by Shade Owens
I cringed and pulled my shoulders back, filling them with tension.
“Why haven’t you asked me about the other players?”
Seriously? Was he enjoying our little chats? What did the other players have to do with the life-threatening situation I was trying to handle? I’d deal with the other players after BlueVolt was dead. Besides, for all I knew, they were far out at the other end of Kormace Island.
He must have sensed my irritation. Sighing, he said, “Get annoyed all you want, but at the end of the day, if you kill my competition, I win, which means all I’m trying to do is make sure you don’t get yourself killed.”
“Okay. What about the other players?” I asked begrudgingly.
“Well,” he said, “I told you I’m the tracker.”
He paused as if we were somehow supposed to understand where he was going with this.
“We all had profiles,” he continued. “I know everyone’s specialty, which means they also know mine.”
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I growled out, “Are you telling me they followed you to us?”
He shrugged, though it was barely a shrug with his hands tied behind his back. “Anyone who’s smart, which they all are, would’ve taken advantage of my specialty, for sure.”
“This doesn’t make any sense!” Rocket snapped as if she’d been holding her breath for the last three minutes. “If you guys are so eager to outkill each other, why not kill off the competition yourself?”
“This is a sport,” he said as if he were talking about something as mainstream as basketball. “There are rules in place. For one, if you kill another player, not only are you disqualified, but you have a ransom on your head when you get back to the US.”
“So then set some traps—” Rocket tried.
Player 1 clicked his tongue. “Same rule applies. Disqualification. You can’t set kill traps unless you’re standing there monitoring them. Those traps I set up near the landing site? All they did was alert me. Besides, traps wouldn’t do anything for your score. The camera has to see—”
“Camera?” I asked, stomping toward him.
“Relax,” he said. “You killed mine when you shot me in the shoulder.”
He glanced down at his injured shoulder at a small black lens that appeared to be shattered. As his head rolled back up toward us, I noticed the excessive sweat shining on his forehead. His eyes, too, were puffy and sitting over deep blue bags.
Was he in pain? Not once had he given any indication he was suffering. I’d been so busy trying to pry information out of him that I’d forgotten I shot him with an arrow.
“I’ll have someone come in and disinfect that,” I said, pointing my chin at his shoulder.
Forcing a laugh, he said, “Don’t bother. I’ll be dead soon anyway.”
How was I supposed to respond to that? It was true—he would be. Helping us didn’t diminish the fact that he had killed dozens of my women or that he’d agreed to sign up for this twisted game in the first place.
No way was he coming out of this alive.
“So that’s why you aren’t even trying to escape,” I said, staring at his broken camera. “Even if you got out of your restraints and managed to kill a few more of us, it wouldn’t count.”
“You got it,” he said.
“All right.” I nodded. “So about these players, I’m listening.”
“There are six of us in total, but five players. The sixth is the pilot, who shacked up somewhere a few miles away from the plane until this is over. You know about me and about BlueVolt. Then there’s Detox, SkullCrusher, and BlackPanther.”
Biggie scoffed. “Black Panther, like the superhero?”
Player 1 shook his head. “No, not really. He’s a night freak. He’s got all sorts of gear for seeing in the dark, silent weapons, some weird suit, and too many martial arts black belts to list.”
“That’s great,” I said. “Not only do we have to shut down this fence and kill some electrical maniac, but now, we can’t even go to sleep.”
“Basically,” he said.
Breathing hard through flared nostrils, I said, “And what’s your name? I keep calling you Player 1.”
Beaming, he said, “My online name is Grizzly, because, well, bears have one of the best senses of smell, which makes them amazing trackers, but I think I prefer Player 1. I am, after all, in first place.”
Rolling my eyes, I said, “Who’s Detox? And who’s SkullCrusher?”
“Detox is one hell of a smart cookie,” he said, “and I’m thinking she’s extremely underestimated. That woman has degrees falling out of her ass. Apparently, she worked in a top-secret facility as a chemist. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what she was doing there… Creating chemical weapons. Her profile was clean, straightforward, and a bit modest if you ask me. But she’s a bit of a weirdo. Didn’t talk to anyone on the plane. Instead, she kept writing mathematical equations in her diary and mumbling a bunch of shit that didn’t make sense to any of us.” He burst out laughing. “Bitch knows how to use a gun, though, which came as a surprise to all of us when she loaded her rifle.
“Is Detox the only female player?” I asked.
“Yeah, she is—”
“Well, she’s dead,” I said.
His eyes popped out and he sat up straight. “What? How? I mean, she didn’t look like the outdoorsy type, but I thought she’d surprise all of us with some crazy chemical attack—”
“We found her hanging in an Ogre trap,” I said.
“Ogres? What the f—”
“They’re wild women,” I said, not wanting to be bothered by having to overexplain all the different types of island dwellers.
“Jesus,” he said, looking genuinely surprised. “I didn’t think she’d win this because, well, I knew I would, but I was still kind of rooting for her, you know? Female power and all.”
“Female power?” Biggie said. “How the fuck is signing up to some human huntin’ game got anythin’ to do with female power?”
“Hey, I’m not being sexist here. I’m pointing out science, and science says men are more physically aggressive—”
“This isn’t about the aggression,” Biggie said. “You can be aggressive as fuck and not sign up to murder a bunch of people. I don’t give a shit—”
“All right, enough,” I cut in. “We don’t have time for this. We have three players left to take out, and the longer we sit here bitching about stuff that doesn’t matter, the more time we’re wasting.” Letting out a sharp breath, I looked at Player 1. “Okay, SkullCrusher, go.”
Player 1 let out a long whistle. “The guy’s a beast. Ever heard of the Stone Man? You know, the famous wrestler?”
When none of us responded, he continued. “Well, that wrestler’s six feet seven and two hundred and forty pounds of pure muscle mass.”
“Let me guess,” Rocket said, looking bored. “SkullCrusher looks exactly like him.”
“Nope,” said Player 1. “He’s bigger.”
“Okay, seriously?” Biggie said. Pacing back and forth in the cabin, she searched the ceiling. “Come on, tell us the truth, man. You’re from some show, ain’t you? This is some reality TV shit and this whole thing’s some messed-up prank. Where’re the cameras? You got another one on you?”
Player 1 stared at Biggie with a wry expression as she ranted.
Biggie shook her hand in the air, snapped her fingers, and a massive grin stretched her face. “Man, are we all gonna get paid for this?”
“Biggie,” I said.
Slapping a hand over her wide smile, she said, “First thing I’ma buy is a goddamn cheeseburger.”
“Biggie!” I snapped.
This time, her smile disappeared and she straightened her posture.
“This isn’t a joke,” I said, “and we aren’t on some fucking reality show, okay? Put your big girl pants on and get ready to fight for your life, do you hear me?”
Biggie was one of my best friends, and the last thing I wanted t
o do was be harsh with her, but this wasn’t the time for her to slip into a delusional state. We needed all hands on deck, and I especially needed to know that Biggie was in this with a clear mind, prepared to survive.
“So, he’s big and strong,” I said plainly. “So what? Size doesn’t stop bullets or arrows. What’s his specialty?”
Looking taken aback by my response, Player 1 said, “That is his specialty. He works with that. The guy almost got disqualified from the game because his gear was too heavy for the plane. He had to leave a few things behind.”
“Gear?” I asked.
“He’s got some crazy metal suit that protects him from head to toe. When we got off the plane, he started putting it on, looking like some Roman gladiator.”
Instead of reacting, I held my breath. How were we supposed to fight against these players? They were trained professionals. Rainer had been tough to beat, and she didn’t have any military background.
“An electrical freak, a monster, and some ninja of the night,” I said.
Player 1 pursed his lips, which I knew translated to You got it
.
CHAPTER 6
Biggie and Rocket followed me outside of the cabin, where two guards stood with their backs facing us.
Like the Queen’s Guards in England, they didn’t move a muscle at the sound of us stepping out. Instead, they stared straight ahead with spears jabbed into the grass, the sharp stone heads pointed at the sky. They were probably too embarrassed by what had happened earlier—how they’d allowed Mason and other women to push their way into the cabin—to even look at me. But, it also meant they wouldn’t allow something like that to happen again.
The moment I stepped out into the Village, a cold droplet of water landed on the tip of my nose. Crossing my eyes, I stared at it as if it were somehow responsible for all of my problems. Another droplet fell, landing on my wrist this time. Craning my neck back, I stared up at the thickening clouds overhead. They moved swiftly, blending into each other like chocolate and vanilla soft serve ice cream.
“We need to shut that fence down, and we need to do it now.” Turning to the two guards assigned to Player 1’s cabin, I said, “Can you please have someone take care of the body?”
They both nodded at the same time, looking like a pair of twin robots.
“Brone?” came Ellie’s voice.
Behind me, Ellie stood looking as beautiful as always; yet this time, she wasn’t holding Robin.
“Ellie,” I said, a bit sharper than I’d intended. “What’re you doing here? Go back inside.”
“What’s going on?” she asked.
Rushing next to her, I whispered, “Listen, it’s complicated and dangerous.”
“Brone—”
“No, Ellie, you have to trust me. If I don’t do this properly, we’re all dead.”
She touched her lips and glanced back toward our cabin.
Following her gaze, I wrapped an arm around her shoulder and kissed her clammy forehead. “Take care of Robin, okay? I’ll figure this out and put an end to it. Whatever you do, don’t get out of your cabin, especially if it’s raining.”
“If it’s rain—”
“Go,” I said, planting a kiss on her cheek this time.
Ellie wasn’t afraid to put up an argument when it came to my safety. Today, however, she could probably sense how serious I was. This wasn’t some Ogre lurking nearby, or a long-lost Norther who’d come back for revenge. We were talking about highly trained professionals with a specific goal in mind—to kill as many of us as possible.
“What’s the plan?” Rocket asked.
At once, Quinn appeared beside her, as did Hammer and Proxy. I was surprised Proxy wanted to take part in any of this—she avoided violence at all costs.
“Proxy,” I said the moment she looked at me.
“I heard you have a puzzle,” she said simply.
“A puzzle?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said. “I hear there’s some sort of electrical fencing outside of our Village. I’d like to help.”
Of course. Why hadn’t I thought of this? Proxy lived for science and anything to do with hard, solid facts.
Smirking, Quinn threw her thumb out at Proxy, who, although the same height as Quinn, looked like a skeleton in comparison.
“Figured we could use that big brain of hers,” Quinn said.
Proxy didn’t smile at the compliment. Instead, she kept nodding like one of those old bobblehead toys. I couldn’t tell if it was some sort of tic, or if the wheels in her head were turning. “What is the voltage?”
“We don’t know,” I said.
“Is the energy spread through electrical pulsing?” she asked.
Cocking an eyebrow, I stared at the others. “We have no idea, Proxy—”
“Doesn’t matter,” she said. “Quinn tells me these people are highly trained, so it’s doubtful they would be using farming equipment. The voltage must be very high—enough to kill someone.”
“Well there were a few dead birds—” Rocket said.
Proxy kept nodding. “I’m certain you’re already aware that you can’t do anything about it unless you get to the source.”
“Yes,” I said. “Player—” but I stopped myself, realizing that no one other than Biggie, Rocket, and I knew about what was really going on. In an instant, I turned to Biggie, who I knew wouldn’t be of much help in this specific situation as she wasn’t adept at climbing. “Can you fill everyone in? Proxy and I will keep talking. I didn’t want everyone knowing what this was about, but anyone carrying a weapon needs to know what they’re up against, and the women who aren’t fighting need to know how serious this is.”
Biggie nodded and extended her arms so far away from her body it was as if she was preparing to pull us all in for a group hug. Instead, she waved her outstretched hands as a way of saying, Come on, let’s move, and guided Hammer, Quinn, and a few other women who’d assembled.
“We don’t have much time,” I said. “It’s already starting to rain, which will make it even harder to climb—”
Proxy’s eyes lit up, and she shot a finger toward the sky. “Climb? Are you planning on climbing over the fence? I assume your goal is to shut down or destroy the power box.”
“That’s our one option,” I said. “Let’s get some rope. All we have to do is scale our own fence and climb up a tree.”
Rocket rubbed her chin, looking worried. “Um, Brone, we don’t have many trees left around here.”
Although she was right—most of them had been burned down during the massacre—there were still a few standing strong despite their lack of leaves. All we needed was a sturdy branch that reached over the electric fence. Once on the other side, finding BlueVolt wouldn’t be too difficult given the lack of density in the forest.
Where was he hiding, anyway? Sure, thick bushes and countless plants had emerged from the ashes, but the Dead Zone was rather empty in comparison to the close-knit trees that had once surrounded us.
“Well—” Proxy said.
“We’ll find a good branch,” I said. Then, I turned my attention to Rocket. “Rocket, can you go to Hammer’s tent? She should have some solid rope in there.”
“Who’s climbing?” Rocket asked.
“Theoretically—” Proxy said.
“I’ll do it,” I cut in. “I may not be the best climber, but I’m a good shot. And that’s all we need… one good shot to take out BlueVolt. Once he’s out of the picture, I can locate the box and shut it down.”
“Okay,” Rocket said. “I’ll be right back.”
“Do you two ever stop talking long enough to listen to someone else?” Proxy said.
Both Rocket and I froze with our mouths open. Not once had Proxy ever shown attitude before, so to hear even an ounce of snarkiness in her voice took me by surprise.
“I apologize,” she said quickly. “But you’re both going on and on about climbing this fence, and about relying on one person to complete the task. What
happens if Brone is killed?”
Pulling my face back, I stared at her. I wasn’t certain whether I was more shocked by her bluntness or by her lack of confidence in me.
“I mean no offense, Brone,” she said, perhaps sensing my confusion. “I’m thinking logically, here. For all we know, this opponent has other tricks up his sleeve. The fence may not be the only trap, and sending one person to do the job is equivalent to buying a lottery ticket.” She scratched her chin with her index finger. “Well, perhaps equivalent to a scratch card. I suppose the odds aren’t as high as a nationwide lottery game.”
“What’s your point, Proxy?” I said. “Do you have a better idea? Because we’re running out of time. This fence needs to be shut down before the sun sets.”
Flicking her finger up into the air again, she smirked. She had such a know-it-all look on her face that all I could picture were her beady eyes squinting at us from behind fogging, rectangular-shaped glasses. “As a matter of fact, I do.”
CHAPTER 7
Reaching for one of Hammer’s metal-headed shovels, I turned to Rocket. “It doesn’t have to be all that deep—but deep enough so that we can roll underneath the first wire.”
“May I suggest something else?” Proxy asked.
This time, I listened to her. Anything Proxy had to say was worth listening to.
“I would have women dig a hole in two different areas. You want two different access points for several reasons: in case of panic, for simplified access, and to increase the speed at which your soldiers can cross over.”
Although not a fan of the word “soldiers,” Proxy was right. I pulled the shovel off the wall’s bracket, the weight of it causing my biceps to bulge, and inspected its head. It was astonishing how much work had gone into handcrafting the tools in this tent. Had I been anyone else, Hammer would have come storming toward us with a puffy red face and arms flailing in the air. But, given the situation and the fact that I was the one scavenging through her tent, all was forgiven.
Handing the shovel to Rocket, I said, “Find us some diggers, five or six other women.” I reached for the second shovel, which was the only other one, and pulled it off the wall. “Once you have them, meet us at the back gate. We have two shovels, so we’ll have to rotate to conserve our energy.”