At the end of the hall are couches arranged around several monitors attached to the walls where windows would normally be. Behind the one set is another in the same formation. Opposite the seating area is a dark, wood bar with stools and black walled iceboxes with glass doors. Addie takes me behind the bar and shows me where everything is kept, from utensils to plates and cups. She says the kitchen staff will be up shortly with the dinner carts, but she raids one of the iceboxes for an apple anyway. I take a seat on one of the couches, and Addie sits next to me. The screens each show a different show, or video. Some are set to music, others to variety shows that people are laughing at when someone does something outrageous. Only one of the eight monitors shows The Litarian Battles, but it doesn’t look to be a live feed. I ask Addie about it, since the image currently displayed shows her opponent being selected.
“The Litarian Battles is mainly played during the day, but to fill up the time the government runs the battles continuously all day long until the next morning when selection begins again.” Addie takes a big bite of her apple. She has it devoured in a matter of minutes and tosses the core into a waste bin under the screen in front of us. “So,” she says, pulling her legs up underneath her butt, turning her attention to me, “what do you think?”
I look at her puzzled. “Of what?”
“Being chosen to participate. It’s not every day that contestants are plucked from the Outer Limits, especially so many of them at one time.”
My response is simply a blank stare. I have no idea what to say, or even articulate how I feel. I’m not even sure what I feel about all of this. My fingers move over my wristband, feeling its sleekness, wondering what the purpose of it is and why they had to embed it into my flesh.
She sees me fidgeting with the device and places her hand on top of mine. “You’ll get used to it eventually. It does take a little bit, but soon you won’t even know it’s there.”
“What’s it for?”
“You’re kidding, right?” she asks, completely astonished at my question. “You’ve watched The Litarian Battles before, haven’t you?”
I shake my head.
She purses her lips and cocks her head to the side. “Huh, I thought everyone in the Outer Limits watched it. Well, Rem will explain it all to you tomorrow during training.”
“Who’s Rem?”
“She’s the lead trainer for the Looper unit. I’m her assistant. It’ll be fun.” She smiles, then gets up as the scent of hot food wafts into the room.
I turn and see a staff member in the same regulation uniform worn by those at the orphanage, dark blue pants with a white dress shirt and black coat, pushing a large cart loaded down with food. The man stops, places the trays along the bar, and leaves. It’s a frenzy to get a plate. Fried chicken, freshly baked rolls, corn, and brownies are on the menu. I get in line with everyone else, but there isn’t much left by the time I’m filling my plate. Addie gestures for me to follow her back to the couch we’d been on. We use the coffee table in front of us to rest our plates. She gets a couple of water bottles from the icebox, but before she can sit down, she’s scooped up from behind by a young man and flung over his shoulder.
“Frey,” she says, squealing, “put me down.”
He smiles, complies, and sets her back onto her feet. He then jumps onto the couch next to me, taking her seat. “Hi, Max,” he says to me.
“Hi,” I respond, nervously.
“I’m Frey, unit troublemaker.” He laughs, sticks out his hand, and bumps me to shake it.
I comply and am surprised at how gentle his grip is compared to how bulky he is. I thought he would’ve crushed my bones without even trying. His smile is slightly crooked, auburn hair brushing the top of his shoulders. He is several inches taller than Brink, almost Garrett’s height.
Brink. How could I have forgotten about him? Is his unit just as crazy as mine? Is he glad to be here? I wonder if the only time I’ll see him is during battle.
“Leave her alone,” Addie says, pulling Frey off the couch so she can sit down and finish her dinner. “Go bug someone else.”
“Fine, crabby, but I’ll be back.” He winks at us and leaves.
She rolls her eyes, hands me a bottle, and picks her plate back up. We finish our dinner, tossing the remnants into the trash, setting the dishes in one of the sinks behind the bar, and reclaim our spots on the couch. We spend the next several hours just watching music videos. I ask Addie if every day is like this. She’s says yes and no.
“It depends upon what happened on the floor. If no one died, it’s a good day like today.”
“How often does someone get killed during The Litarian Battles?”
She scrunches up her face and looks up at the ceiling, obviously trying to think about the answer. “At least every couple of weeks. Unfortunately there will be more deaths coming with the event and all.” Her body language changes from joy to discomfort. She pulls her knees up into her chest as she lies sideways on the couch.
An hour later, Addie retreats to the girl’s bedroom to sleep. Everyone else starts making their way to one of the two bedrooms the later it gets. I stay up, partly because of anxiety, but also to be alone. I focus my attention to the screen playing one of the battles that was supposedly recorded earlier, according to Addie. The battlefield is constructed out of concrete rubble, collapsed metal
