Rage
Representative Mack Urban, 37
March 24th, 22:27 MST
"It's a shame she's not doing anything productive with all that rage."
Mack looked up from his phone, where reports were already coming in, reactions to the statement that Coburn's sister had just given. There had already been riots, but this … this just added more fuel to the flames. Coburn had never even been on the MAAB's list, and that news had been enough to push some people's anger over the edge. It was one thing for the MAAB to have carefully selected their contestants, but the idea that they could just swoop in on a whim and carry anyone they liked off to their deaths was terrifying.
But only to a specific group of people. Only to those who faced that chance of being carried off themselves. To people of a different mind, the MAAB looked efficient. They could respond at a moment's notice to a mutant threat and … deal with it. Requests were already rolling in from people who were afraid, just as Coburn's stepmother had been, and wanted the MAAB to come in and fix things.
Mack leaned back in his chair and turned to Judah. "Productive?"
Judah nodded. "There's no one else in the area. All that energy, all that anger – going to waste." Savannah was still shooting lightning off into the sky, but no one seemed all that interested in following that lightning to its source. Kylena and Jaime were the closest, but considering what had happened the last time they'd decided to follow some lightning, no one could really blame them for wanting to stay put.
Besides, the two of them were in a pretty good position. The hail was finally beginning to die down, but they hadn't shown any inclination to leave the house before there was some light to see by. Jaime was keeping watch now, and Kylena had finally settled down in one of the beds to try to get some sleep.
In fact, the only ones still on the move were Rick and Vi, and they'd decided not to go after the lightning. But they were headed somewhere. For now, that 'somewhere' appeared to be back to the circle to get some more supplies. Probably more painkillers, specifically. They were almost through their first bottle.
There was plenty more at the circle, of course; the MAAB had made sure of that. They'd been periodically dropping a few more bags of supplies. Food, clothes, even a few more knives. It was impressive what a determined person could do with a knife. Jaime had slit Alphonso's throat. Iola and Fae had each stabbed an attacker to death. Kenji had killed a vicious dog.
Mack still wasn't sure exactly what had prompted the dog to go after Emery. Maybe it had perceived the wolf as a threat to Seb when it had heard the howling. But after being left alone in a hailstorm for hours, Seb was in pretty bad shape anyway. Anyone who found him now, without his powers and without the dog to take care of him, would be able to finish him off pretty quickly. He probably wouldn't even get the chance to explain that they didn't need to, that he wasn't a mutant anymore.
There had been some discussion about that – about whether Seb still counted as a contestant. But the general consensus seemed to be that, while he wasn't a player in the Games anymore, they weren't going to actively remove him from the Games. Sort of like Phantom, come to think of it. He didn't have to die in order for the other contestants to win, but if he happened to be killed along the way, they weren't going to do anything to stop it.
Public opinion seemed to be on their side there – not least of all because Mack had posited the theory that the loss of Seb's powers might not be permanent. He had no reason to believe the boy's powers would come back, of course, but it made for a good argument for leaving him there. Besides, they had no proof that his powers wouldn't come back. And fear fed on uncertainty.
Which was exactly how people were responding to Savannah's grief, as well. "Oh, I wouldn't say it's going to waste," Mack assured Judah. "She might not be actively attacking anyone in the Games, but she's giving the public plenty to think about."
"Meaning?"
"Look, some of these contestants, it's a stretch to say that their powers are dangerous. Lee, for example, or even Kylena. Useful, certainly, but dangerous? Only in very specific scenarios. But lightning? Fire? Those are clearly, obviously dangerous. And erratic. So erratic, it doesn't even matter whether the person wielding them was trying to hurt someone. Savannah wasn't trying to kill Coburn, but he's just as dead as anyone else would be. The idea that even if you happen to run into one of the 'right' mutants, even if they aren't actively trying to kill you, you could still end up just as dead – that's some powerful stuff, right there."
Judah rolled his eyes. "Look, I'm glad she's doing wonders for our public image, but—"
"Oh, it'll help move the Games along, too, I'm sure," Mack chuckled. "I mean, look at her now – all alone, filled with grief and rage, and with absolutely nothing to lose. She's been holding back her power because she was worried about someone else finding her. Do you think she gives a damn about that now? She probably wants someone to find her, just to put her out of her misery."
Judah raised an eyebrow. "You really think so?"
Mack shrugged. "Maybe not once she's had a chance to think about it. But right now? Oh yes. Why? Where are you going?"
Judah was heading for the door. "To talk to the coaches."
"Why?"
"There's a message they might want to send."
Kylena Albright, 16
"We might want to stay here for a while after all."
Kylena rolled over a little as Jaime shook her awake. "Why?"
"Come take a look out the window."
Kylena followed Jaime to the window, but she could already see the light flashing before she looked out. Lightning, streaking across the sky, wild and uncontrolled, arcing out in every direction but clearly coming from one point. "Houses are about the safest place to be in a storm, right?" Jaime reasoned.
"Certainly safer than out in the open," Kylena agreed. "Even if I put a bubble around us, I don't know how well it would hold up against that – or for how long."
"At least we know where one of the other contestants is."
Kylena nodded. Yes. Yes, now they knew the girl who could shoot lightning was still alive. But that didn't exactly help them much. The last time they'd gone after her, it hadn't ended well. "So we know which direction not to go," she prompted, silently begging Jaime to agree.
Jaime nodded reluctantly. They knew better than to press their luck again. Kylena had gone along with Evelyn's plan to go after the lightning before. And she'd gone along with Jaime's plan to attack the boys at the house. But just because they were in a better position now didn't mean it was time to get reckless.
"We do have more weapons now," Jaime pointed out.
Kylena raised an eyebrow. "You think a gun's faster than lightning?"
"No, but—"
"And are you sure you could hit anyone?"
"You did."
Kylena flinched. That was true. But the boy had been only a few feet away. "You really want to get that close?"
Jaime shook their head. "I guess not."
Good. "We'll just have to hope someone else will take the bait. Someone whose powers are a bit more…" She trailed off, unsure of the right word. "Powerful, I guess," she finished lamely.
Jaime slumped down in a chair, still staring out the window. "Hey, don't sell yourself short. Our powers have definitely come in handy. We got the dog away from the house, didn't we?"
"That's a bit different."
"Of course it is. That's the point. We have to approach things differently than some of the contestants, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. It means we have to actually think about things. We can't just charge in and hope for the best or shoot a bunch of lightning off into the sky and hope we hit something."
"You think that's what she's doing?"
Jaime shrugged. "I don't see why not. She probably figures she can handle anyone who might come after her. And she's probably right." They shook their head, letting the words hang in the air. They didn't finish the rest of the thought. How was anyone ever going to manage to kill her? Not necessarily them, but someone. Someone would have to kill her if the two of them wanted to make it out of here alive. Two survivors – that was it. The other girl would have to die.
But that didn't have to happen tonight. For now, it wasn't their problem. The lightning was bright, but it was still pretty far away, and it didn't seem to be getting any closer. Jaime was probably right about the girl just letting off some steam and hoping it drew in some unsuspecting contestant. After all, it had worked once.
Kylena took a seat next to Jaime. It had worked once, and it had gotten Evelyn killed. But the two of them were still alive. The two of them had killed. They'd proven that they made a good team, that they had what it took to win a fight. Maybe not every fight, but they didn't have to win every fight. They just had to be careful about which fights they picked.
And this wasn't one they could win.
Vi Voclain, 18
That wasn't a fight they could win.
Vi shook his head as he and Rick trudged on in the darkness. The lightning shooting up into the sky was tempting – very tempting. But until they were certain there were only a few contestants left, it wasn't worth picking another fight with someone who could shoot lightning at them, especially when she was with someone who could shoot fire. The two of them against him and Rick – that wasn't much of a fight. It hadn't been much of a fight the first time, and there had been five of them.
"Maybe that lightning's good news after all," Rick said at last.
Vi cocked an eyebrow. "How so?"
"Think about it. Why would she be letting off that much lightning at once?"
"She could be trying to draw us back in."
"Or…"
Vi nodded. "Or someone found them, and they're fighting."
"Exactly."
Vi watched the lightning flash for a moment. "Looks like she's winning."
"Why do you say that?"
"She's still alive."
Rick chuckled. "We're still alive, and I wouldn't exactly say we're winning."
"Maybe we are."
"What do you mean?"
Vi shrugged. "I mean, we're just as alive as she is. That's the whole thing – to stay alive. If she's fighting off someone else – if she's killed someone else – that just means she's doing our job for us. The more people she kills, the less people we'll have to fight, right?"
Rick nodded. Neither of them wanted to finish the thought. Even if she killed off the rest of the contestants for them – which seemed unlikely – that meant the two of them would still have to fight her. And neither of them was looking forward to that.
"There!" Rick pointed ahead of them in the darkness, breaking that train of thought. "Looks like we're back."
Vi glanced around. "Thought we stuck all the backpacks in the tunnels."
Rick shrugged. "I guess someone's been here since then."
"It looks like there are more of them."
"So?"
"So that means the MAAB's been dropping more of them. There could be anything here."
"That's good, right?"
"Probably." He took another look around. "But you know what isn't here?"
"What?"
"The bodies."
Rick froze. Maybe it hadn't even occurred to him that they would still be here. "I guess they wouldn't want to leave them here to rot," he said at last, his voice quiet. "I know I wouldn't. I mean, it's been how many days?"
"Five? Six? And with this weather … yeah, probably best that they took them somewhere else." At least that way, they wouldn't have to look at them. The start of the Games seemed like such a long time ago. When he'd killed that girl in the tunnels, he'd thought she would be the first of … well, more than one. But what had they done since then?
Enough. They had done enough. Or at least, the MAAB apparently thought so, because his collar was still on. If it wasn't, he would probably have been struck by lightning by now. Or Rick would have. Sure, the lightning was pretty far away, but how far could lightning travel? That was exactly the sort of thing that would have happened if his collar was off.
But it wasn't. Which meant he was safe. Well, not safe, exactly, but he wasn't in any more danger of being struck by lightning right now than any of the other contestants. Besides, most of the lightning seemed to be shooting directly up into the sky. A stray bolt broke off here and there, but most of it seemed to be aimed upwards, if it was aimed at all. She certainly didn't seem to be trying to hit anyone else.
Maybe that was just because she couldn't. Just because normal lightning could travel for miles didn't necessarily mean that hers could. Maybe she didn't have that much control over her powers – just like Rick. The hailstorm had finally died off, but it had taken most of the day. If it took the lightning that long to subside…
Then at least they would be able to see pretty well in the dark, without having to give away their position by turning their flashlights on. Vi settled down next to one of the bags and began sorting through the supplies. There seemed to be plenty of food, and it would be nice to change into something dry.
It was about time something good happened.
Seb
It was about time the hail stopped.
Seb opened his eyes a little. It was still dark – probably nighttime again – but an occasional flash of light lit up the sky. Night. It was night again. Had he been lying here all day? It certainly felt like a long time. His whole body ached from the hail, and he could feel bruises all over his bare skin. But he'd managed to shield his head and neck with his arms and hands, and he was still alive.
Alive. That was still amazing in and of itself. He was alive. The girl had shot him, and he was still alive. Slowly, every part of his body protesting, he managed to sit up and take a look around. There wasn't much to see. He wasn't even sure which direction the house was in. He had no way of knowing where he was, or where anyone else was, or even which direction Phantom had gone. The dog had to be coming back, right?
Except … he hadn't heard anything recently. Well, nothing except the sound of the storm. No barking. No howling. The wolf wasn't howling anymore, but neither was Phantom. And he'd had plenty of time to come back.
Maybe he wasn't coming back.
Seb swallowed hard, forcing down the lump that was forming in his throat. Phantom was just a dog, after all. A dog who hadn't even existed a few days ago. If he had run off, well, that was his choice. And if he was dead…
If he was dead, there wasn't exactly anything Seb could do about it. It had been all he could do to keep himself alive so far, and he wasn't even doing a very good job of that. He didn't have time to worry about a dog – not if the dog hadn't wanted to stay here with him. He was on his own now. Phantom was gone. Alphonso was dead. Frederick—
The thought surprised him a little. Frederick might still be alive. He'd left such a long time ago, he could be anywhere by now. Seb couldn't help a little smile. Maybe Frederick was still alive. If he was, would he still want to work together?
No. No, that was silly. Even if he managed to find Frederick, what did he have to offer a partnership now that his powers were gone? He didn't have any supplies, any weapons, or even any clothes. Frederick had teamed up with him and Alphonso in the first place because he'd thought Seb's power might be useful, and he'd left as soon as it was clear that neither of them intended to use that power to fight, but instead had wanted to create a little bit of something normal. Something comforting.
But it hadn't lasted. It couldn't last. Not here. Not in the Games. There was nothing comforting here that would last. Even Phantom was gone now. He was alone, but maybe that was better. If he had nothing now, then he had nothing to lose.
Nothing to lose.
Seb clenched his fists. There was something else he didn't have. He didn't have any reason to play by their rules. He didn't have to kill. He didn't have to die. He just had to get out of here. If he could find some food, some supplies, then he could just take off in some direction until the MAAB lost track of him. He didn't have a collar. Did that mean they couldn't track him? They probably still had cameras, but how many of them would have survived a storm like that? If he could manage to get away…
Then what? Where could he go? They were in the middle of Wyoming. It could be a long time before he found any trace of civilization. He would probably starve to death out here. That was something he'd never had to worry about before. He'd always been able to conjure up any sort of food he wanted. Now…
Seb shook his head. The thought of food was making him hungry. He hadn't eaten anything all day. Had there been food in his stomach when he'd materialized out here? Maybe. Maybe not. Come to think of it, he was thirsty, too. At least he could do something about that. There were plenty of puddles nearby. It was rainwater, so that was probably pretty clean, right?
Seb slowly crawled over to one of the larger puddles. He could worry about whether it was clean later. Right now, it was wet and cool, and that was enough. He cupped his hands and took a long drink. It tasted good. Now he just had to find some food. And some clothes. And preferably a blanket or some other sort of shelter.
One thing at a time. He had water. That was good enough for a start.
And a start was all he needed right now.
Manaka Shizue, 16
All he needed right now was to keep moving.
Manaka rubbed his eyes as he stumbled forward in the dark. Every time his eyes started to get used to the darkness, it seemed, another flash of lightning came along and ruined his night vision. But aside from the fact that the rocks under his feet were wet, there didn't seem to be much in the way of obstacles. The ground seemed to be getting flatter. Almost as flat as the area where they'd started.
But he couldn't really have gone that far, could he? He'd tried slowing down time a bit a while back, when the lightning had been flashing pretty much constantly, lighting up the sky almost as much as daylight. He'd been able to see well enough, but he hadn't been able to keep up the pace very long. He wasn't strong enough yet.
But maybe he'd been strong enough to get back here.
Manaka took a good look around as the lightning lit up the sky again. He could see a few backpacks up ahead. They seemed to be scattered all over the place, as if someone had left in a hurry. The boy who had run past him a while ago – maybe he'd been coming from the circle. That made some sense. If the other group that had a contestant who could move as fast as him had stayed pretty close to the circle, the boy could run back and forth for supplies every time they needed some. That was a smart way to play.
He wished he and Marcus had thought of that.
Marcus. Manaka shook his head, trying to ignore that thought. Trying to ignore the hope that maybe he was still out here somewhere, that maybe they would run into each other. He'd stayed put for quite a while, hoping that Marcus would come back. But that didn't seem likely to happen now. If Marcus was still alive, he was on his own. Just like Manaka was.
Alone.
Manaka pulled his jacket a little tighter. Maybe he should have asked the boy who had been running from the werewolf to join him. Maybe he should have called out to the other boy who had run past. Maybe then he wouldn't be on his own. But it had just seemed so much safer to stay away from them.
But how much longer would it be safer to be alone? Eventually, he would have to sleep. And if there was no one there watching, anyone who found him while he was asleep would be able to kill him easily. He would never even know. He could just go to sleep one night and … just not wake up.
There were worse ways to go, of course, but that didn't make it any better. But he couldn't stay awake forever. His eyes were already getting heavier. He'd tried to get some sleep during the storm earlier, but that had been scattered and uneasy. The pounding of the hail had constantly woken him up again. He probably hadn't gotten more than a minute or two of sleep at a time.
Food. That was the thing. Check the bags. Get some food. Then he could worry about finding a safe place to sleep.
Safe. Right. As if there was anywhere safe around here to get some sleep. Maybe the tunnels at the circle, if they weren't flooded. But that didn't seem like a good idea, either. If anyone found him in there, he would be trapped. That was no better than being out in the open.
A flicker of movement interrupted his thoughts. Manaka froze, his eyes drawn to a figure crouched near one of the bags. Another contestant. Slowly, the figure stood up, hands raised, and took a step backward. "Easy," came the voice. "Just … take it easy. I'm not going to hurt you."
Manaka blinked. The other boy certainly didn't look in any shape for a fight. One of his arms was bandaged, the hand not raised as high as the other, as if he was being careful not to move it too suddenly. Part of his jacket was torn, and when the lightning flashed, Manaka could see some sort of markings on his neck, reaching up to his chin. Some sort of burn, maybe.
Manaka realized he was staring. "I … I just came back for some food."
The other boy nodded. "Me too." He reached down and chose a packet of crackers, then tossed them to Manaka, who caught them without thinking. Manaka took a step closer.
"Are you alone too?"
Rick Clifton, 19
"Are you alone too?"
Rick nodded, hoping the younger boy wouldn't see the panic in his eyes. He wasn't alone, after all. Vi had gone down into one of the tunnels to bring out some of the bags they'd stashed down there – and to see if the tunnels were flooded. That had only been a moment ago, and there was no telling when he might come out again. The sight of someone emerging from the tunnels might startle the boy, and that was something he definitely didn't want.
Because he recognized the boy – one of the ones who had shown off his speed during the talent show. He didn't seem to have any weapons, but that wouldn't matter. It wouldn't take him long to grab one if he decided to try. Or he could probably be behind Rick and strangle him with his bare hands before Rick could even move.
Except … he didn't seem to want to do any of those things. The boy unwrapped some of the crackers and ate one. "Thanks."
"You're welcome." The response was automatic. Just keep him talking. As long as he was talking, he probably wouldn't kill him. And that would give Vi time to figure something out. Time to figure out what was going on. "There's more where that came from," Rick offered. "And I think I put a water bottle over here somewhere." He shifted his position a little, and the boy moved with him, turning his back on the tunnel. The tunnel Vi was in. Rick tossed the boy a bottle of water, and he caught it with lightning speed.
"What happened to the boy you were working with?" the younger boy asked.
Rick gestured to his right arm, the burns that were slowly beginning to heal, winding their way up his shoulder and neck. "See this?"
"Yeah."
"Vi wasn't so lucky." The lie came out easily, and the boy fell silent. "What about you?" Rick asked. "You were working with someone, right?"
The boy nodded. "Yeah. We made it to the border, but there was some sort of … boundary."
"Boundary?" Rick repeated. "How far away did you go?"
"Miles. I'm not sure how many. We just wanted to get away, but … I guess they planned for that. Our collars shocked us, and I … I passed out. I don't remember much after that. Marcus carried me back, but then he left. Maybe he went to get supplies or something, but … well, he never came back. That was at least a day ago now, so…"
"So you decided to get your own supplies," Rick finished.
"Yeah."
In the dark, Rick could see Vi's head poking out of the tunnel. Shit. He had to distract the boy. If he so much as glanced in Vi's direction, they were both as good as dead. Rick took a few steps closer to the younger boy. "I'm … I'm Rick, by the way."
"Manaka."
"Well, Manaka … it looks like we're both alone, and … well, two of us can survive this thing, right? Do you think…?"
"You want to work together?"
"Probably have a better chance than we would alone." He held out his hand. "What do you say?"
The boy shook his hand. Rick drew him into a hug. The boy stiffened, unsure, for a moment, but then returned the gesture. Over the boy's shoulder, Rick saw Vi approaching, knife in hand. Rick held the boy tightly for a moment. A moment was long enough.
Long enough for Vi's knife to slide across the boy's throat.
The boy clutched at his neck as he sank to the ground, blood spurting from the wound. His hands moved quickly – more quickly than should have been possible – but it was no good. He had no way to stop the bleeding. Rick stumbled backwards, but not quickly enough to avoid the blood, which was all over his shirt. After only a moment, the boy stopped moving.
Rick nearly jumped as Vi clapped him on his good shoulder. "Nice work."
Rick clasped his hands together, trying to stop them from shaking. "I … I didn't know what else to do."
"You did what you had to do," Vi assured him. "It was him or us."
"I don't know if he would have—"
"It would have been him or us eventually, then," Vi reasoned. "Hell, you probably saved both our lives, distracting him like that. He was one of the speedsters, right?"
"Yeah."
"Looks like we got lucky, then." He chuckled. "What do you know."
"What?"
"Nothing. It's just … I'm not used to having good luck."
Rick couldn't help a smile. They had been lucky. Lucky the boy was alone. Lucky he'd happened to stumble in while Vi was in one of the tunnels. Lucky he'd been willing to talk rather than attacking immediately. Rick took a deep breath and looked away from the body on the ground. You did what you had to do. He didn't like it, but he didn't have to like it.
He just had to be willing to do it again.
Caihong Lee, 25
"Let's hope I don't have to do that again."
Lee nodded as Elena's skin shifted back to human shape. She didn't seem to have even a dent from the hail. "Good to know that you can do it if you have to, though," Lee pointed out. "And better to find out now with a little bit of hail than … I don't know. Falling rocks or something?"
"How do you think you would hold up against lightning?" Liv asked.
Elena started to laugh, but Liv's expression didn't change. Elena stopped laughing. "Wait, you're serious?"
Liv shrugged. "Hypothetically speaking."
"I don't know," Elena admitted. "Not something I've ever tried before. Not something I really want to try, either. Why?"
Liv's nodded at the lightning in the distance. "Well, I figured since we lost track of the group we were following, there is one group we'd definitely be able to find."
Lee shook his head. "We know where they are now. That's a long way away. By the time we get there, they could be somewhere else entirely."
"It doesn't look like they've moved," Liv pointed out.
"From here," Lee countered. "They could be moving slowly, or back and forth. And just because they haven't moved for an hour or two doesn't mean they won't move in the next day or so. Why do you—" He stopped as he put it together. "You think the person who can control lightning is the same person causing the weather?"
"I don't know. But it makes sense. Lightning. Storms. Weather. It seems like their storms have gotten out of control, so maybe their lightning's doing the same thing. And if they can't control it, then maybe we can use that. If we have someone who's immune to lightning—"
"That's a big if," Lee interrupted. "Just because the hail didn't hurt her doesn't mean lightning won't."
"Metal conducts electricity, right?"
"Right," Elena agreed.
"So it should pass right along your skin, right? Path of least resistance? It'll follow the metal without going through … well, the rest of you. That's why you're safe from lightning if you're in a car, right? As long as you don't touch any of the metal?"
"But she would be touching the metal, wouldn't she?" Lee asked. "I mean, the metal parts of her would be touching the non-metal parts, right?"
They both turned to Elena, who shrugged. "I don't know. I don't know if that's how it works or not. I don't think there's really any way to know without trying it."
"Probably something we should have tried during training," Liv muttered.
Lee shrugged. "You didn't think of it. Neither did the rest of us. Neither did the coaches, for that matter, and that's sort of their job. I mean, if they knew what all of us could do, they had to know lightning was a possibility."
"So did we," Liv pointed out. "We just didn't figure I'd be directing lightning at her. Not that I can direct it at all, but even if I could—"
"If you could, we could figure out whether it would work," Elena ventured.
Liv shook her head. "But I can't. And now that the storm's died down, I don't really want to try to start it up again. Not when we could be making some progress instead."
Lee nodded. "You really want to head back that way?"
"It's probably where most of the other contestants are. We lost the group we were following, so pretty much everyone is probably back that way. Even if we can't find whoever's shooting lightning, we have a better chance of running into someone if we head back. Besides, we have some idea of what the terrain is like back that way. Less of a chance of getting lost or tripping over something in the dark."
Elena nodded. "Sounds good to me. Lee?"
Lee hesitated. He didn't like the idea of turning around. It felt a bit too much like giving up. But even if they kept going this way, there was no guarantee they would be able to find the other group, and there probably wasn't anyone else out this far. Hell, for all they knew, the other group might have turned back and gone the other way, too.
"All right," he agreed at last. "But if we do decide to go after whoever's shooting that lightning, we need a better plan than just hoping that Elena won't be hurt by the lightning. That's not a plan."
Liv nodded. "You're right. But we have time to come up with something better. In the meantime, we should get moving."
Lee adjusted his backpack as they set out. Liv was right; they had time to figure out a better strategy. Part of him hoped that by the time they got closer, the lightning would stop. He certainly didn't want to fight someone who could shoot lightning at them with a thought. He didn't want to fight anyone, really, but that didn't seem like a fair fight at all.
A fair fight. Could they really hope to find one of those? They'd been lucky so far. They hadn't really had to fight. Sure, they'd been trying to track down one of the other groups, but they'd never really had much of a plan for what to do once they caught up to them.
Maybe it was a good thing they hadn't found them after all.
Frederick Bouvy, 17
Maybe the storm had been a good thing after all.
Frederick rolled over a little as Henry shook his shoulder. "Has it been three hours already?" he asked groggily.
"Closer to four," Henry admitted. "You looked pretty tired, so I let you sleep a bit more. The golems could probably keep watch just fine for a while if you want to keep sleeping. That's what I've been doing, and I haven't had any problems yet."
"Yet," Frederick repeated. "I can keep watch for a while. Should probably eat something, too." He opened one of the bags. "Any sign of anyone?"
Henry shook their head. "No werewolves, if that's what you mean. Still getting a bit of lightning over there, but that's pretty far away." They gestured off into the distance.
The lightning did look pretty far away. Besides, if it was going to strike something around here, it would strike the golems before it would hit either of them, wouldn't it? Because they were taller? Or would it avoid them because they were made of rocks? Were they made of rocks? They certainly looked like rocks on the outside, but there could be anything on the inside. "So what're they made of?" Frederick asked, nodding at the golems.
Henry raised an eyebrow. "Rocks, dirt, that sort of thing. I can use pretty much anything, but that's what there's a lot of around here. Mostly rocks. Why?"
"Think we could get one of them to hold up something metal?"
Henry blinked, but then they put the pieces together. "You want one of them to act as a lightning rod just in case the lightning gets closer?"
"Just a thought."
Henry nodded. "Good thought. You could say it's a real bright idea." Silence. "A real lightbulb moment." More silence. "You could even say it's shocking I hadn't thought of that before."
Frederick stared. Puns. The kid was making puns. "I just thought—"
"Yeah. Got it. I'll see if I can find anything metal." The started sorting through the supplies, but it was mostly food and clothes. "There's probably some metal in the compasses and the watch, but not much," Henry reasoned. "My knife, your gun, but those'll be more useful as weapons. Not sure if that's the right kind of metal, anyway. Does it have to be a specific kind?"
Frederick shrugged. "How should I know?"
"Figured maybe you were paying more attention than I was when they covered conductivity in school. I don't think we've gotten there yet."
Frederick chuckled. "You're what, maybe a year or two younger than me?"
"I'm fourteen."
"Seventeen. I would've guessed you were older."
Henry shrugged. "I would've guessed you were younger."
Frederick wasn't sure if they were kidding or not, but it probably didn't matter. Age was … well, probably not as important as some other things in the Games. After all, Penelope had won last year, and she'd only been twelve. The other girl who had survived had been … what? Seventeen? Eighteen? Somewhere around there. Age didn't seem to matter as much as what the other contestant could do. And someone who could make life-size creatures out of the rocks under their feet? Well, that was worth putting up with a few immature puns.
"How about the zippers?" Frederick asked. "Looks like they're some kind of metal. The sleeping bags have zippers, too."
Henry shook their head. "That's still not a lot of metal."
"Maybe it doesn't have to be a lot of metal – just more than there would be on us," Frederick reasoned.
"Okay." Henry cut the zipper off one of the sleeping bags and handed it up to one of the golems. "Here you go."
The golem said nothing. Frederick shook his head. Of course it hadn't said anything. It was just a lump of rocks. But Henry had spoken to it as if it was a person. Maybe that was just because they'd been on their own for so long. It wasn't as if they'd had anyone else to talk to. The words came out of Frederick's mouth before he even had a chance to think. "How long ago did you leave your group?"
"Why, because I'm talking to a rock?"
"Well … yeah."
"First day we were here. You?"
"First night. They were getting drunk. I thought they were going to give away their position and get us all killed."
"Drunk? What was in your backpack?"
"Nothing. I was working with Seb. You know, the guy at the talent show who could just write things, and they'd appear? Alphonso – the other guy I was working with – wanted some drinks, and Seb … well, he had trouble saying no."
"But you didn't."
"Nope. Took off and didn't look back." Except he had. A lot. He'd spent the next few days second-guessing his decision to leave the two of them. But it seemed to have worked out after all.
"Me neither."
Henry Helstrom, 14
"Me neither."
Henry knew it had been a mistake as soon as the words left their mouth, because of what Frederick was sure to ask next. "So why'd you leave your group?"
For a moment, Henry considered telling the truth. Not because they particularly trusted Frederick, but because it would feel good to tell someone. To get it out in the open. Not that they needed anyone to know, but still, it would be nice to hear someone else say that they'd done the right thing. Or at least not the wrong thing. Chances are, Frederick would have done exactly the same thing in their place. Anyone would have.
Anyone would have. Which was why they didn't need Frederick to say it. They didn't need assurance that they'd made the right choice. Henry shrugged in what they hoped was a casual manner. "Things just weren't working out."
Frederick took a package of graham crackers from one of the bags. "Look, if you don't want to tell me, that's okay."
"Good."
"I mean, it's not like we really know each other."
"Right."
For a moment, there was silence. "If you want to get some sleep … I mean, that was the idea, right?"
Henry nodded and lay down, pulling one of the sleeping bags around themself. Sleep. Right. That was the idea. And Frederick had trusted them to keep watch while he was sleeping. They could easily have told one of the golems to squash him, or slit his throat, or taken his gun and shot him with it. But they hadn't.
Because they didn't have to. They could both survive. They could both make it out of this alive. They could help each other.
But they'd thought the same thing about Fae, Kiara, and Iola.
Henry closed their eyes. This was different. That had been before the Games had started, when none of them had really known anything about each other. Sure, they didn't know much about Frederick, but they knew that he'd managed to survive for five days on his own. That meant Frederick could take care of himself. And if he could take care of himself, then he was in a better position to be able to help someone else.
Besides, if things got bad, they could always leave. Or maybe Frederick would leave. That didn't mean they had to kill each other. Hell, they hadn't even thought about killing Fae, Kiara, and Iola either, and none of them had probably thought about killing Henry. They'd just … left, and hoped they would never have to see any of the others again, so that they wouldn't have to deal with why they'd left.
So that they wouldn't have to deal with what they'd done.
Henry clenched their fists, and knew without looking that the golems had straightened up a little, grown a little taller. For a while, not having anyone around, they'd been able to forget the way the others had looked at them when they'd figured it out, when they'd realized what Henry had been hiding from them. Now … now they just hoped Frederick wouldn't end up looking at them like that.
Stop it. It wasn't their fault. None of it. It was no one's fault. No one but the MAAB. That was what they had told Vincent during training. Maybe trying to hide what Fae's voice had done hadn't been the brightest idea, but it had been the best out of only bad options. And they'd had bad options because of the position the MAAB had put them in in the first place. They'd made the best choice they could at the time, with the information they'd had. That was all anyone could do.
But still…
But nothing. There was no point in getting upset over it now. Not when they would probably never see any of the others again. Hell, the other three could all be dead, for all they knew. Henry's stomach churned at the thought. They weren't entirely sure whether that would be better or worse.
Neither. Both were bad options. Right now, there were only bad options. And sleep … well, maybe sleep was the best of those options right now. The golems were still keeping watch, after all, just in case Frederick missed something. Or in case Frederick tried something.
They were about as safe as they could be.
Florence Roos, 114
Things were about as bad as they could be.
Florence sat with an arm wrapped around Kenji, who was still staring at Emery's body. The body was a mess, halfway between wolf and human form, covered in blood, fur matted, blood covering the collar that still circled her neck. She could feel her gaze being drawn back to the body of the dog that lay nearby, now sucked practically dry.
She should have listened to her instincts.
She should have attacked the dog when she'd had the chance, or told Emery to run away. She'd had a feeling, deep in her gut, that the dog was trouble. She should have listened to it. A week ago, she would have listened to it. But she'd known that Emery wouldn't want to hurt a dog that hadn't done anything to her.
And now Emery was dead.
She felt Kenji stir a little. Now that the storm had stopped, the moon and an occasional flash of lightning in the distance were enough for her to be able to see his hands. She caught 'dog' and 'where,' and it didn't take a genius to figure out the rest. "Where did the dog come from?" she asked.
Kenji nodded. For a moment, Florence hesitated. She knew why he wanted to know. He wanted to go after whoever was really responsible for this. The dog was just a dog; it hadn't been acting alone. It wasn't here alone. And whoever was controlling it – if that was what they were doing – couldn't be too far away. The dog had been close enough to follow the sound of Emery howling, even over the sound of the storm, and it hadn't taken it long to get here. That narrowed it down.
But would they even want to try to find someone like that in the first place? The sort of person who could conjure a dog out of thin air and then just send it out on a killing spree – was that really the sort of person they wanted to come across? What if they decided to make something even more dangerous than a dog?
Stop. Don't think. She was doing it again – questioning her instincts. Her instincts agreed with Kenji. Now was the time to make a move – now, before they had a chance to think it through, before they had a chance to second-guess themselves. Now, while they were still running on anger and adrenaline and—
And terror. That was new. She'd assumed, at the start of the Games, that she and Emery would be able to take care of themselves, and that Kenji was the one they would need to watch out for. Despite his speed, he didn't have the instincts of an animal. He was just a little kid. But Emery had a werewolf's instincts, a werewolf's strength and speed, and it hadn't been enough. And Florence was deaf, barely able to fly a little, couldn't echolocate. She would be relying on Kenji a lot more than she'd thought. Maybe now was as good a time as any to see how far that could take her.
Besides, part of her wanted this. Wanted a fight. Wanted blood. The dog's blood had been … well, it had been a taste, and now she wanted more. She wanted something better. The blood of the person who was really responsible for Emery's death – that was a satisfying thought. It would be an even more satisfying taste.
Florence pointed. "That way. Wait!" she interrupted before he could take off, then quickly shifted back to a small bat shape.
Kenji nodded as she perched on his shoulder, then signed something that was probably hold on. She did, and he took off.
It was almost as good as flying.
Savannah Kingston, 18
She was as good as dead now.
Savannah clenched her fists as more lightning shot up into the sky. She couldn't control it. She'd barely been trying. Whoever wanted to find her now would almost certainly be able to, and maybe that was even a good thing. Maybe that meant it would be over. Maybe that would be better – better than living with this.
She couldn't even look at his body, or the lightning would get worse, just like the last time she'd tried. It wasn't fair. Coburn had only been trying to help her. He'd just been trying to wake her up, and now…
Now he was dead. And the worst part was, she had no one to blame but herself. At least when Lilith had died, the two of them had managed to kill her attacker. That had given them some sort of … if not satisfaction, then at least closure. There had been something they could do about it, and they'd done it. There was nothing she could do about this – no one else she could blame except herself.
No, that wasn't entirely true. Yes, the lightning had come from her, but none of this would have happened if it hadn't been for the storm. In ordinary circumstances, she wouldn't have just been shooting off bolts of lightning while she was asleep. It had only happened because they'd spent the day being pelted with hail. Her body had too much pent up energy, and it had needed to let some of it go. If it wasn't for the storm…
Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew that even that wasn't the real reason. Whoever had caused the storm wasn't the person who was really to blame, just like the girl who had stabbed Lilith wasn't really to blame for her death, either. But there was nothing she could do about the MAAB. Yes, it was their fault, but it wasn't as if she could shoot lightning at them.
Could she?
Where were they, anyway? They had to be somewhere nearby, just in case things went wrong. Maybe if her lightning reached far enough, she would be able to hit them. But that meant she would need to know where they were, and that seemed … well, unlikely at best. Even less likely than finding the person responsible for the weather. The chances of her actually being able to do something about Coburn's death were slim.
Savannah took a deep breath. There was nothing she could do about the MAAB. Nothing she could do about the storm. And as for herself … well, she'd practically sent up a beacon now letting the other contestants know exactly where she was, if any of them were inclined to come and attack her. But who would be stupid enough to come after her after that sort of a lightning show?
Maybe. Maybe someone would. It had happened once, after all. But she was farther away now – farther away from where most of the contestants probably were. That had been the idea, of course – to get as far away from the others as they could.
Now part of her wished they hadn't.
But only part. The part that was full of grief and rage and frustration and realized that the only person she could take it out on right now was herself. She could let the others find her. She could let them kill her. But she knew, deep down, that that wouldn't really solve anything. That wouldn't bring Coburn back. There was nothing she could do to make this right. Nothing she could to do take it back.
Savannah slumped down against the rocky wall, little bolts of lightning still flickering around her. Even if someone did decide to come after her, it would probably take them a while to get here. She would have time to prepare. Time to decide what to do. Time to go somewhere else, or to prepare to defend herself here.
Time to decide whether she even wanted to.
Fae Tomasini, 13
They still had time to decide what they wanted to do next.
Fae gripped her knife tightly as she stared out into the darkness. It was her turn to keep watch, but nothing seemed to be moving. Most people would probably want to stay put after a storm like that. The three of them certainly hadn't taken long to decide that it would be best to wait until morning to go anywhere.
Still, it was best to have someone keep watch, because there was no telling whether some of the other groups might be desperate enough to still be moving. She, Kiara, and Iola were in a pretty good position, after all. They still had plenty of supplies. They were armed. They had already fought some of the other contestants, already proven that they were willing and able to kill.
That she was willing to kill. She hadn't wanted to. It hadn't been fun. But it had been necessary. She'd wanted to protect the other two, and she had. That was what it had come down to, really. Either the boy would have died, or Iola would have. There hadn't really been much of a choice.
So why could she still see his face?
Fae turned the knife over in her hands. Part of her wanted to ask Iola – to ask whether she'd felt the same way about the boy she'd killed, whether the image would stop appearing in the back of her mind whenever she closed her eyes. She wanted to ask Iola if she also felt…
Guilty? Was that what this was? Maybe. Killing was wrong, after all; that was what she had always been told growing up. It was common sense. Killing was wrong. Other people deserved to live. But the boy had been trying to kill her, trying to kill her friends. That was … well, that was self-defense. That meant it wasn't murder, right?
But that didn't mean it wasn't killing.
That didn't mean it wasn't wrong.
But letting Iola die … that would have been wrong, too. What if the only choices were wrong ones? Maybe sometimes there was no right thing to do. Her family would understand that, wouldn't they? They wouldn't be…
What? Ashamed of her? Fae pulled her jacket a little tighter. No. No, her family loved her. They would understand. After all, she would understand, if it had been one of her brothers who was in her place. If Arthur or Doug had killed someone who was trying to kill one of their friends, she would understand that. She just had to hope that they would feel the same way.
If she ever got to see them again. And that was a big if. The three of them were still alive, but they had no way of knowing how many of the others were also alive. It had been at least six or seven days so far, hadn't it? About a week. How many of the others could be left?
Well, they knew at least two were dead. The boy she had killed, and the boy Iola had killed. Fae glanced over at where Iola lay, sound asleep, showing no sign of being startled awake by nightmares about the boy she'd killed. Fae shook her head. Maybe it would be better not to ask Iola. Better not to seem like she was…
What? Squeamish? Weak? The others wouldn't see her that way, would they? After all, she'd done what they'd asked her to do. She'd killed. She'd protected them. If she felt a bit uneasy about it afterwards … well, that was perfectly normal, wasn't it?
Normal. None of this was normal. Maybe there was no 'normal' way to react in a situation where nothing was normal, nothing was certain, nothing was playing out how she'd imagined it would. But what had she thought would happen? Had she thought the three of them would be out there, attacking the other groups, trying to kill everyone they could find so that they could go home?
Not exactly. But during training, it had seemed like there would be more … well, more of everything. More fighting. More needing to defend themselves. And less … waiting. There had been a lot of waiting, and watching, and hoping that nothing would happen.
She was almost starting to hope that something would.
Lea Cervantes, 18
She was starting to think this hadn't been such a good idea after all.
Lea shook her head as she watched the lightning dancing across the sky. "Do you think maybe we should head farther downhill now?" Lightning was attracted to tall things, after all. Being near the top of a mountain didn't seem like the best idea.
Of course, they weren't exactly at the top, and heading downhill in the dark while the path was so slippery didn't seem like such a great idea either. So she wasn't surprised when Elio shook his head. "Not yet. We'll be safe up here a while longer."
Lea nodded. He sounded so certain. Elio always sounded certain. "Maybe when it's light out?" she ventured. "It just feels so … exposed up here." It hadn't been bad yesterday, in the dark, because no one would have been able to see them up here anyway. But now that the storm had died down, it would actually be light out during the day.
"After sunrise," Elio agreed. "After sunrise, we can keep moving."
"Is something going to happen before sunrise?"
Elio smiled. "It doesn't work like that. I don't know exactly what's going to happen – just that we shouldn't start moving yet. But the path will be slippery in the dark, so maybe that's why we're supposed to stay here for a while. Give the path time to dry, and wait until sunrise so there will be more light."
Lea nodded. That made sense. And it was good to know that that was what they were supposed to be doing. "It's kind of nice," she said quietly.
"What?"
"Knowing that we're doing the right thing. I mean, all the other groups are out there trying to figure out the right choice to make, guessing, doing the best that they can, but we actually know. We know this is what we should be doing. It's…"
"Reassuring."
"Yeah."
"I just wish there was a way to…" Elio trailed off into silence.
"What?"
"A way to convince the MAAB that this is wrong. If they could only know what we know, feel what we feel, how certain we are about this … they'd change their minds. I know they would."
"You really think so?"
"Of course. I mean, why do you think they're doing this?"
Lea shrugged. She hadn't really thought about it. "Because they hate mutants."
Elio shook his head. "See, I don't think that's it."
Lea raised an eyebrow. "They put us in here and tell us to fight to the death – and you don't think they hate us?"
Elio chuckled. "Well, maybe some of them do, but I don't think that's the reason so many people agreed to the Games. Think about it. Think about how many people had to sign off on this. Not just the MAAB, but everyone above them in the government. The people in congress who are trying to move mutants into colonies. I don't think it's because they hate us – not all of them, and not all of us. They're just afraid."
Lea shook her head. "I don't think the two are mutually exclusive, you know."
"No, but if they knew that most of us don't want to hurt them…"
"It wouldn't make a difference."
"Of course it would."
Lea sighed. "No, because maybe you're right. Maybe it's not about hatred. But I don't think it's about fear, either. I think it's about control. They want to control us – even those of us who don't mean them any harm, those of us who couldn't use our powers to hurt them even if we wanted to. I mean, look at some of the people they chose here. Do you really think they're afraid of someone like Makenzie?"
Elio looked away. "No."
"But she was using her power. Not using it to hurt anyone – just using it in a way that they couldn't control, couldn't regulate, maybe couldn't understand. So they picked her. Tore her away from her family and her friends and tossed her into a death match where they probably knew she would be one of the first to die." Lea shook her head. "That's not fear. That's power. That's control. And they're not going to give that up just because you tell them they're doing the wrong thing."
Elio fell silent, and for a moment, Lea wondered if maybe she'd gone too far. But then he nodded. "You're right," he said quietly. "They're not the ones we need to convince. They were never the ones we needed to convince. We need to convince the rest of the country."
Lea nodded. "That's what we're doing, Elio. We're not playing their game. That was the idea all along – just keep going, avoid the others, show that we're not going to fight."
"Yes," Elio agreed. "That was the idea. It just doesn't feel like … enough."
"I know what you mean, but … what else could we be doing? This is probably the best thing we can do right now – just keep going and stay alive."
Elio nodded, but Lea knew he wasn't satisfied with that answer. She wasn't, either. It really didn't feel like they were accomplishing anything, but maybe that was a good thing. As far as the Games were concerned – as far as the MAAB was concerned – 'accomplishing' things meant killing the other contestants. As long as they weren't doing that, as long as they weren't playing along, then they were making progress, however small.
She just wished she could be doing something more.
Penelope – 098, 13
She just wished she could have done something more.
Penelope shook her head, watching the screens. The others were asleep now – except Ian, who never slept. He'd promised to wake them if anything interesting happened, but Penelope already knew she wouldn't be able to sleep. Not now that only one of her contestants was left.
Well, one or two, depending on whether they were counting Seb. But things weren't looking too good for him now that Florence and Kenji had figured out that he was responsible for Emery's death. Or at least, that he was responsible for creating the dog in the first place. As far as she could tell, he hadn't told it to go out and kill anyone. The dog had decided to do that on its own.
But that wouldn't matter to Florence and Kenji, if he even got a chance to tell them in the first place. Once the sun rose, it probably wouldn't take them long to find him – not at the speed Kenji could move. The pair of them were already darting back and forth around the area, Florence clinging tightly to Kenji, stopping only when he needed to catch his breath. On some level, Penelope understood the urge, the desire to do something about the death of their friend, but on the other hand—
No. No, if she was being honest with herself, she didn't really understand it. They'd only known each other for a little over a week, after all. And they'd all known from the start that only two of them could make it out of the Games alive. Eventually, one of them was going to have to die.
She was just surprised it had been Emery. Florence's hearing loss, Kenji's age – she'd thought one of them would be the first to die. Instead, it had been Emery, and now the other two were out for revenge.
Penelope shook her head. Maybe revenge was as good a motivator as any. It was one that she'd never needed in the Games. She'd ended up killing the boy who had killed Rachel at the start of the Games, but that hadn't been why she'd killed him. He'd attacked them. She would have killed him anyway. And Monet … well, she was the one who had killed Monet, so revenge for that would have been rather literally self-defeating.
Except she wasn't the only one responsible for Monet's death. She'd only killed her ally because the MAAB had sent them a message that she'd interpreted to mean there were only a few contestants left. She'd assumed that Monet would have to die in order for her to make it out of the Games. Once she'd found out that wasn't true…
She still hadn't wanted revenge, she realized. She'd wondered, yes, what might have happened if she and Monet had known they could both live. But she'd never wanted to retaliate at the MAAB for not telling them, for lying to them, for manipulating her into killing Monet. She might as well try to get revenge for them choosing her for the Games in the first place, or for the fact that they'd started the Games.
But that … that was out of reach for now. Maybe forever. This was bigger than her, bigger than any of them, and there wasn't anything she could do to stop the Games, or to punish the people responsible. The best thing to do was to try to help her contestants survive.
Except … why? Why did it matter, really, whose contestants were the ones to survive? Yes, there was a part of her that wanted her contestants to survive because she knew them a little better, but there were other contestants she'd worked with during training who she knew at least as well as some of her own. The coaches had all agreed on that – that it was better for any of the contestants to work with any of the coaches, to get as much training in as possible. So all the training time she'd spent with Emery, she'd also spent with Florence and Kenji. Did it really matter that Emery was technically the only one of the three who had been her contestant?
Not really. After all, she had been one of Maria's contestants, but the other two had never seemed upset that she had survived, rather than one of theirs. Piper had been Ian's contestant, and Maria and Vincent had never seemed bothered by that. Two contestants survived. Those were the rules. It didn't matter whose they were.
But…
Penelope glanced over at one of the screens on the left, where Savannah sat slumped against the side of the rocky passage. She had done exactly what Penelope had done – killed an ally – except that Savannah hadn't meant to. And that seemed to make quite a lot of difference.
Well, that and the fact that Savannah knew there would be two survivors. She would never have been in a position where she would have to kill Coburn. They could both have lived.
That information had definitely changed some of the contestants' strategies. She doubted that Frederick and Henry would have joined forces if only one of them could have survived. Manaka might not have been so desperate for companionship if only one of them could have survived. If he hadn't been tempted by Rick's offer to work with him, if he'd taken the initiative and attacked Rick instead, or simply run away, he would probably still be alive.
But there was nothing she could do about that now. Nothing she could do about most of it. But maybe there was something she could do to help one of her contestants, if only she could manage to steer some of Florence and Kenji's rage in a different direction.
They just needed a little push.
"I was crazy with grief and rage. If you only knew what I've gone through."
