down to the bottom. There is a ten foot drop down to the ground, and I hesitate for a moment. I know this is going to hurt.
I let go. I fall through the air and hit the dirt hard. It hurts, but I am ok.
The others are down there, waiting for me. They all made it safely.
“ Let’s go, move!” I yell, and we sprint across the canyon floor, running for the rope dangling down the cliff on the far side. Stones hail down on us, but we are moving fast and they mostly miss.
It is odd being down here-like being in the bowels of the earth. I look up and see the steep cliffs on either side, and I realize what a huge climb it will be to get back up. I hope and pray that this works.
I reach the other dangling rope bridge, and stop and look straight up. It hangs straight down the cliff. I yank hard on it. It’s sturdy.
“ It’s risky,” Flo says, breathing hard as she comes up beside me. “They might cut it, when we’re halfway up. Or burn it. Our shower us with rocks. Or anything.”
“ I don’t think they will,” I answer, facing her, catching my breath, too. “I think a part of them wants us to make it. After all, they need entertainment for tomorrow.”
She looks up, unsure, as the others catch up beside us.
“ Besides,” I add, “we have no choice.”
I reach down, grab Bree, and hoist her up onto the rope. “Climb,” I say.
Flo grabs Charlie, and the two of them climb up together.
Next comes Logan, then Ben.
Flo pauses. She turns and I turn with her to see what she’s watching. A dozen kids are finishing their descent down the other rope, copying my strategy. They are charging right for us.
“ Go,” I say to Flo. “Protect them. I’ve got the rear.”
Flo gives me a look of approval, then grabs the rope and scrambles up. I climb up right after her.
As I do, one of the kids below reaches up and grabs my ankle. A lanky teenager with broad shoulders, she yanks hard and pulls me down, keeping me from climbing. My hands are getting tired, palms burning into the ropes, and in a desperate effort to shake her off, I wind up with my other foot and kick her hard in the face.
It is a perfect strike, right on her nose. She lets go, and I continue to climb, as fast as I can.
I make good time, catching up to the others, and soon we are halfway up the cliff. I can hardly believe it: my plan is really working. For the first time I wonder if we just might make it.
And then come the rocks. We are all halfway up when rocks begin to hail down all around us. The spectators throw them like crazy, and now they come straight down at us, like missiles. They weren’t letting us go: they were just waiting until we got closer.
I cover my head, as the others do the same, and do my best to withstand the torrent of missiles. I look down and see several kids climbing up the rope behind me-and I watch as one of them gets hit by a particularly large rock, right in the head. She loses her grip and goes tumbling, end over end, landing flat on the ground below. She is dead.
My heart floods with panic. We can’t just stay here.
“ Move!” I yell up.
We all start moving again, climbing up, despite the rocks. They come down hard, bouncing off my arms and shoulders.
I hear a cry, and look up and see Charlie lose his grip. He falls from the rope, goes tumbling through the air. Flo reaches out to grab him, but it happens so fast, she just misses his grip.
Instinctively, I reach out. As he goes flying past, somehow I am able to grab hold of his shirt. I grab hard and hold him by one hand, dangling in the air. I swing him over, bring him back to the rope, and he grabs on, behind me.
I breathe deep with relief: I have just saved him from instant death. I look up and see the visible relief on Flo’s face, too, and the gratitude.
But there is no time to think about it: we are under fire, and we all continue to climb our way straight up. Somehow, we slog our way through the stones. We are close, just feet from the top, when the crowd parts ways and a slaverunner steps forward with a machete. He raises it high, and I can see he is aiming to bring it down on the rope.
My heart floods with panic. If he cuts it, we will all be dead.
I move quick. I reach into my back pocket, take out the knife that I found. I figure now is the time to use it.
I grab the rope with one hand, lean back, and throw it with everything I have.
It flies through the air, end over end, straight up. It is a perfect strike.
The knife lodges in the slaverunner’s forehead, and he goes limp and falls off the edge of the cliff, hurling past us to his death.
The spectators love this. They cheer like mad as we continue up the ladder. Bree reaches land first. Then Logan, then Ben, then Flo, then Charlie. Then me. I collapse on the ground, exhausted, every muscle in my body about to give out, hardly able to catch my breath. I can’t believe it. We made it. We really made it.
The spectators stand back, part ways as the leader appears, carried forward on his throne. He sits there, looking down at us all. He stares for a long time, and the crowd quiets. I wonder if he’s going to have us killed.
Suddenly, he breaks into a wide grin. That is when I know that we have made it. We have survived the first day.
S I X T E E N
We all sit in the cave, each leaning against the wall, each trying to recover. I look around, at Bree, Ben, Logan, Flo and Charlie-we are a sorry bunch. We are covered in scrapes and bruises; I can feel my own body covered in large welts, and I see welts forming on the other’s faces. I didn’t realize how many rocks I’d been hit by until now, how many blows I’d sustained, until I sit here recovering, feeling the pain and swelling of all the lumps.
We sit here, still dressed in our outfits, our black battle gear with yellow crosses across our chests. As much as it is a sour reminder of the day’s events, at least the padded gear is comfortable, and keeps me warm. It is too painful to even try to take it off. It hurts to even bend my knees. I’m stiffening up, and I suspect the others are, too. I can’t see myself surviving another day of this.
As the six of us sit around the fire, somber, a buzzer sounds, and the large hole in the ceiling opens again. This time, instead of slop being dumbed down, six metal baskets are slowly lowered on ropes. I get up and hobble over to them, as do the others-except for Logan, who is too stiff to even get up.
As I reach the center of the room I look down and am surprised at what I see: in each basket is a wide array of delicacies: meats, cheeses, fruits. Fresh. I can hardly believe it. I grab mine, the others grab theirs, and I reach over and grab Logan’s for him. The ceiling closes as quickly as it opened.
“ I guess the good meals are reserved for the victors,” Ben says, a smile on his weary face.
We head back to our corner of the cave, I hand Logan his basket and sit beside him, and Bree sits on my other side. I rummage through my basket of goodies, and the first thing I find is a Snickers bar. I tear off the wrapper and shove it into my mouth; I take bite after bite, hardly able to slow down. It is the best thing I’ve ever had. If I were to die this moment, I would die happy.
Next I eat a huge chunk of salami, followed by a hunk of hard cheese. I know I should eat slowly, pace myself. But I can’t help it; I feel like I haven’t eaten in years. All the others are doing the same, all devouring food.
I am grateful to the slaverunners for a moment-but then I realize they’re just giving us food to sustain us for tomorrow’s festivities. They want us in our best shape so that they can have a good arena, so that they can watch us kill each other.
As I sit there and look around, I wonder if it will be just the six of us tomorrow. If so, what will we do? I know I couldn’t lift a finger against anyone here. Even Flo. I am so curious as to what tomorrow will look like.
I turn to Flo, who sits there eating, Charlie beside her.
