding, as if with a new respect.

  “ I owe you one,” she says. “And that’s not something I take lightly. Follow me. All of you. Leave the food. I’ve got plenty.”

  I turn and look at Ben and Bree, who look back quizzically; we all follow her.

  I grab one more handful of slop for Logan, and hurry over to him. I reach out and put one in his mouth. “Chew,” I say.

  He chews. Then Ben and I lean down, pick him up, and begin to drag him across the cave, to Flo’s corner.

  Flo and Charlie have set up camp in the far corner of the cave. We follow her to the farthest reaches of it, twisting and turning, until we reach it. I’m impressed by their setup. I guess this is what Flo gets for being the victor. It is a large section of the cave, surrounded by stone on three sides so her back is guarded from every direction. She has a nice fire going, and a large chest filled with slop.

  Bree walks over to Charlie, and he to her, and I can see that they’re happy to be reunited. They each take a handful of slop and chew.

  “ It’s not as bad as it seems,” Charlie says. “You get used to it.”

  “ I think it’s awful,” Bree says. “But I’m so hungry, I would eat anything.”

  “ I remember once, when the world was good, I had a stack of pancakes,” Charlie says. “Five of them, with butter and maple syrup and whipped cream. Oh my God. It was the best thing I ever had. Can you imagine eating that?”

  “ Charlie, stop,” Flo reprimands. “That’s not helpful.”

  “ It’s ok,” Bree defends him. “I actually like it. I haven’t thought of pancakes in forever.”

  “ Living in fantasy is how you get yourself killed,” Flo snaps.

  I think about that. On the one hand she’s right. But on the other hand, what’s so great about reality? Isn’t fantasy all we have left?

  We set Logan down beside Flo’s fire, and as we do, she looks at his leg.

  “ I have medicine,” she says.

  My heart leaps as I look at her.

  “ Spoils to the victor. When you win, they give you a box of stuff. Food, mostly. But some meds, too. Basic stuff. They want you in shape for the next round. I’ve got some syringes with stuff in them. I’m guessing it’s for wounds, for healing. Maybe penicillin, or something like it.”

  “ Please,” I say. “I would give anything.”

  She reaches into her chest and pulls out a fresh, unwrapped syringe and throws it to me. I tear it open, examine the clear liquid. I hope it’s what he needs.

  I hurry over to Logan, kneel by his side, look at him. He is sweating.

  “ You want me to try?” I ask. “I don’t know what’s in it.”

  “ Do it,” he says, weakly. “I have nothing to lose.”

  I lean over and insert the needle as gently as I can into his leg and inject the serum. He winces.

  “ They gave me some treats, too,” she adds. “Does someone like marshmallows?” she asks, looking at Bree.

  Bree looks up at her, eyes open wide.

  “ You’re joking,” she says.

  “ She’s not,” Charlie says. “She’s really got them. She must really like you. She hasn’t even given one to me. She said she was waiting for a special night.”

  “ This is it,” Flo says. “Tomorrow, they begin. This could be our last night.”

  “ I don’t understand,” Bree says to Charlie. “If you have food here, why were you in the pit, fighting for slop with the others?”

  “ Flo wants me to fend for myself,” he answers. “She says it makes me stronger.”

  Flo reaches into her bag, takes out a handful of fat marshmallows, and puts one into each of our open hands. She hands out sticks, and we place them on the sticks and roast them over the fire.

  The smell of roasting marshmallows makes me salivate. I pull mine out, nearly black, and chew slowly, savoring each bite. It fills my every pore. I would eat a thousand more if I could.

  My thoughts drift to tomorrow, the arena. My stomach drops, as I wonder what’s in store for us.

  “ Tell us what it’s like,” I say to Flo, who sits opposite the fire, chewing. “The arena.”

  Flo is silent a long time; finally, she shakes her head.

  “ Tomorrow, they’ll come for us early,” she says. “Be ready. The first day of fighting, it’s not what it seems. It’s more about survival than fighting. You won’t understand until you see it for yourself. But there are ways to live, and ways to die. I’ll give you some good advice. Don’t go for the bridges. And stay away from the edges. Don’t try to escape. That’s the mistake most people make. They want to escape. Stay calm. Don’t think about fighting, or winning. Think about surviving. Just remember: things are not what they seem.”

  I’m grateful for her advice, but as I try to take it all in, I find it confusing and overwhelming. Her advice is too ambiguous; I’m not really sure what she’s talking about.

  “ I don’t really understand,” I say.

  “ You can’t,” she says. “But once you’re there, you will.”

  “ I’m going to escape,” Charlie says, as he sits beside Bree, roasting her marshmallow for her, and chews his. The site makes me think of summer campfires, when we would lie under the stars for hours, when everything was safe.

  “ What do you mean, escape?” I ask.

  “ I’m going to find a way out of here. The train tunnels. I saw, coming in, where they go. When they first brought me here, I slipped out. I ran for a while before I got caught. I saw where they lead. There’s a back exit. Outside the city. I saw their boats. I know how to get there.”

  My heart leaps at the possibility.

  “ Stop talking nonsense,” Flo snaps at him harshly.

  Charlie’s face falls, and there is a tense silence.

  “ I’m just trying to tell them-” Charlie begins.

  “ I’ve heard enough of your stories,” Flo said. “It’s ridiculous. You can’t escape here. Even if you made it out, they’d hunt you down and kill you in two seconds. That’s a sure death. Fighting in the arena, at least it gives you a chance. And where would you go anyway? You think there’s some great world out there waiting to be found?”

  Charlie looks down to the floor, disappointed; but then he looks back up, eyes filled with hope.

  “ You remember what dad said? About that town? In Canada?”

  Immediately, I am on high alert, and sit up straighter. Logan and Ben and Bree do, too. I am shocked. Is this tow
n for real? Or is it just a persistent rumor?

  “ Charlie,” I say. “What did you just say?”

  He turns and looks at me, unsure. “About Canada?”“

  “ How do you know about it?” I ask. “Is it true?”

  “ No, of course it’s not,” Flo snaps.

  “ Yes it is!” Charlie insists.

  “ It was just another one of dad’s fantasies,” Flo says.

  “ No it wasn’t!” Charlie says. “He knew it. He was there. He wasn’t lying. All we have to do is get up the river. To Canada. We can find it. I know we can. He said it was by the river.”

  Charlie seems so certain, and his story does seem to line up with Logan’s. It makes me wonder if maybe that town really does exist.

  Flo shakes her head.

  “ Like I said,” she says, “you can either live in fantasy or reality. And you can die in either, too.”

  I think about that.

  “ Well if we’re going to die either way, why not live in fantasy?” I ask her.

  She locks eyes with mine, and I can feel the coldness in her eyes, and it goes right into me, like a winter breeze. I force myself to look away, seeing death in those eyes, and knowing that, soon, it’s coming for me, too.

  *

  I lay awake in the darkness, late into the night, Bree curled up in my arms, Logan beside me, Ben on the other side. Sitting next to Bree is Charlie, and their heads rest on each other’s. A few feet apart is Flo. Everyone is asleep, except for me. And Flo. Her eyes are wide open, staring into the dying flames of the fire. Cold, hard, unflinching. I see that being awake is her natural habit of being. A warrior to her last breath, always on edge.

  Me, I want to sleep, but I can’t, because my mind won’t stop racing. I keep trying to think about tomorrow, about what it will be like. If only I could be prepared, it might go better. But Flo doesn’t seem to want to tell me any more and I have to just appreciate what she’s already told me. I turn her words over and over in my mind. Don’t go for the bridges. Stay away from the edges… I don’t know what it all means.

  I’m determined to survive. I’m determined for Bree to survive, Ben, Logan. I look over at him, and he seems more relaxed than before, and I have a good feeling that the medicine helped. I won’t know until the morning.

  At least it is warm in here, and we have been fed. Ironically, the slaverunners catching us probably saved our lives. I know that another day in the wilderness and we would have been dead for sure. Ironically, they’ve given us life. At least for now.

  I look at Bree, curled up in my arms. I want so badly to protect her, to shield her from all this, to force the slaverunners to keep her out of it. But I know it’s useless. I rack my brain, thinking of what I can do. But I keep reaching dead ends.

  I sit there for hours and hours, knowing I should sleep, knowing that I need rest for tomorrow. But I can’t. I try as hard as I can, and a few times, I feel my eyes getting heavy, my chin nodding-but then I immediately lapse into fast, troubled dreams, of dad, yelling at mom. And I wake quickly, on guard, finding nothing but blackness and silence.

  As I stare into the blackness, I could swear I see my dad’s face, becoming more vivid, staring back at me. It is hard and firm, as it used to get when he was trying to make me tough.

  “ Brooke, you’re a soldier,” he says. “Just like your dad. A Marine. You may not wear the uniform, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have a Marine’s heart. A Marine’s valor. It means you don’t give up. And if you die, you die. But you die like a Marine.”

  It is as if I feel him right here, with me, in the room. In some strange way, it’s comforting. I feel less alone. For the first time in years, I miss him. I really miss him.

  I hear you, dad, I say back in my head. And I love you.

  F I F T E E N

  I open my eyes to the sound of groaning metal. A steel door creaks open, light floods the room, and I realize I’ve fallen asleep. I jump to my feet, awake, alert, ready to fight.

  I stand there and see that Flo is already on her feet, fists clenched, looking at our new guests. There, at the entrance, are dozens of slaverunners, wearing their face masks and each carrying a black uniform in their arms. They march into the room, and as they do, the dozens of kids slowly get to their feet in every direction. They all know what’s coming. The time has come.

  A loud buzzer sounds, and whoever’s left sleeping gets to their feet. One slaverunner marches up to each kid, and several of them approach us. One marches right up to me, and shoves into my hands a black bundle of clothing. I look down at it, surprised.

  “ Your uniform,” Charlie explains.

  Flo, standing a few feet away, says, “Put it on. Over your clothes. If you don’t, they’ll beat you down.”

  I hold mine up, wondering how one size fits all, then realize it is made of a flexible, spandex-like material. It is supposed to be tight.

  They’ve handed me a set of pants, and a jacket. It is all black, and tight, except for the jacket, which is thickly padded, like a military uniform. he jacket has is a bright-yellow X across it. Like a target. This does not bode well. At least it will keep me warm.

  I reach down and slide the pants on over my boots, over my pants, then put the shirt and jacket on and zip it up. Mine is tight and snug, and actually feels good. The thick padding hugs me, and I feel like a warrior going into battle. All around me, all the other kids put them on, too. The whole room, dressed in tight black uniforms with yellow Xs across our chests. We are all walking targets.

  I make sure Bree does the same, and help Logan into his. I’m thrilled to see that Logan is better; the medicine worked. His skin color has returned, his eyes are bright, and he is able to get on his own feet. He hobbles, but not as badly.

  “ Whatever you gave me worked,” he says to me. “Thank you.”

  “ Thank Flo,” I say. “I didn’t do much.”

  “ Thank you, Flo,” he says to her.

  She turns and looks at him, unsmiling.

  “ Don’t thank me yet,” Flo says. “You’ll be dead soon enough.”

  Just like Flo. Refusing to drop her edge, even for a second.

  A slaverunner gets behind me and prods me hard in the small of my back, making me stumble forward. All of us are prodded, and we begin to march for the exit. Finally, we are leaving this place. A part of me hopes I never return.

  Bree, Ben, Logan, Charlie and Flo march beside me in the winding subway tunnels. The six of us make our way with the dozens of other kids through the cold and dark tunnels, our footsteps echoing. I feel like I am marching helplessly towards my fate. I wish there was something I could do. Anything. I need to think of a strategy, some sort of plan. I don’t want Bree separated for me. Or Ben. Or Logan.

  “ Once we get out there, we should act like a team,” I say to everyone, including Charlie and Flo. “Stick together. No matter what. If anyone attacks us, we can watch each other’s backs. Bree, do you hear me? I want you close to me. By my side, no matter what.”

  Bree looks up and nods, and I can see the fear in her eyes.

  “ That won’t last,” Flo says. “You’ll see, once you’re out there. It won’t work. It’s every man for himself. I’m not watching after you guys. I’m watching after myself. And Charlie.”

  Her eyes and jaw harden, defiant. I don’t know what to say.

  “ Does that mean we’re enemies?” I ask her.

  “ I like you,” she says. “All of you. But I’m out to win. To survive. Not for you to live. Not at my expense. And not at Charlie’s. I don’t want to kill you. And I owe you a favor. So I’ll give you one good piece of advice: stay away from me. Far away.”

  We turn the corner, and before us, the tunnel floods with sunlight. An exit to outdoors. A cold wind slaps me in the face, and I hear the muted shouts of a mob.

  I am shoved hard one last time and we all go stumbling out of the train tunnel, into the outdoors. I squint at the blinding light, and the cold stings my face. Still, it is
good to be outside, to be out of that dark tunnel, and to have fresh air.

  My senses are assaulted by so many things at once. The air is filled with the cheers and screams of what seems like thousands of people. I pry open my eyes and see we are on a wide, dirt road, and on either side, behind a fence guarded by slaverunners, stand hundreds of mob members, biovictims, jeering at us. They are dressed in rags, and their faces are mutilated. Mutants, grotesque people. They raise their fists and snarl, and the excitement in the air is palpable.

  My heart is pounding in anticipation as we go. The slaverunners poke and prod, and one jabs me hard in my ribs with the butt of his gun. It is cold out, but not as cold as the day before. In fact, it is quite warm for a winter day. I’m thrilled to see that the snow has virtually melted, and at least my uniform is keeping me warm. I feel snug and secure in it, sheltered from the elements, and its hard plastic padding makes me feel invincible. I feel like wheeling around and cracking the slaverunner hard across the face, stealing his gun, mowing them down, and making a run for it.

  But I know if I do that, Bree, Ben, Logan and the others won’t get far. I look around and see dozens of slaverunners trained on us, their guns at their hips. It would be a massacre.

  We clear a small hill, and as we stand at the top, the vista is spread out before me. I see, in the distance, the arena to which we are being lead.

  My heart stops at the daunting site: thousands of crowd members are spread out around a huge, circular canyon, cliffs dropping off hundreds of feet. The canyon is spanned by four rope bridges, spaced out evenly in the circle, and all leading to a small, circular piece of land in the canyon’s center. This round, circular stretch of land, maybe a hundred yards wide, is connected to the mainland only by the four rope bridges. Otherwise, there is a steep plummet off the edge.

  The spectators cheer wildly at the site of us coming over the hill.

  My throat goes dry as I realize where they’re taking us. They’re going to prod us over a bridge, onto that circular piece of land in the middle. Once we’re on it, there’ll be no way off without crossing one of those four bridges back to the mainland. The drop-off is hundreds of feet deep. It is like a vast canyon, except with a large piece of land in its center.