The next morning, as promised, Lydecker came to awaken Max. She was already awake, though, having not slept most of the night. It was more of a nervous brain racking procedure all night, trying to plan how to outwit both Lydecker and Zack.
Lydecker, alone, cocked his gun, deliberately clicking it loudly. He turned off the wires and proceeded to open her cell. "You try to attack me, I won't hesitate to shoot you," he told her.
She smirked. "And ruin my chance at freedom?" she mocked. "I don't think so." Lydecker paused, uncertain of her true motives, then slowly opened the door. Max walked out, proudly almost, holding her head high. Lydecker fell in step right behind her and placed the gun near the back of her head. He pushed the barrel in tight, letting Max know that she wasn't about to escape.
"Walk," he told her. She walked, obediently, forward. Even if she had tried to escape, it wouldn't have been possible. Lydecker had her, and they both knew it. One flinch, and his pressing finger would push the trigger, exploding Max's head.
They both walked down the long hallway, past the office where Logan had bargained for Max's life, past the place where she had met Zack, past memories that made Max either want to cry or scream insanely. She wasn't sure which.
Finally, Lydecker ordered her to stop. He picked up his walkie-talkie and called some men out. Quickly, appearing out of nowhere, five or six men came out. They opened the door in front of Max, and she and Lydecker walked out.
It was the same training arena she had seen before at Manticore. She would've thought about the boundaries further, but the rank smell of gasoline pressed down on her. She gagged on it, and even Lydecker seemed sick. "What the hell is this?" he asked, irritated.
"We had a leak, sir. One of the trucks that came in had a puncture in the side. Nothing major. It's being taken care of, sir."
"I'd hope so," Lydecker bit. He wasn't in the mood to have his plans spoiled by accidents like that. Turning back to his men, "You're dismissed soldiers. Leave us."
Without questioning, the men saluted and scurried away, not wanting to find out what Lydecker had planned. Again, he picked up his walkie-talkie and called that it was time. Meanwhile, Max examined the old arena.
It was no bigger than half of the size of a football field. Probably smaller, in fact. Surrounded by cement walls that rose about fifteen feet, then topped with four or five feet of chain link fence, escape wasn't going to be easily plausible. Max's examination of the area was interrupted as movement out the corner of her eye distracted her. She shifted her eyes ever so slightly, not wanting to flinch with the cold gun in the back of her head.
Zack was striding across the sandy ground, dressed in the same attire she had seen him in earlier. He stopped within a yard of Max and Lydecker. Lydecker, seeing that Zack was there, backed off and walked away to watch.
"Whoever lives," Lydecker told them, "will win their freedom. Simple as that." Max wanted to laugh. Lydecker giving them freedom? How utterly ridiculous.
She turned to look at Zack. His face was tightened, void of any emotion. She met his eyes, and he instinctively looked away, not afraid, but denying that he had ever known her.
"Zack," she told him, "it's doesn't have to be this way."
"It's the way you wanted it," he spat, still not looking at her.
"What are you talking about?"
"You've could've joined me, made it all nice and simple. But no, you had to get one of us killed."
"Don't you remember?" she yelped.
"Remember what? How incredibly stupid you are?"
Max flinched, bit by his comment, but continued nonetheless. "Don't you remember back at the apartment? Don't you remember what happened between us? You have to remember! Please!"
He turned to look at her, lifting his cold and unforgiving eyes to her. "You shouldn't dwell on sentimentalities."
"I'm not," she bit back. Zack laughed, amused almost. Then, he shrugged, bored almost.
"Well, let's get this done and over with."
"What?" Max asked, but at that moment, Zack struck, igniting the typhoon of rage.
