really bad hangover, and having been punched hard in the face.
That is when I remember: the slaverunners. Our fight. That boot coming down on my face.
In a sudden panic, I try to figure out where I am. I hear the familiar sound of the train moving on the tracks and feel an icy wind blowing in, and I realize I’m back in the same train car. Except now, things are different: I’m lying on my side, on the floor, and as I try to move my hands and feet, I realize I’m bound. My hands are tied tightly together behind my back with a coarse linen rope, and my feet are tied at the ankles. I squirm, try to move, but cannot. The rope cuts into my skin hard. They have tied it well.
I lift my head, looking all around, desperately trying to see who else is in here with me. I look first for Bree. There are several bodies strewn about the car floor, and at first, I can’t tell who is who. There are at least ten of us in here. We’re now just like first group that was thrown in here: bound. Helpless.
I’m flooded with panic as I wonder if Bree is still with me, if she’s dead or alive. I look all around, in every direction, moving my body as best I can, and finally, with relief, I spot her. She is bound, too, lying there. I’m relieved that she’s here, and even more relieved to see that her eyes are open, and she’s staring back at me. Rolled up against her stomach is Penelope, shaking, cowering.
“ Bree? Are you okay?”
She nods back, but her eyes are opened wide, and I can see the fear in her face.
“ Are you hurt?” I ask. I survey her body, see no signs of injury, and as she shakes her head no, I feel even more relieved. We’re lucky. I killed several of them. And all they did was bound me and the others in return.
But as I think about it, I realize maybe we are not so lucky. If they chose to bind us, to take us somewhere, instead of kill us, there must be a good reason. And that can only mean that they’re bringing us somewhere to torture us. Or to use as sport. Or worse: to make us fight in another arena.
My stomach drops at the thought of it. I look around in the car, and I spot Ben and Logan, both bound. I also look over the other kids, everyone bound, lying on the floor, not moving. I can’t believe I have ended up in this position again. A prisoner. I can’t imagine being brought to another arena. I close my eyes for a moment at the pain, trying to block it all out.
The train ride gets bumpy, my head hits the hardwood, and jolts me awake. I realize I’ve drifted off.
Suddenly, I hear a loud banging on the car door. I’m confused, because the train is still moving. The banging comes again, from both sides, like hail smashing against the wood.
I roll over, up against the car door, and lift my neck, peering through the slats. I can’t believe what I see.
The train slows as we enter the remnants of a city. It is a vast place, the buildings burnt out, just piles of rubble. The streets are filled with garbage, refuse, and to my surprise: people. Mutants. Biovictims. Their faces are warped and melted, their bodies emaciated. They look crazed, as if an entire mental asylum had let all its prisoners at once. They look as if they’d tear us to pieces if they could. For once, I’m happy that these train doors are bolted shut.
Mobs of them start hobbling towards the train, throwing rocks at us as we go. Some come right up to the door, slamming it with sticks. They are chanting and screaming, and I’m trying to understand what is happening.
As we pass through the city, through block after block, I realize we are being taken somewhere for these peoples’ enjoyment. That we are the sport. The sound of objects striking the car is deafening.
I try to figure out what city we’re in. We’ve been going so far north, for so long, I am guessing we must be far upstate New York. As I look out, at the city outline, I think I recognize what was once Buffalo. I see rivers in the distance, crisscrossing through the city, and am surprised to see several motorboats on them. Slaverunner boats, well-guarded, dozens of soldiers, everywhere.
That tells me something. We are being brought to them. And that can only mean one thing: a new arena.
The banging grows so loud that I fear they will smash our car doors in. At just that moment, our train suddenly dips down, like a roller coaster ride. I feel my stomach plunge. Suddenly, the city goes black. The tracks have descended, have dipped down into a tunnel, beneath the city. Now all I see are the red emergency lights of the tunnel, which we pass every twenty feet or so. Our destination can’t be far.
I roll across the car, beside Bree. I want to make sure she is okay.
“ It’s okay Bree,” I reassure. “Just stay close to me. Do you understand? Whatever happens, just stay close to me.”
She nods back, and I can see she’s trying to be brave, but she’s nodding through silent tears.
Suddenly, the train stops. There comes the sound of our car being unbolted, the lock slid back.
Penelope barks.
“ Go Penelope!” Bree screams.
She looks back at Bree and whines, not wanting to leave.
“ Go! Run! Escape!” Bree screams fiercely.
Penelope finally listens, and just as the car door is opening, she turns and bolts, jumping out. She goes so fast, she flies under the radar of the slaverunners, disappears beneath the tracks. I hope she runs far from here.
We are not so lucky. Several pair of steel boots step up, into the car, and I look up, and see the faces, through the masks, staring down.
Now, we are at their mercy.
A slaverunner walks right for me and takes out a huge knife. I lay there, bound and helpless, and close my eyes, expecting him to stab me. I brace myself. The knife gets closer, and he leans over, and I see the blade coming down. I flinch.
But to my surprise, he doesn’t cut me; instead, he slips the knife between my feet and slices the rope binding my ankles together. All around me, slaverunners are doing the same to the others. They want us to walk. They are taking us somewhere.
I’m hoping they will also free the ropes on my wrist, but I’m not so lucky. A slaverunner grabs me from behind, by the back of my shirt, and pulls me roughly to my feet. It feels good to be standing again, and I rub my ankles together, trying to soothe the rope burn. The ropes are still way too tight my wrist, bounding my shoulders, and while I can walk, I can barely move otherwise.
The slaverunners take the gags out of the other prisoners’ mouths, as well. As soon as they do, a girl a couple years younger than me, cries out, frantic.
“ Where are you taking us!? Where are we going? Where are we?”
A slaverunner reaches out and backhands her hard across the face. She cries out and falls back, crashing into some empty boxes. Another slaverunner yanks her to her feet.
Lesson learned. Don’t talk back.
We are herded off the train, and down onto the floor of the train tunnel. My boots crunch on the gravel. At least it is dry here, no snow. But it is dark, lit only by the emergency bulbs, and it is cold, drafts whipping through the empty tunnels. We are all herded together, and I make sure I stay close to Bree. We are poked and prodded and we begin marching down the tunnel, going deeper into the blackness. I wonder where they are taking us.
We are pushed and shoved down tunnel after tunnel, a ragtag group, scores of slaverunners behind and in front of us. I walk with Bree on one side and Logan and Ben on the other. Logan is suffering, I can see, limping badly on his leg, and Ben and I do our best to prop him up between us. The other captives march like sheep, not even trying to resist.
We turn a bend, and stop before a stone wall. Before it is a single torch, and beneath that, I can barely make out the outline of a steel door. A slaverunner steps forward, unlocks it, and yanks it open.
I’m kicked hard in the small of my back and go flying, with the rest of the group, tumbling into the room. I land hard on the ground, rolling in the dusty, dirty floor, then hear the steel door slammed behind me.
But my hands are bound so tightly behind my back, it is hard for me to get leverage to get back on my feet. I lie there, beside Bree and Logan and the others, and look up, trying to figure out where we are.
We are in a huge, cavernous room, the walls lit by torches, high up. It is like a large cave. The first thing I notice is the noise. And the second is movement.
I look up, blinking dust out of my eyes, and see dozens of people swarming about the room. Kids. We are the
