18
I step onto the Savage Run bus with Arthor, making sure Johnny is nowhere in sight. Slinking my way to the back of the bus, I inhale. The hot air sticks to the insides of my nostrils, and it reeks of sweat and exhaust fumes. Most of the participants appear clean, but after sitting through the Opening Ceremony, watching how others were slaughtered—and how they’re likely to be slaughtered, too—undoubtedly, most of them have produced buckets of perspiration.
Arthor finds us an empty row in the back and we sit down. “Stay with me and you’ll be safe,” he whispers.
He wants us to run together so he can protect me. I want to tell him I’ll be safe no matter what during the marathon; I don’t weigh enough to make the landmines go off. But if I tell him, he’d probably only get upset due to my huge advantage. How do I explain that I don’t want to be around him if he sets a landmine off? I know it’s a horrible thing to think, but I need to stay alive.
Twenty or so minutes later, the bus drops us off by an underground autobahn, a thermal-protected titanium capsule that moves through a tunnel with the assistance of a vacuum. Cramming into a twelve-man capsule with Arthor, I get into my leather seat and strap on the five-point harness. I’ve heard that riding in an underground vacuum capsule, or UVC feels like being ejected into space in a rocket. Obviously, I’ve never been ejected into space, so I don’t have anything to compare it to. All I know is that this is probably the easiest part of the Savage Run, and I can’t understand why my insides turn to liquid.
“Doors closing,” a female voice says over the speakers. The capsule starts to vibrate and hum. “Prepare for departure,” the female voice says.
The moment the capsule takes off, it’s as if I’m falling from the sky. My stomach does a series of summersaults, and my brain feels like it’s whirling inside my head. I close my eyes. My hand is getting used to not reaching for my locket. My head spins for a moment longer before it finally stabilizes enough to where I can open my eyes. I look over at the other guys in the capsule, and their faces appear just as relaxed as before we took off.
“Have you ridden in one of these before?” I ask Arthor, who also seems unaffected.
“No, but Tristan wrote to me and told me how much he would love it if I could experience it someday,” Arthor says.
The boy sitting on the other side of me groans loudly and hurls into a bag. He’s a lot smaller than some participants, maybe just a little larger than Arthor’s size, which makes me think that he’s a Laborer, too.
“Come on, man. That’s gross,” one of the guys says.
“I can’t help it if I get motion sickness,” the boy defends himself.
“I never get motion sick, but I do get nauseous when I’m nervous…or afraid,” I say, trying to help him feel better.
He reaches out his hand. “I’m Clark. Pleased to meet you, Joseph.”
He must remember me from the embarrassing moment when President Volkov had me come up on stage. I lift my hand and wave, pretending the reach is too far. Does he really expect me to shake his hand that has slime on it?
“So is this your first obstacle course?” I ask.
“I’ve completed three other national obstacle runs, but they were much shorter than this one. You?” Clark says, wiping some leftover saliva onto his sleeve.
I force myself not to squirm in my seat. “I have to admit that this is my first one.”
His right eyebrow rises. “President Volkov is right. You are brave.”
“Or stupid,” I mumble.
Arthor nudges me. “Brave.”
I hear a guy snickering at the end of the capsule, and when I look at him, he’s staring at me. Obviously he disagrees with the last comment. Then it dawns on me: maybe he suspects I’m a girl? My eyes scan the capsule, and as I look at each person, they look away. They’re all gawking at me. Do they know? I forget about having wrapped my chest, and I briefly look down, just to make sure the gauze hasn’t moved out of place, which it hasn’t. My chest is still as flat as a board.
As the capsule projects forward, there’s not much as far as a conversation goes. Although I’m not tired, I close my eyes, pretending to be sleeping in order to ignore all the questioning faces and prying eyes.
It seems like forever, but finally, after a forty-five-minute ride, the female announcer says, “Approaching the country of Normark.” The capsule slows gradually until it eases to a complete stop. “Please disembark with caution, and welcome to the land of the midnight sun.”
Exiting the capsule, I file out into a white underground tunnel and follow the flashing arrows that point to the left. When I get on the revolving stairs, they’re already packed with hundreds of young men. I feel like a piece of krill in the midst of whales, just hoping to go unnoticed. There are no visible lamps in the tunnel, but the walls themselves give off light, making it easy to see everyone’s tense faces.
Once at the top, I exit the tunnel and continue to follow the hordes of teenage boys making their way over to the start line.
When I notice that Arthor is nowhere to be seen, my chest tightens. I don’t want to run with him, but I’m not prepared to be separated yet, either. I turn around and scan the masses. The current of participants continues onward, one participant after another shoving me backward as their shoulders collide with mine. When I see Johnny approaching, I quickly swivel around. Arthor probably thought that it was best for us to run separately, too. Losing each other in the crowd is the best way to avoid any awkward conversations.
Moments later, I arrive at the start line—a red tape strung from one post to another, roughly the length of the aircraft that brought me to Volkov Village. Ahead of me is a wide dirt path, and on either side of the path stands a ridge of mountains that continue into the distance, far beyond what I can see.
The sky is overcast and gray—perfect for running a marathon—and the mountains remind me of the ones that enclose Culmination, specifically the very ones by Master Douglas’s mansion. They also remind me of Gemma, and in an instant, my chest feels like it’s going to collapse. If I had turned back for her, she might be here with me now instead of buried in some unmarked grave outside Culmination. It was a spineless choice; I was such a coward. I deserted her and left her in the hands of a monster who had no intention of letting her live. I close my eyes and dig my fingernails into my palms.
No, I can’t think like that.
In reality, she probably would have been a huge burden. It’s not like she would have been able to handle these obstacles, and I was an idiot to think so in the first place when I came up with my plan. Gemma was always the dainty, feminine one, the one who would get hurt and complain if things became too difficult. It’s best this way so that I can focus on saving my own skin and not have to look out for her. I take a deep breath and brush a tear from my cheek. I’m such a liar.
“There you are.”
I open my eyes and turn around. “Oh…I thought I lost you,” I say flatly when I see Arthor.
“Never. We’ll run together, okay?”
I haven’t had time to come up with the right words to say about how I think we should run separately. “I…uh…we shouldn’t…don’t you think…”
“Don’t worry. I’ll help you.”
“No, I—” Someone shoves me from the ground so I fall forward onto my hands and knees.
“That’s where you belong, Imp.”
“Leave him alone, Johnny,” Arthor says, shoving Johnny backward.
Another guy steps in between them. I recognize him from our group. He’s the tall blond one. “Dude, totally not worth it. Johnny, if you continue, you’ll have two to fight against.”
“Yeah, sure,” Johnny says. A Unifer walks by, and Johnny moves farther down the line.
“Thanks, Timothy,” Arthor says. They clasp hands and bump their chests together. “Good luck out there.”
“Yeah, you too, man. See you, Joseph.”
“Yeah.” I stand up and brush the dirt off my pants and palms
. Maybe I can wait just a tad before I separate from Arthor. We line up with the other participants, and my pulse accelerates. I wonder if any of the guys here are nervous, or if any of them think they’ll make it, or if the ones who will die somehow know. I certainly can’t tell if it will be me who will lose my life today.
I see Clark at the end of the line, and his face is like a stone. Above his head is a large electronic clock, presenting the countdown in red numbers, and it shows we have thirty seconds to go. I wipe my sweaty hands on my pants. For every second that passes, the tension grows thicker and I can feel the other participants’ nervous energy like it’s a part of me.
Then, from the corner of my eye, I see one of the young men slip underneath the red tape and sprint out onto the pathway. Does he actually think they’ll let him get a head start? Wasn’t he listening when OJ said that there would be severe penalties to anyone who did such a thing? Before long, the young man stops running. He arches his back, and his hands flail out from his sides. I hear no gunshots going off, but he’s moving like he’s being pumped full of lead. He falls lifeless to the ground. My hand cups my mouth, stifling a cry—the first casualty of the Savage Run.
“A sniper,” Arthor says, his eyes glued on the young man.
I look around, trying to see if I can locate the shooter, but he’s too well hidden. They must be all over the place ready to shoot anyone who doesn’t follow the rules.
“They weren’t kidding when they said severe,” he says through his teeth.
A hovercraft flies over the dead body and sends out a cone-shaped ray, disintegrating the young man’s remains faster than my frazzled brain can register. This all happens so hastily; there’s still five seconds left on the clock. The marathon is continuing on as if nothing happened, as if some young man wasn’t just shot down—murdered.
“Tread lightly,” Arthor says to me, and with that, the piercing sound of the start pistol being fired rings through the valley.
Savage Run Book I Page 18