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Training Day Three
Possible
Ian Viera, 23
Things were moving more quickly than he'd thought possible.
Ian glanced around the room as he picked at what remained of his breakfast. There was still so much to do, so much to try to cram into one more day of training. It was an endless blur, really, of trying to think of new ways to push their contestants, to encourage them, to try to keep them from getting too scared or anxious or upset about what was coming. It was exhausting, really.
But soon, it would be even worse. Because as hard as it was to sit here in a room with the thirty of them, knowing that anything they did could affect the Games for better or worse, it was harder once the Games actually began. Doing something – however frustrating, however tiring – was better than doing nothing. This constant anxiety was still better than the helplessness the three of them had felt once the Games actually began, and there was nothing they could do to help any of the contestants.
But it wasn't three of them anymore. It was four. Penelope, of course, seemed as cool as a cucumber. She always did. Nothing seemed to get to her. She'd spent a few minutes before the contestants had come in sticking a fork in one of the electrical outlets with her collar turned off, storing up enough energy to use during a session or two if she needed it. If she needed more, she could always top it off throughout the day, but aside from using her power to knock a couple contestants off their feet on the first day, it didn't sound like she'd been using it much.
His wasn't something he even thought about, really. It gave him extra hours in the day, but that was pretty much it. Maria had been using hers to stay underwater with a couple of contestants so they could practice holding their breath. And Vincent…
Vincent had been unusually quiet the day before. Well, maybe it wasn't that unusual by now, but still. After having his collar turned off for the first time in almost a year, he'd already gone and made a mess of it in a matter of hours. Ian just hoped he knew what he was doing.
Because he had to be doing something, didn't he? He wouldn't do this unless he had a good reason, right? But if he was trying to stop the Games, he had a funny way of showing it. He'd been the one to convince Jaime to come to training. He'd steered Rick and Vi towards training with Judah, and Ian wouldn't be surprised if he'd been the one to give Makenzie, Kylena, and Evelyn a nudge towards Anita. He wasn't just doing his job; he was seeing to it that the contestants made the most of their training, even if it wasn't with him.
And he was making sure the MAAB had plenty on their plates. Maybe that was the idea – to keep them busy so that they didn't realize … what? What could he possibly be planning to do? They'd already tried to organize a rescue attempt last year, and it had failed. Well, not entirely; that attempt was the only reason there were two survivors allowed instead of one, something none of them had told the group that had asked the day before. But the same trick wouldn't work twice; the idea that the MAAB might let more of them survive was a long shot, at best.
Ian finished what was left of his breakfast. He wanted to just ask Vincent what he was doing, but he couldn't do that without arousing suspicion. He would just have to hope for a better opportunity, or for Vincent to drop some sort of clue without being asked.
But they were running out of time.
Alannah Cavan, 12
They were running out of time.
Alannah took a deep breath and focused. "Ready?" Joseph asked – this time standing in front of her, rather than behind. Alvin was about twenty feet behind Joseph. Alannah nodded. The idea was to channel her power past Joseph and towards Alvin. So far, she'd been able to do so pretty well – until Joseph got too far away. His power kept boosting hers even after he let go of her, but the closer he got to Alvin, the harder it was to hit one without affecting the other.
And they were quickly running out of time. Today was the last day of training, and both of their sessions were back-to-back. First her session, and then Joseph's, and then there was nothing to do but wait. Penelope had suggested that maybe they should spend some time with Judah or Anita, but something kept holding her back. Maybe today, though.
Maybe. First, she had to focus on this. Alannah nodded to Joseph. "Okay. Ready." Joseph laid a hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently, his power strengthening hers, helping her control it. Okay. Joseph let go and took a step back. Then another. "Anything?" Alannah asked as Alvin dropped to his knees, cowering in fear a ways behind Joseph.
Joseph shook his head. "Nothing. You're doing a good job. Keep it up."
Keep it up. Keep making Alvin afraid of her. That was all well and good as long as it was only the four of them – her, Joseph, Alvin, and Penelope, who was still watching from a safe distance, her finger poised over the button that could turn on Alannah's collar if necessary. It hadn't been necessary yet, but better safe than sorry. If something went wrong, it could go very wrong, very fast.
Except once the Games started, Penelope wouldn't be there to stop her power if something went wrong. The MAAB could always turn her collar back on, but would they? Or would they just let something horrible happen, as long as they got their two survivors? They had never said anything about what sort of state the two survivors had to be in, but wouldn't they be rather useless if they had been driven mad with fright?
Maybe that was what had happened to the other survivor the year before. Maybe that was why only Penelope was coaching, rather than both of them. Maybe the other survivor hadn't been in any condition to help them. Maybe…
"Alannah!"
Alannah shook herself from her thoughts in time to see Joseph collapsed on the ground about halfway between her and Alvin, holding up his hands to shield himself from looking at her. It was Penelope who had called her name, and she was quickly striding closer. But she hadn't pressed the button yet. "Get it together, Alannah."
"I don't know what I did. I was just thinking, and—"
"Think about something else. Think about how you don't want him to be afraid of you. Think about how you're doing this so that you'll be able to protect him, because you want to be able to work together as a team. And you won't be able to do that if you're constantly making him afraid of you. Focus."
"I can't. Just turn the collar back on. Please."
"No." Penelope's voice was trembling a little. Maybe she was finally close enough for Alannah's power to be affecting her. "No, I'm not going to do that, Alannah."
"Why not?"
Penelope stepped closer, her fist clenched tightly around the remote. "Because no one's going to do that for you if this happens during the Games."
"They could."
"But they won't. You know why? Because they don't care about you, or him, or any of us. We're just a means to an end. They're not going to help you, so you have to help yourself. And you have to help Joseph." She gripped Alannah's shoulder tightly. "You have to do this. No one else is going to."
Alannah took a deep breath. Okay. Okay. She could do this. She had to. She stared directly at Joseph, trying to focus. Don't be afraid. Slowly, shakily, Joseph got to his feet. Penelope nodded. "There. That's better. Keep going."
Once Joseph was on his feet and making his way towards the two of them, Penelope finally turned Alannah's collar on. "See? You can do it."
Alannah shook her head. "Sure, I can do it when there are only a few of us, and you're giving me directions the whole time. But like you said, that's not going to happen in the Games." She wiped a few tears from her eyes, her breath shaky. The Games were less than a day away now.
What was she supposed to do then?
Joseph Harris, 13
What were they supposed to do?
Joseph wrapped Alannah in a hug, the last remnants of fear draining from him like a bad dream. But a nagging feeling remained in the pit of his stomach. Alannah was right. She was barely able to control her power here, in a very specific circumstance, with Penelope walking her through every step. Once the Games began, everything would be different.
And they didn't have much time.
Penelope glanced from Alannah to Joseph and back again, seemingly at a bit of a loss herself. "Okay. Catch your breaths, and we'll try again. And once you're in the Games … You're right. It'll be harder. Just remember, you don't have to try to take on everyone at once. There are thirty of you, but you two aren't the only ones they'll be trying to kill. Every other group is having this same discussion, wondering how they're going to handle this. Sure, you aren't experts, but neither are they. Neither is anyone here. None of you know exactly what you're doing, so trust your instincts."
"Even if our instincts say to run and hide?" Alannah asked softly.
Penelope shrugged. "At the start, sure."
Joseph raised an eyebrow. He hadn't expected that. "Really?"
"Do you know what I did at the start of the Games?"
Joseph tried to think back, but he hadn't really paid that much attention to last year's Games. "You all parachuted onto an island, didn't you?"
"That's right. I was lucky enough to land near my allies, but one of them had been badly injured in the fall. She died, and Monet and I made camp for the night. That's it. We didn't immediately go looking for other people to kill. We rested. We got our bearings. We defended ourselves when we were attacked. We didn't go looking for a fight, and you don't have to either. Not right away, at least."
Joseph nodded. That made him feel a little better. "Do you think that's how they'll do it again? With the parachutes, I mean."
Penelope shrugged. "Who knows? They've been pretty tight-lipped about anything regarding the actual Games. I don't even know where they're planning to send you. It might not even be anywhere near here. Last time, we were in Alaska, but we flew to a completely different part of it for the actual Games. We parachuted in because it was really the only way to get there, unless you were planning to take a boat. If the games are happening near here, I wouldn't count on parachutes. Not with all the mountains. The chances of a safe landing would be … less than ideal."
"Do they really care about that, though?" Joseph asked. "You said one of your allies was injured in the fall."
"That's not entirely accurate." Alvin's voice caught him off-guard. "She was injured when she fell, but the reason she was falling rather than floating safely to the ground was because her parachute had been damaged by one of the other contestants. He shot her out of the sky once he landed and his collar was deactivated. Otherwise, she probably would have landed safely. The contestants whose parachutes were intact managed some rather competent landings, given the circumstances."
Penelope nodded. "Fair's fair. But that was an island. Wherever you're planning to dump them off this year, I'd bet it's not. Otherwise, you would have chosen somewhere closer to the ocean, rather than smack-dab in the center of the country."
Alvin shrugged, his face as blank as he could manage. "That would make sense, wouldn't it. I'm all for avoiding long plane rides if I can help it." He turned to Joseph and Alannah. "And she's right that you might not want to count on parachuting in."
"Which is exactly what you might say if there were going to be parachutes," Alannah pointed out.
"Maybe," Alvin conceded. "My point – and hers – was don't count on anything being the same as last year. Don't assume there will be parachutes just because there were. Don't assume there will be someone who can shoot parachutes out of the sky just because there was last year. Don't assume that there will be backpacks at the start just because everyone got one last year. Don't assume anything."
Joseph raised an eyebrow. "There were backpacks last year?"
Penelope nodded. "Yes, but he's right. We don't know that there will be this year."
"What was in them?"
Penelope shrugged. "Nothing worth getting excited over. A little food, a little water, an extra pair of socks, a bit of rope, maybe a knife if you were lucky. That sort of thing. Nothing that was going to keep you alive very long if you didn't find something else to help you. But it was nice not to start off with absolutely nothing."
Joseph nodded. That would be nice, but like they had said, he couldn't count on that happening again. They couldn't count on anything being the same, and they certainly couldn't count on anyone else wanting to help them.
So they would have to depend on each other.
Kiara Moore, 15
Maybe she wouldn't have to depend on them as much as she'd thought.
Kiara's hands were shaking as she drew them away from Vincent's arm. "What did you see?" he prompted.
Kiara took a deep breath. "Some sort of fracture in your leg. Couldn't tell exactly how old, but I'd say around 10 years, maybe, that it's been healed. At least two concussions – one worse than the other, around the same time as each other, a bit older than the fracture. Bruised ribs, a twisted ankle, and … well, the sort of things you'd expect. Stubbed toes, paper cuts, bumps and bruises – all healed. There may be more, but … that's what I got from a quick glance."
Vincent's expression was unreadable. "That's amazing."
"And useful," Henry pointed out. "We saw you could bring back recent injuries, but if you can tell where someone's been injured before and bring that back…"
They trailed off, but the words hung in the air. Kiara wanted to object, to insist that she would never be able to do that, never want to do that, but the truth was, she'd been thinking the same thing. This gave her a way to defend herself, a way to fight, rather than just sitting on the sidelines and waiting to heal the others while they protected her. "I still need physical contact," she pointed out. "And if it works the same way as when I heal people, it would take longer to bring back something larger like a fracture than something like a cut. Or maybe it would take longer to bring back an older wound. I don't know, and…"
And she didn't really want to try. That was how the sentence was going to end. She didn't want to hurt anyone. And she certainly didn't want to hurt Vincent, when he was only trying to help them. Maybe if one of the MAAB volunteered or something.
But that didn't seem likely. The woman watching them today, Lillian, didn't seem particularly interested in jumping in and taking part. Not that Kiara could really blame her for that. If their positions were reversed, she certainly wouldn't be the first one jumping at the chance to relive old injuries from years ago.
Vincent, on the other hand, had been nothing but encouraging, quick to point out that whatever injuries she brought back, she could heal again just as easily. All it really meant was a momentary bit of pain, and he hadn't seemed to mind yesterday. Sure enough, he shrugged off the awkward silence. "Let's find out, then. You're right about the leg fracture – happened when I was seventeen."
"How?"
Vincent smirked. "Won't have that sort of information on the other contestants, will you? You'll have to go with what you know – what you can tell from a quick touch. Now … see how long it takes you to bring it back."
Kiara swallowed hard. He hadn't even asked her to see whether she could – just how long it would take her. He was already assuming that she could do it. Okay. She gripped Vincent's arm. "I'm sorry," she whispered, and concentrated. It was frightening how quickly the image came to her mind. She'd always been able to get a good sense of how badly someone was hurt, but the idea of reaching farther back, of using it to figure out whether they'd been hurt in the past – that was something she'd never considered. Something she would never really have had a use for in real life.
Real life. But there was something wrong with the phrase as soon as it passed through her mind. This was real. In some ways, it was more real than anything she'd ever done. Ever since she'd discovered her power, her whole life had been about healing other people, about helping them live their lives. None of it had really been about her – not in the way this was. Her life had never really been at stake. Now…
Now, the only way to save her life was to hurt others. Others who had done nothing to her – nothing more than Vincent, whose forehead was now furrowed with pain as he clutched his leg. Blood. He was bleeding. It didn't look like much on the surface, but that was because most of the bleeding was internal. He'd had the good sense to sit down first, and she doubted he'd be able to stand even if he tried.
To her surprise, though, he was grinning through the pain. "Good. You did it. Hell, that was even quicker than I'd thought. Just like the first time. Split second and—" A gasp of pain cut the thought off.
Lillian took a step closer. "Do you want me to…?" She gestured to the remote.
Vincent shook his head. "What would that do? It doesn't work like that when she heals someone, does it? They don't go back to being injured as soon as your power stops working, do they?"
Kiara shook her head. "No. Otherwise you would've been bleeding again as soon as my collar turned back on yesterday."
Vincent nodded. "Exactly," he gasped, his breath ragged. "If the first time is anything to go by, you've got … less than a minute before I go into shock." He shook his head. "Honestly, I thought it'd take you longer to do this. If you could go ahead and heal it back…"
Before he'd even finished the sentence, Kiara was reversing the process. Healing it took longer, and seemed to last forever, but finally, the leg was as good as new – or at least as good as it had been before she'd interfered. Only then did Kiara hear the voice from behind her.
"So what did happen?"
Iola Boman, 19
"So what did happen?"
Iola looked down at Kiara and Vincent as he finally registered what she meant by her question. He chuckled a little. "Skiing accident."
It took her a moment to realize he was being serious, rather than dismissing something she'd assumed was worse as a silly accident. It must have shown on her face, because he nodded. "Not what you thought, huh?"
"I thought…"
"I know."
Iola's expression hardened. "You think you do?"
Vincent nodded, staggering to his feet to look her in the eye. "Yeah. I do. Remember, Iola, we have files on all of you, and I know what your life was like before you chose that name. It's rough out there for people who don't have a family who understands. I know that. I'm sure if Kiara were to look into your history of injuries, she'd find plenty." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, that one was a skiing accident. But the concussions? They were older – from when I was thirteen, the first time I used my power – even though I didn't realize what I was doing at the time. It was a junior high football game against our biggest rivals. Nothing important, really, but to a group of twelve and thirteen-year-olds … well, that meant the world to us. It was intense, and I was so nervous – exactly the sort of thing, I learned later, that can trigger a dormant mutation."
"Really?" Fae asked, maybe trying to figure out what could possibly have triggered hers.
Vincent shrugged. "Sometimes – not always. But for me, it did. It was my first big game, and as soon as I was on the field, I heard voices. I didn't realize where they were coming from, but I could tell what they were saying – exactly what the other team was planning to do. Well, I told the rest of my team in a huddle, and we stopped that play. And the next. And the next. Then we went down and scored. By the end of the first quarter, we were ahead by three touchdowns." He chuckled. "I thought I was going to be a hero. I knew exactly what they were going to do, like magic, and my team loved it. But you know what happened?"
It was a moment before Iola put it together. "The quarter ended. You switched sides of the field, and the wind didn't shift."
Vincent nodded. "Bingo. Just like that, I was flying blind, and I had no idea why. My team was looking to me for the opponent's next play, and I had no idea. I panicked and took a guess." He smiled faintly. "I guessed wrong. Got knocked flat on my back, hit my head wrong, and I was on the bench for the rest of the game. Momentum shifted, and they ran all over us. My teammates blamed me. The second concussion happened two days later, after practice. Some of the other boys hadn't taken the loss too well, and I was an easy target. When I got home, I was in pretty bad shape, and I told my parents everything. They made me quit the team and put me in therapy, where the psychiatrist thought it was schizophrenia. In retrospect, not an unreasonable assumption, but of course, the medication didn't stop the voices. They wanted to put me on a stronger dose, and I was scared of what might happen if that still didn't work, so I ran away."
Iola raised an eyebrow. "You?"
"Me. Me, and quite a few young mutants. A lot of us are on the streets – or worse. But I'm sure you knew that already."
Iola nodded. "That was my first impression, actually, but you had me going there with 'skiing accident.'"
Vincent chuckled. "That was later – after Professor Xavier found me. I was on the streets for years. But that's not the point, really. This isn't a competition to see whose childhood sucked the most, Iola. Because as far as I'm concerned, what the thirty of you have to deal with right now tops anything I've been through. Whatever you four have been up to for the last five, ten, fifteen years … you're all in the same boat now. And it's sinking. And probably on fire to boot."
"To boat," muttered Henry.
Vincent blinked. "What?"
"The boat. It's on fire to boot ... to boat. Get it?"
Vincent stifled a groan, then turned back to Kiara. "Do you know why I asked you to bring back the leg injury instead of the concussion?"
Kiara shook her head. "I figured it was because it'd be easier to tell if it was working."
"Partly that," Vincent agreed. "But I was also trying to make a point. No matter how good someone's life has been up to this point, no matter how healthy they might seem, you're almost certain to be able to find something you can use."
Something she could use against them. Vincent didn't finish the sentence, but the words were there. Iola tried not to shudder. When the group had agreed to let Kiara join them, Iola had assumed she would simply be healing people if they got hurt. Now that she had a way to fight, what happened if she decided she didn't need the rest of them? There was certainly plenty in Iola's history that she could dig up and bring back if she had a mind to.
She didn't seem to, of course – for now. But how long would that last once the Games actually began? Only two of them could survive, after all, which meant at least two of their group were going to die.
Eventually, it might be up to Kiara to choose who.
Fae Tomasini, 13
Why had they chosen her?
Fae's hands were trembling as an uncomfortable silence settled over the group. No matter how good someone's life has been up to this point, Vincent had said. He might as well have been talking about her. Her life had been good. Ever since she'd discovered her power, her parents had encouraged her to use it to help others, to give glory to God, to fill the world with something better. She'd never been anything but proud of what she could do.
But this … this was different. She had thought that Kiara's power was something like hers – something good, something that could bring healing, something to help the others if they were injured. But Vincent was helping her learn how to turn it into a weapon. And the others seemed almost … if not excited, then at least intrigued by the possibility. In the Games, without access to medical help, the sort of injury she'd given Vincent could have killed him.
That was the idea, of course – to kill. That was the whole point. So why had they picked her? Henry's power made sense for a fight to the death; they could control their golems without even going near an opponent, giving them an advantage despite their age. Kiara could heal people – and was apparently just as good at un-healing them. Iola could at least sow some confusion in the midst of a fight, copying an opponent's looks to perhaps fool their allies, stop them from attacking. What could she do?
Except…
Fae's stomach churned. It had only happened once, completely by accident. Finally, she took a deep breath. "There's something … something I want to try."
Everyone turned towards her, grateful for the icebreaker. "What is it, Fae?" Vincent asked.
"There was something that happened once when I was younger."
Henry chuckled. "What, yesterday?" They gave her shoulder a playful punch.
Fae glared, but punched back. "You're what, a year older than me?"
"Fair point. What happened?"
"One of the other girls in my class pulled my pigtails. I screamed, and … and she had ringing in her ears for the rest of the day. It went away after that, but I was thinking that maybe…"
"Maybe if you screamed loud enough, or long enough, you could make them go deaf – either temporarily or permanently," Vincent finished. "It's worth a try."
"And since I can heal people," Kiara finished, "there's no harm in trying."
Vincent nodded. "True, but let's not get carried away. Can you heal your own injuries?"
Kiara shook her head. "No – and believe me, I've tried. So what you're saying is, I should get a safe distance away."
"Or put on these," Lillian suggested, taking several pairs of headphones out of a briefcase and holding up some sort of device. "To measure the level of sound," she added with a smirk.
Vincent raised an eyebrow. "Wait, you knew she could do this? Why didn't you say so sooner?"
Lillian shrugged. "I was curious how long it would take for her to suggest it. Why don't you ask her why she waited until the third day of training?"
Fae's face flushed. "I … I've never really wanted to try something like that again. But if it means I can help…" If it meant she deserved to be part of the group – a group that was certainly more dangerous than they'd seemed at first – then she had to give it a try.
Vincent nodded. "All right, then. The rest of you should wear a pair of these." He took three pairs of headphones from Lillian and tossed them to Henry, Kiara, and Iola. "No point in Kiara having to heal all of us when one will do. I'll play guinea pig. Lillian, you might want to put on a pair, too."
"Or not," Kiara muttered, and Fae's stomach churned when she realized why Vincent had suggested it. Kiara might be willing to heal the rest of the group, and she'd been plenty willing to help Vincent, but expecting her to heal one of the MAAB might be a bit too much to ask.
Lillian nodded and slid the headphones on. Henry, Kiara, and Iola quickly did the same. Vincent nodded. "All right. Are you ready?"
Fae fiddled with her hair. "Ready as I'll ever be." She'd never wanted to do this again, never wanted to hurt anyone, but if it gave her a way to fight, a way to contribute, without actually killing anyone, then that had to be a good thing, right?
She screamed.
Emery Mullins, 15
She heard the scream from the other side of the building.
Emery let out a howl just before switching back to human form; wolves' ears were much more sensitive. As she glanced up, she saw Florence overhead, spiraling higher in an awkward circle. "Florence!" Emery called as the scream died down. "Get down here! Change back!"
Florence circled lower and lower, finally coming to a halt before changing back, shaking her head to clear the noise away. "What was that?" Emery asked. "And why didn't you just come back down?"
"Someone screaming," Florence answered matter-of-factly. "And I was curious. Bats have extremely sensitive hearing, so I wanted to see how well I could fly with the distraction."
"Didn't look like it went so great," Maria pointed out.
Florence nodded. "I certainly wouldn't want to try it in the dark when I was relying on echolocation. But more importantly, I was circling because I wanted to know who was doing the screaming."
Emery's ears perked up – or would have, if they had still been wolf's ears. "And?"
"One of the younger girls – the one who can sing," Florence answered.
"Fae. Her name is Fae," Kenji agreed. "But why does it matter who was screaming? Anyone can scream."
"That loud?" Emery asked. "We're on complete opposite sides of the building, and quite a ways away. "A normal scream wouldn't have been that loud. If anyone was standing too close to that, that wouldn't be good."
Kenji nodded. "All right. So we stay away from Fae."
For a moment, Florence didn't answer. When she finally spoke, her voice was low, almost conspiratorial. "Maybe not."
"What?" Kenji asked. "You want to go deaf?"
Florence shook her head. "No, but think it through. If we make a move near the beginning of the Games, she'll still be with her allies. She won't want to use her power to make them all go deaf. If we take her out early on, we won't have to worry about her later."
It took a moment for Emery to realize she was nodding along. What Florence was saying made sense. It was disturbing as hell, but it made sense. Of the contestants in the Games, the two of them would certainly be relying on their hearing the most. Wolf's hearing was much better than human hearing, and bats could use sound to navigate in the dark. Fae posed a danger to them that she wouldn't to other contestants – at least, not to the same degree.
Emery took a deep breath. "And you're sure it was her?"
Florence nodded. "That's why I stayed up so long – to be certain. And it makes sense. Her power is all about manipulating her voice. Why else would she have been chosen for this?"
Emery couldn't do anything but nod. It wasn't fair. Fae was just a kid. She hadn't asked for this. None of them had. But whether she liked it or not – whether she even realized it or not – Fae was dangerous. If they had the opportunity to eliminate that danger…
Eliminate. Take her out. Florence had avoided saying the word, but they all knew what she really meant. She was talking about killing a kid. A kid almost as young as Kenji. The thought made her stomach churn, but damn, it made sense. No one would be expecting them to go after Fae at the start.
At the start. How had the Games even started last year? Emery turned to Maria. "Will we even get the chance? Is everyone together at the start of the Games, or…"
Maria shook her head. "They weren't last year. They parachuted onto the island and ended up scattered all over it. But just because that happened last year…"
"Doesn't mean anything," Emery finished. "Got it. But if we do get the chance…"
"We have to take it," Florence agreed.
Emery nodded, then glanced over at Kenji, who had been silent for a while. "You all right?"
Kenji hesitated. Thinking it through. Weighing his options. He had to know, didn't he, that this was what they would have to do in order to survive? He had to understand that. She didn't like it any more than he did, but they would have to make a move at some point. Maybe it was better to take the initiative, to get their hands dirty sooner rather than later.
Because getting out with clean hands wasn't a possibility.
Kenji Rose, 12
He'd realized this was a possibility.
Kenji took a deep breath before answering. "I'm all right. It's just … well, what if other people have the same idea? What if there's someone who decides we'd make a good target early on? Wouldn't it be a good idea to get away from the action, to get our bearings and scout out the area before charging in for a fight? We don't even know that we'll end up anywhere near their group. And what about the rest of them?"
"Two of them didn't do anything during the talent show," Emery reasoned. "The other just made some little dirt creatures. They probably figure there's strength in numbers, but they only outnumber us by one. I think we could take them."
Them. Now it wasn't just one contestant they were thinking of going after. Kenji glanced at Florence, who was nodding along. She and Emery seemed to be on the same page. And maybe … well, maybe that made sense. They'd clicked pretty quickly, and not just because of their powers. But their powers certainly didn't hurt. They could both turn into animals – both predators, both hunters. Maybe it was only natural for them to want to use those talents. And who was he to stop them?
No one. He couldn't stop them even if he wanted to. Because he wasn't a predator. The best he could do was run away from a fight. And maybe that was a good thing, if they were about to get into a fight they might or might not be able to win. Just because two of the other contestants hadn't shown anything in the talent show didn't mean their powers were useless. Maybe they were just trying to keep it a secret. If so, they would need to be able to get away quickly.
But maybe that wasn't a problem – not really. Florence could fly. Emery's wolf form was faster than a human. And running was pretty much his whole thing. Well, the part of his thing that he was going to use, at least. So if they needed to get away quickly, they probably could.
Probably.
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Florence suggested, echoing Kenji's thoughts. "We don't want to take on the whole group unless we have to. We don't know what two of them do, after all. But if we have the chance to take her on alone, we should take it. Agreed?"
"Agreed." Emery's answer was immediate – a little too quick for Kenji's comfort. But after a moment, he nodded. There was no point in disagreeing. Not now, at least. He just had to be ready to run like hell if it came to that.
Florence turned to Maria. "Just one more thing. You aren't going to warn them, are you? That we're planning to make a move?"
Maria shook her head. "That's not allowed, no."
Florence laughed wryly. "I didn't ask if it was allowed. I asked if you were going to."
"No. I won't. It's just nice to have a heads-up this time."
Florence cocked her head. "What do you mean?"
"Last year, one of my contestants landed on the island and immediately started shooting parachutes out of the sky. Of course, there's no way they could have known that parachutes were the route they were going, but the idea that he was thinking about attacking someone right away … If he'd talked to me, told me that he was considering taking the initiative that early, I might have been able to give him some advice. I know how useful it is to have someone to bounce ideas off of."
Kenji nodded. "What happened to him?"
Maria shook her head. "He made the mistake of attacking Penelope the first night. She absorbed his energy, channeled it right back at him. He probably figured he could handle a twelve-year-old girl. Don't make the same mistake."
Florence cocked her head. "So you think going after the other group would be a mistake."
"I didn't say that."
"But you know what they can do?"
"Yes."
"And I don't suppose you're going to tell us."
"No. For the same reason I won't tell them what you're planning. All I can really say is, be prepared to get away quickly if it turns out you bit off more than you can chew."
Kenji breathed a sigh of relief. At least Maria seemed to be on the same page as him. Being able to get away from a fight if it turned out things were going the other way was important. At the same time, though, Florence and Emery had a point. If this was a fight that was going to happen eventually, maybe it was better for it to happen sooner rather than later, when the other group might not be expecting them to attack.
He just wished he knew what the right move was.
Henry Helstrom, 14
Something wasn't right.
Henry watched silently as Kiara took her hands away from Vincent's ears. For a moment, something had crossed Vincent's face – a look of panic, almost, quickly covered up by a smile. "Excellent," he concluded. "Good as new. I don't think there's any need to try it again, though, now that you know you can do it," he added with a nod to Fae. "So let's get in a little more practice with the golems. Fae, go ahead and head that way. Henry, head as far as you can in the other direction. I want to see if her singing has any effect on the golems when you can't hear her, so Fae, keep it down. Iola, stay near Fae so the golems will. Kiara, go with Henry, try to block their line of sight to the golems."
Henry raised an eyebrow but said nothing. On the surface, the instruction made sense; they had better control of the golems when they could see what they were doing, but the golems still kept fighting even if Henry's vision was obscured, as long as they'd been instructed to do so beforehand. They just couldn't control exactly how the golems fought very well without direct line of sight. Vincent had to have noticed that by now.
The others, however, quickly scampered off to follow Vincent's directions, so Henry followed suit. Out of the corner of their eye, though, they saw Vincent talking to Lillian. A few minutes later, Nicholas arrived, but Henry was too far away by then to tell what any of them were saying. By the time the bell rang for the end of their session, Lillian was gone, and Nicholas was standing beside Vincent as the contestants headed for the building. "I'll see you after lunch," Vincent called after them.
Henry turned as the others kept going. Something was still off. They couldn't place it, but as they headed back towards Vincent, their coach took a few careful steps to the left, positioning himself downwind of Henry. Henry froze. "Your collar's turned off."
Vincent glanced at the building to make sure the others were gone before answering. "Yes." The answer was quick, clipped, as if he was trying to hold it together. Whoever his next session was with, they would be here soon. And he wasn't ready. Couldn't be ready. Because—
"It didn't work," Henry realized. "Kiara – she didn't heal you."
"Not for lack of trying," Vincent assured them. "Something happened, but whatever it was ... it wasn't enough. I can't hear a thing."
Henry shook their head. "But you can tell what I'm saying."
"I can tell what you're thinking," Vincent corrected. "For now, that's close enough, and I only need to keep it up for another six sessions. One of the MAAB will be here to help me, standing just upwind to pass along anything I missed. Because, Henry … this has to stay a secret – from the contestants, at least, and one in particular." He laid a hand on Henry's shoulder. "Whatever you do, you can't tell Fae."
"Why?"
"I think you know."
Henry hesitated. But Vincent was right; they did understand. "If she knows Kiara can't heal that sort of damage, she might not want to use her power – even in a situation where it might save our lives. Given the choice between losing my hearing or losing my life, I know what I'd pick, but for the person actually causing that damage … she might hesitate. And hesitating even for a moment could be bad. Very bad."
"Yes."
"But there's something else."
Vincent's hand was trembling as he removed it from Henry's shoulder. "What do you mean?"
"You don't want her to feel guilty. Because if she feels guilty, she might be distracted. And if she's distracted, it could cost her her life – or maybe even all of our lives. And you think that's your fault, because you encouraged her."
"I wanted her to feel like she had something to contribute. She needed that. And now…" Vincent trailed off. "She can't know. She would blame herself, and it's not her fault."
Henry nodded, then took another step as the wind shifted, positioning themself directly upwind of Vincent. It's not, they thought as hard as they could. But it's not your fault either. They chose her for this. They put all of us in this position. This is on them – all of it.
Vincent's expression softened a little, but he said nothing. Maybe he didn't want to let Nicholas know what Henry had said. Maybe he was trying to protect them. But why would it matter if the MAAB knew that Henry blamed them? It was their fault, after all, and they all knew it. Were they supposed to just ignore the fact that, if not for the MAAB, none of them would be here in the middle of a death match anyway?
But they didn't say that out loud. Something held them back. They had to keep playing the game if they wanted to have a chance of getting out of this alive. So they simply held out their hand to Vincent. "Your secret's safe with me." Vincent squeezed their hand gratefully, drawing a steadying breath as his next group made their way outside. As Henry left, though, they couldn't help glaring at Nicholas, part of them hoping that he would notice, daring him to notice.
Nicholas didn't bat an eye. Henry shook their head as they joined the others on their way to Kiara's session with Ian, already brainstorming explanations for why they'd stayed outside a little longer. They had to stay one step ahead, had to keep this a secret. But there was already a sinking feeling in their stomach.
They knew how this went. Secrets never stayed secret for long. Even if Vincent managed to keep up his act for the rest of training, it was only a matter of time before something this big came out. Something would happen; it always did. It wasn't really a matter of if Fae found out – only when, and from who.
All Henry could do was make sure she didn't find out from them.
Alphonso Bell-Garcia, 15
All he could do was hope that Frederick would stick around.
Alphonso relaxed a little as Seb managed to produce a bow and arrow instead of the sort of bow that went on a package. "Almost surprised the bow of a ship didn't come out," Seb muttered, but the truth was, he was getting better. He'd only written 'bow,' and ended up with exactly what he'd wanted – along with arrows, to boot. Sure, it was only working because Alphonso was helping him concentrate, but that … well, maybe that was even better for Alphonso. It meant that Seb needed him, that if they split up, Seb's power wouldn't work nearly as well.
Frederick, on the other hand, had been even quieter than the day before. Maybe he suspected what was really happening. Maybe he was just concerned that Seb's power was a bit more impressive than his own. That was certainly true. Being able to turn things into goo was certainly useful, but if they wanted food or shelter or a weapon they could use from a distance, Seb was more likely to be able to provide it.
Ian turned the bow over in his hands. "Very impressive … but do any of you actually know how to use a bow?"
Alphonso glanced from Seb to Frederick. Both shook their heads. "Point and shoot?" Alphonso offered.
Ian chuckled. "I suppose so, but any particular reason we're thinking medieval here? Why not try a gun instead?"
Alphonso almost burst out laughing. Maybe it was because they'd assumed they were about to be dumped into the wilderness, but none of them had thought about asking Seb to make a gun instead of a bow. So far, he'd produced a sword, a spear, daggers, and now a bow, but a gun … yes, that made more sense. It might clash a little with the idea that they were stranded in the wild, and maybe that wouldn't play so well for the cameras, but aesthetics weren't everything.
Seb blushed. "I've … I've never shot a gun, either."
Alphonso shook his head. "Me neither. Frederick?"
"Nope."
Ian chuckled. "All right, then. Target practice it is. Four guns, Seb, and keep it simple. The smaller, the better; no need to lug a bazooka through the wilderness if a pistol will do."
Seb nodded and wrote pistols. Five appeared on the ground in front of them. Seb handed one to each of them, and the last to Mack, who was watching with curiosity but also no small amount of apprehension. The four of them were armed now – with real weapons. They could shoot him, and there was nothing he could do about it.
Alphonso turned the gun over a few times, weighing the possibility. It didn't even seem to have occurred to Seb, who was taking aim at a target set up about twenty feet away. Frederick was doing the same, but not without a sideways glance at Ian and Mack, perhaps wondering what he might have time to do before they shot him.
Not much, probably. But at least Frederick was thinking the right way. The three of them had just admitted to not knowing what they were doing. For all they knew, Mack and Ian were expert shots. Mack was a politician, of course, not a soldier, but that didn't mean he'd never used a gun. And Ian…
Except Ian was on their side, wasn't he? He wouldn't shoot them. Probably. But that didn't mean he would help them, either. Alphonso turned to face the target, instead, raising his weapon. Ian took a step closer, adjusting his stance a little, helping him steady his aim. Beside him, Mack was doing the same for Seb. Apparently, they did know what they were doing.
At least as far as the weapons went, they did. But as far as who they'd chosen for the Games, Alphonso was beginning to get the impression they'd bitten off more than they could chew. If Seb could create guns just like that, what was to stop him from creating a bomb that could destroy them all? What would happen if he wrote death ray or something that didn't exist yet? If he wrote time machine, would he actually get one?
Stop it. There would be time for that later. There were some things that it was better for Seb not to try until they were actually in the Games, because then they would have the element of surprise as far as the MAAB were concerned. If they knew what he could really do – everything he could really do – Alphonso was certain they would never have chosen him for the Games. He could kill them all if he wanted to, and there wasn't a thing they could do to stop it. The problem was, Alphonso hadn't thought of a way for Seb to kill everyone else without killing him, too.
But there was still plenty of time for that.
Kylena Albright, 16
They were running out of time.
Kylena couldn't help a grunt of frustration as the bubble burst just as it touched the dummy's leg. It had been Maria's suggestion to try to use the bubbles to stop the bleeding, since they might not have bandages in a pinch. Technically, this was Lea's session with Maria, and Lea and Elio had apparently decided that training wasn't so bad as long as what they were actually learning was first aid rather than how to kill other people.
So the six of them were working with Anita, but Maria had joined in, as well, suggesting they try to use their powers to help with what they were doing. Makenzie could wrap her shadow around a wound easily enough, but getting it to stay in solid form indefinitely was proving more of a challenge. The bandage would stay as long as she concentrated, but as soon as she turned her attention elsewhere, it would loosen into something less tangible and eventually float away. So while it might be useful in an emergency, it wasn't a great substitute for the real thing.
Kylena's bubbles, meanwhile, had met with even less success. She knew she could enclose an entire person; she'd done it before to protect herself, though she hadn't managed to make one that big during training. But wrapping only part of a person in a bubble was more of a problem, because that meant there would be holes in the bubble. And getting it small enough and tight enough to actually use as a bandage while still being thick enough to be useful … that was hard. Harder than she'd assumed it would be when Maria had first suggested it.
Evelyn was having more luck. The smaller she made herself, the longer it took for a cut to bleed, because there was less space for the blood to get out. Whether that was true if the wound was something bigger than a little cut, they had no way of knowing. No one was exactly going to stab each other during training, after all. They would just have to hope that what she was doing would work on a larger scale.
As far as their new allies, Lea was quickly picking up every technique Anita showed her, expertly copying her movements as soon as she saw them. That could certainly come in handy. Thanks to Jaime, Evelyn hadn't actually felt any of the tiny cuts she'd made, but there was a rather unhappy rabbit in a cage off to the side. Elio didn't look particularly happy about this, but he'd held his tongue. He'd gotten what he wanted, after all; the six of them were working together.
But for how long? They still hadn't really talked about what would happen once the Games began, and they were running out of time. It was nearly lunchtime; that meant they had four sessions left before the end of training, and then … well, that was it. The Games were tomorrow. And she still didn't have any real idea what the others were planning to do.
Or what she was planning to do.
Well, that wasn't entirely true. She had some idea. She was planning to stick with the other five as long as she could and see how things went. If it seemed like Elio, Lea, and Jaime were on to something with their idea that more than two of them could survive, all the better. If not, there was still strength in numbers, and she wasn't exactly in a position to be choosy now. Both Makenzie and Evelyn seemed willing to go along with the other three, so her choices were either stay with all of them, or none.
And none … that wasn't an option. The one thing she didn't want was to be alone in the Games. Her power was useful for defense, but wasn't exactly much help in fighting on its own. But more than that, she wanted … well, company. And she'd grown to enjoy Makenzie and Evelyn's company over the last few days. Their three new additions seemed pleasant enough, as well, and certainly seemed to want to help them.
But if they were wrong…
If they were wrong, she could always leave later. If the MAAB didn't change their mind about the number of survivors, she could always figure out what to do about that later. She would have time. It wasn't as if the fighting was going to start as soon as the Games began, was it? Well, not for most of them, anyway. Most of them wouldn't want to charge right into a fight.
Except it wouldn't have to mean charging in. Not if they were attacked. All it would take was someone who was willing to come after their group, and they would have a fight on their hands. But none of the other groups were as big as theirs, and most were groups of two or three. Kylena understood that; she, Evelyn, and Makenzie had been hesitant to join up with only three of them because that meant that one of them would have to die. Unless Elio was right.
She just hoped that would be possible.
Nicholas Wright, 64
One of these years, maybe it would be possible to get through training without a major crisis.
Nicholas looked up as a wry chuckle escaped Vincent's lips. They were inside now, down the hall from the contestants and the other coaches. Good thing, too, because Vincent was finally starting to crack. Nicholas didn't need to be able to read thoughts to know that the coach was terrified. Whatever he was getting from Anita's thoughts as she examined him, it wasn't good. "I'm sorry," she said at last. "There's nothing I can do."
Vincent, who had probably been reading her thoughts for quite a while, nodded weakly, but Nicholas shook his head. "That doesn't make any sense. She's healed worse injuries than this. She healed a broken leg just fine. She's healed her mother's cancer before, for crying out loud. What makes this different?"
Anita hesitated a moment, then explained. "There's a difference between healing and regenerating. If you cut off your hand and asked her to heal it, what do you think would happen? Would the hand grow back, or would it stop bleeding and heal itself into a stump?"
Nicholas nodded. "From the way this went, I'm guessing it's the second one."
"Exactly. In order for her to heal something, there has to be something left for her to heal. If the hand was crushed, the pieces would still be there, and she could make it whole. If it's gone, it's gone. She can heal, but she can't create. In Vincent's case, enough parts weren't simply damaged but destroyed. Disintegrated or evaporated or ... something. I can't tell specifically, because there's just not enough left inside there." She turned back to Vincent. "I'm sorry."
Vincent slid off the examining table, trying to steady himself. "Damn it," he muttered. "Thought I'd caught my breath." After a moment, he turned to Anita. "Oh, great. Just what I needed."
"What?" Nicholas asked.
"Damage to the inner ear can cause balance problems," Anita answered reluctantly. "If that wasn't healed when Kiara tried, there's a good chance it's permanent."
"And here I was thinking it was just nerves," Vincent mumbled, leaning on the table.
"Are you sure you're up to this?" Anita asked gently. "Someone else could handle your last four sessions."
Vincent shook his head. "Then they'd think something was wrong."
"Something is wrong."
"I know!" Vincent's voice was loud, but there was a tremble in it. He took a few deep breaths, standing up a little straighter. "But I can do this. Please. Whatever happens afterwards, happens, but just keep this thing off for four more sessions and let me do my job." He tapped his collar meaningfully. "Please."
Nicholas couldn't help a sigh. Turning the collar off had been his call, and to his surprise, Vincent had been nothing but cooperative for the last few hours. His sessions with Makenzie and Liv had gone about as well as could be expected, aside from a few times Nicholas had needed to relay what one of the contestants had said, and the dizziness that Nicholas had attributed to Vincent being distracted. Now…
Let me do my job. Vincent had clearly known that would work. He was a pain in the ass and had caused plenty of trouble, but Nicholas had never had any reason to doubt Vincent was doing his best to help the contestants he was in charge of. He'd even volunteered to take on an extra when they'd needed someone to, and he'd steered several of them in directions that would help them where he couldn't.
Nicholas shifted his position a little so the fan was blowing in the right direction for Vincent to hear his thoughts. "All right. You've got your four sessions. Don't make me regret it."
"I won't," Vincent promised.
"I can be there to help if you like," Nicholas offered, "but if you'd prefer someone else, that can be arranged. Maybe Anita or Alvin or—"
"Is Judah available?"
Nicholas raised an eyebrow. That was not the name he'd been expecting. He'd figured maybe Vincent would want a doctor. And the coaches, given the choice, generally seemed to prefer interacting with Alvin or Francine. For the most part, Nicholas was content to let them. If the fact that the two of them had voted against the Games – or that Anita hadn't been part of the vote at all – made the coaches more comfortable, if it helped them do their jobs, there wasn't any harm in it. But Judah…
Vincent nodded. "Yeah, I know. And you're right. He's not someone I'd go to for sympathy. But that's not what I need right now. I need someone who can help me make this work. My next two sessions are Rick and Vi, and he's been working with them anyway. I was going to help them practice fighting together today by having them fight me instead of each other, but…" He trailed off, but his meaning was clear. He was having trouble even standing on his own. If he tried to fight, the jig would be up.
"All right," Nicholas agreed. "He was working with Sybil yesterday the third session after lunch, but he should be free for the first two. Who's your third session?"
"Iola. Henry already figured out what happened, but they promised to keep it quiet. I've been separating that group so they can practice using their powers from a distance, so it shouldn't be too hard to keep them at arm's length. Jaime's my last session, and they've been coming alone. Keeping up a conversation with one person isn't too hard."
Nicholas nodded. "You seem to be doing just fine with me." Inside, of course, he could position himself in the right spot for Vincent to read his thoughts. Outside was a different story.
Vincent shrugged. "It's a bit simpler in here, yes, but you're also easy to pick up. Like you said, you're not always the most pleasant person to interact with, but you're honest. Your words and your thoughts line up pretty well, and you're not actively trying to hide them."
Huh. He hadn't really expected that. "Then I hope you'll understand I'm just being honest when I say we might have to reconsider whether you should be coaching next year."
Vincent nodded, as if he'd been expecting that. Maybe he had. How long ago had Nicholas started thinking that? Since the first day of training, at least, when Anita had called him out as their possible leak, but this … this was the nail in the coffin, wasn't it? How was he supposed to keep coaching like this?
"I don't know," Vincent admitted. "But I can make it four more hours. Let's deal with that first, and then we can worry about the rest." He took a few steps toward the door, leaning on the frame a little. Nicholas followed him out of the room. He was right. They had to deal with one thing at a time.
But he couldn't put this off forever.
"Only we can protect each other ... We must be united and strong, and willing to deal with the humans as they would deal with us. [He] thinks we can hide in their midst like mice and hope for their understanding. This is not possible."
