Arena Two (25 page)

The dozen or so kids higher up try to get out of the way, but it’s too late for them. They try to dodge the snakes, running left and right, but the snakes dig their fangs into them. They scream out in agony, one after the other. The venom works quickly, and several of the kids lie limp; a few of the others impale themselves on spikes as they run.

The good news is that the snakes die on impact as they sink their fangs into the kids; it seems that using up their venom kills them.

The bad news is that there is one, particularly large, snake left.

It slithers its way down the mountain, right towards us.

No
, I think.
Not a snake. Anything but a snake.

Of course, the snake zeros in on me. I brace myself for the attack, flinching in advance, having nowhere to go.

But Flo leaps out from the side, grabs the snake by its head, and holds it there, squeezing hard with both hands. It squirms like crazy but cannot get out.

“
Charlie, your wire!” she yells.

Charlie hurries over, takes a wire with two handles from his pocket and wraps it around the snake’s throat, several times. He squeezes as hard as he can, and Ben hurries over and helps him. Finally, the snake’s head is severed. The rest of its body slithers, uncontrollably down the mountain.

I look around and see that all the other kids are dead. We are the only survivors left. I can hardly believe it.

We grab Logan and we all head together up the mountain. We go single file, carefully following the trail of the dead bodies, other kids who paved the way for us, who already set off all the traps, and within moments, we reach the top, safe.

A buzzer sounds, and the crowd roars.

I can hardly believe it. We have survived.

Back in our cave, at night, we all sit around the fire, completely exhausted. I lean my head back against the wall and close my eyes, and don’t think I can ever open them again. Every bone in my body is aching and hurting. I can’t believe what my body has been through these last two days. If someone told me I could fall asleep and wake up in twenty years, I think I would.

I just want this agony and suffering to end—not just for me, but for all of us. We are fighting for our lives, clinging to life, but a part of me wonders, what for? This will only end in all of us being killed. In some ways, we are just prolonging our agony.

I look around and see the exhausted faces of Bree and Charlie, Ben and Logan—and even Flo. It especially breaks my heart to see Logan, lying there beside me, looking like this. He was hurt the worst today of us all, and while I’ve been trying to staunch his new wound, it’s barely working. He’s lost a lot of blood, and he looks so pale, it’s almost as if he’s dead already. I’ve tried to wake him several times, but he just groans and turns away. My heart sinks, and I fear for him. If he doesn’t get serious medical attention soon, I don’t see how he can survive. Not to mention, it’s just not possible for him to compete in tomorrow’s games. I can’t help but feel as if I’m sitting on a death vigil.

The rest of us hardly fare much better. We are all so beaten and broken and bruised and exhausted, not to mention, filled with dread for what might come tomorrow. Flo was right: they do up the stakes each day. I can’t imagine how they can possibly up them again tomorrow. I feel certain that tomorrow will be our last day.

A buzzer sounds, the ceiling opens, and this time they lower twelve baskets, these overflowing with food and goodies. While yesterday we all jumped up for them, now, we all look at each other, all too broken to jump up and get them.

Eventually, we struggle to our feet and march across the room. My legs feel like a thousand pounds each as I pick up my two baskets, along with Logan’s, and the others pick up theirs. We bring them back to the fire.

I am thrilled to see it is filled with goodies, foods, snacks and candies of all kinds. I can’t believe that the slaverunners have managed to find and keep such an abundance of good food in this day and age, with the rest of the world starving. The thought of it makes me sick: they have so much while others have so little.

While yesterday I devoured my food, today I move more slowly, as do the others. A part of me has lost my appetite. I open one candy bar and take a bite; it is delicious, and I revel in the sugar rush. But I don’t have the excitement of the day before.

I unwrap Logan’s candy bar and put it in his mouth, trying to get him to take a bite. But he won’t. I feel his forehead, how hot his fever has become, and grow increasingly worried. I wish there was something I could do.

“
Logan,” I say softly. “You have to eat. Please.”

Eyes closed, he shakes his head in agony. Eventually, he opens his eyes just a bit, just enough to look into mine.

He just stares at me, his eyes into mine, for what feels like the longest time. He doesn’t say anything, but in that stare, I feel him say things.
Thank you. I love you. I’m sorry.

I want to say those things back to him, but I feel embarrassed, especially with others so close. I feel torn. On the one hand, I do have genuine feelings for Ben. Yet, I also have feelings for Logan, especially now, as I feel him leaving. I want to spend time with Ben, but I
need
to spend time with Logan.

I curl up beside Logan, hold his head in my lap, and gently brush his hair away, off his clammy forehead. I decide I need to distract him, to tell him a story.

“
Once, when I was young, before the war, my dad took me hunting,” I begin. I figure this is a story that Logan would like.

He perks up the slightest bit and I know he’s interested. Encouraged, I continue.

“
He gave me this huge, oversized rifle, and I was terrified to use it. We walked for hours, deep into the woods, looking all day for anything to kill. I really didn’t want to be there. But I wanted to make him happy.

“
Around sunset, I noticed this weird look in his eyes, a look I had never seen before. It was something like confusion. Maybe fear. He was always so confident, so in control, I didn’t understand what was happening. That look, to me, was scarier than anything.

“
I asked him what was wrong, and he finally admitted he was lost. He didn’t know the way back. Now we were deep into the woods, and it was getting dark. I was terrified. I asked him what we were going to do. He said we were going to find a tree, go to sleep, and in the morning, find our way out.

“
That terrified me more than anything, and I started to cry. He yelled at me, told me to be tough, that things could be worse. After a while I stopped crying and sat down next to him, against the tree. We sat there like that, silent, both of us against the same tree, all night long.

“
The crazy thing was, he didn’t say another word to me, all night long. As if he didn’t have a single thing to say to his own daughter.

“
I thought about that night for years, and for so many years I was mad at him. But now, looking back, I’m not mad anymore. Because now I realize that, for him, silence was speech. That was his way of being with me. He was telling me he loved me, in his own way. He just couldn’t use his words.”

I turn and look down at Logan, and he looks up at me, eyes open.

“
In some ways, he reminds me of you,” I say, nervous to say it.

Logan opens his eyes wide with one final effort, and looks up into mine. I see a slight smile at the corner of his lips, and I realize he liked the story.

Logan doesn’t say anything to me either, but he slowly nods, and I can see the love in his eyes. In that moment, I can see he is just like my dad. He is talking to me. Even if he can’t say the words.

*

It is late into the night, I don’t know how late, and we are all sitting up, except for Logan, awake around the fire. After today’s events, none of us can sleep. We all stare wide-eyed into the flames, each lost in our own world, each of us staring death in the face.

Hours ago, dozens of new recruits were thrown into the room. These new kids keep to themselves, on the far side of the cave, content with the slop dropped down for them. No one tries to come our way, which is just as well, because I don’t know if I’d have the energy left to fight them off. Not that I even care about my food at this point. But I am curious as to why there are so few kids this time.

“
Stragglers,” Flo says. I look over and see she is watching them, too. She has an uncanny way of reading my mind. “It was slim pickings today for the slaverunners. That’s bad news for us.”

“
Why?”

“
They need to keep the games exciting for their crowd. When they don’t have a lot of kids, they have no choice but to pit us directly against each other.”

Instinctively, I feel that she’s right. And it makes my heart drop. I can’t stand the thought of it. I can’t imagine being pitted against Bree, against Charlie, against Ben, against Flo. Against Logan. It is too cruel to even imagine.

“
Well we found a way to stick together through all this,” I say. “I think we can find a way tomorrow, too.”

Flo shrugs. “I’m not so sure,” she says.

I try to interpret her words, to understand her meaning. Is it a threat? Is she saying she’ll fight us? A part of me feels that she might. She’s a survivor, and she has Charlie to look out for. I can’t put anything past her.

We lapse into silence, all retreat back into our own worlds, our game faces on, as I think about tomorrow. I know that we can’t last another day. I have to come up with a plan. Something. I have to find us a way out of here.

I turn over all possible options in my mind, again and again, until my eyes grow heavy. I think of Charlie’s tunnels, obsessively, feeling that is the key. But I am not thinking clearly, and cannot come up with any answers. The solution is just beyond my grasp.

*

When the buzzer rings on the morning of the third day, this time, my eyes are already opened. Bleary-eyed, I’ve been awake all night, my mind racing with the possibilities, with ideas of how to get out. The steel door slides open, and in march dozens of slaverunners.

I don’t give them the dignity of dragging me to my feet, and instead stand before they can reach me. I walk over and wake the others, gently pulling Bree and Charlie to their feet. I see that Flo’s awake, too, already standing. Ben gets up with an effort.

The slaverunners are in front of us, and I go to Logan and shake him roughly. It takes him a while to even open his eyes. He does not look good.

“
Get up,” I say.

He shakes his head no. He looks like he’s half-alive.

A slaverunner hurries over and kicks him hard.

“
Let him be!” I scream.

The slaverunner shoves me, and I stumble back into the wall, hard. Flo steps up and punches the slaverunner across the face. I’m shocked, and touched by her sticking up for me.

But she pays the price dearly, backhanded hard by another slaverunner, the sound of his hand slapping her flesh echoing in the room.

She goes to attack, but I step forward and get between them, holding her back.

“
It’s OK, Flo,” I say to her, seeing the violence in her eyes and not wanting her to get hurt. “Let it go. Let’s just get him on his feet.”

I reach over with Flo and Ben and we all drag Logan to his feet. It’s like pulling up an old tree. He groans out in pain, and Ben and I each drape an arm around one of his shoulders, helping him hobble. The six of us are then marched out of the room.

As they prod us out of the room, this time we are led down a different tunnel. We’re all led to a huge steel door, and as it opens, to my surprise we enter a brightly-lit room, its walls lined with weapons. Hanging from the wall are swords, bows and arrows, shields, throwing knives, slingshots, spears, and all sorts of other weapons. I can’t understand what’s happening. I think of the damage I can do to the slaverunners with these, and feel as if I’ve walked into a candy store.

“
Choose!” barks a slaverunner.

Suddenly, the dozen or so new kids race through the room, scattering, each bee lining for a weapon.

“
It’s fighting day,” Flo says, and then hurries off to the wall. She goes for a large sword.

I hurry off with Logan and Charlie and Bree, and as we reach the wall, I prop Logan against it and hand him a big shield.

“
If you can’t fight, at least you can defend, right?” I ask him.

He nods weakly.

I grab a long spear and strap it to my back. Then I reach out and grab a long sword as well. While I’m at it, I see a nice throwing knife and grab that and attach it to my belt.

Beside me, Bree has chosen a slingshot. It is a good choice. She was always good with her hand-made slingshot, and this one comes with a bag of small rocks, and she ties it to her belt. Then, of course, she chooses the bow and arrow, which she is just as good at. Charlie chooses a strange medieval weapon: it is a long chain, with a handle on one end, and a metal ball on the other. Ben chooses a long sword, and nothing else.

Flo, holding her sword, turns towards me, and for a moment I feel what it would be like to face her. In some ways it would be like facing a mirror image of myself. It terrifies me.

A buzzer sounds and I look around the room and see the other kids are all well-armed. This doesn’t bode well.

“
Bree, Charlie,” I say. “Whatever happens out there, stay close to me, okay? Don’t go far off. This way I can look out for you.”

“
You don’t need to look after Charlie,” Flo chides. “I will.”

She’s territorial, and already has her game face on.

“
Just trying to help,” I say.

“
Look after your own,” she snaps back to me.

She has drawn a clear line in the sand.

“
Charlie, come over here, with me,” she commands.