We finally stop in front of a makeshift rolling gate. It’s fortified, but mostly strategically placed strips of sheet metal. There are two men in full armor guarding the gate holding Lethe blasters at their sides, obviously stolen since guns are banned everywhere for civilians, even in Olympia. They look like fat sentry droids without the red eyes in their charcoal-painted armor.
Racks of melee weapons line the walls of this circular room. Black sand is loosely sprawled over the rock floor. Through the cracks in the shanty gate, I can see the moonlit desert. This must be the entrance to the cave.
“Go on. Pick one. Anything you want,” Cyrus nods as he points to the weapon’s rack on our left and right.
I browse my selection and narrow it down between a short sword and a long metal pole with a knife fixed to the end. I pick up the sword and cumbersomely swing it around trying to maintain a warrior illusion.
“You ever fight with that before?” he asks in a tone that was both concerned, but more amused.
“Of course, I have,” I lie as I begin to swing the metal more erratically.
“Leon has never lost a fight, ever. Especially not to someone who comes from a city,” he says seeing straight through my mask. “If you want to stand a chance, you’re going to need to be creative. After all, there are no rules in the pit. Why not take both?”
I tuck the blade of the sword into my pants and grip my hands around the improvised spear. After making a few stabbing motions, I nod to him signaling I’m satisfied.
He laughs again while taking a spear for himself and tosses it in the air a few times. “You know you’re not going to be fighting the air tomorrow, right?”
Out of nowhere, he swings his pole like a bat for my head.
I duck and stagger back startled.
It just barely misses me.
This mother fucker is trying to kill me.
I lift my weapon between us, unsure what to do next as he strikes it from my hands with his.
He points the spear at my chest.
His eyes begin to widen from excitement.
His lips purse as he stabs towards me.
My back hits the ground just barely evading his attack.
He hastily recovers as he slams the blunt side of his weapon down on top of me.
Rolling to my left I narrowly escape its blow.
Quickly, I rise to my feet drawing my sword towards him.
Is he crazy?
What’s his problem??
He lunges in the air at me from the other side of the room with his weapon cocked and raised in his arm. Mid-flight he spins completely around and hurls the spear in my direction. It cuts
through the air striking the blade of my sword before I impulsively deflect it.
Surprised, the kid halts his assault and begins to clap his hands.
“So, you do have some fight in you after all,” he laughs as he picks up and returns his borrowed weapon to the rack.
My hand continues to firmly grip the handle of my sword expecting another attack at any second.
Wiping the sweat from my eyes, I notice the guards watching me. Their faces hold the impression that they are impressed by my performance. A sense of pride moves through me as I feel my shoulders broaden a bit. Maybe I was a fighter or some great warrior in a past life.
“You think I have a chance tomorrow?” I ask smiling from ear to ear.
“Oh, hell no,” replies Cyrus before he can no longer contain his laughter. So much for professionalism. “Leon is one of the greatest warriors I have ever seen. He’s definitely going to kill you.” His laughter shifts to seriousness. “The best piece of advice I can give you is to keep your head down and your mouth shut. Maybe you’ll get lucky, but I wouldn’t get your hopes up.”
My shoulders deflate.
Swallowing what’s left of my pride I return my weapons to the rack in front of me. I’m not going to die tomorrow.
I barely believe my own lies.
My head falls as a stray thought slams into me, shaming me. It whispers to me to make a run for it. There’s no one around. Surely the guards won’t waste ammunition.
“Look, if you don’t want to be part of the tribe then leave,” says Cyrus noticing me staring at the gate. “No one is forcing you to stay. No one would blame you if you left. But what I was taught is it’s pointless being a coward. Out there in the sun or the pit... either way, you’re probably a dead man if we’re being real. At least if you stay fate is in your hands.”
He’s right. All I need is a fighting chance. Plus, I could never leave Jacee like that.
Cyrus leads me to my chamber and wishes me a shallow good luck. I’m pretty sure he has already forgotten my name. My eyes drift around the room. It isn’t very large. The dark stone walls surrounding me are silent. It must’ve taken years to carve this place. In the corner, a few dirty sandbag pillows lie beside a synthetic pallet. The frame of a chair rests in the other corner. The cold room is only lit by the light from the mushrooms growing near the base of the wall on the floor and in the cracks of the moistened stone.
I pluck one from the wall and bring it closer. It’s different than the spotted ones
