that grisly line in that old train station after this game was over. If Challenger Blue pulled off the upset, I’d guess there would be a lot. I actually found myself rooting for Challenger Green, if only because he was the favorite and most people had probably bet on him.
“Challenger Green is slow footed,” Nevva said. “He’s strong, but clumsy. His real strength comes from his attitude. He’s ruthless. He never panics. I’m sure that when he is matched up against someone as confident as he is, he’ll lose.”
“You know a lot about these games,” I commented.
“It’s part of my job,” she said. “I may not like it, but I have to keep up with the games.”
“This race doesn’t look all that dangerous,” I said.
“Compared to many, it isn’t,” Nevva answered. “Both challengers usually survive, unless they make a wrong move on the course. There are many treacherous obstacles.”
The last obstacle of the course consisted of two ropes that spanned a wide pit. The challengers had to grab a rope and make their way across. Falling would hurt. It looked to be around a thirty-foot drop, which was bad enough, but there were no cushy pads down there. The span beneath the ropes was littered by what looked like chunks of sharp metal. Challenger Blue hit the ropes first. He had a comfortable lead. Unless Green could make up the huge gap, he was done, and Blue would triumph. Challenger Blue grabbed one rope and threw his legs up, hooking it with his feet. That was his technique. He moved head first, upside down, pulling himself along with his hands. Having his legs up on the rope took some of the weight off his arms. Smart move. It looked for sure that he was going to win.
Challenger Green wasn’t giving up, though it sure seemed like it at first. When he reached the spot where he was supposed to grab the rope, he stopped. The guy looked winded. I thought he was done. The crowd went nuts. They yelled at the screen, as if he could hear them, begging him to keep moving. I could almost feel the anguish rise up from the crowd below. The favorite was about to lose. There was going to be hell to pay, literally.
Challenger Green had other plans. He took a deep breath. I thought he was going to jump up onto the rope. He didn’t. He reached down to his ankle, lifted up the bottom of his pants, and from out of his shoe he pulled a knife. It was the same kind of knife we were given during meals. It wasn’t a weapon, but it was sharp.
“What’s he doing?” I asked. “Is that allowed?”
“Everything is allowed,” Nevva answered. “The only rule is to get to the finish line before your opponent. How you do it is your choice.”
Challenger Green casually reached up and began sawing through Challenger Blue’s rope! The crowd’s anguish turned to cheers of delight. They weren’t stunned by his cruel tactic, just the opposite. They saw this as a way for him to win, and they yelled for him to hurry. I guess when your life is at stake, sportsmanship doesn’t count. Neither does murder. Challenger Blue saw what was happening and tried to speed up. I couldn’t believe it. Nevva was right. Challenger Green was ruthless. He didn’t have the skill to beat Challenger Blue, so he had to cheat. But then again, if there were no rules, he wasn’t really cheating. Many in the crowd below screamed for Blue to hurry. They didn’t care that he might get hurt; they wanted him to win. He didn’t.
Challenger Blue was still a few yards away from the end when Green sliced through the rope. The crowd screamed with joy. Challenger Blue just screamed. He dropped straight down, headed for the jagged metal below. The cameras didn’t show him hitting, so I didn’t know how badly he was hurt. All I saw was Challenger Green looking down at his victim, then casually grabbing the other rope and hoisting himself up. He used the same feet-up technique as Challenger Blue, though he moved slowly and methodically. He was in no hurry. That told me Challenger Blue wasn’t going to be climbing out of the pit. As soon as Green touched down on the far side, the screen went blank and the words winner-challenger green! flashed.
There was jubilation in the streets, though the joyous shouts were quickly drowned out by the sound of sirens as the dados arrived to collect the losers. Nevva and I watched the scene below as people scattered. Some went quietly. Others ran and were chased down by the dados.
“This territory is a nightmare,” I said.
“It is,” she agreed. “But we can change it.”
“I want to meet the revivers,” I said, gritting my teeth with anger. “Now.”
Nevva held up the black bag that had to go over my head, and shrugged. “I’m sorry,” she said. “They have survived by living in the shadows. Their trust isn’t earned easily. Even I don’t know all their secrets.”
“Like who Mr. Pop is?” I asked.
“That’s a big one,” she answered.
“What do you know about him?” I asked. “I heard the challengers toasting him.”
“Mr. Pop is a false name, obviously,” Nevva said.
I didn’t think it was so obvious. I’d heard plenty of wacky names since I left Second Earth. It wasn’t like “Nevva” was so common either. But I didn’t say anything.
“He is the heart of the revival,” she continued. “When the movement begins, he will lead us. But until then, he must live in secrecy, for obvious reasons.”
“Do the trustees know about the revivers?” I asked.
“Not exactly,” she answered. “They’ve heard rumors, but they don’t take them seriously. The trustees believe their domination of the territory is complete. They aren’t far from wrong. But they’re arrogant. The idea that there might be a movement of tens of thousands of people with the single goal of bringing down the company is so alien to them, they don’t take it seriously. They underestimate the spirit of the people. I believe it will be their undoing.”
“So they don’t know about Mr. Pop?” I asked.
“There have been many stories about heroes who will rise up and rescue the people from oppression, but none have proved true. Have they heard the name Mr. Pop? Yes, absolutely. But they consider him to be a myth, born of desperation. They have no idea that Mr. Pop is real. The revivers want to keep it that way, until the time is right.”
“So how did you hook up with these guys?” I asked. “Isn’t it kind of a stretch to be working for the trustees while being part of an underground organization trying to overthrow them?”
Nevva said, “That’s the beauty of it! When Press told me of my destiny as a Traveler, I did a lot of soul searching. After visiting the other territories and seeing Quillan from a different perspective, I knew the best way I could help my own territory was to plot against the very people I work for.”
“And get revenge for what happened to your parents,” I said.
Nevva shot me a stern look. I wished I hadn’t said that; it was kind of harsh.
“Sorry,” I said. “Sometimes I think out loud.”
“It’s all right,” she said quickly. “I do blame the trustees and Blok for what happened to my parents. But this isn’t about me, Pendragon. It’s about what Blok has done to the whole territory. My story is one of millions. That’s why I sought out the revivers.”
“If they’re so secretive, how did you find them?” I asked.
Nevva chuckled and said, “I am very resourceful, Pendragon. There isn’t much that gets by me. I listened, I asked careful questions, and I eventually found my way through to the leaders. I have to admit, it helped that I work for the trustees. Having someone on their side who is so close to their enemies was too tempting for the revivers to pass up. I’ve been training with them for nearly twenty quads now-“
“Just for the record, I have no idea how long a quad is,” I said.
Nevva didn’t know how to answer that. How would you explain to somebody what a year is? Or a month? That’s a tough one.
“Twenty quads is long enough for the revivers to accept me. In fact, I’ve proved to be so valuable they made me a unit leader.”
I didn’t want to ask her what a unit leader was. That probably would have been just as hard as explaining what a quad was.
“But I still haven’t been accepted on the highest levels,” she said. “Which is why I haven’t met Mr. Pop. With my plan, that will certainly change.”
“And that plan is…?”
“It’s about you, Pendragon. That’s why we must meet them now.” She held up the black bag and smiled sheepishly. “Until they learn to trust you, their location must remain secret.”
I took the bag reluctantly and asked, “What did you tell them about me? Not the truth, I hope.”
