22. Her Conversation

Next morning, Chell hitched up the girl, piggyback-style, and moved on.

"Why're you doing this?" The girl – Cissy – asked. "I broke my spine trying to get away from the yellow-eyed Career. I'm useless now. Why?"

Chell answered herself in silence: for pity's sake. Because gentleness is essential, not to survival, but to humanity.

"… Won't say, huh? Can you talk?" Grinning, Chell nodded. "Crazy."

They won food… but not enough. The puzzles were getting harder, the trees dropping less food. Cissy was lightheaded, and Chell little better.

So at first, she thought she dreamed the expansive, transformative words:

"A Feast!"

23. The Feast

I'll find out when we get there.

So Chell told herself, step by step on the way to the Cornucopia, carrying Cissy. The plan: pick a vantage point. Watch. Observe. Strike if the chance arises. Don't be distracted by food.

She watched the others approach, but not the one she dreaded. She wondered, what had they been doing? How have they kept their sanity? Have they?

"Look!"

The Feast was… a chocolate cake, topped with cherries. That was it.

After a disbelieving pause, the other stampeded.

Chell gasped. She'd finally spotted the Career's handiwork – the ground was colored with kerosene.

24. The Sacrifice

Cissy shrank back, but Chell searched the flames. If she had set the fire, then she would be—

"CHELL!"

She turned. The Career was there, looming over Chell, a hollow syringe in one hand.

She smiled, raised her weapon –

A hand clawed Chell's shoulder, drawing blood. Cissy pulled herself up and flung herself onto the Career.

"Run!"

Chell didn't want to; she had no way out –

"Go, Chell!"

Except –

She jumped off the monolith. Some instinct prompted her to roll. Her shoulder, not her legs, took the impact. Though the flames ravaged her, she ran. She heard her friend's death.