Countdown

of a more base nature. He spent several years in San Carolinas, an exclusive mental hospital for the very rich, for schizophrenia and drug abuse, and his family feared he would never recover enough to properly function in society.'

'Lies,' Rogan hissed between clenched teeth.

I squeezed his arm.

'The day he was released, his parents picked him up from the hospital to bring him back to the Ellis mansion. Rogan was reportedly irate and acting erratically, and tried to take control of the car, which spun out of control and careened off the side of a cliff. His parents were killed instantly. Rogan's back was broken in three places, and he came very close to being a paraplegic from the accident.'

My throat constricted, and I looked at him.

He blinked hard. 'That's how they died. But it was a slippery road. They picked me up from private school that day.' His eyes glimmered under the street lamp. 'My father said the whole time that he should have just sent a driver, but my mother insisted they come and get me together.' His Adam's apple jumped as he swallowed hard. 'Took me a year in the hospital to fully recover from that accident.'

'After their deaths, Rogan became more despondent, and despite continuous help offered from his elder brother, he began a life that sank deeper into drugs and violence. Gareth Ellis is quoted as saying, 'Had I known what my brother would be capable of, I would have had him locked up in San Carolinas and the key thrown away before he could harm anyone else.'

'He refers, of course, to the night of terror when Rogan, high on Kerometh, broke into the city university dormitory and systematically went door to door in his path of heinous violence. A nineteen-year-old woman who escaped that night said she returned the next day to 'walls coated in blood,' the word bitch scrawled over the dorm room wall of every girl Rogan murdered that night, three of whom he also raped in his drug-clouded, misogynistic rampage. This was the same night four years ago when there was a city wide blackout that lasted three full days, and Rogan used that darkness to his advantage.

'He returned home that night drenched in the blood of his victims. His brother recalls Rogan laughing at what he'd just done. Sickened, Gareth knew there was no helping Rogan. He called the police and turned his brother in. In the ensuing years, Gareth has contributed over fifty million dollars to a fund in the murdered girls' names for the prevention of violent crimes against women, both here and Off world.

'After a quick and sensational trial, Rogan was sentenced and sent to Saradone Maximum- Security Prison. Eight months ago Rogan participated in an unwarrantedkilling spree that left two inmates dead and two injured. Rogan was sent to solitary confinement, where he has remained until being released to take part in The Countdown. '

Rogan shuddered. I wished I could block out the sound of the announcer's voice, shield Rogan from having to hear these horrible things being said about him, but the feed was directly through my implant and into my head, so there was nothing I could do but listen.

The other men continued to stand in place in the distance, one tapping the crowbar against the ground.

'Rogan has been unaware until now that two other Saradone inmates were also given the chance to be contestants on The Countdown, in a game that has run tandem to their own, and have also successfully completed four levels in this competition.'

'No,' he murmured. 'Not possible.'

'Mac Zebowitz and Kurtis Grimm were both convicted of first degree murder, as well as a laundry list of other crimes, including mob enforcement and Kerometh trafficking. They were the two men injured during Rogan's prison rampage, and it was their cellmates whom he murdered. They have sworn revenge against Rogan, and today they will have their chance.

'Level Five is an official death match. Only one pair shall go on to Level Six, the final level. Competitors, your countdown begins at twenty minutes. Kill or be killed. And to our subscribers … enjoy!'

At last it was silent except for the sound of my heart thudding loudly in my ears and the crowbar hitting the ground in the distance.

'Those men,' I managed. 'They're the ones who gave you that scar?'

He nodded. 'I fought for my life against them and almost lost. I was damned lucky. I never thought I'd see them again.'

I stared at the dark silhouettes. 'So what do we do now?'

'I'm thinking.'

'Think fast.'

'Rogan!' one called out from a block away. 'You're ours now. And you know what? Twenty minutes is a long time. We can play with you and your girlfriend lots before we cut your throats to win this level.'

I didn't want to know the details of what he planned to do that would fill that time. I was willing to bet that it wasn't reminiscing about the good old days over a beer and a plate of nachos.

'How's that plan coming along?' I asked.

'Slower than I'd like.' His voice shook. 'Sorry, I… I'm not sure what to do.'

I moved closer to him so I could feel the warmth of his body. I touched his face. 'We're going to be okay, Rogan. We're going to make it.'

He shook his head. 'I don't know. I… I don't know if I can kill again.'

I swallowed. 'What are they waiting for?'

The crowbar tapped a steady tattoo on the street ahead, every five seconds without fail.

His hand closed around mine and squeezed tightly. 'I won't let them hurt you, Kira.'

I didn't hear the tap anymore. I watched the shadowy figures warily.

Suddenly, with a yell, both of the murderers started running toward us as fast as they could.

'Shit,' Rogan breathed, and grabbed hold of my arm, spinning around. 'Come on, we have to run. We have to run now!'

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

We ran past the shifted sewer grate cover and I snatched the crowbar off the ground. Rogan started toward a door to one of the surrounding buildings.

'They're all locked,' I told him. My ankle cried in pain with every step. My hand was sweating, but Rogan clutched it tightly in his as if he didn't want to let go of me.

'I'm sorry for all of this, Kira,' he said.

'I don't blame you.'

'Yeah, well, you should. If I hadn't created the game in the first place-'

'Then I never would have met you.'

He looked at me sideways and his lips actually quirked. 'And that's a good thing?'

'Ask me again when we're finished running for our lives.'

Because of my twisted ankle I wasn't running as fast as I could, and the men were gaining on us. Fast. I could hear them shouting from behind us, their heavy boots slapping against the road as they ran.

Rogan glanced over his shoulder at them. 'I'll try to hold them off. You just hide.'

'Bad plan.'

'Why's that?'

'The ninety-foot rule? You go too far away and our heads will explode, remember?'

'Dammit.'

'And besides, I'd rather not stand by and watch them beat the shit out of you.'

He raised an eyebrow at me. 'You assume they'd have the upper hand? I did kick their asses in prison.'

'That was then and this is now. Besides, wouldn't want to tear your new outfit.'

'Give me the crowbar,' he said.