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Blame
Francine Temple, 43
March 20th, 10:27 MST
They couldn't blame this one on Vincent.
Francine glanced around the table as the video clips played again. Sybil strangling Makenzie even as she tried to help Evelyn fight off Frederick. Rick attacking Joseph as he emerged from the tunnel. Vi dragging Alannah's lifeless body to the surface. Then Piper's face appeared, reminding everyone watching that the three who had killed were only doing as they had been told, that they were fighting because it was the only way to survive. Trying to shift the blame away from the contestants and squarely to where it belonged: the MAAB.
It was like seeing a ghost. They'd known all along, of course, that Piper was working with a group of mutants trying to interfere with the Games, but they'd all figured they would be going for sabotage. Destroying cameras, interfering with signals to the contestants' collars, maybe sending in a team to try to rescue the contestants. They had spent the last few months preparing for something of that sort, and Francine's hands had been full with the technical aspects, which she'd figured was for the best. The less she saw of the actual contestants, the more she could live with herself.
But now here was Piper, pointing a finger at them for the whole world to see. Somehow, they'd managed to hack into the very same cameras the MAAB was using to collect footage from the arena. In doing so, however, they'd tipped their hand. Vincent had only had access to information. He would never have had the opportunity to access the technology he would have needed in order to pull this off – not by himself, at least.
Someone was helping him. Or someone was behind all of it and had simply let him take the blame. Maybe it didn't really matter which – or even who. The damage was done.
At last, Nicholas broke the silence that had settled over the board. "All right. How bad is this? How many people have seen it?"
Mack scrolled through a few messages on his phone. "It's all over social media. It's trending on every site I checked – and a few I didn't even know existed. News outlets have picked up the story and are running wild with it. And it's only been—" He checked his watch. "About two hours since the Games started. This is just the tip of the iceberg."
"Can we take down the video?" Nicholas asked hopefully.
Mack turned helplessly to Francine, wordlessly begging her to explain. Francine shook her head. "Yes and no. We can remove it from individual sites one by one, but unless you've got a time machine you haven't told us about, it wouldn't do any good. Too many people have already seen it. And removing this video won't stop them from spreading any more as the Games go on. We'd be constantly playing whack-a-mole, and it wouldn't get us anywhere."
Nicholas nodded. "Can we spin this as a hoax, claim it's some sort of mutant conspiracy to make the government look bad?"
It was Lilian who answered. "We could."
"But?"
Lilian leaned back in her chair. "But we always knew the truth was going to come out eventually. Eventually, we were always going to go public with what the Games really are."
"Eventually," Nicholas repeated. "Not this soon."
"And why not?"
"Because the public won't accept it."
Lilian glanced at Mack. "Is that what you're seeing?"
Mack hesitated. "There's definitely some … disagreement."
Nicholas raised an eyebrow. "Disagreement?"
Mack nodded. "On the one hand, there's what you'd expect. There's outrage. There's horror. There are people organizing protests. But on the other hand, there are people who think … well, who think it's a good idea to let the mutants wipe each other out, so to speak."
"You can't be serious."
A hint of a smirk appeared on Mack's face. "It gets even better. They've managed to identify most of the contestants, and you know what else is trending?" He scrolled through his phone. "That time Seb set his school on fire? Someone found the old article. Alannah's family's obituaries, backed up by her aunt's testimony. There's a blurb from Emery's father, accusing her of all sorts of witchcraft. And Florence … We hit the jackpot with her. She's left so many dead bodies – some we didn't even know about."
"Not all of them have such a checkered history," Hans pointed out.
Mack shook his head. "But enough of them do. Look at the number of accidents Vi has left in his wake. Coburn burned down his family's house. There's even a girl who claims Fae nearly made her deaf when they were kids."
"They still are kids," Francine insisted.
Mack waved a hand. "When they were younger kids, then. The point is, people are already asking whether the others were simply better at not getting caught, whether they all have a few skeletons in their closet."
"So what are you saying?" Nicholas asked.
Mack glanced at Lilian, who nodded. "They're doing our job for us," Mack explained. "They're making a case that the Games should happen. News outlets are already insisting that they hear from both sides. They're giving us the benefit of the doubt, and they're doing it despite the evidence that we put the contestants up to this. I say we let them do it, and let it all play out."
"So we do nothing."
"Yes."
"People will riot. You already said they're organizing protests."
Mack shrugged. "Good."
"Good?"
"A bunch of angry mutants marching in the streets? How long do you think it'll take for something to go wrong? How long before someone's home or shop or school is destroyed by some careless power gone astray – or maybe even deliberately? How long before some innocent bystander is hurt, or killed? And who will people blame then?"
Nicholas nodded. "The mutants."
"Exactly."
Nicholas glanced around the table. "Other opinions?"
Silence. Judah and Hans nodded in agreement. Anita gave what she probably thought was a nonchalant shrug. "Not exactly my area," she pointed out.
"Fair enough," Nicholas agreed. "Alvin?"
"Hmm?"
"You're being uncharacteristically un-opinionated."
Alvin shook his head. "That's because it doesn't matter. This is a…" He trailed off for a moment, snapping his fingers, trying to remember the right word. "That thing in football where you're really far from the goal and way behind, so you just chuck the ball really high in the air as far as you can and hope someone catches it."
Nicholas raised an eyebrow. "A Hail Mary?"
"Yeah, that. This is a Hail Mary. After what happened last year, they're desperate. They know they don't stand a chance if they try to attack us directly, so they're hoping public opinion will be on their side. It won't. Deep down, they probably know it won't. But they have to try something, because that's human nature. They're too stubborn to just admit that they've lost."
Francine's stomach churned. Too stubborn to just admit that they've lost. Not only had the mutants lost, but she and Alvin had lost, as well. They'd spoken against the Games at the start, voted against the others, tried to convince them it was wrong. But they had lost. Maybe it was time they admitted it.
"But you think they have?" Nicholas asked.
"Of course they have. When you voted to go ahead with the Games, we all knew it was only a matter of time before the public would go along with it openly. I didn't think it would be quite this soon, but if they're trying to force the Games out into the open, it's because they've run out of other options."
Nicholas nodded. "All right. If that's agreed, then—"
"Didn't say I agreed," Alvin pointed out. "Just said there wasn't much point in trying to do anything about it."
"Fair enough," Nicholas conceded. "Now for the elephant in the room. How did they get those videos?"
One by one, heads turned to Francine, the technology expert. "Could be any number of ways," she lied. "There's a reason we've been trying to keep our location a secret. Once they figured out where we were, it was only a matter of time before they'd be able to find a camera or two, and use those to worm their way into the system. The real question is how they managed to locate us."
"Could they have tracked one of the contestants here somehow?" Judah asked. "Planted a bug on them – or in them? They knew who some of the potential candidates were, after all. We assumed they were just taking them, but what if they're using one of them, the way we tried to use Piper to find them?"
"Could be that," Francine agreed. "Or someone might've picked up on the rather bizarre weather over the last couple days. Or it might be something else entirely. We know Piper is working with a group of mutants, but we only know what a few of them can actually do. If one of them can manipulate technology or locate other mutants or connect telepathically well enough to trace one of them … that's all it would take."
"So this isn't necessarily sabotage by someone on the inside."
There we go. Technically, it wouldn't have been impossible for someone to hack into the cameras without inside help, but it wasn't anywhere near as likely. But she didn't need to tell them that. Francine shrugged. "I wouldn't rule it out, but there are any number of other explanations." Much less likely explanations, but if they didn't ask…
"And Vincent?" Nicholas asked, turning to Anita.
"What about him?" Anita asked.
"We've been working under the assumption that he was our leak. That there was a leak. But if they've managed to hack into our cameras, they could have gotten every bit of information that way. You're the one who noticed he was acting suspiciously. What do you think?"
Anita considered for a moment before answering. "I still think we should keep an eye on him, but he's not exactly in a position to cause much trouble."
Nicholas nodded. "Fair point. When's the last time someone checked on the four of them?"
Alvin gave a little wave. "I just came from their room. Told them I'd bring some food as soon as I figured out what all the fuss was about." He stood up. "So if there's nothing else…"
There wasn't. One by one, everyone left, going about their business, finding something to keep busy even if they didn't really have something they were in charge of. Doing their jobs. That was how this whole thing worked, after all – people just doing their jobs, even if they were horrible. People like her going along with it because there was nothing they could really do to stop it. There was nothing anyone could do.
It was too late now.
Lea Cervantes, 18
It was probably too late to find the others now.
Lea pulled her jacket tighter as Elio dug through the bags, searching for anything that might help shield the two of them from the rain. It was already coming down in torrents, too thick for them to see much of anything. The sound of the rain on the rocks around them was getting louder, too. She could barely hear Elio's triumphant "Aha!" as he pulled a grey tarp from one of the bags.
Still, she managed a smile as the two of them crouched down, flinging the tarp over themselves and the pair of backpacks they had grabbed. It was easily big enough for both of them. It would probably have been large enough to shield all six of them, but…
But the others were gone. Makenzie was dead, and Jaime had run off with Evelyn and Kylena. Lea had thought about suggesting that she and Elio could go after them, but there was no going anywhere in this weather. They were already soaking wet, but at least the tarp would keep them from getting pelted any more.
Lea emptied the rain out of her boots, and Elio quickly followed suit. Elio said something – something she couldn't quite make out over the pounding of the rain against the tarp. "What?" she called back.
"How's your head?"
Lea cringed as she felt the back of her head. There was a bit of blood, but it wasn't as bad as it could have been. It could have been a lot worse, and for what? She'd just happened to be reaching for a bag near one that the other girl had grabbed. She hadn't attacked her. She wouldn't have attacked her. She'd just wanted some supplies to share with the group.
The group that didn't exist anymore. Maybe it never really had. Maybe the others had just been hoping that a large enough group might be enough to keep anyone from attacking them right away. Or maybe they'd just wanted company. But they certainly hadn't believed that she and Elio were right about not fighting – not considering what had happened earlier.
She hadn't seen all of it, but she'd seen the blood on Evelyn's hands. And Makenzie was dead. Lea's stomach churned. That could have been her, if the other girl had continued attacking her rather than running off with her teammate. What would she have done, if the girl had thrown a punch, or if she'd tried to choke her? Would she really have refused to fight back?
Lea shook the thought from her head. She didn't need to decide that right now, after all. She doubted anyone would be looking for someone to attack in this weather. Most likely, the rest of the contestants were doing exactly what she and Elio were doing – hunkering down and waiting for the storm to pass.
It would probably be a long wait.
Elio Haines, 16
It would probably be a long wait.
Elio settled down on the rocky ground, which was wet, but that seemed better than just crouching. This storm wasn't going to pass anytime soon. It seemed to be mostly rain, but he was certainly grateful they'd been blessed with a tarp in one of the backpacks. He couldn't help feeling sorry for anyone who had run off without grabbing one, or who hadn't been lucky enough to have some sort of shelter in theirs.
Elio reached for one of the backpacks. "If we're going to be here a while, might as well get a good look at what we've got," he reasoned. Lea nodded halfheartedly. He wasn't certain she'd even been able to make out his words, the rain was so loud. But she didn't object as he began sorting through the contents of the backpacks.
There seemed to be a good amount of food, at least – four bottles of water, a large bag full of various nuts, a package of granola bars, a plastic jar full of applesauce, a bag containing six bagels, two packages of graham crackers, and a dozen sticks of jerky. Sure, it wasn't a seven-course meal, but it was more than he'd expected. No one had said anything about any food being provided at the start of the Games, and this would probably last until they could find some other source of food. Probably.
The rest of the bags' contents were also promising. There were two thin but surprisingly warm blankets, which he and Lea quickly wrapped around themselves, two shirts, two pairs of pants, a winter hat, a pair of earmuffs, a headlamp, a compass, a box of matches, a roll of athletic tape, and a small knife. Elio quickly tucked the box of matches into the bag with the bagels to keep it dry, but the backpacks seemed to be fairly waterproof on their own; everything inside was still perfectly dry.
Elio scooted a little closer to Lea under the tarp, using the knife to cut a few strips from the bottom of one of the extra shirts. As gently as he could, he wrapped them around the wound on her head. For the first time in days, he relaxed as he felt the warmth flowing through his hands, saw the light glowing as Lea's shoulders slumped, tension leaving her body. "So what's the plan?" she asked softly.
Elio took a deep breath, soaking in the light, the warmth, the certainty that he hadn't felt since he'd arrived. "The plan's the same as it's always been," he answered. "There just happen to be two of us instead of six." He turned the compass over in his hands. "We pick a direction and we keep going. We avoid the other contestants. We survive." He gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze.
"It'll be all right."
Fae Tomasini, 13
"It'll be all right."
Fae gave Iola's hand a squeeze as the two of them finally caught sight of Henry and Kiara in the pouring rain. The two of them had found as much shelter as they could – a lone pine tree near a small lake. "Kiara!" Fae called over the pounding of the rain. "We're over here!"
Kiara gave a wave, waiting. Fae half-led, half-carried Iola the last hundred feet or so. "What happened?" Henry asked as the golem dutifully handed them the pair of large backpacks before melting back into the rocks it had come from.
"I'm not sure," Fae admitted. "She can't hear, but … but I think something else happened, too. She doesn't seem to be able to—"
"It'll be all right in a moment," Kiara assured her, sitting down next to Iola on the rocky ground. Kiara's right arm was bandaged with what appeared to be part of Henry's shirt, but otherwise she seemed fine. Henry pulled their jacket a little tighter, watching as Kiara placed her hands on Iola's ears. Fae relaxed a little. Whatever was wrong with Iola, Kiara would fix it, just like she had for Vincent.
Rain pounded on the rocks as the four of them waited. Finally, Kiara removed her hands. "There. How does that feel?"
Iola said nothing. After a moment, she glanced around the group, then back to Kiara. "Is it supposed to take this long?"
Kiara shook her head. "What do you mean?"
Iola stared at Kiara's lips, confused. She rubbed her ears, then shook her head as if trying to clear them. "It didn't work." There was panic in her voice. "What happened? Did you do something differently?"
"I don't understand," Kiara insisted. "It worked for Vincent. Unless…"
Fae froze as the words hung in the air, unspoken. Unless it didn't. Fae shook her head frantically. "No. No, it worked. He heard us. He could understand us. He would have told us if he couldn't."
"Would he?" Kiara's voice was softer now.
Fae stared, horrified. What if Kiara was right? What if she couldn't heal Iola? What if she hadn't healed Vincent either? Tears stung Fae's eyes. This was all her fault. She was the one who had screamed. Because of her—
"Hey!" Iola's voice cut through the rain, the tears, the confusion. "What're you saying? What's going on?" She staggered to her feet. "And what the hell is wrong with me? I can deal with not being able to hear you guys, but this—" She staggered suddenly, leaning on the pine tree for support. "I can't even stand up straight. What's going on?"
For a moment, no one answered. Then Fae heard Henry's voice behind her, muttering almost to themself.
"He didn't say anything about that."
Henry Helstrom, 14
"He didn't say anything about that."
Henry took a step back as both Fae and Kiara whirled to face them. They hadn't meant to say it out loud, and now … now the damage was done. The other shoe had dropped. The last few minutes, the anticipation, the dread, the feeling of watching helplessly while everything crumbled – it had all been building up, and something had finally squeaked out.
They'd expected … something. Shouting, certainly. They were used to people shouting – sometimes at them, sometimes at the other foster kids in whatever home they happened to be in. They could deal with that. They'd prepared all sorts of clever retorts about how they'd just saved Kiara's life, and she had no right to be angry about anything.
Except she didn't look angry. She looked betrayed, and that was worse – so much worse. Henry said nothing as the full realization of what had happened passed over Kiara's face, and then Fae's. "You knew," Kiara said at last, softly.
It wasn't a question. She wasn't looking for any confirmation. It was an accusation, cold and hard and certain. There was nothing Henry could do but nod. "Yes."
"And you didn't tell us." Again, not a question. Obviously, they had said nothing. Kiara's eyes were hard, and Henry didn't dare look at Fae. "Why?"
Because he asked me not to. That would have been the easy answer. But it wasn't true – not really true. The truth was, Henry would probably have come to that decision on their own anyway, that it was best to keep the truth a secret – for a while, at least. And they had expected it to be a while. They'd known the shit would hit the fan eventually, but they hadn't expected it to happen this soon.
"Because you didn't trust us." Fae's voice was barely a whisper over the rain, but that didn't make the words any less true. Henry nodded weakly, tears stinging their eyes. They hadn't trusted Fae or Kiara to be able to handle the burden of what had happened, and there had been no way to tell Iola without telling the other two. But if they were being honest, they hadn't even really considered it.
You didn't trust us. It was true; they hadn't. But why should they? They'd known the other three for a matter of days. They weren't friends. They barely knew anything about each other. They'd joined up together because it had seemed like a good survival strategy, but now … now that strategy was falling apart.
"So how can you expect us to trust you?" Kiara's voice cut through the rain like a knife. She hadn't moved, but she seemed to be looking at them from farther away – so much farther. Henry took a step back. There was no way back across the sort of gulf that stood between them now. Trying to bridge that gulf in the best of times was nearly impossible. In the middle of all this…
Trust yourself. That was what Vincent had said, shortly before the tunnel doors had opened. Trust your instincts. Trust yourself. And trust your gut when it comes to anyone else. Henry tensed, muscles ready. Don't look back. In one quick movement, they reached down, snatched up one of the backpacks the golem had deposited, flung it across their back, and ran.
They didn't look back.
Iola Boman, 19
They didn't even look back.
Iola watched helplessly as Henry disappeared into the rain. She wasn't sure exactly what any of the three of them had said, but it didn't take a genius to put the pieces together. Kiara couldn't heal her. Henry had known. Exactly how they had known, she couldn't be sure, but it probably had something to do with Vincent.
Vincent. If Kiara couldn't heal her, then she hadn't healed Vincent either. Shit. Iola hurried towards Fae just as the little girl sank to her knees in the rain, tears streaming down her face. Iola staggered, thought better of trying to stand, and collapsed beside Fae, drawing her close. "Hey. Hey, it's not your fault. You didn't know. You were just trying to save our lives." She couldn't hear the words – or tell if Fae said anything in response – but after a moment, Fae stopped struggling and went limp, crying into Iola's shoulder.
Kiara knelt down beside the pair of them, her lips moving frantically. Probably an apology. Iola let her finish, and then drew her in, as well. "It's not your fault, either. You did everything you could. And we're all alive. That's the important thing."
The most important thing, yes, but not the only important thing. Iola's hands were shaking as she held the other two close. What was she supposed to do now? She could barely stand on her own. How was she supposed to fight? And Henry had just … left. The only reason she and Fae had held on as long as they had in the fight was because the golem had been protecting them. If that happened again…
Except it wouldn't. It couldn't, because she'd seen the bat spiraling haphazardly out of the sky. Not dead, certainly, but probably just as disoriented, just as helpless, as she felt now. "Hey." She gripped Fae's shoulder. "You know you got the bat, right? The wolf was a bit too far away, but you got the bat."
From the look on Fae's face, the words hadn't had the comforting effect she'd meant them to. More tears ran down her face, the rain washing them away only to have them replaced with new ones. Fae hadn't wanted to hurt anyone; even someone who had been attacking them. Iola clenched her teeth, biting back a few choice words aimed at the MAAB for Fae's sake. She hadn't deserved this. She'd only ever wanted to help people with her music. Kiara had wanted to use her power to heal people. They hadn't asked for this.
Slowly, deliberately, Iola got to her feet and made her way back to the tree, only slipping a few times in the rain, finally grasping one of the branches and giving a tug. It gave way easily in her hands, already rather brittle and then weakened by the storm. She peeled away a few of the smaller branches, then broke off the top so that the remaining stick came to about her shoulder. Huh. So that was why Vincent had been messing around with a staff on the last day of training.
Iola gave a half-hearted smile and wrapped an arm around Fae's shoulders, gripping the staff with her free hand. Fae held her close, and Kiara gave her a nod. She couldn't tell what they were saying, but from the look on their faces, they'd been worried she was going to just give up.
Maybe that would be the easy choice – just give up and accept her fate. But it would also have been the easy choice years ago, when her mother had left her outside to starve or freeze to death. It would have been the easy choice so many times on the streets when she and the others had been one meal away from starvation. But she had survived then, and she could survive this.
She wasn't about to give up now.
Kenji Rose, 12
He'd been about to give up looking.
Kenji couldn't help a smile as he raced towards the howl in the distance. He could barely hear it above the rain, but he was certain – absolutely certain – that it had come from this direction. Just as he'd been about to settle down to wait out the storm, just as he'd started to tell himself that he could always find Emery and Florence later, an unmistakable howl had come crashing through the sound of the rain.
Kenji adjusted the strap of the backpack he'd taken from the circle. It wasn't much, but at least he'd grabbed something. He just hoped the other two were okay. Had they gone after the other group like they had planned to? Or had they chickened out?
Just like him.
Kenji shivered as he picked up his pace. He'd thought about joining them in attacking the other group. He really had. But once he'd made it out of the tunnel, there had just been so many people. There had been so much going on, he hadn't even been sure which way Florence and Emery had gone. So he'd just chosen the nearest backpack and run as fast as he could – which, after all, was pretty fast.
Kenji wiped the rain from his face. They would probably be disappointed, but they would understand, wouldn't they? Besides, Emery wouldn't be howling now if she didn't want him to find them. And that meant she was still alive, at least. But Florence—
Kenji shook the thought from his head. No, that was silly. Florence was fine. She was a vampire, for goodness' sakes. If anyone could handle themselves in a fight, it was a vampire and a werewolf.
Then he saw them, huddled together near a small lake. There didn't seem to be anyone else around, from what he could tell through the rain – which wasn't much, now that he thought about it. There could be another group close by, and they would never know. Of course, that also meant the other group would never know.
"Kenji!" Emery called, shifting back to human form. "Over here!"
Kenji hurried over to join them. "Sorry we got split up. I grabbed some stuff, though." He set the bag down, but stopped short when he saw the look on Emery's face. "I can go grab some more if—"
Emery shook her head. "It's not that. It's Florence."
"What happened?" Kenji asked frantically, his eyes darting over to Florence. She seemed fine. He couldn't see any blood. But she simply met his gaze and gave a half-hearted wave. It was Emery who answered.
"We were wrong."
Florence Roos, 114
It seemed attacking had been the wrong move after all.
Florence waited as Emery explained the situation to Kenji, who was trying to keep a calm expression – maybe for her sake. Once Emery had finished – or at least, once her lips had stopped moving – Kenji turned to Florence, his hands … signing. It took Florence a moment to realize what was going on, but she caught the sign for "help" and something she was pretty sure was "together."
Florence shook her head. "Whoa, slow down. You know sign language?"
There was another flurry of signs – this time a little bit slower. She caught "deaf" and "sister." That was enough to put it together. "Your sister's deaf?" A nod. "Okay, you're going to have to go a bit slower. I'm out of practice."
That was putting it mildly. It had been decades since she'd needed to use it, and even then, she hadn't exactly been fluent. Still, it was something. She caught the word "sorry," and the rest seemed to amount to "I'll try to go slower." Florence relaxed a little. That was one problem solved.
One problem solved, but another big one still lingered, Florence reminded herself as Kenji opened the backpack he'd brought. The girl's scream must have done something to affect her balance, because she'd immediately tumbled from the sky, unable to control her descent other than steering a little bit in Emery's direction. Emery had caught her, but if it happened again…
And it seemed to have the same effect when she was in human form. There was a constant dizziness she couldn't seem to shake. She'd hoped it would go away eventually, but how long had it been now? Hours? If it hadn't let up by now…
Kenji pulled a water bottle out of the backpack. Useful, certainly. They'd found a lake, and there certainly wasn't a shortage of rain at the moment, but that could change at any time, and they couldn't stay here by the lake forever. The backpack also contained twelve sticks of beef, a plastic jar of applesauce, a scarf, a pair of socks, a small pillow, and a plastic bag full of bandages. And … something else. Something that Kenji slipped into his pocket before she could tell what it was. Florence cocked her head. What was he trying to hide?
Apparently, though, he hadn't noticed that she'd noticed. Either that or he had and was trying to look like he hadn't noticed. Florence let it go. If there was something in there that he wanted to keep for himself, he was more than entitled to it. He was the only one who'd grabbed any supplies, after all. She'd been so focused on taking out a threat that she hadn't bothered to think about food or supplies. She'd assumed they would simply be able to hunt if they needed to.
And Emery certainly still could, but what would there be to hunt around here? Unless they got closer to some of the mountains, where trees dotted the lower slopes, they weren't likely to find anything big in the rocky landscape. Certainly nothing compared to the meal she could have had if their attack had been successful.
Stop it. This was no time to focus on that. Yes, she was thirsty. She was always thirsty. But for now, that would have to wait. After their first attack had failed so miserably, it would be a while before she would be able to convince the others to try something like that again. She would have to be patient, but she was good at that.
It was only a matter of time.
Manaka Shizue, 16
At least they'd had time to get away.
Manaka relaxed a little as he and Marcus settled down again. After getting away from the other contestants, they'd sat down to rest near what they'd thought was a nice, quiet lake. But then the storm had started, and then there had been a wolf howling – a howling that had grown nearer and nearer until finally, they'd decided it was best to move along.
So they'd followed a small creek – a creek that was probably rising by the minute – to another lake, and then another, and then finally a third, heading in the direction of a tall mountain that loomed in the distance. Not that they could see too far into the distance at the moment – not through the torrent of rain. But he was fairly certain no one had followed them.
More accurately, he was fairly certain no one would have been able to follow them – at least not this quickly. Marcus plopped down on the ground beside him, clapping Manaka on the back. "Let's see if there's any food in here," he suggested, swinging the backpack off his shoulder. Manaka quickly did the same. It was probably about lunchtime, but food had been the last thing on his mind.
Still, Marcus was right. If there was food, they should eat. They should keep up their strength. Manaka almost burst out laughing when he opened the backpack and saw what was on top. Marcus was chuckling, as well, when he saw the same thing on top of his. "A rain poncho," he managed through laughter. "Maybe we should've opened these earlier."
"Maybe," Manaka agreed, slipping the poncho on over his jacket. "But at least now we'll know for next time."
Next time. The words had come out before he realized what they meant. He was assuming they would survive long enough for there to be a next time, long enough for their clothes to dry out and for it to rain again. A day ago, that might have seemed like a big assumption. But now? Things felt different somehow. Eventually, they would have to fight, but for now, they were just running. Trying to go unnoticed. Avoiding everyone else.
Those were all things he was good at.
Manaka sifted through the rest of the bag, trying to keep the clothing inside dry. There was an extra pair of socks, a scarf, a blanket, and some bandages near the bottom, so he left those there. The backpack seemed to have done a good job of keeping them dry. There was also a bit of food – two bottles of water, a large bag of trail mix, two packages of graham crackers, and a bag full of tortillas. There was also a bottle of rubbing alcohol and, lastly, a watch. Manaka couldn't help a snort as he put it on. "So we can keep track of how fast we're going?"
Marcus chuckled, pulling out a pair of water bottles, a bag of bagels, six small packages of fruit snacks, and a plastic bag full of gummy bears. "Looks like a blanket on the bottom," Marcus observed, then pulled out two pairs of earmuffs, a roll of athletic tape, a bottle with some sort of pills, and a small mallet. Marcus raised an eyebrow. "What are they expecting us to do, play croquet?"
Manaka shook his head. It was too small for that – about a foot long, more like the sort of mallet someone would use to hammer tent stakes into the ground. But considering they hadn't given them a tent…
"I think they meant for it to be a weapon," Manaka suggested quietly. It wasn't much of a weapon, maybe, but it was something. And there were trees around the lake, which meant branches. Branches they could break off and use to defend themselves, if it came to that.
It wouldn't – not anytime soon, at least. That was what he kept telling himself. They didn't have to fight yet. They could keep running a while longer. It had only been a few hours; there would be plenty of time for fighting later.
Right now, it was time for lunch.
Ansel Moore, 21
Lunch was better than he'd expected.
Ansel took another bite of a beef stick as the four of them ate in silence, huddled beneath the tarp they'd found in the backpack Elena had grabbed while running away from the circle. By the time they'd taken shelter, they certainly weren't dry anymore, but at least they weren't getting any wetter. Well, not much, at least. Puddles were forming on the rocks beneath them, leaking in under the sides of the tarp despite their efforts to hold the sides down. Still, it was certainly better than being out in the rain.
And the food was better than he'd expected. Of course, that was probably because he'd expected to be foraging for whatever food they could manage to find or catch. Ian had told them that the contestants the year before had been provided with backpacks, but the MAAB had apparently decided to switch things up. They'd had to fight for them, instead.
Or at least, he and Liv had fought for them. He'd seen Liv knock a girl to the ground before taking off, and he'd been fighting one of the other girls for a backpack before she had called to him, drawing him away from the fight. He'd left the girl and the backpack and taken off after his teammates, all of whom had managed to grab something, while he'd come away empty-handed. No one had said anything, but they had to be disappointed, didn't they?
He knew he certainly was. But simmering beneath that disappointment was a bit of relief. If he'd stayed and fought longer, he might have been killed. Or he might have killed someone else. He was certainly glad that that hadn't happened. But there had to be something in the middle – something between killing and coming away with nothing. The other three had managed to get something.
"Ansel?" Elena's voice shook him from his thoughts.
Ansel looked up. "What?"
"I was asking if you wanted anything else." She nodded towards the small pile of food. They'd eaten most of the beef sticks and a few of the tortillas, and drank a good amount of water, but Elena had been quick to point out that the rain outside meant they could refill that water pretty easily, so they might as well drink up. In addition to the five water bottles, they'd found two bunches of carrots, a large bag of gummy bears, six plastic cups of pudding, a box of granola bars, a bag of chocolate chip cookies, a large plastic bag of tortillas, twelve beef sticks, and two dozen sticks of jerky.
And that was just the food. There was also a sleeping bag, two pillows, two extra shirts, two extra pairs of pants, a pair of long underwear, a pair of earmuffs, a pair of socks, a scarf, a hat, a headlamp, a compass, a small coil of rope, a watch, a small box of matches, a roll of athletic tape, a bottle of rubbing alcohol, and some sort of mallet. The headlamp was currently lighting the space under the tarp, since very little light was making it in from outside – either because the tarp was thicker than it had looked or because the rain was too thick. The mallet had been in the bag Liv had grabbed, and she was turning it over in her hands, almost matching the rhythm of the rain, trying to focus. Finally, Ansel asked what he knew they all had to be wondering.
"Can't you do something about the rain?"
Caihong Lee, 25
"Can't you do something about the rain?"
Lee looked up in time to see Liv's face go red. "I've been trying," she insisted. "I mean, I haven't stuck my head out to see if it's working, but I'm doing my best."
"If it was working, wouldn't the rain have stopped?" Ansel pointed out.
Liv shook her head. "It didn't during training. The other day—" She cut herself off, realizing it hadn't actually been that long. "Yesterday, I didn't stop the storm. I just nudged it a bit. It went off in a different direction, but it was still there."
Lee nodded. "And you think the same thing is happening again, but this storm is … what? Bigger? Slower?"
Liv shrugged. "Maybe both. I'm not sure. It's also hard to tell which direction it's coming from in the first place, so if I pick a direction to try to nudge it, I can't be certain whether I'm working with it or fighting the current, so to speak. I've been trying to move it that way." She nodded off to her left.
"Why that way?" Elena asked.
"I'm pretty sure the circle is back that way." She nodded in the opposite direction. "If there's someone out there manipulating the storm – either to try to attack someone else or just as a reaction to being angry or frightened – then there's a good chance it's coming from back where we all started. It's the best guess I've got, but…"
She trailed off, but her meaning was clear. She had no way of knowing how much longer the storm would last, and it was clear that even trying to do anything about it was taking its toll on her nerves. Lee leaned forward a little. "Hey, it's all right. We're safe in here for now. Sure, it's a little cramped, but it could be a lot worse." He clapped Elena on the shoulder. "And good work grabbing a bag with a tarp in it."
Elena's face brightened a little. "Thanks." Of course, she'd had no way of knowing what was inside the bag any more than the rest of them did, but they needed all the cheering up they could get. Out of the corner of his eye, though, Lee was pretty sure he'd seen Ansel flinch. Probably best not to mention that Ansel hadn't managed to grab anything at all.
Lee shook the thought from his head. That wasn't important right now. What was important was that they were all safe, and they had enough food to last a little while, at least, before they would have to find some more. Sure, gummy bears and granola bars weren't exactly a meal, but they would have to do until they found something better.
Exactly what he was hoping to find, Lee wasn't sure. Between running from the other contestants and the start of the storm, they hadn't had much of a chance to get their bearings. He knew there were a lot of rocks, with some mountains in the distance. He was pretty sure he'd seen some trees. Trees meant animals, and animals meant food. Or at least, they did now. As long as they had some way to find them and catch them.
Maybe the mallet Liv was still twirling would come in handy after all.
Elena Burleigh, 21
What good was a mallet going to do them?
Elena shook her head as she finished another beef stick. There had been a good amount of food in the backpacks, which was a pleasant surprise, but what there hadn't been was any useful weapons. She knew Liv, at least, had been hoping for some. She'd been the one who had suggested that it might be a good idea to make a move early on in the hope that the MAAB might send them a weapon, after all. And Ansel, as well, had asked what sort of weapons there might be once the Games started.
The answer, apparently, was a mallet. A mallet and a bit of rope. Maybe the rope would be useful for setting some sort of trap if there were any animals nearby, and a mallet might be good for hitting something small like a rabbit or squirrel on the head to kill it, but when it came to fighting actual people…
The thought made Elena's stomach churned. Even the thought of killing an animal was … well, unfamiliar. Not necessarily bad, now that they would need to in order to survive, but she'd never really seen the appeal of hunting. Elena shook her head as the four of them packed the food back into the backpacks. It wasn't as if they were about to go anywhere in all this rain, but it would probably be good to be ready to move on in case something happened.
Something. The other contestants – that was what they really had to worry about. But surely no one else would want to be out in this weather, either. They'd almost certainly be looking for any shelter they could find, just like the four of them had. They'd just been lucky enough to grab a bag with a tarp in it.
She'd been lucky enough to grab one. It had been sheer dumb luck, of course; she hadn't known what was in the bags any more than the others had. Still, it felt good to know she had contributed something useful, that she was pulling her own weight.
"Maybe we should turn off the lamp," Liv suggested, nodding to the headlamp in the middle of the circle, propped up on one of the backpacks to keep it out of the water on the rocks below.
Elena raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
"We don't know how long the batteries will last," Liv said matter-of-factly. "We don't really need the light right now, since we're just sitting here. So we might as well save the light for when we really need to see something."
The rest of them nodded their agreement, and Liv turned off the headlamp. It wasn't quite pitch black, but it was pretty close. A little light seeped in from under the tarp, enough for her to make out the others' shapes, as well as the backpacks. Elena tried to ignore the shudder running down her spine, hoping the others wouldn't notice her hands were already turning to metal.
Trust me, you'll be plenty scared in the Games. That was what Vincent had said on the first day of training, when she'd been worried that she might not be able to turn robotic on command. Elena clenched her fists, and the sound of metal echoed off the tarp. If anything, she was probably going to have the opposite problem – having a hard time not turning metal if she didn't want to. Because Vincent had been right.
She was already scared.
Seb Krause, 16
He was still scared that something might go wrong.
Seb stared at the ground, searching for just the right spot. "Come on," Alphonso insisted. "We finally found somewhere that's not just rock. Just write yourself a pen, and then we can have anything we want."
Seb knelt down in the mud. Alphonso was right. Of course he was right. That was why they had kept moving, after all. Writing something on the rocks would have been nearly impossible with the way the rain was pouring down. But here, at least he would be able to write enough for a short word. And pen ought to do it. Once he had one of those, he could write anything.
Okay. Seb dipped his finger in the mud and wrote pen. Instantly, one appeared, and he picked it up. Alphonso beamed. "Great. Now write us somewhere dry."
"What?"
"You know, something like a house or a cabin or even a tent. Just somewhere out of the rain."
Seb turned the pen over in his hands. "You don't think anyone will notice and think it's strange – a building appearing out of nowhere like that?" He hadn't tried anything that big before. Not really. A few of the objects he'd managed to produce during training had been on the larger side, but a whole building…
Alphonso shrugged. "So what if they do notice? A few words, and we'll have more than enough weapons to defend ourselves if anyone comes knocking. Chances are, they'll figure that out and steer clear, of course. I know I would, if I didn't have you."
It was the look that did it. If I didn't have you. But Alphonso did have him. The two of them were teammates. Maybe they were even friends. And what was the worst that could happen? Maybe it didn't work; that was it. But during training, there had never been a time when something hadn't appeared. Seb clicked the pen and wrote on the inside of his arm. House.
He'd been picturing something small. A few rooms, warm and dry and cozy. Seb stared as it appeared directly in front of them, shimmering for a moment before settling into being. Alphonso rushed for the door, clapping with glee. Seb beamed as the pair of them hurried inside. Without thinking twice, he wrote paper on his arm, and a notebook appeared out of thin air. He flipped it open. "How about some dry clothes?" he asked.
Alphonso clapped him on the back. "Now you're getting it. And how about a pizza. Must be nearly lunchtime by now."
Ten minutes later, they were both dressed in dry clothes and sitting comfortably on a couch, their wet clothes hanging over a fireplace, a box of pizza nestled between them. He'd written them a pair of pistols just in case, but Alphonso was probably right. Anyone who noticed the house would probably assume that anyone powerful enough to materialize a house out of thin air wasn't to be trifled with.
Powerful. The word felt strange even as he thought it. He'd never really thought of himself as powerful before. At best, his abilities had been a nuisance. At worst, they'd gotten him in trouble. But here, of all places, they were making him comfortable. Maybe even safe. Seb took another bite of pizza.
Then there was a knock on the door.
Frederick Bouvy, 17
Knocking still felt strange.
Frederick shook his head as he gave the door another kick. This was obviously where Seb and Alphonso were. Houses didn't just appear in the middle of nowhere. Sure, they weren't exactly being very subtle, but maybe they figured they didn't have to be, that no one would be stupid enough to attack someone who could create anything they wanted out of thin air.
Frederick kicked the door again. He could always touch it and turn it into goo, of course, but the others probably wouldn't like that. Never mind that Seb could always create another door just by writing it. Frederick took a step back just as the door opened, revealing Alphonso on the other side, holding a pistol. Seb stood behind him, holding his own weapon rather shakily, and lowered it immediately upon seeing Frederick. "Thank God you're all right," Seb beamed. "We thought we'd lost you."
Frederick couldn't help but notice that Alphonso took a little longer to lower his weapon. Finally, though, he stepped out of the way, allowing Frederick inside. "What took you so long?"
Frederick shook some of the water from his clothes, careful not to touch anything. He'd thought about this one, and had come up with a good reason for being late. "One of the girls attacked me while I was trying to follow you." He looked Alphonso dead in the eye. "I killed her."
The lie worked. Alphonso took a step back, surprised. "Really?"
"Yeah. I didn't really mean to. I'd taken my gloves off to try to scare her away, but … I don't know. I guess she thought it would be a good idea to try to take me out early on. One touch, and…" He trailed off meaningfully, holding up his hands. "One of the others grabbed my gloves, and they were gone before I even noticed. So if you wouldn't mind…"
He turned to Seb, who immediately wrote him a new pair, along with some dry clothes and a pistol of his own. Frederick quickly changed and helped himself to a slice of pizza. Finally, he began to relax. It didn't matter that he hadn't grabbed any supplies. It didn't matter that he'd left Sybil. It didn't even matter that he hadn't really killed anyone. Someone was dead, and the others would never know the difference.
Seb, however, was pacing back and forth. "Someone attacked you?"
Frederick nodded. It was a necessary part of the lie. He hadn't wanted to make it seem like he was spoiling for a fight. Then Alphonso might think he would start a fight with him. "Yeah."
Seb turned to Alphonso. "Do you really think we're safe here? If someone would attack Frederick, what's to stop them from attacking us? If he could find us, then so could the others. What if they try to kill us?"
Alphonso shrugged, unconcerned. "Let them try. Write yourself a few more weapons if you like. Or maybe a guard dog or two. Yeah, someone attacked Frederick, but she's dead now, so she won't be trying that again, and anyone who's still alive will probably have a bit more sense."
Frederick raised an eyebrow. "How many people do you think are dead?"
Alphonso shrugged. "It must be well into the afternoon by now. How many people died on the first day last year? Six or seven, maybe? You stayed a bit longer at the circle, Frederick. Were there other people fighting?"
"Not many. Most of them seemed to want to grab something and get out of there. You certainly didn't want to stick around long."
"No point in grabbing anything," Alphonso reasoned. "Not when Seb can just make whatever we need. But whatever was in the bags, it probably won't take long for it to run out, and then people will get desperate. They can't afford to wait; we can. We can outlast them in here." He gave the wall a tap.
"We should be safe for a while."
Sybil Herveaux, 21
The supplies would only last a little while.
Sybil barely held back a snort as she sifted through the contents of the backpack, hoping that maybe she had missed something the first time around – and the second, and the third. The tarp she had found was certainly coming in handy, but the rest was a joke. Three bottles of water, a bag of gummy worms, a dozen packages of fruit snacks, a bag of granola, a bag of cookies, and a small bag of dried apple slices. Sure, it would make for a few good snacks, but it certainly wasn't a meal.
The extra clothes were certainly welcome, but she was keeping those in the backpack until it finally stopped raining so she would have something dry to change into. There was an extra shirt, an extra pair of pants, and even an extra pair of boots. And two hats. Two. That was nothing more than a stark reminder of everything that had gone wrong.
Frederick was supposed to fight. That was what should have happened. He'd seemed so eager during the talent show, but when it had come down to a real, fair fight, he had run. Sure, she had run, too, but only after he had left, and only because she would have been outnumbered. But the two of them together could have handled the others.
Except he had left, and she hadn't bothered going after him. If he wasn't going to fight, there wasn't any point in pursuing him. But that left her in a bit of a predicament. She'd spent her time during training so focused on him that she hadn't really bothered to pay attention to any of the others. She'd found her target, and she'd struck. Now that it was clear she'd chosen the wrong target, her options would be limited.
Right now, of course, there weren't any options at all, except to huddle under this tarp until the rain died down. It had been hours. At least the bag had contained a headlamp, so she could see, but there wasn't much to see. She sifted through the rest of the supplies again. A compass. Several strips of bandage. A sleeping bag. And a knife.
Sybil shook her head and tucked the knife in her pocket. It was good to have a weapon, even one that was rather small, but it would only help if she could get close enough to use it, and there was no guarantee of that. At the moment, the chances of getting close to anyone seemed slim. The other contestants had run in all different directions away from the circle, and in this weather, there was no telling where anyone else had gone. It would probably be a while before she found anyone else.
Which was all the more reason the supplies wouldn't last long enough. They would be enough for a day or two, and last year, that might have been enough. The Games had only lasted a few days. But the contestants had been on an island. They'd been contained. Here, there was room to spread out, room to run, room to make the Games longer.
She couldn't help wondering how much longer.
Jaime Sanchez, 20
How much longer could the rain last?
Jaime pulled their jacket tighter as they, Kylena, and Evelyn trudged along in the rain. It seemed to be letting up a bit, but that was small comfort. There hadn't been anything in their backpacks that would protect them from the rain, so the three of them were completely soaked, and had been for hours. They were cold, tired, and miserable, but at least if they kept moving, it felt like they were getting somewhere, accomplishing something. At the very least, they were putting some distance between themselves and the others.
Not for the first time, Jaime glanced back in the direction of the circle. For all they knew, Elio and Lea might still be there. A part of them still felt a bit guilty for leaving, but the truth was, they'd been considering it for a while – ever since Elio and Lea had decided to join up with the other three. What they hadn't really thought about was going with the other three instead.
The other two now, because Makenzie … Makenzie was dead. Maybe that was the real reason the three of them had wanted to keep moving. If they were doing something, there was less time to think about what had happened. Makenzie had died, just like that, before she'd even really had a chance. And it had just been dumb luck that she'd been the one the other girl had decided to attack. If things had been a little bit different, it could have been any of them, instead.
But it hadn't been. They were alive – all three of them. They'd managed to grab some supplies, and Evelyn had even been lucky enough to grab a backpack that had an extra pair of boots in it after one of hers had been melted. The new boots seemed a bit too big for her, but she'd put on the extra pair of socks from the other backpack and hadn't complained.
Nor had she complained at all about the fact that her hair had been melted away. More than once, Jaime had caught sight of Evelyn running her hand over her scalp, a hint of a smile on her face as her fingers brushed the skin. Jaime shook the thought away. Evelyn was probably just happy to be alive. An inch one way or another, and it could have been her skin melting rather than her hair. She'd gotten lucky, plain and simple.
Jaime just hoped that luck would hold.
Evelyn Hong, 17
She didn't feel lucky.
Evelyn ran her fingers over her scalp as the three of them plodded along. It hadn't hurt, exactly, but it had certainly felt strange. The rain had quickly washed away the goo that had once been her hair, leaving nothing but bare scalp. She couldn't help wondering whether it would grow back eventually. Once or twice, she'd thought about going for a bald look, but she'd never actually gone through with it. She'd certainly never wanted it to be permanent.
Evelyn shivered. It was a silly thing to worry about, really, when she should be worrying about whether she would even be alive in a day or two. There had been an extra pair of boots in one of the backpacks, but she hadn't found anything to replace her jacket, and the rain was making the cold even worse. There had been both a blanket and a sleeping bag in the backpacks, but the blanket had quickly soaked through when she'd tried to use it as a poncho of sorts, and she didn't want to try the same thing with the sleeping bag. She would just have to wait until the rain finally stopped.
"What time is it?" Evelyn asked Jaime, who had found a watch in their backpack earlier.
"Almost four," Jaime answered after brushing the water away from the watch.
Evelyn shook her head. It seemed later, but that was probably just because the clouds were blocking almost all of the daylight. "Do you think we should stop for a little while?" Kylena asked, unable to hide the hopeful tone in her voice. She probably wanted to rest, and Evelyn couldn't blame her for that. They were all tired. They were all miserable.
And that was the point, really, but she couldn't help wondering whether the MAAB had really planned for them to be this miserable this soon. This weather wasn't … well, normal. Of course, that didn't necessarily mean that it hadn't been part of the plan. None of this was normal. The fact that Makenzie was dead wasn't normal. Makenzie was gone, and it could just as easily have been her. If the boy's fingers had brushed even a slightly different place…
But they hadn't. She was still alive. But so was he. The thought sent a shiver down her spine. They had let him get away, which meant that he was still out there somewhere – unless someone else had taken care of that already. Which was always possible, but they couldn't count on it.
The three of them settled down for an early dinner. Or maybe a late lunch. They hadn't eaten much earlier – just enough to keep them on their feet. The backpacks had contained more food than she'd thought they would – five bottles of water, a large bag of tortillas, a plastic jar of peanut butter, two packages of graham crackers, a dozen sticks of celery, a plastic jar full of applesauce, a dozen plastic cups of pudding, a large plastic bag of pretzels, and a large bag of trail mix – peanuts, raisins, and M&M's. They'd eaten some of the trail mix earlier to keep them on their feet, and soon they were spreading the peanut butter over some of the tortillas. All in all, it wasn't a bad start.
But that was all it was, really – a start. It would only last so long. And most of the other supplies had the same problem. The two flashlights and two headlamps they had found would only last until their batteries ran out. There was a small coil of rope, a bottle of painkillers, and a roll of athletic tape – all useful, certainly, but they wouldn't last long if they were really needed.
There were also two extra pairs of socks – one of which she had already put on over her own to try to compensate for the fact that the boots they'd found in the backpacks were too big for her. There was also a pair of sunglasses, three scarves, and a pair of gloves, along with the blanket and sleeping bag they'd already repacked at the bottom of the packs. And that was it. That would have to keep them alive until they figured out how to do it themselves.
Or until everyone else was dead.
Rick Clifton, 19
The rain was finally starting to die down.
Rick relaxed a little as Vi gave his shoulder a squeeze. "There, see? I told you. Just a bit of rain. Everything'll be wet, but nothing worse than that." He sounded almost like he was trying to convince himself. After a moment, Vi glanced around, as if waiting for something. "Huh," he muttered. "Still getting used to that."
"To what?"
"That's the sort of thing that would usually be followed by something going horribly wrong," Vi admitted. "Looks like this thing is still working." He gave his collar a tap.
Rick nodded. Part of him wished that his collar was still on, too. Once the rain had started, he'd been tempted to head back into the tunnels because they'd said that would reactivate the collars. But part of him knew that wouldn't do any good. Whatever he'd done to the weather had already taken hold, and they'd had no choice but to ride it out.
Whatever it was, though, it seemed to be over now. The rain was fading off into the distance as he and Vi peeked out from under the tarp. There were puddles everywhere, and the clouds were still blocking most of the light from the sun, but Vi was right. It could certainly have been a lot worse.
Rick stood up, stretching his limbs. His whole body ached from sitting in the same position for so long. He took a cautious look around. No one. Of course there was no one. Who would have stayed nearby, after hearing two of the youngest contestants screaming for their lives? Begging for their lives. Rick shuddered, looking away from the tarp that hid their bodies, along with the body of a girl they had found nearby. "What do you think they'll do with the…?" He nodded towards the tarp.
"The bodies?" Vi asked.
"Yeah."
"Who knows? You remember anyone saying what they did with them last year?"
Rick shook his head. It didn't feel right, just leaving them there, but what choice did they have? It wasn't as if they could bury them or anything. The ground was too rocky. And it was too wet to burn them. Rick pulled his jacket tighter, trying to ignore the blood stains. "Let's get out of here."
Vi raised an eyebrow. "Where?"
Anywhere. Anywhere where there wouldn't be dead bodies. Anywhere that wouldn't remind him of what he'd done – what he would have to do again if he wanted to live. But Vi didn't seem at all disturbed by the thought of spending the night with corpses nearby. Instead, he was eyeing the tunnels, as if reluctant to leave them behind.
Oh.
Understanding washed over Rick. Vi's collar was working now, but that was no guarantee. The tunnels, on the other hand … All he had to do was go back inside them, and the collar would reactivate. That was what they had said.
What they had said. But at the end of the day, what they had said was worthless. If they decided to turn Vi's collar off, they could always refuse to reactivate it even if he went back in the tunnels. Rick opened his mouth to say exactly that, but the words caught in his throat. Vi wanted to believe that there was away to turn his collar back on. Maybe he needed to believe it – to believe that there was something that was in his control, rather than their captors'.
"Not too far," Rick suggested. "Just far enough, maybe, that if someone decides to come back here looking for supplies, they won't find us – unless we want them to."
That did the trick. Far enough away to surprise anyone who came back to the circle looking for food or water or whatever else was in the backpacks. Far enough for an ambush. A hint of a smile passed over Vi's face. "Let's have a look through the backpacks first, though," he suggested. "We can take what we want, and leave the rest as … well, bait, I guess."
Rick nodded. He'd been thinking the same thing. He hated that he'd been thinking the same thing. He took a deep breath as they began rummaging through the backpacks, sorting through the supplies. If somebody came back here, it would probably be because they were hungry – maybe even starving. Exactly the sort of person who wouldn't put up much of a fight.
Just like the boy he had killed.
Lilith Haywood, 23
She wondered how many of them had been killed.
Lilith shivered as she wrung some of the water out of her jacket. It was already getting dark, which meant it would only get colder. Coburn could dry them off easily enough, of course, and keep them warm, but the rain had only just let up, and he was reluctant to try to start a fire without her help keeping it under control. And Lilith needed a moment.
At least a moment. She had spent the last few hours trying to keep Savannah from shooting lightning bolts across the sky. There was something about the storm that had made it even harder for her to keep a lid on the energy surging inside her, and it had taken all of Lilith's concentration to help her. What she really needed was rest, but she wasn't likely to get it for quite a while. Hell, she wasn't likely to get real rest until this whole thing was over.
Which brought her right back to wondering how many of the others had already died. It was a terrible thing to hope for, she knew, but part of her was hoping the number of contestants might have already dwindled. The three of them had run away from the circle as soon as they'd reached the surface, and they'd heard screaming in the distance shortly after. That meant people were probably fighting.
But fighting and killing weren't necessarily the same thing. Lilith twisted her jacket again, and more water splattered down onto the rocks. They'd put some distance between themselves and the circle before settling down beside a lake to wait out the storm. But the storm had lasted longer than they'd thought, and now it was nearly nightfall. It would probably be a good idea to rest soon, but…
Coburn was already digging through the two small backpacks he'd grabbed, seemingly unbothered by the fact that his clothes were soaked through. Maybe the cold didn't affect him in the same way, but that wouldn't help her or Savannah. And from what she could see, nothing he was pulling out of the backpacks was going to be much use keeping them dry either. There was a pair of water bottles, about a dozen carrots, two boxes of poptarts, and a large bag of granola. The hat, scarf, and two pairs of gloves would be useful, but only to a certain point. Two pillows, a compass, several strips of bandages, a headlamp, and a small mallet.
Lilith shook her head. It was as if someone had made a list of supplies for a camping trip, but then hadn't realized that their dog had eaten half the list. This was better than nothing, but nowhere close to what they would really need. Coburn, however, was already opening one of the packs of poptarts. "I can toast them if you'd like. Might need your help, though, Lilith, if we don't want them to end up burnt to a crisp." Suddenly he glanced over beside Lilith, taking a step back.
"Actually, you might want to help Savannah."
Savannah Kingston, 19
"Actually, you might want to help Savannah."
Savannah could feel her face growing red as the tingling in her hands grew stronger. Little sparks of lightning glowed on the tips of her fingers, threatening to burst out at any moment. Damn it. "I'm sorry. I thought I had it under control. It's just…" She trailed off as Lilith hurried over and laid a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. The sparks fizzled out, but she could still feel the energy buzzing just below the surface, ready to break out at any moment. "I don't know what's wrong."
"You're just nervous." Lilith's voice was kind, but Savannah could hear the exhaustion in it. "You're scared. And that's okay, but you really have to figure out how to control this."
"I know!" Savannah snapped, pulling away. Lightning flickered on the tips of her fingers. "Don't you think I know that? I just don't know how!"
"You were doing fine during training," Coburn pointed out.
Savannah bit her lip. That wasn't entirely true. She had been doing fine during training when Lilith was helping her. When she wasn't…
But that wasn't the only thing that was different. She'd been trying to ignore it, hoping it would go away, but it had been hours now. She glanced from Lilith to Coburn. If she was going to stay, they deserved to know. "I think the storm … did something."
Lilith raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
"The air … it feels different. There's an energy there that there wasn't before. Moisture or … or something. It feels thicker … denser than it should be this high up in the mountains."
Coburn shook his head. "But we're not in the mountains."
"We're not on top of a mountain," Savannah corrected. "But I'd be willing to bet the elevation is higher than it was before. The air should be thinner, but it just … isn't."
Lilith nodded. "And you think it had something to do with the storm."
"It makes sense. The air felt a bit thinner while we were running, but I didn't think anything of it. Figured I was just out of breath. Then the storm came, and—" She snapped her fingers, inadvertently causing a little jolt of electricity to flicker between them. "I just thought you should know, in case…"
"In case that makes it harder for you to control the electricity," Lilith finished.
"Exactly."
Coburn took a step closer. "Would it help if you just … let some of it go?"
"What do you mean?"
Coburn shrugged. "Just shoot a few lightning bolts up into the sky or something. Let it out. That way, it's not just pent up inside of you. Would that help?"
Savannah rubbed her fingers together. "Wouldn't that…?"
"What?"
"Wouldn't that give away where we are? Like a signal? Maybe during the storm, people would have thought it was just regular lightning, but now?"
Lilith shrugged. "We can head somewhere else afterwards, if you want to. But are a few milliseconds of lightning really going to be enough for someone to pinpoint our location? It'll give them a direction, maybe, but you can see lightning from a long way off."
"Besides, if you were in the middle of a fight to the death and saw someone shooting lightning bolts, would you really run towards them?" Coburn pointed out. "I'd run the other way as quickly as possible."
"You're not running now," Savannah pointed out, glancing from Coburn to Lilith. "Neither of you are. You could just leave, get as far away as possible, before something goes wrong. You both know I can't always control this, but you're still here. Why?"
Lilith gave her shoulder a squeeze. "We're a team, Savannah. We're in this together, the three of us." She pointed up towards the sky, where the stars were beginning to appear in the dusk. "Now, I'm going to let go. Just take all that energy, and focus it upwards. Three. Two. One."
Lilith let go. Immediately, lightning burst from Savannah's hands, shooting upwards into the sky. There were cries from a few startled birds, and something thudded to the ground. Savannah didn't pay any attention. She was concentrating on the lightning, keeping it from branching out to the sides, directing it straight up. Finally, the tingling in her hands faded, and she dropped to her knees, exhausted, her vision a bit blurry. Beside her, Lilith was beaming.
"That was beautiful."
Ian Viera, 23
It was beautiful.
Ian watched as the last of the lightning disappeared, flickering across the screens before fading into the darkness. It was hard to believe the sun was setting already, and most of the contestants were still alive. Last year, nearly a quarter of the contestants had died within the first twenty-four hours, but this year was already shaping up to be quite different.
Still, there were three contestants who were dead. Ian's gaze strayed to Penelope, who was pacing back and forth across the small room. There wasn't much room to pace, but she was making the most of it. If there had been a carpet, she would probably have worn a hole in it by now. Ian laid a hand on her shoulder as she passed by, and she whirled around to face him. "It's not your fault, you know," he said gently.
Penelope shook her head. "They asked me if it was okay for them to hide. I told them yes, and to trust their instincts. They listened to me, and now they're both dead. How is that not my fault?"
Ian gave her shoulder a squeeze. "They made a choice. Rick and Vi made a choice. That's not your responsibility. Last year, that was you in the Games, Penelope. Would it even have occurred to you to blame Maria for something you chose to do?" Penelope said nothing, so he continued. "Do you remember the advice I gave right before the Games last year?"
"I…" Penelope thought for a moment, then shook her head.
"Of course you don't. There was a lot going on, and I wasn't your coach. There's no reason you should remember. But I told them that it wasn't a race – that getting to the ground safely was more important than getting there first. And you know what happened then."
Penelope nodded. "Ky did get to the ground first – and shot some of the parachutes out of the air."
"Exactly. One of them belonged to one of my contestants."
"Diana. She was one of yours."
"Yeah. And I beat myself up over it, too. But you can't keep doing that. None of us can. There are thirty contestants, and all but two of them are going to die. That means that, at best, you're going to have to watch three more of your contestants die. I'll have to watch at least five. Maybe six. Maybe all of them. If we don't find some way to deal with that, it'll eat us up."
"So how do we deal with it?"
Ian couldn't help a chuckle. "If you figure it out, let me know." When that earned him only a quizzical look, he sighed. "Look, it's not like the three of us are experts, either. We're making this up as we go along, just like you – and just like the MAAB. They want you to think they know what they're doing, but the truth is, they're playing it by ear, too, just like the rest of us." He smiled gently. "But that doesn't mean you have to do it alone."
Ian nodded to the other side of the room, where Maria and Vincent were finishing their dinner, Maria scribbling notes for Vincent in a notebook that Alvin had brought. A hint of a smile formed on Penelope's face. "Thank you."
Ian gave her shoulder another squeeze as the pair of them headed over to join the others. Sometimes it was easy to forget just how young she was, and that somewhere under all her training and discipline and maturity, there was a child. A child who'd never really had a childhood – and wasn't likely to get one at this point, either.
Ian couldn't help a twinge of guilt at the thought. Despite how rough the last year or so had been, his life before that had been pretty good. He'd had a normal childhood, normal teenage years, and had taken what had seemed like, for most intents and purposes, a relatively normal teaching job. Sure, things had gotten worse, but at least he had some good memories to look back on, something to hold onto.
He just had to keep holding onto it.
"Let's not start that again. You blame me, I blame you. Aren't you tired of talking about it?"
Quick Note: What, Elim wrote a Games chapter with no deaths? I can't even remember the last time I did that - if ever - but if I'd kept this one going until I actually hit a death, it would probably have been twice as long, and it was already on the chunky side. *glances at word count* o.O Yeah, this is going to be a long Games, folks. That's what I get for choosing this arena. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯