Arena 3

by Morgan Rice

  Ben’s hand reaches for my arm and squeezes and I realize he must be thinking the same thing. Likewise, Bree grabs the fabric of my gown, twisting it anxiously into her fist, while Charlie stares at me with wide, terrified eyes. Penelope whines with anguish. None of us want to go back out there. None of us can leave this place now that we’ve seen it. Even the thought of it is too cruel.

  A nurse, tending to someone on the far side of the dorm, looks over and scowls at General Reece.

  “My patients are still weak,” she said, glancing at my IV line. “They need to be allowed to rest for a few days. Sending them back out there like this would be a death sentence.”

  It would be a death sentence in any state, I think.

  Almost as soon as she says it, I become immediately aware of all the aches and pains in my body. The adrenaline of finding myself alive and safe, of being reunited with my friends and sister, has been the only thing carrying me this far; being reminded of everything my body has gone through brings the pain flooding back.

  “Then they will die,” General Reece replies firmly, matter-of-factly. “The decision lies with the Commander. I follow the Commander’s orders. You follow mine.”

  The nurse looks away, immediately obedient, and the General, without another word, turns on her heel and marches out.

  We all look at each other anxiously and then, prodded by the soldiers, we follow the General, flanked by her equally obedient soldiers.

  It’s difficult to walk down the corridor. There are aches in muscles I never knew I had, and my bones seem to creak and grind as I walk. Sharp pains race through my neck and spine, making me wince. Moreover, I’m absolutely famished. Yet I don’t feel able to ask for food, worried that it may sway General Reece or the Commander, make them think that we’re demanding or spoiled. If we want to survive, we need to give off the best impression we possibly can.

  Ben keeps glancing at me with a worried expression, and I can see his anxiety, his fear that we might be expelled from Fort Noix and left to fend for ourselves all over again. I share his fear. I’m not sure any of us would survive that again. It’s as if I’d been bracing myself all these years, steeling myself to survive this world, knowing that no other option existed. But now, seeing all this, seeing what is possible, the thought of going back to it is just too much.

  We reach the end of the corridor, and as General Reece pushes open the two double doors, morning light floods in so bright I have to blink.

  As my eyes adjust to the brightness, Fort Noix appears before me. It’s a fully functioning town, filled with people and buildings, military trucks, bustle, noise, and laughter. Laughter. I can’t even remember the last time I heard that. I can hardly believe my eyes.

  It is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.

  The General’s voice breaks through my reverie.

  “This way.”

  We’re led along a sidewalk, past groups of kids around Charlie and Bree’s age playing in the streets.

  “We don’t have many children at Fort Noix,” the General tells us. “The ones that are here are educated until the age of fourteen. Then we sort them according to their abilities and assign them work.”

  Bree looks at the children with longing eyes: the prospect of four years of school is beyond tempting for her. Nestled in her arms, Penelope immediately reads the change in Bree’s emotion and licks her face.

  “What kind of work?” Charlie asks, curiously.

  “All forms of labor are needed to keep this fort operational. We have farmers, fishermen, hunters, builders, tailors, and then we have more administrative duties, like assigning rations, taking registers, and the like. We have professionals, too: teachers, soldiers, doctors, and nurses.”

  As we’re led through the town, I find myself more and more impressed by what I see. Fort Noix runs on solar power. All the buildings are only one story high, so as not to be visible from afar or attract any attention. Most of them have grass on their roofs—something the General explains is for both insulation and camouflage—and tree branches covering them.

  As we stroll along, the sunlight grows warmer and brighter, and the General explains the history of the place. It seemed to come about through a combination of fate, chance, and a whole lot of luck. There were already a number of military bases peppered along the powerful Richelieu River. Due to its geographical location between New England and New France, the river had been a key pathway in the French and Iroquois Wars in the seventeenth century and, later, the French-English battles of the eighteenth century__. Because of its rich military history, those who, like General Reece, opposed the brewing American civil war were drawn to it, and helped turn it into a safe zone for defectors.

  The second bit of luck was that the river flowed from the distant Green Mountains bordering Vermont. When the war finally broke out in New York, the mountains sheltered the fort from the winds carrying nuclear radiation. While the rest of the population succumbed to the radiation and disease that resulted in the biovictims, the military personnel hiding out in Fort Noix were protected. At the same time, the good source of clean running water provided them with an abundance of fish, so that when supply routes were blockaded, bridges blown, and villages leveled, the people in the fort survived.

  The wars that had raged around these parts had another unlikely outcome. Since most of the local towns were flattened, the surrounding forests had a chance to grow. Soon, a thick barrier of evergreens surrounded Fort Noix, reducing its chances of being found to virtually nil, while providing wood for fires and game for hunting.

  Once the sound of bombs stopped and the fort’s residents knew the war was over, they sent out scouts and quickly realized the human race had obliterated itself. After that, they cut themselves off completely and set to work expanding the fort into a town, and building civilization again from the ground up.

  By the time General Reece has finished her story, I’m in awe of her. Her calm and military steeliness reminds me of my dad.

  As we walk, I can’t help but feel overwhelmed by every little detail. It’s been so long since I’ve seen civilization. It’s like stepping back in time. Better, even. It’s like stepping into a dream come true. The people milling around me look healthy and well cared for. None of them have endured starvation. None of them have had to fight to the death. They’re just normal people like the ones who used to populate the earth. The thought makes a lump form in my throat. Is it possible to start again?

  I can tell the others are as overwhelmed as I am. Bree and Charlie stay close together, side by side, looking around with awe. They’re both clearly excited and happy to be in Fort Noix, yet also anxious at the thought of it all potentially being taken away from us.

  Ben, on the other hand, seems a little dazed. I can’t blame him. To step out of our brutal world and into this one is beyond disorienting. He walks slowly, almost as though in a trance, and his eyes glance furtively from side to side, trying to take everything in. I realize as he walks that it’s more than just being overwhelmed. It is like how my body could only reveal to me how exhausted it was once I was safe. Ben’s mind, I’m sure, is revealing to him just how much he’s been through: the death of his brother, fighting in the arena, every near-death experience. I can almost see that his mind is preoccupied with thoughts as he sifts through his memories. I have seen people suffer from post-traumatic stress, and his face bears the same look as they’d had. I can’t help but hope that his appearance doesn’t hamper our chances of being accepted here.

  Soon, we’re off the main street and walking down some smaller, winding roads that lead through the forests. This time, it’s Charlie who starts hanging back, trudging a little way behind the rest of us. I drop my pace and draw up beside him.

  “What’s wrong?”

  He looks at me with terrified eyes.

  “What if this is a trap?” he says under his breath. “What if they’re taking us to another arena?”

  His question makes me wonder whether I’m be
ing too trusting. I think back to the man who stole our supplies when we were on the run from the slaverunners. I’d trusted him and I’d been wrong. But this time it’s different. There’s no way Logan would have directed us toward danger.

  I put my arm around Charlie’s shoulder.

  “We’re safe now,” I explain. “You don’t have to be scared anymore.”

  But as we go, the canopy thickens above us, blocking out the daylight and making dark shadows crowd in around us. Something about walking this long, dark path reminds me of the arenas, of walking those corridors knowing that a horrible, painful death was all that awaited me. I can feel my heart begin to hammer in my chest.

  The sky gets darker and darker as we go. Bree must notice something is wrong, because she snuggles into me.

  “You’re sweating,” she says.

  “I am?”

  I touch my brow and find that I’ve broken out in a cold sweat.

  “Are you okay?” Bree adds.

  But her voice sounds strange, distorted, like it’s coming from far, far away.

  Suddenly, there’s a hand on my arm, and I scream as I see Rose’s black, wizened hand latching onto my arm. I lash out, pushing her away, scratching at her hand with my fingernails.

  Then all at once the panic is gone. I come back to the present and realize that it wasn’t Rose’s hand on me at all. It was Ben’s. He’s cradling it against his chest, and deep scratches run along it. He looks at me with an expression of pure anguish while Penelope yap-yap-yaps her distress. The soldiers around us politely avert their gazes.

  I look down at Bree and Charlie, my heart hammering.

  “I’m sorry,” I stammer. “I thought… I just…”

  But my words disappear.

  “Maybe we should take you back to the hospital,” Ben suggests in a soft, persuasive voice.

  “I’m fine,” I say, sternly, frowning at their worried expressions. “I thought I saw something is all. It’s no big deal. Come on.”

  I stroll ahead, leading the pack, trying to gain back some sense of myself. I’m not the sort of person who crumbles in the face of adversity and I’m not about to become the sort who is haunted by the past.

  Yet as I continue to walk, I’m not so sure I can leave the past behind.

  We turn a bend, and I see it: the short, squat building that must contain the Commander’s office. I brace myself, heart pounding, as we walk.

  The outcome of this meeting, I know, will determine if we live or die.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The Commander’s building is buzzing with life. Military personnel march quickly by, while others sit around conference tables looking at blueprints, discussing in loud, confident voices the benefits of building a new granary store or extending the wing of the hospital. It feels like a real unit, a team with a purpose, and it feels good.

  And it makes me all the more nervous that we won’t be allowed to stay.

  As we pass along the corridors, I see a sprawling gymnasium, people training with weapons, firing bows and arrows, sparring and wrestling. There are even little kids being trained how to fight. The people of Fort Noix are clearly preparing themselves for any kind of eventuality.

  Finally, we’re led into the Commander’s office. A charismatic man in his forties, he stands and greets us each cordially by name, clearly already having been briefed. Unlike the General, he doesn’t have a Canadian accent; in fact, he surprises me with a strong South Carolina twang, which tells me he’s one of the defectors from the American side of the opposition.

  He turns to me last.

  “And you must be Brooke Moore.” He cups his hand around mine and shakes, and the warmth from his skin seeps into mine. “I must say I’m impressed by your experiences. General Reece has filled me in on all you’ve endured. I know it’s been hard on you. We don’t know much about the outside world. We keep to ourselves here. Slaverunners, arenas—that’s a whole different world to what we’re used to. What I’ve been told about you is really truly incredible. I’m humbled to meet you all.”

  Finally, he drops my hand.

  “I’m amazed by what you’ve done here,” I say to the Commander. “I’ve dreamt of a place like this ever since the war. But I never dared dream it was true.”

  Ben nods in agreement, while Bree and Charlie seem completely entranced by the Commander, both gazing at him with wide eyes.

  “I understand,” he says. “On some days it’s hard for me to take in, too.”

  He takes a deep breath. Unlike General Reece, who is a bit on the bristly side, the Commander is warm and pleasant, which keeps me hopeful.

  But now that the formalities are over, his tone changes, darkens. He gestures for us all to sit. We sit in our chairs, stiff-backed like kids in a principal’s office. He looks us over as he speaks. I can feel that he’s judging each of us, summing us up.

  “I have a very serious decision to make,” he begins. “Regarding whether you can stay at Fort Noix.”

  I nod solemnly as my hands twist in my lap.

  “We’ve taken in outsiders before,” he continues, “particularly children, but we don’t do so as a matter of course. We’ve been tricked in the past by kids your age.”

  “We’re not working for anyone,” I say, quickly. “We’re not spies or anything like that.”

  He looks at me skeptically.

  “Then tell me about the boat.”

  It takes me a moment to understand, and then I realize: when we’d been rescued, we’d been traveling in a stolen slaverunner vessel. I realize that they must think we’re part of some kind of organization.

  “We stole it,” I reply. “We used it to escape from Arena Two.”

  The Commander regards me with suspicious eyes, like he doesn’t believe that we could have escaped from an arena.

  “Did anyone follow you?” he asks. “If you escaped an arena and stole a boat from slaverunners, surely they’d be pursuing you?”

  I think back to the time on the island in the Hudson, of the relentless game of cat and mouse we played with the slaverunners. But we’d managed to get away.

  “There aren’t,” I say, confidently. “You have my word.”

  He frowns.

  “I need more than your word, Brooke,” the Commander contests. “The entire town would be in danger if someone had followed you.”

  “The only proof I have is that I’ve been lying asleep in a hospital bed for days and no one’s come yet.”

  The Commander narrows his eyes, but my words seem to sink in. He folds his hands on top of the table.

  “I’d like to know, in that case, why we should take you in. Why should we house you? Feed you?”

  “Because it’s the right thing to do,” I say. “How else will we rebuild our civilization? At some point we need to start taking care of each other again.”

  My words seem to anger him.

  “This is not a hotel,” he snaps. “There are no free meals here. Everyone chips in. If we let you stay you’ll be expected to work. Fort Noix is only for people who can contribute. Only for the tough. There is a graveyard out there filled with those who couldn’t hack it here. No one here rests on their laurels. Fort Noix is not just about surviving—we are training an army of survivors.”

  I can feel my fighting instinct kick in. I pull my hands into fists and thump them on the table. “We can contribute. We’re not just weak children looking for someone to take care of them. We’ve fought in arenas. We’ve killed men, animals, and monsters. We have rescued people, kids. We are good people. Strong people.”

  “People who are used to doing things their own way,” he contests. “How can I expect you to alter to a life under military command? Rules keep us alive. Order is the only thing stopping us from perishing like the others. We have a hierarchy. A system. How will you hack being told what to do after so many years running wild?”

  I take a deep breath.

  “Our father was in the military,” I say. “Bree and I know exactly wha
t it’s like.”

  He pauses, then eyes me with dark, beady eyes.

  “Your father was in the military?”

  “Yes,” I reply sternly, a little out of breath from my outpouring of anger.

  The Commander frowns, then shuffles some papers on his desk as though looking for something. I see that it’s a list of our names. He taps mine over and over with his fingertip then looks up and frowns.

  “Moore,” he says, saying my surname. Then he lights up.

  “He’s not Laurence Moore?”

  At the sound of my father’s name, my heart seems to stop beating entirely.

  “Yes,” Bree and I cry at the same time.

  “Do you know him?” I add, my voice sounding desperate and frantic.

  He leans back and now looks at us with a whole new respect, as if meeting us for the first time.

  “I know of him,” he says, nodding with clear surprise.

  Hearing his tone of respect as he talks about my father makes me feel a surge of pride. It’s no surprise to me that people looked up to him.

  I realize then that the Commander’s mood is shifting. Coming face to face with the orphaned children of an old acquaintance must have stirred some kind of sympathy inside of him.

  “You can all stay,” he says.

  I clasp Bree’s hand with relief and let out the breath I’d been holding. Ben and Charlie audibly sigh their relief. But before we even have a chance to smile at one another, the Commander says something else, something that makes my heart clench.

  “But the dog has to go.”

  Bree gasps.

  “No!” she cries.

  She wraps her arms more tightly around Penelope. Sensing she’s become the subject of attention, the little Chihuahua wriggles in Bree’s arms.

  “No one stays at Fort Noix who cannot contribute,” the Commander says. “That goes for animals as well. We have guard dogs, sheep dogs, and horses on the farms, but your little pet is useless to us. She absolutely cannot stay.”

  Bree dissolves into tears.

  “Penelope isn’t just a pet. She’s the smartest animal in the world. She saved our life!”