Countdown

by Michelle Maddox

  I was afraid to ask the question and open myself up to the potential that I'd been an idiot to trust him, to trust my heart, which told me that he wasn't evil or capable of such terrible things. I felt something for him. I knew it was fast, but I felt a … a softness for Rogan. My heart, which had been closed up tight ever since my family had been murdered, had opened up just a little. I believed in him. I wouldn't believe in an evil man.

  "I knew Rogan," Jonathan began, "before any of this insanity began. We were friends once."

  "I knew you knew each other," I said. "I could tell earlier, when you helped him with his wound."

  He nodded curtly and began pacing the sterile white room, wringing his hands in front of him. "We were both only children when his parents died and he was sent to live with an uncle. The uncle … he wasn't a good man. His cruelty led Rogan to experiment with Kerometh as an escape from the abuse."

  I inhaled sharply. Kerometh had been the drug of choice ever since the plague. Expensive, but easy to acquire, easy to take. I'd never personally experimented with it, but I'd heard that it put you into a state of disorientation. A deep, mindless bliss. But it lasted only a short time-a few hours, tops. After that you immediately plunged into the painful withdrawal that could last weeks unless you got another hit. If you didn't, then violence and anger- they called it Kerometh fury-took over.

  "There's a reason you were chosen to be Rogan's partner, Kira," Jonathan said, his expression twisting into one of pain.

  I shook my head. "He didn't kill those girls. He couldn't have." I swallowed hard past the thick lump in my throat. "Please don't tell me he was lying to me."

  Jonathan shook his head. "No … he was telling you the truth. The murder of those nine poor girls was not his doing. He was charged and convicted of it, but he didn't do it."

  I let out the breath I hadn't even known I'd been holding, and a great sense of relief flooded over me. "He's innocent?"

  Jonathan was so still I thought that somebody might have hit his pause button. "He's innocent of those murders, Kira, but he is a murderer."

  Something in his tone made me tense up. 'The … the robot said that he'd killed two inmates. But it was in self-defense."

  Jonathan shook his head. "There are more."

  I shook my head. I didn't want to hear what he was going to say next.

  "Kira," Jonathan continued, his face a study in despair, "I know you've grown to care for him. That's why it's vital that I tell you this now, before it's too late. You have the right to know." He hesitated, as if summoning something inside of himself to speak the words that followed. "While he was in the throes of Kerometh fury seven years ago, Rogan … Rogan is the man responsible for murdering your family."

  The silence that followed that statement was deafening.

  "What?" I managed. My heart pounded, a thundering sound in my own ears.

  "He murdered your mother, father, and sister. They were not the first or last of his victims that night. He doesn't know that you were connected to this act at all. He'd never seen you before you met at the beginning of The Countdown. His mind is clear now from spending these past four years in prison. He's drug-free. I'm not even sure if he'd be capable of murder anymore, but it doesn't change the past."

  "What?" I was crying now the tears that I'd held inside so long. Sobbing hard and rocking back and forth, feeling just this side of crazy. I felt as if my entire life had just imploded and taken everything I knew with it.

  It made sense. It made such horrible sense. Of course that was why they made us partners. Of course.

  Rogan, the man with the beautiful ocean-colored eyes, the man my gut told me was innocent, the man I'd wanted to kiss so badly my lips burned, the man I'd believed in heart and soul even after knowing him only such a short time.

  He killed my family and took everything from me. He should have killed me, too. I wished he had.

  I'm a very bad man, Rogan had told me only minutes ago. If you knew the truth about me, you wouldn't be looking at me like that. You'd hate me. And you'd sure as hell not want to kiss me.

  He killed my family.

  Still, something deep inside of me refused to believe it. No. It's not true. Jonathan's lying to you. They're all lying to you.

  I rocked back and forth for a long time, my knees against my chest, and I hugged them tightly against me.

  Jonathan, the man my flex had revealed to be truthful and honest and filled with guilt about the job he had to do, patted my back and gently wiped my tears away.

  "I'm sorry, Kira. I probably shouldn't have told you, but I could see you growing closer to him. Too close. I cared for him once myself, but after the Kerometh … the Rogan I knew was gone forever. He may not have killed those girls, but he did deserve to go to Saradone, you see? You don't deserve any of this, and I'm so sorry. All I can tell you is what I told you before…." He trailed off.

  I waited for him to continue, but he didn't. I raised my head. "What?"

  He cleared his throat before he spoke again. "Only one of you has to live to the end of The Countdown," he told me, stony-faced. "If Rogan dies it won't be held against you. You'll still get your ticket to Offworld. Do you understand what I'm telling you?"

  I just stared at him. "I… I think so."

  He nodded and took out a small black remote control from his pocket. It had a series of red and yellow buttons on it. "I'm very glad to hear it."

  "Wh-what's that?"

  His face was set in grim lines. "This device is connected to your implant. Now that I've determined you have healed enough, I'm afraid we must continue on to the reward level. Are you ready, Kira?"

  I shook my head. "No, I just need a little time. Just a little-"

  "I'm sorry," he said, and pressed a button. "It's already begun."

  Everything went black.

  LEVEL FOUR

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  I woke but still saw only black. I was wearing a blindfold and my hands were bound behind my back. I stifled a whimper.

  Dammit. I hated the darkness. I hated it.

  I willed myself to stay as calm as possible and concentrated on the announcer's voice in my head. The one whom I'd come to despise, although it was the only thing at the moment keeping me from freaking out.

  "Yesterday in Level Three," he said, "Kira received a bullet wound to her upper femur. Without proper medical intervention she would have died from blood loss. She has now recovered enough to continue.

  "She has performed to an exceptionally high level, and the producers of The Countdown are thrilled with your reaction to her and realize you are hungry for more information about our first ever female competitor.

  "Kira Jordan is twenty-two years old. Some of her interests include long walks on the beach and wearing sexy lingerie. It excites her to know that you, as subscribers, are watching her every move as part of The Countdown, as she and her handsome but deadly partner, Rogan Ellis, fight for their lives in the anticipation of winning the game.

  "On the streets since she was fifteen, Kira has survived as best she could using her brain and her body to get what she needed to survive. Desperate and destitute at the age of fifteen, she decided to use that body to aid her survival. This is a path taken by many lost girls, and it's a story that typically ends in tragedy. Prostitutes rarely trick only once, and even if they have a pimp to protect them, they could be beaten or murdered. At the very least they usually succumb to Kerometh addiction.

  "The client Kira found on her darkest day was an older man in search of a young girl-a lawyer who was the lead partner at his firm. His wife had already gone to Offworld and he was to join her in the days to follow. Little did Kira know that he planned to kill and dismember her-a hobby that he'd recently developed-after their sexual tryst.

  "However, after a few initial gropes, Kira decided that a life of prostitution was not for her. When she rebuked his actions he struck her and she fell to the floor, where he prepared to take her forcibly.

  "The lawyer'
s wife collected priceless antique china. A bowl had fallen to the floor next to Kira's prone form. While the man was distracted by attempting to force her legs apart, she curled her fingers around the bowl and swung it toward his head, an act that succeeded in knocking him unconscious.

  "Before Kira fled the scene, she searched the man's body for his wallet and took all the money that was there, which amounted to just under thirty dollars.

  "The altercation was recorded by security cameras the wife had installed to catch her husband, whom she suspected to be cheating. She had no idea that she was married to a demented murderer who was to become, four years later, a formidable contestant on The Countdown. He made it all the way to Level Five before being eliminated.

  "Through this event, Kira Jordan realized that stealing would help her live to face the next day. To fight for survival in a dying world. It has also led her here, to this very moment, to the next level of… The Countdown."

  The blindfold was ripped from my face and I blinked. The skies were darkening with an approaching storm. A fork of lightning arched across the sky. I felt shaken at hearing one of the lowest points in my life broadcast in a friendly, almost singsong voice. I had no idea until a minute ago that that bastard had wanted to do anything but rape me, as if that wasn't bad enough. He had been ready to kill me, too? I shuddered at the thought.

  My wrists burned as the bindings were released, and I felt a shove at my back that made me stagger forward a few feet until I found myself at the edge of a building.

  I stifled a scream and struggled to maintain my balance as I saw where I was.

  At the top of a skyscraper. On the very edge of the roof. If I'd taken another step I would have dropped at least forty stories to the street far below.

  My stomach lurched.

  "Kira!"

  It was Rogan's voice, and I craned my neck to the left to see that stretched between the tops of two skyscrapers was a small bridge not more than eight inches wide. It went fifty feet across between the two buildings. In the exact middle was Rogan, lying on his back with his arms out above his head. His wrists were bound to the platform.

  I looked down at myself. I was fully dressed again in the clothes I'd worn before. The cargo pants were ruined with the bullet hole and dried blood on the thigh. My tank top had seen better days.

  "Welcome to Level Four," the singsong voice continued, "a reward level in which Kira is to rescue her partner by crossing a narrow and dangerous bridge high above the city streets, and then the two must continue on to the other side to complete this level successfully. There is no safety gear for this, no ropes, no tricks. All Kira has to work with is her sense of balance and self-preservation. Should they finish they will be well rewarded for their efforts. Our competitors have ten minutes to complete this level. Enjoy! "

  I didn't move. I stood in place and stared out at Rogan. I always thought that I only had a fear of the dark. Who knew about this nagging little fear of heights I'd just developed in the past two minutes?

  My mouth went dry.

  Okay. So I had precisely ten minutes to rescue the man whom I'd been told had killed my family and try not to fall dozens of stories to our deaths.

  Splat.

  I shuddered and looked around the rooftop I was currently standing on. Whoever had removed my blindfold and bindings had disappeared. I was all alone. Nobody to push me to do this. Nobody to force me.

  "Nine minutes remain in this level of The Countdown."

  Fuck me.

  I made my way to where the platform began-it was even narrower than I'd originally thought. I tried to breathe.

  When I was ten years old I took gymnastics. I remember balancing on the beam, trying not to fall off. I'd been pretty good at it then, even been able to do a cartwheel or two. But the floor had been padded in case there were any tumbles.

  That had been a long time ago.

  The platform seemed fairly stable. I tested it with my foot and it gave a little, but not much. My upper thigh ached dully from where I'd been shot, but I suppose it was better than still bleeding.

  These Countdown people wanted their contestants to be in top shape before their precious subscribers got to watch them die.

  So sporting of them.

  "Kira!" Rogan shouted again. He had his head up and looked at me. "Be careful!"

  I ignored him. Thinking about him right now was only going to distract me. There was no time for me to be distracted. To say the least.

  Just don't look down, I told myself.

  Which left me with very few options. The platform was so narrow that when I focused on it, I couldn't help but see the street so far below me.

  My right foot shook as I placed it on the platform, and I wavered for a second, holding my arms out to either side of me as I established my balance. I let out a long breath and tried to center myself.

  Just like gymnastics. I needed to pretend that I was competing at the Olympics, if they were still being held. I wanted that gold medal.

  Focus on that gold medal, I thought. Think of nothing else.

  "Eight minutes remain in this level of The Countdown."

  The voice seemed louder in my head than usual, and it surprised me. I shook a little before I steadied myself. I took another tentative step and let out a long, shuddery breath.

  "You're doing great, Kira," Rogan said. From what I could see from twenty feet away, his expression was strained. He pulled at his bindings and the platform shook.

  "Don't do that!" I yelled. "Just stay still."

  "Sorry!"

  "Yeah," I muttered under my breath, and a line of sweat trickled down my forehead and onto my nose. "You're going to be sorry, you son of a bitch."

  No, don't think about anything negative, I thought. Nothing. Just focus on putting one foot in front of the other-

  "Seven minutes remain in this level of The Countdown."

  – and doing it quickly.

  Christ. That voice was so distracting.

  I took another step.

  A silver camera buzzed past my face, so close that I felt the wind from it. I glared up into its lens and it came back for another pass.

  "How is Kira feeling right now?" the voice asked. "Ready to win The Countdown and receive her ultimate prize of a first-class ticket on the Off world shuttle?"

  "Fuck off," I told it. "Pretty please."

  It flew away and out of my peripheral vision, but I could still see two other cameras moving around in the air nearby.

  Jonathan had told them what I wanted. Okay, so that made it official. I was playing for keeps. I wanted that prize more than I wanted anything else in the world.

  Another step. Balance. Another step. Balance.

  I raised my gaze to look at Rogan, who was much closer now, his head still propped up, and he watched me as I approached. His jaw was tense, the muscles in his arms tight. The closer I got, I could see a small grin appear on his lips.

  "What the hell are you smiling at?" I managed.

  "Just the fact that you've come to my rescue. Does that make you my knight in shining armor?"

  I didn't smile. "I haven't rescued you yet."

  His grin faded. "Just watch your step. Don't fall. Here comes another camera."

  It buzzed close enough that it almost touched me. "What the hell? Are they trying to knock me off this thing?"

  "They're not trying to give you a helping hand, that's for damn sure."

  "Why'd you let them tie you up like this?"

  He pulled at the bindings. The platform shook slightly. "Like it was my idea. They took me outside the room and knocked me out again. I woke up here. Trust me, it was a hell of a shock."

  I studied the ropes that tied him. "This is going to be tricky."

  "I don't think the knots are too tight. It's just awkward."

  I studied the face of the man who may have killed my family. He looked up at me with those blue-green eyes framed with dark lashes and that fading scar. He wore the same clothes as before: blo
ody, dirty, ripped. I still saw the handsome man under the ruin, the one I'd let charm me into believing in him.

  His dark brows were drawn together as he frowned up at me. "Why are you looking at me that way, sweetheart?"

  I blinked back tears. "Just shut up. I need to concentrate."

  I thought back to gymnastics. One lesson had been how to kneel down on the bar without losing balance. It had taken me forever to learn that without falling off, but I had finally gotten it. However, that was more than ten years ago, and definitely not a skill I used all the time. Unfortunately.

  I slowly crouched down far enough that I could fumble with the bindings around his ankles just above his worn black boots.

  His body took up the entire width of the platform and then some. He couldn't move without shaking everything around, and I couldn't get past him.

  He eyed his wrists. "Now what?"

  A camera whizzed past my ear and I swatted at it, hitting cold metal.

  "Five minutes remain in this level of The Countdown."

  I met his gaze and saw there was more than a trace of fear behind it. There was concern. For me.

  My heart wrenched. Why was he concerned for me? Dammit. I hated that I'd convinced myself he was a good man-and even now, after everything, I still had doubts about his guilt. Was it because I wouldn't allow myself to believe I could be attracted to the man who may have murdered my family?

  "I'm thinking."

  He blinked. "What they said earlier… about what happened with you and that lawyer scumbag-"

  "It was true. All of it."

  His jaw tensed. "If he wasn't already dead I'd find him and rip his heart out."

  I willed myself to stay focused on the platform. "Nothing happened. I learned my lesson the hard way."

  "I'd still kill him."

  "It's that easy for you? Killing?" My voice broke on the word.

  His expression darkened. "I'll do it for a good cause. For the right reason. To protect myself or somebody I care about."

  "Are you saying that you care about me?"

  "Sure." He averted his gaze. "And now I care that you untie me so we can get this fucking level over with."