I pull the thick bedspread as far over my head as possible, trying to hide myself from the world. I wish I knew why I was chosen. I know the government monitors us daily, but why pick me? Nothing will get done at the orphanage now, which means the Aedox will be raiding the building frequently, torturing those inside till work resumes. Okay, that last part I don’t feel so bad about. Maybe it’ll do them good. They’re nothing but lazy asses anyway.
My door unlocks in what seems like minutes later, but from the light creeping in around the heavy curtains it’s morning. The three women pull me from bed, brush my hair, and clean the crap that was missed from under my nails. One woman hands me an outfit, telling me an Aedox will be by shortly to escort me down to the dining room. They leave, locking the door. Undergarments are hidden under the hanger carrying the clothes. I put those on first, followed by the brown leather pants, black tank top, brown leather jacket, black socks, and knee high brown leather boots. A mirror hangs by the door, so I glance at myself, struck by my high cheekbones and thick lips. I had never really looked at myself like this before since there aren’t any mirrors in the orphanage. They say that would lead to vanity.
The door opens a few minutes later and I’m taken from my room, down the stairs, and to a room across the hall from the study. In the center is a long table, five seats along each side, with one at the head. I take the only unoccupied chair next to Brink, with Edom seated at the head. We’re served scrambled eggs, bacon, fruit, and orange juice. It tastes just like the food at the orphanage, so I guess having luxuries only goes so far. We eat in silence, all too probably nervous or scared to speak. Once the meal has been eaten, Edom calls for our attention.
“You will be leaving for Tarsus in a half-hour,” he says, leaning forward in his chair. “Two Aedox per carriage along with the two of you. The journey to Tarsus will take approximately three hours as you will need to pass through the Dead Zone to get there.”
“What? You can’t be serious?” a young man off to my left shouts. “Those carriages will not protect us from the radiation. We’ll be dead before we even get there.”
“The Aedox have specialized cars they use when moving through the Dead Zone. You will be well protected.”
“What’s this all about anyway?” a young woman on my right asks.
“Tarsus is becoming overcrowded, so the government has decided to build a new collective next to it. To prevent clashes outside the ruling party, it was decreed that whomever wins this event in The Litarian Battles will be awarded the new city. The winner will be reporting directly to Leader Fallon, but in order for the contestants to be narrowed down, they must first show their willingness to truly fight. Normally the young men and women who volunteer for The Litarian Battles are doing it for fun, or to prove they’re better than their compatriots. Many of the winners receive luxurious living quarters, wealth, and freedom in Icarian.”
“They already have all those things, why would they need to compete for it?” Brink asks.
“You have to understand the type of culture that is fed to the people in Tarsus. It’s hard to explain since everyone here has had a much different upbringing than they have. The rules for the event are that no one under fifty thousand points may participate. The contestants will have eight weeks to get to that amount, or higher.”
“And they need us for this?” someone at the far end asks.
“Yes, to slaughter,” the young man from earlier replies.
“Garrett, everyone here will be given the same opportunity as those who’ve already been participating for months or years. But yes, the damage and kill points will be a lot higher for you, giving them the edge.”
Everyone begins to shout in protest, but I retreat into my own thoughts.
Kill points? People actually die in this game? Why didn’t I pay closer attention? I’m probably the only one in this room who’s never watched more than a few minutes of it, which means I’m going in at even more of a disadvantage than I realized. I think I’m going to be sick.
“Enough,” Edom says loudly to be heard over the others. “The government has made their choice, and there isn’t anything you all can do to change this circumstance. You either follow through with the commitment made of you, or be executed.” He storms out of the room.
“I wonder how they decided who from the Outer Limits was going,” Brink says to me, leaning in so I can hear him.
I look around the table, not recognizing any of the faces. Of the three women and seven men, only Brink and I are from the orphanage, originally anyway. Which means the others have been living with their parents in the shanties at the base of the hill the orphanage sits on top of. Second-level housing is for singles, so when, or if, you pledge your commitment to someone else, you’re moved to the shanties.
“That’s a good question,” I finally respond.
The Aedox come for us a few moments later. We’re gathered in pairs, doled out to two Aedox, and leave out the front door. Twenty carriages await us, but they’re ones I’ve never seen before, with thick lead plating, heavy paned glass covering all openings, and wheels underneath, which the normal carriages don’t have. Brink and I are escorted to the first car. Before I get in, I notice a thin iron gate set between two stone columns next to the large mansion we just exited. Men and women in tattered clothes, dirty faces, and mournful eyes gather on the other side, watching us. I can’t help but stare
