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Time

Vincent Reid, 28
March 22nd, 23:15 MST

The world didn't care.

Vincent stared up at the ceiling, trying his best to convince himself that wasn't quite true. Some people would certainly care. But from what Alvin had said earlier, not enough people. Or maybe not enough of the right people. Not enough to make a difference. Not enough to stop the Games.

So that was what Anita had been planning. And it had already failed. Vincent closed his eyes, trying to ignore the sensation that the room was rocking. The dizziness only seemed to add to the feeling that everything was spiraling out of control, that it didn't really matter what he did – or what any of them did. Whatever was going to happen, was going to happen regardless.

And what was going to happen was terrible.

He didn't hear the door open, but Vincent's eyes flickered open when he became aware of someone wondering whether they were awake. He sat up a little too quickly, and immediately regretted it. Alvin eased him back down gently. Apologetically. I didn't mean to startle you.

Vincent shook his head. "Didn't startle me. Not really. Just not used to … this." He waved a hand vaguely, glancing around at the others. Ian had still been awake, and the other two were sitting up slowly, glancing frantically at the screens, maybe wondering what had happened.

Nothing had. Well, nothing new, at least, from what he could tell. Most of the groups had settled down for the night. Even Rick and Vi had finally decided to stop near a small lake. Savannah was managing to keep her lightning under control. Kenji hadn't woken up with some revelation about the future. All in all, it seemed like a pretty calm night, despite the MAAB's efforts to get things going again.

Of course, it would probably have helped if they hadn't completely incapacitated the two people who were capable of getting things moving much more quickly. But there was no point in berating Alvin for that. He could already hear enough of the man's thoughts to tell that he had come to apologize for exactly that. He hadn't meant for Marcus and Manaka to get hurt. Or at least, he hadn't meant for them to get hurt that badly.

"No, you just meant for them to die along with everyone else," Vincent muttered. A few confused looks from the others was enough to tell him Alvin probably hadn't said anything out loud yet. Vincent sighed. "Look, it's been a long night, and it's not even over yet. So why don't we just skip the part where you pretend to care that two of them got hurt when we all know the whole plan is for twenty-eight of them to end up dead."

The point is for them to kill each other.

Vincent nodded. "And if you start killing them instead, then you look bad instead of them looking like monsters. Got it. Did you think about maybe programming the collars with a bit less of a jolt?"

As far as Vincent could tell, the technical jargon he got in response meant that the jolt hadn't actually been that strong. It had just been more prolonged than the MAAB had intended for it to be, because they'd assumed that anyone whose collar activated the shock would get away from the border as quickly as possible. Which made sense. There was no way they could have known how far Manaka would get beyond the border before actually getting shocked.

Vincent nodded. He wouldn't have guessed, either. He'd been able to tell from Alvin's thoughts earlier in the day that the MAAB had a way to get the contestants to turn around, but they'd all assumed it would do just that – turn them around. Instead, Marcus and Manaka weren't likely to be going anywhere for a while, which would probably discourage Maria and Penelope from sending any of their other contestants anything.

Well, Maria at least. Penelope had caught on quicker than the others to the idea that sending their contestants little hints could be beneficial. After all, it wasn't the map that had caused Marcus and Manaka to hit the border. It just hadn't stopped them. Not in time, at least. But just because it hadn't worked out perfectly in practice didn't mean there was necessarily something wrong with the idea. They just hadn't timed it right.

Timing. That was it. Sending their contestants information wasn't the problem. They just had to give them time to figure out what to do with it, rather than dropping it in at the last minute and expecting them to come to the right conclusion at the drop of a hat. Vincent glanced at the other three. He could see their mouths moving, but their thoughts were too scattered, or maybe he was just too tired. Maybe it didn't matter what the others were saying right now.

You have an idea, don't you.

Vincent met Alvin's gaze. That thought had been directed at him, meant to cut through the clamor in the background. Vincent nodded slightly – just enough for Alvin to see. He wondered if any of the others had noticed. He didn't want to go behind their backs, but…

But it would work. It would help get things moving. And it had just as good a chance of backfiring on the contestant he would be potentially helping as it had of actually working in their favor. The others would probably think he was playing along – playing right into the MAAB's hands. After all, the message they had tried to send Manaka and Marcus earlier had only been intended to steer them away from the edge, not towards anyone in particular.

But it would work.

Vincent started to stand up, meaning to move to a better position to direct his thoughts at Alvin, but Alvin shifted instead, positioning himself on the other side of the bed. Penelope raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Maria and Ian were still discussing something among themselves. Vincent hesitated a moment. But only a moment. Then he told Alvin his idea.

Alvin nodded. Vincent couldn't tell whether he'd said anything or not, but there was a look of approval on his face that sent Vincent's stomach churning. Damn, he was playing along with their game. But maybe that was the only way to get things done.

Vincent sank back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling again. The only way to get things done. That was the sort of thinking that had helped him survive on the streets for years before Xavier had found him. Xavier had taught him a different way of thinking, a different way of surviving.

But Xavier was dead. Everything he had worked for, everything he had been trying to build – it was all gone. And there was nothing Vincent could do about that.

But maybe there was something he could do for his contestants.

Marcus Del Rio, 19

He just wished there was something more he could do.

Marcus shook his head as he watched Manaka, who was still sleeping. Sleeping or unconscious – Marcus wasn't entirely sure which. At least he wouldn't be cold. Once he'd finally been strong enough to move again, Marcus had built as big a fire as he could, and had wrapped Manaka in both their blankets. He was still shivering, but at least he wouldn't freeze to death.

But that was about all he could do. That, and give him water whenever he was conscious enough to drink some. Maybe that counted for something, but it still didn't feel like enough. And judging by the fact that Manaka was still drifting in and out of consciousness, he wasn't having much of an effect. But what else was he supposed to do?

Oh, they still had supplies. Bandages, athletic tape, rubbing alcohol, painkillers. Nothing that would really do any good. Now that he thought about it, though, he wasn't completely certain what would help. What were you supposed to do for someone who had gotten a huge electric shock?

Call an ambulance. That was what he was supposed to do. Call an ambulance and get Manaka to a hospital. Marcus tossed another stick into the flames. If only he could. But the only way he was getting Manaka to a hospital was if the Games ended. If they were the only two left. And if the other contestants had been following the same strategy he and Manaka had – pick a direction and head away from everyone else – then they were nowhere near the end of the Games.

Marcus clenched his fists. He could probably change that. He and Manaka had spent days running from the other contestants, but if they actually fought instead, they could probably handle just about any of the other contestants in a fight. Until now, they hadn't really had a reason to. They'd assumed that staying away from the others would be enough. But now…

Marcus glanced over at Manaka again. He was still breathing. That was something. But even if Marcus wanted to head back in the direction they had come, find some of the other contestants, and end this thing quickly, he couldn't. Even if he knew where some of the others were, he didn't dare leave Manaka here. Not like this. Even if the other contestants were too far away to find him, that didn't mean there weren't other dangers. There might be animals. He might not have the strength to eat or drink on his own. He could freeze to death if the fire went out. No, leaving wasn't an option. Not a good one, at least.

Except right now, there weren't any good options.

Marcus stared out into the darkness. He didn't have to decide right now. According to their watch, it was almost midnight. Even if he wanted to get moving again, they had quite a while before dawn, and he certainly didn't want to go anywhere in the dark. No, he could afford to wait a little longer.

Couldn't he?

Could Manaka afford for him to wait?

Stop it. Taking off into the dark without a plan wouldn't do Manaka any good. He could wait until morning, see if Manaka felt any better then. Maybe he just needed some rest. Maybe…

Marcus turned the map over again, wishing it was a bit more helpful. Oh, it showed where they were, but now that they knew they were at the border, what good was that? If only it showed where some of the other contestants were…

Marcus shook his head. Even if it did – even if their coaches had marked something a bit more helpful on the map – it had been hours since they'd sent it. Knowing where the other contestants had been when the coaches had sent the map would be better than nothing, but they could have moved by now. They could be somewhere completely different.

He just wished he was.

But there was no point in wishing that. No point in wishing they'd gotten the map sooner, or that they'd decided to attack some of the other contestants rather than just running. This was where they were. This was what had happened. There was no way to change it.

All he could do was try to survive it.

Frederick Bouvy, 17

He couldn't survive much longer like this.

Frederick staggered forward in the moonlight, grateful that it was enough to see by but hoping that it wasn't bright enough for anyone to see him. If there was anyone around to see, of course. If there was, he would probably make quite a tempting target. He was exhausted from walking, but he didn't dare stop. Didn't dare rest. If he did, he knew, he wouldn't want to get started again.

But he couldn't keep walking forever.

But he couldn't stop.

But those were the only two options.

Frederick blinked, trying to clear his thoughts. Everything seemed so fuzzy. His head didn't hurt, exactly; it just felt so foggy. Everything ached – his legs from walking, his eyes from lack of sleep, his stomach…

His stomach more than anything. Frederick pulled his jacket tighter, trying to block out the thought. How long had it been since he'd eaten anything? How much longer could he last if he didn't find anything? He'd thought maybe the pistol would be good for shooting animals, but he hadn't seen any all day.

What about the bark on the trees? He seemed to remember something he'd read somewhere about some kinds of bark being edible. He'd never imagined that would be useful, never thought he'd find himself in a situation so desperate. But he was desperate. Yes, that was an idea. If he could just make it to one of the trees…

Yes. Yes, now he had a goal. That was good. That would help. One foot in front of the other. He just had to make it to the next tree and … what? Find a way to peel off some of the frozen bark? Hope that it was one of the kinds of trees that would be edible? Hope it wouldn't kill him? Or at least that it wouldn't kill him as fast as hunger would.

Just a little farther.

Just a little…

Finally, his hand brushed the trunk of the tree. Frederick sank to his knees, exhausted. He tried to peel a little of the bark away, but it was too frozen. He couldn't get a good grip, and he didn't dare take off his gloves. He would just have to wait until morning. Things would warm up a bit, and maybe it would be easier to tear some of the bark away.

If he woke up.

Frederick leaned back against the tree. His eyes were already closing, despite his best efforts to keep them open. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to sleep just a little…

Just a little.

A little nagging voice in the back of his mind told him it was a bad idea. It was dangerous. If he fell asleep now, there was no knowing whether he would wake up, or whether he would simply freeze to death or waste away from hunger or … whatever else happened when you were lost in the wilderness. He couldn't keep going without food forever.

But he couldn't stay awake forever, either.

Frederick tried to fight back a yawn as he curled up on the ground, trying to find a position that wasn't cold and wet and uncomfortable. He just wanted somewhere warm, somewhere dry, some clean clothes, a real bed. Or at least a blanket. Something that felt … real. Normal. Human.

Except he wasn't human. This was all happening because the contestants weren't human. This was what the MAAB wanted – for everyone to see them living like wild animals, fighting over scraps, scrounging and hungry and desperate for their next meal. Maybe Seb and Alphonso had had the right idea after all. Even if someone had found them, even if they had attracted too much attention and been attacked, even if they were dead, at least they would have died like people, with some familiar comforts around them. They wouldn't have died like animals, freezing to death in the snow because they were too weak to find any real food.

Frederick closed his eyes, shivering. It wasn't fair. He'd thought he was making the right choice. It had seemed like the obvious choice, the sensible choice.

So why had everything gone so wrong?

Vi Voclain, 18

"At least nothing's gone horribly wrong."

Vi knew as soon as he said it just how strange the words probably sounded. Rick raised an eyebrow as he handed back the bottle of painkillers, washing a few down with some water from the little lake they'd found. They'd stopped a little while ago, once they'd found the lake. Once the sun rose, they could figure out where to go next.

Once the sun rose. Vi relaxed a little. "I mean, nothing since we got hit with fireballs," he clarified. "Nothing extra has gone horribly wrong." He opened one of the packages of graham crackers, one of the few things that hadn't been touched at all by the fire. Most of the food was intact, but everything smelled like smoke. The bags, their clothes, even their hair. One more good reason to head back the way they had come. If they made it back to the circle, they could refill their bags – or choose completely new ones. Fresh clothes. Food that didn't smell burnt. That all sounded pretty appealing right now.

After that … well, they could figure that out when the time came. Right now, the fact that they were making some progress was good enough. Progress helped them keep their minds off the pain. Well, the painkillers were also helping with that, he had to admit. But progress was good, too.

"I can take the first watch," Rick offered, pulling the sleeping bags out of the packs.

Vi raised an eyebrow. "Feeling a bit better?"

"A bit," Rick lied. Did he think he was fooling anyone? Well, maybe he was fooling himself. Hell, maybe that was what really counted. Maybe if he convinced himself that he was doing better, his body would start to take a hint.

Right. And maybe a giant dragon would swoop down and carry them off to some fantasy land. It would take a long time before either of them was back to normal. Normal. Right. Vi almost chuckled at the thought. He'd spent so much of his life in various stages of being injured and recovering that he wasn't really sure what it would feel like to not be hurt at all. This … well, if he was being honest, this was just another day for him.

But not for Rick. He was trying, though. Trying to be strong. Trying not to admit how much it hurt. And really, there wasn't anything else to do. It wasn't as if they could call a doctor or ask the MAAB for some stronger medicine or something. What they had was all they were getting, so they would just have to make the best of it.

Vi finished off a graham cracker and nodded. For a moment, he considered disagreeing, saying that he wasn't going to get any sleep anyway, so he might as well stay awake. But something stopped him. If their positions were reversed, he wouldn't want Rick to baby him. He would want to feel like he was contributing. And there was no harm in letting Rick take the first shift. If someone found them, it probably wouldn't matter one bit which of them was on watch. It wasn't as if they stood much chance in a fight right now.

Vi reached for one of the sleeping bags. "All right. Wake me up when you get too tired. No need to wake me up for lightning, unless it looks like it's coming towards us."

That earned a hint of a smile from Rick. "Haven't seen any lightning yet tonight. Maybe we made them think twice about trying to draw people in."

Vi cocked his head. "You think it was a trap all along?"

Rick shrugged his good shoulder. "Doesn't really matter now, I guess. And it didn't work out too well for them if it was."

"Or for us," Vi pointed out.

Rick nodded. "True, but both of us got away. We're still alive."

Both of us. Vi nodded. That was what really mattered. Yes, Evelyn was dead, but the other three had never really been part of their group. If he and Rick wanted to survive this, the others would have had to die eventually. And they were still alive. In pretty bad shape, yes, but alive. And that was what counted. If they somehow managed to survive this, the MAAB would patch them up, just like they had done for the survivors last year. As long as they survived, it didn't really matter what sort of condition they survived in.

They just had to be alive.

Fae Tomasini, 13

She should be glad they were alive.

Fae stared out into the darkness, fingers drumming softly on her arm. Iola and Kiara were asleep, which left her to keep watch. At least the moonlight shining off the snow meant it was bright enough to see. She would be able to see if anyone was coming. On the other hand, of course, that also meant other people were more likely to see the three of them. And if someone saw two contestants asleep and a thirteen-year-old keeping watch, would they hesitate?

A few days ago, she might have assumed the answer would be yes. Who would want to attack her? For that matter, who would want to attack anyone? She had assumed from the start that people would be reluctant to fight. Maybe not reluctant enough to stop the Games, but reluctant enough that they would be safe for a while.

But she had been wrong. They'd been attacked twice, and had been lucky to get away with their lives. At least, that was what she kept trying to tell herself – that they were lucky. They were still alive, after all. That was what counted. She should be grateful for that.

But she wasn't.

She wanted more. Just being alive right now wasn't enough. They had no way of knowing how many of the other contestants were alive, too. If they wanted to get out of this, they would have to do more than just survive, more than just escape with their lives. The second time they had been attacked, she had run. She couldn't do that again. She would have to fight.

She would have to kill.

Fae took a deep breath. A few days ago, the thought would have made her sick. Now … now it didn't seem to matter as much. Iola and Kiara had fought the boy who had attacked them. Iola had killed him. Not because she'd wanted to kill, but because she'd wanted to protect Fae and Kiara. And that was it, really. That was all there was to it. Fae didn't want to kill, either, but if there was a choice between killing someone else and letting her friends die, there wasn't really much of a choice.

Except last time she had chosen to run.

Fae clenched her fists. She would do better next time.

Next time. Because there would be a next time. Whether they found someone else or the other way around, eventually they would run into someone. It might take a while, but the MAAB wouldn't have chosen this area for the Games if they could just keep going forever. Eventually, someone else would find them.

Or they would find someone else. So far, they hadn't exactly been looking for the other contestants, but they had just as much chance of accidentally stumbling across someone else as any of the others did. If they found someone else, rather than the other way around, what would the others want to do? They'd been prepared to fight when they were attacked, but would they be prepared to attack someone else?

Fae's fingers closed around the knife in her pocket. They had given it back to her while she was keeping watch, even though she'd failed to use it last time. She wouldn't fail again. Next time, she would fight – even if it meant attacking first. Next time, she would prove that they could trust her, that she deserved to be part of the group.

Next time, she would do better.

Coburn Hughes, 17

Next time, they would be ready.

Coburn rubbed his hands together, and a few little flames danced from one finger to another. He had thought they were ready. The three of them had laid what they thought was the perfect trap. And it had been enough to draw their attackers in, but not enough to protect them from what had happened next.

Well, not enough to protect Lilith, at least, but it could just as easily have been him or Savannah. The only reason he was alive and Lilith's body was lying nearby was because their attacker had chosen to go after Lilith. If she'd made a move against him, instead, there was nothing much he could have done about it – not while the other contestants had been transferring the girl's pain to him. It was just a matter of luck that Lilith was dead, and he was alive.

They were both alive – he and Savannah. Savannah had finally managed to fall asleep. Or at least, he was pretty sure she was asleep. He wasn't exactly about to go over and check. The last thing she needed was to be startled awake when it wasn't necessary. Of course, the two of them could leave the area if she happened to give their position away again, but the snow around them meant that footprints would follow them wherever they went.

He could melt the snow, of course, but that wasn't much better. A trail of melted snow was just as obvious as a trail of footprints – if not worse because it might give away what he could do to anyone who might be following them.

Coburn shook his head. A few days ago, he might have assumed that anyone who found a trail of melted snow would decide it was better not to follow someone who could do that sort of thing. But he would also have assumed they wouldn't want to follow an arrow that had been burned into the ground, or head towards lightning bolts shooting up into the sky. He had been wrong. They had all been wrong. They'd assumed that no one would be desperate enough to attack someone whose powers were so … well, powerful. Not yet, at least. Not until it came down to fewer contestants.

Of course, they had no real way of knowing exactly how many contestants were left. There had been a group of five that had attacked them, and one of them was dead now, but aside from that, there was no way of knowing how many of the other contestants were alive. Maybe they were down to fewer contestants, and that was why the other group hadn't been shy about attacking them.

Except that didn't make sense. Not really. If there were that few of them, they would have stuck around, tried to get some sort of advantage while it was snowing. But they hadn't. Then again, the other contestants didn't really have any way of knowing how many of them were left, either. They were just taking their best guess – just like him.

Coburn fought back a yawn. That didn't help – remembering that the other contestants were just as confused as he was. That made them seem more … well, more human. It was easier if he thought about the others as the enemy. As attackers. As the competition. They were trying to kill him, after all.

But they were probably thinking of him the same way. Trying not to remember that he was human. Coburn shook his head, staring out into the night. He was human. And so were the others. Yes, they were mutants, but that didn't make them any less human, did it?

No. No, that was that the MAAB wanted them to think. What they wanted everyone to think. That mutants were somehow less than human, and that that was the reason all of this was okay. Why it was necessary, even. They wanted the world to believe that the Games were necessary in order to keep the mutant threat in check, so they had to portray mutants as a danger.

Except he was dangerous.

Coburn clenched his fists tightly. He wasn't dangerous. His power was. But he'd never wanted his power. In fact, if the MAAB had showed up and offered him a collar to control his power – or eliminate it entirely – he would have jumped at the opportunity. They hadn't needed to drag him here; they could simply have given him a collar and never had to worry about him using his power again. And he would have thanked them for it. He couldn't help wondering how many of the others would have done the same. Instead, they were here, having to use the very powers they would have done anything to be rid of.

It just didn't make any sense.

Caihong Lee, 25

It didn't make any sense.

Lee stared up at the sky, wishing he was tired enough to fall asleep. And his body certainly was. The three of them had been walking pretty much the entire day – for the third day in a row. Physically, he was exhausted. It should have been easy to sleep.

Mentally, though, he was more on edge than he had been even at the start of the Games. Nothing had gone wrong – not really wrong – since the first day. Well, the first night, really, since Ansel leaving was the only thing that had actually hurt their group. The three of them who were left were in perfectly good shape. They were making good time. They were probably miles away from anyone else.

So what was the catch?

Lee rolled over a little. It all seemed too easy, too good to be true. They couldn't just keep going like this forever. Eventually, the other shoe would drop. Or maybe the first shoe, really. Had Ansel leaving been the first shoe? Maybe. But now that he thought about it, it was unsettling, really, how quickly the three of them had adjusted to the idea that he was gone, that it was just them now. Was that how Liv and Elena would react now if he was the one who disappeared? Was that how he would react if one of them left – or died?

When one of them died. Two survivors – that was the rule. The only rule. Everything else was up in the air. How long the Games lasted, how the other twenty-eight contestants died, who killed who – none of that really mattered, in the end. What mattered was who lived. And if he wanted to be one of those two, that meant that either Elena or Liv would have to die, along with everyone else in the Games.

Lee tried his best to ignore the thought. Chances were, they were nowhere near that point. And if it did come down to the three of them, if they were the only ones left at the end, how would they even know? Would the MAAB just leave the three of them there until one of them decided to kill one of the others? How long would they let the Games go on?

Part of him knew, of course, that it was unlikely to come down to that. In order for all of the other contestants to die, the three of them would eventually have to fight. The chances of all of them making it through a number of those fights unharmed was … slim. Not zero, but slim. Slim enough that he probably wouldn't have to worry about whether or not he would kill one of the other two if it came down to that.

Unfortunately, the fact that nothing particularly interesting had happened for quite a while meant that he'd had little to do besides think about every possibility – no matter how unlikely. There had been plenty of time for his mind to wander. And chances were, the others were wondering the same thing – how much longer it would be before something happened, before they had to fight, before one of them would have to die.

Not yet. That was the only answer he really had, in the end. They would have to fight. They would have to kill. Someone would have to die. But it didn't have to be now. Not yet. For now, they could keep going, keep running, keep hoping to put off the inevitable a little longer, and then a little more. No, they couldn't put it off forever, but the longer they could delay fighting, the better.

That was what he kept trying to tell himself, at least. But there was a part of him that couldn't help wondering if that was really true, or whether Liv had been right from the start about jumping right in and getting things over with quickly. Maybe it meant some of the others would be dead sooner, but it would also mean they wouldn't have as much time to agonize over what was going to happen. Maybe it would have been better to get it over and done with as quickly as possible.

Except … well, except there was no way of knowing whether he would still be alive if they had done that. And he was alive now. Whatever else had happened, however slowly things were going, he was alive.

And right now, that was all that mattered.

Lea Cervantes, 18

They were still alive.

Lea squeezed her eyes shut a little tighter, trying to remind herself that that was what mattered. They were still alive – her and Elio. Whatever else was going on in the Games, whoever else might be fighting and killing and dying, the two of them were still alive. Still making progress towards … well, towards nothing in particular. Away from the others, then. Away from the ones who were still alive, at least.

She just wished they had a way of knowing how the rest of it was going, how many of the others were actually left. Not because it would really change their strategy, but because … well, if she was being honest with herself, just because she was curious. She couldn't help wanting to know how the others had reacted, whether they were really going along with the Games, or whether it was all going to blow up in the MAAB's faces.

That was probably too much to hope for, she knew, but it was still a nice thought. And as long as she didn't know for certain that the others were actually killing each other, she could go on thinking it. Yes, Makenzie had died, but that had happened in the heat of the moment at the start of the Games. Now that the contestants were more spread out, maybe things had cooled down a bit. Maybe the others had decided they didn't really want to fight. Maybe…

Lea relaxed a little as she felt Elio's hands on her shoulders, warming her. Calming her. Reminding her that it didn't matter what the others were doing. They were probably miles away from anyone else, and as long as they kept going, they had nothing to worry about.

Well, at least they wouldn't have to worry about the others trying to kill them. There was still food and water to find, animals to watch out for, weather to keep themselves safe from. But all of that was … well, more manageable. They hadn't seen any animals much larger than the fish they'd been able to catch pretty consistently. There were some birds, but those had left them alone. And there didn't seem to be any shortage of lakes for water.

That just left the weather. But while it was cold out, it didn't seem to be deadly cold. The storms had mostly stayed to the north. As long as that remained the case, they would probably be fine.

Probably.

Lea yawned. 'Probably' would just have to be good enough. There were no guarantees, and there was nothing they could do about the weather. Besides, if the weather turned freezing cold, everyone would be cold. If there was a storm, they would all be caught in it. That couldn't be good for the MAAB's plans.

But it wasn't as if they could do anything about it, either, short of picking them all up and taking them to a warmer location. They had chosen somewhere in the mountains, in the middle of March. They had to know that storms were a possibility. But from the way things were looking so far, not enough of a possibility to ruin the Games. Enough of the contestants were still alive for things to keep going.

She was still alive. Elio was still alive. And the fact that they hadn't won yet meant they weren't the only ones. That was all she really needed to know.

But she still wanted to know more.

Florence Roos, 114

She just wanted to know if it had actually worked.

Florence leaned back against the tree behind her, staring out into the night. She still hadn't seen any more bats. Maybe they were too far away. Maybe they were still taking shelter from the storm. Maybe there just weren't a lot of bats around. She had only seen a couple the other night, after all, and those ones could be miles away by now. There was a good chance there hadn't actually been any bats that had been close enough to hear her.

But there was also a chance that they had. That they had heard her and answered her call – not by coming to get her, but by calling in return. The others wouldn't have heard that, would they? Maybe Emery if she happened to be in wolf form, but certainly not in human form. And Florence wouldn't have heard them even in bat form. They could be calling out right now, and she would never know.

Florence shook her head, staring out at the mountains. Even that small motion, however, sent everything spinning again. She clenched her fists, trying to ignore the churning in her stomach, the feeling that she was rocking uncontrollably. She wasn't. She wasn't even moving.

Florence closed her eyes. She was so tired of this. It had only been three days, but it felt like forever. She was tired of not being able to move without feeling like she might fall over, tired of having to shrink down to bat size every time they needed to go somewhere because they made better time if she was riding on Emery's back, tired of not being able to help the others hunt. She was tired of being a burden.

She hadn't expected that. She had expected to be the one leading the group, offering them advice, taking care of them. She was the oldest, after all – by about a century. Instead, the others were taking care of her. It didn't seem fair to ask them to do that.

Except she hadn't asked. She hadn't needed to. They had done that on their own, when it would have been so easy to just leave her. In the middle of something so awful, they had done something kind, something so very, very human. And they had done it for her.

Suddenly, a hand on her shoulder made Florence's eyes snap open. Emery's lips were moving – probably asking if she was all right. No. No, she wasn't all right. But there was no way she was going to admit that. Instead, she nodded slightly and turned her attention to Kenji, who was signing something. "What happened?" she asked. "Did you see something in the future again?"

Kenji shook his head, his hands moving quickly. Florence didn't catch all of it, but she was pretty sure she caught the sign for 'nothing' and then the sign for 'here.' "Okay, so you didn't wake up in the future, but you're not sure if it's because we're all dead or just because we aren't physically here, in this spot, or just because you didn't go to the future at all?"

Kenji made a wiggly motion with his hand. Close enough, then. "So what do you want to do?" Florence asked.

Even in the dim moonlight, she could tell that wasn't the question he'd expected. His face said more clearly than his hands that he didn't know what he wanted to do. He wanted answers. He wanted things to be clearer. But they weren't. All they could do right now was take their best guess, follow their instincts.

Before she could say any of that, however, something fluttered down out of the sky and landed on her shoulder. A bat. She couldn't hear it, but it opened its mouth, and she could imagine the sound that was coming from it. A welcoming, familiar sound. Florence beamed. "Looks like that's why we're not here in the morning, Kenji. We'll just be somewhere else."

Relief coursed over Kenji's expression. He'd clearly been worried that maybe he hadn't seen anything because they were all dead in the morning. And that could still happen, of course, but not being in the same place because they'd followed a bat somewhere else … well, that made more sense than someone coming along and managing to kill all three of them at once.

Except it wouldn't have to be all three of them. It would just have to be Kenji. That would be enough to keep him from seeing the future – if he wasn't there to be a part of it. Still, if that was why he hadn't seen anything, there wasn't exactly anything they could do about it. There was something they could do about the bat.

Quickly, Florence shrank down to bat form and slid onto Emery's back. The bat fluttered a little in the air, waiting. Kenji gathered up their supplies, slung them over his back, and gave her a thumbs-up sign. Florence let out a squeak, and the bat took flight – but not too quickly. Not quickly enough to lose them.

It wanted them to follow.

Jaime Sanchez, 20

They just wished they had something to follow besides their instincts.

Jaime stared up at the sky, which was growing lighter by the minute. Soon, it would be time to get going again, and the truth was, they weren't entirely sure which way they were going. Yes, they and Kylena had been heading west, because they were pretty sure that was the direction the circle was in, but neither of them had been entirely sure whether it was directly west – or even whether they were headed directly west.

The sun set in the west, yes, but usually not due west. And the circle … well, unless they were headed directly for it, they might miss it entirely. It wasn't exactly as if thirty holes in the ground were really going to stand out, unless they got close enough to see the backpacks. But what were the chances Rick and Vi had left them in a nice, neat pile?

Slim. Just like their chances of finding anything that would be useful as a weapon. If there had been more than two knives in the backpack, the boys would have taken them. That was what Jaime would have done. So if they did happen to miss the circle entirely, maybe there wasn't any harm. They had been heading there because they'd thought the tunnels might provide some shelter from the storm, but now that the storm had stopped … well, they were only heading there because it was some sort of concrete goal, something to aim for.

They just wished there was a good reason to aim for it.

Suddenly, a sound shook them from their thoughts. A quiet beeping sound. At first, they thought maybe it was their collar, but the sound seemed to be coming from farther away – and higher up. Jaime looked up. Something was falling out of the sky. No, not quite falling. Drifting. Whatever it was, there was a small parachute attached to it. Jaime gave Kylena's shoulder a shake. "Look!"

Kylena's eyes popped open, and she immediately looked where Jaime was pointing. Quickly, a bubble formed around the object – whatever it was. "In case it explodes or something," Kylena reasoned.

Jaime nodded. Better to be safe than sorry. But if the MAAB had wanted to blow them up, then why the parachute? No, their gut told them it was something else.

But what?

Jaime watched as the bubble drifted closer and closer, still showing no signs of exploding. "Looks like a piece of paper," Kylena offered when it drifted close enough to see.

"Probably safe, then." They reached out as the bubble disintegrated and grabbed the paper out of the air. "I think it's a map." There certainly appeared to be mountains, rivers, and little lakes on the paper, as well as a black dot. "I think that's us."

Kylena shook her head. "Why would they send us a map?"

Not they. He. Part of Jaime could already tell that. They'd been wishing for something that would give them a sense of what direction to go, and Vincent had … what? Figured that out? They were pretty sure they hadn't said anything out loud. Maybe Vincent had simply realized that's what he would want if he were in their position. Maybe he was trying to give them a clue. Maybe there was something on the map that—

Oh.

Jaime held the map closer, then rubbed a bit with their finger, figuring maybe it was a speck of something on the map making a funny shape. No, it was still there. "What?" Kylena asked.

Jaime turned the map over again. No, it had definitely been the right way up the first time. "I think the dot is us," they said quietly. "But what is this?"

They pointed. Kylena looked. "It looks like a house."

Jaime nodded. That's what they'd thought. But why would there be a house? Unless…

"That kid during the talent show," Kylena ventured. "The one who could make things just by writing a word … He could have made a house."

Jaime nodded. That was the only explanation they could come up with, too. But why would Vincent want them to know where he was?

"Well, I guess we know which way not to go," Kylena suggested.

Jaime couldn't tear their gaze away from the map. "Maybe."

Kylena raised an eyebrow. "Maybe? We just got our asses handed to us, and now you want to go after someone who can make anything he wants out of thin air?"

"I think…" Jaime trailed off. It sounded silly. But they plunged on anyway. "I think that's what Vincent wants us to do."

Kylena shook her head. "So?"

"So maybe he has information that we don't. Maybe whoever's in the house is injured. Or maybe they're not even in the house anymore, and he's just trying to let us know where there's some shelter. Maybe they left some weapons there – or something else that might be useful. Or maybe he figured we have a better chance of spotting a house than some holes in the ground."

"That's a lot of maybes," Kylena pointed out.

"Do you have a better idea?"

"Yeah. Just about anything else."

"You don't want to at least see what's there?"

Kylena shook her head. "Not particularly. It's not like we're low on food or water. And I certainly don't want a fight with someone who can make any kind of weapon they want out of thin air."

Jaime nodded reluctantly. "Okay. We keep heading for the circle, then?"

"Yeah. I think that sounds like a better idea."

And then what? But they didn't say it. Not yet. Once they got to the circle and had a look through the supplies, then they could figure out what came next. They could afford to wait. Whoever was in the house, it wasn't as if they were going anywhere. They would have time – time to figure out whether they wanted to find the house, whether they wanted to attack. Time to figure out a plan.

A better plan this time.

Seb Krause, 16

The plan seemed to be working out so far.

Seb yawned a little as he paced around the room again, trying to keep himself awake. It was harder, somehow, now that he didn't really have a reason to stay awake. Phantom had been doing a good job of standing guard, and had even barked at some small animal earlier, waking him while Alphonso had been keeping watch. No, the animal hadn't been dangerous, but it was good to know that Phantom would, in fact, wake them if something was approaching. It meant they could probably just let the dog keep watch tomorrow night while they both slept.

It seemed obvious now that he thought about it. Why had neither of them thought about creating a guard dog sooner? Alphonso hadn't been hesitant to suggest creating an entire house, and it wasn't as if the dog was attracting any more attention than a house appearing in the middle of nowhere.

Seb glanced out the window again. It was getting lighter out – light enough for him to see Phantom, sitting patiently by the door, ears perked, watching and listening for anything that might be a threat. Seb smiled. The perfect guard dog – just like he'd imagined him. Because that was how he'd imagined him. A week ago, he would never have thought that was a good idea, but now … now it seemed natural.

Maybe it was.

Seb shifted uneasily at the thought. Despite the fact that he'd been born a mutant, he'd never thought of his mutation – or mutations in general – as natural. He'd always thought that life would be better without it. Life would certainly have been simpler. And if he weren't a mutant, he wouldn't be here. If he weren't a mutant, his uncle Nilkas would still be alive.

But maybe … well, maybe they were the normal ones. Maybe they were what nature had intended, and the rest of humanity was desperate to bring them down because they couldn't catch up, no matter how hard they tried. All their advances, and he could still create in an instant what it would take them months to build.

But he was still their prisoner.

Seb ran a hand along his collar. If he tried hard enough, could he write something into existence that would allow him to take the collar off? But what? What could he write that would remove the collar without risking hurting himself? Seb drummed his fingers on his leg. Alphonso might have an idea, but he couldn't bring the subject up to Alphonso – not without the MAAB hearing. And if they suspected he was about to try anything, they could always turn his collar on, and then…

Then nothing. Then all of this comfort, all of this sense of normalcy, would be gone. Oh, the house wouldn't disappear or anything, but he wouldn't be able to make anything new. Seb shuddered at the thought. He'd spent so many years trying to ignore his power, doing his best to avoid using it. But now … now he was relying on it.

He hadn't expected that.

But maybe he should have. Maybe he should have realized just how useful his power would be in a fight to the death. Except they hadn't even done any fighting yet. Not that he wanted to. But his power was what had kept them alive, kept them warm and dry and safe and well-fed while the other contestants were … well, probably not any of those things. Certainly not all of those things at once.

It wasn't fair, really. He and Alphonso had too much of an advantage. Maybe that was the real reason he hadn't wanted to fight, the reason he was still hoping that no one found their house. How many of the other contestants would really stand a chance against the pair of them, armed to the teeth and protected by Phantom? How much of a fight would it really be?

Seb shuddered. He didn't want to die, of course, but he didn't want to kill, either. Maybe … well, maybe now that Phantom was here, he could take care of that. Maybe the dog could do the dirty work, and he and Alphonso could just … wait. Wait and watch. Alphonso hadn't seemed particularly eager to jump into a fight, either. Maybe he was just as reluctant to kill as Seb was.

Or maybe he didn't have anything to go back to, either.

Seb shook his head, trying to ignore the thought. His parents were still alive, of course, but what were the chances that he would be allowed to go back and live with them? Pretty slim. So not only was living here in the Games with Alphonso better than dying; it was probably better than what was waiting for them afterwards if they won. So where was the harm, really, in drawing it out a little longer? Maybe he didn't actually want the Games to end.

And maybe they didn't have to.

Manaka Shizue, 16

Maybe they didn't have to go anywhere just yet.

Manaka groaned and tried to roll over. His side ached where a particularly stubborn rock was digging into it, but nothing seemed to be responding properly. His arms felt like he was trying to move them through solid rock. The throbbing in his head and the buzzing in his ears hadn't faded. A couple times, Marcus had poured some water into his mouth, but he'd barely been able to drink it properly. Most of it had run down his neck. Running out of water wasn't a problem, of course; the bridge went right over a river, and Marcus had apparently been able to collect some water without getting zapped by his collar. Still, he didn't like feeling so helpless.

And to make it worse, he didn't have anyone to blame but himself, his own impatience. Marcus had tried to tell him to stop. Even the MAAB had sent them a warning. But he'd been so eager to … what? Get to the other side of the bridge? What had he thought was going to be there? If he had just waited a little longer, just been going a little slower…

"Manaka?" The voice was quiet, as if coming from a dream, or from a long way away, or through a thick wall. In fact, the first time, he wasn't even sure that he'd heard it. The second time, it was a little louder. Then a little more. Someone was shaking his shoulder. Marcus. Well, probably, at least. It couldn't really be anyone else, could it. But it was getting harder to see him in the dark.

Except … except that wasn't quite right. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Manaka was vaguely aware that it shouldn't be getting darker. If anything, it should be getting lighter by now. Instead, everything was just getting fuzzier. That wasn't right…

"Something's…" he mumbled, and was surprised by how muffled his voice sounded. "Something's wrong."

He didn't hear Marcus' reply, if there was one, but in the dark, he felt two arms scooping him up. What was Marcus doing? Where did he think they were going to be able to go that would help? It wasn't as if there were any hospitals around here.

Manaka chuckled a little. Now that was a funny thought. Well, maybe not funny, exactly, but it seemed funny. Marcus was saying something, but he couldn't make out the words. Everything seemed … garbled, somehow. Yes, that was the word. Everything looked a bit garbled. Funny word, garbled. English certainly had some funny words, but this one seemed just right at the moment.

Marcus was moving now. Running, probably. But running where? Where did he think they were going to be able to go? It was obvious now that they were trapped, their collars keeping them inside a certain area. A rather large area, yes, but there was probably nothing useful inside it; the MAAB had made sure of that. Even that damn bridge had only been halfway inside.

Still, maybe it was good that Marcus was heading somewhere, if only for his own sake. It would have been easy for him to stay there, to tell Manaka they just needed to rest a little longer, and then a little longer, and a little more. But wherever he was heading, he had some sort of goal in mind. That was good, because right now, Manaka didn't. He was too tired. Everything was too fuzzy. He couldn't even think clearly about stringing a few words together, to say nothing of forming a plan for actually winning these Games.

Winning. For the last few days, they'd been so focused on surviving. On getting away from everyone else, keeping their distance, outlasting the others. But that wasn't going to work. Not now. Maybe it had never really been an option. Even if they hadn't run headfirst into the barrier, they would have found it eventually. They would have had to turn around. They would have had to fight.

But now he couldn't fight. Not really. Not until he recovered from … well, from whatever the hell had happened. But how long would that take? He'd hoped he would feel better by morning, but it was morning now, and if anything, he felt even worse. He'd hoped he would just need a little more time.

But how much more time did he have?

Francine Temple, 43

Their plan didn't seem to be working this time.

Francine shook her head as the images on the screen changed again, the cameras doing their best to keep up with Marcus as he raced back through the canyon with Manaka in his arms. He hadn't told Manaka where he was going, but at the moment, there weren't too many options. He was heading back through the canyon. What he planned to do once he got to the other side was anybody's guess.

The others were probably hoping that he would fight. That he would start to track down the other groups as quickly as possible, reasoning that his best chance of getting Manaka some real help was to just kill everyone else and hope that it wasn't too late for the MAAB to do something. But if that was the plan, if it was really just a race to get rid of the competition, then why bring Manaka with him?

Maybe he was just looking for a safe place to leave him. A place that would be easier to get back to if he needed to. But any place that would be easier for him to reach would also be easier for other contestants to find. And if any of them found Manaka in his current condition…

Maybe he was thinking of heading back to the tunnels. If he left Manaka in there, anyone who wanted to go looking for him would have to risk their collars being turned on again, so they wouldn't be able to use their powers to kill him. But it was a long way back to the center, even at the speed he was going. And unbeknownst to him, there was already a group heading in that direction.

A group that was still heading in that direction. Despite Vincent's attempt to get them to head north towards Seb and Alphonso, Kylena and Jaime didn't seem to have any particular desire to do so. Or at least, Kylena didn't, and Jaime wasn't ready to head off on their own over the idea. But what had Vincent been expecting? They'd just gotten away from one fight with their lives. Had he really thought they'd want to charge into another?

"I don't think he expected them to head there right away."

Francine nearly jumped. She hadn't noticed Lillian standing there. "What?"

"You were watching Kylena and Jaime. Alvin mentioned that it was Vincent's idea – sending them a map that included the house. But I don't think he expected them to just drop everything and head there. He's playing a longer game."

Francine shook her head. "You think he's playing along?"

"You don't?"

Francine bit her lip. She hoped he wasn't. She hoped he still had some sort of other plan in mind. But whatever he'd been working on – whatever Piper and the mutants she was working with had been hoping to accomplish – it wasn't working. For all their newfound visibility, they weren't changing many minds. Or at least, they weren't changing the right minds.

So if that had been the plan … maybe Vincent had decided it was time to play along with the Games, do his best to keep his contestants alive, and to hell with trying to stop something that was steamrolling ahead despite his best efforts. She couldn't exactly blame him for that, but if he had given up…

Lillian laid a hand on her shoulder. "Look, Francine, I know you never wanted this. Hell, you voted against it. No one would blame you if you decide to back out after this year. There are other people who can do your job – people who would want to do it. Maybe you should find something you actually want to be doing."

Francine looked away. Maybe Lillian was right. But the trouble was, she didn't know what she wanted to be doing. Anything else she could be doing right now would just seem small, unimportant, in comparison to what was going on here. She'd always wanted to be part of something important, to do something that would have a chance of changing the world.

But not like this.

Francine shook her head, glancing from one screen to another, avoiding Lillian's gaze. After last year's Games, there had been a part of her that had wanted to quit, to go back to her old job, her old life, to do her best to forget that she'd had a hand in all this. Maybe it would have been easier then, before the public knew about the Games, to simply slip out of this while she could and let someone else take her place. There were plenty of other people who had comparable experience with this sort of technology. She could leave, and things would still run smoothly. Any of them could. But something had convinced her to stay.

Someone. Alvin had talked her into staying. For a while, she had really thought she might be able to change things from the inside. But that wasn't working. Nothing was working.

Maybe it was time to stop.

"Maybe it's time to get some new beliefs – or some old ones."