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.
This doesn’t bode well. We will all be stuck together on that small landmass and forced to fight each other to the death, or fight each other to cross one of the bridges to get back to the mainland. Otherwise, there is no way out.
It is a cruel set up for an arena. All your opponents have to do is push you off the edge, and you’re dead. It leaves no room for error. None at all. And I don’t like heights.
Not to mention, no one’s given us any weapons. What is it they’ll expect us to do: fight to the death with our bare hands?
I gulp, worrying for Bree, for Logan, for Ben, even for Charlie. I’m not worried for Flo. Somehow, I feel she’s invincible.
The suspense builds as we are marched closer, and the crowd roars louder. As we get within feet of it, approach one of the bridges, a narrow rope bridge only a few feet wide, I can see over the edge. The drop-off is dizzying, at least a hundred feet. One slip will mean instant death.
“ Brooke, I’m scared,” Bree says beside me. She is looking out over the edge, and I grab her by the shoulder and pull her close.
“ Don’t look,” I say. “Just follow me. Stay close. You’ll be okay.”
A slaverunner prods me hard in the back, making me stumble, and this time, I’ve had enough: my reflexes kick in and I wheel around and shove him back. Immediately, another slaverunner steps up and backhands me hard across the face, then a third one shoves me again. I get the picture. I stop resisting, and continue forward with the others.
“ You’re wasting your energy,” Flo chides.
She’s right. I need to focus. I continue with the others, like sheep, as they prod us all onto one of the rope bridges. It sags and sways as they do, and I find myself grabbing on to the rope railing.
The crowd cheers as we all step foot on the bridge, herded towards the land mass in the center. I try not to look over the edge as the rope swings; it feels too flimsy to hold us. I reach down and hold Bree’s hand, and she dutifully holds my hand and the railing. Logan is limping, and Ben, behind me, to his credit, helps prop him. It is big of him to overcome his jealousy to help him. It’s strange: only a few days ago, those two were rivals. Now, they are helping each other.
Behind us, Flo walks, so stable that she doesn’t even need to hold the railing. She reaches out with one hand and grabs the back of Charlie’s shirt, by the neck, guiding him. She reminds me of a wolf, holding a pup in its mouth. Her game face is on, wearing a steely look of death, and I fear for anyone who gets in her way.
I step onto the land mass with relief, happy to be off the flimsy bridge. We are all herded towards the center of it. It is wider here than I thought, spanning about fifty yards at its widest. But dozens and dozens of kids are herded onto it, and soon it gets crowded. Everyone naturally flocks towards the center, as far away from the edges as they can get. The slaverunners, finished, turn and march across the bridge, back to the mainland. As they do, the crowd cheers again. Now we are alone out here.
We all stand here, dozens of us, huddled together in the center of this land mass, all nervous, unsure what to do.
Just as I’m wondering what will happen next, the crowd quiets. A path parts in the mob, and a group of slaverunners comes forward, bearing on their shoulders a huge, golden throne, borne by rods. On the throne sits a single man, with long hair, falling down to his shoulders. A long scar runs from the corner of his lip to his chin, making him look like he’s scowling. He stands and holds out his arms: he is huge, muscular, wearing a sleeveless vest, even in this cold. He looks like a mountain. I can’t tell his ethnicity: maybe a cross between Native American and Hispanic. He’s one of the fiercest looking men I’ve ever seen.
As he stands, the thousands of mutants fall silent. It is obvious that he is the leader.
“ Brothers and sisters, I present to you our newest batch of contestants!” he bellows out in his low voice.
The crowd goes crazy. They stand before a metal railing, waist high, at the edge of the canyon, and bang on it. A loud noise rises up, and I see that each of them holds a rock, which they bang on the metal.
The leader holds up his arms again, and the crowd quiets.
“ There are two ways to victory, contestants,” he says to us. “One is to make it back to the mainland. If you can cross a bridge and come back here, you will be safe forever. The other, of course, is to be the last one standing.”
The crowd roars.
The kids around me all turn, looking at the bridges or summing each other up, jittery. It is like being in a corral of horses before a storm.
The leader throws his arms wide one last time:
“ Let the death games begin!”
The crowd, screaming, bangs its rocks on the rail.
I run through in my mind Flo’s words. Stay away from the bridges. Stay close to the center. Nothing is what it seems.
Now I have a better idea of what she’s saying. But is it true advice? Or was she just lying to me to have an advantage?
Before I can figure it out, before I can strategize, suddenly, all hell breaks loose.
I feel something hard hit me on the side of my arm, and I wheel around to see that the hundreds of spectators are throwing rocks at us. Luckily, they’re far enough away that most of them miss. But a lot of rocks are landing close, and a second rock hits my leg. It hurts like hell.
Panic ensues. All around me, the dozens of kids gathered in the center begin to sprint for the bridges. They take off in all four directions, for the four equally spaced bridges around the circle, and I spot Bree begin to run with them. I reach out and grab her.
“ No,” I say. “Stay here.”
I can see on Ben’s face that he wants to run for it, too.
“ But you heard him!” Ben says frantically. “We have to make it to the mainland. We have to beat the others!”
“ No!” I yell back. I look over and see Flo standing still in the center, holding Charlie by the shoulders. I hope she knows what she’s doing.
“ But the rocks!” Logan yells, dodging one that narrowly misses his head.
Before I can respond, suddenly, I’m tackled hard from behind, and find my face planting on the ground.
I spin over to find one of the teenagers on top of me. He holds a rock up high over his head, a large, sharp rock, and begins to bring it down for my face. It is the boy from last night. The one that wanted to sleep with Bree.
He has me pinned down, and I can’t react in time. I flinch, as he brings it down.
Suddenly, right before he kills me, he stops in midair. His eyes open wide, frozen, and he collapses, limp, to the side.
I look over, and see a sharp rock jutting out the back of his neck, blood oozing from it.
I look up, and see Flo standing over him, scowling down.
“ Now we’re even,” she snaps.
I can’t believe it: she has just saved my life.
All around me in the chaos, not only are kids running for the bridges, not only are rocks flying in every direction, but also a group of kids has decided on another strategy: to kill the others.
I see one kid grab another from behind, and hurl him over the edge of the cliff. I hear him scream as he goes flying over, shrieking to his death. This same kid is grabbed from behind by another, and hurled himself. With another shriek, he plummets.
On the far side of the circle, I see another kid attacking others from behind; he kicks one hard in the back and sends him over the edge.
Another kid grabs a rock and smashes another kid in the back of the head. He collapses.
Now I realize that Flo was right. Stay in the center. Far from the edge. It makes sense. But why not run for the bridge?
