Gauntlet

by Holly Jennings

  He looked down at the floor and wouldn’t meet my eyes. I raised my voice another notch.

  “You hear me?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Good. Get out of my office.” I pointed out the door. “Now.”

  With that, he left and slammed the door behind him. I folded my arms on my desk and collapsed against it, repeatedly banging my head against my forearms. So, so stupid. I had finally started to reach him. Out in the garden, we were having fun, like old times. Everything was the way it was before. And now I’d lost my temper and screamed at him. For what? A bunch of gossip. But that was my job now. Rooke’s trust was hard to gain, but so was the sponsors’. If they weren’t happy with our image, we were screwed. Without them, we didn’t have a team.

  Without Rooke, we didn’t have one, either.

  Suddenly, I understood why most owners messed with their drug tests. Fake the test, and you keep the sponsors happy and the team together. Report the test as is, and the sponsors scream and the team stops being a team. Shit, this was all a mistake. I should have tampered with the test. Rooke wouldn’t be out of the Death Match, and we’d be acting like a team.

  But then Rooke would have an excuse to get high again and again, and we might lose him as a teammate permanently. I tossed my arms up. There was no right answer, and I knew only one thing for sure. No matter what way I turned or decision I made, I was fucking everything up.

  • • •

  On the day of the Death Match, the VGL introduced another new rule. All teams had to be in their pods from the start of the game. Not our game, mind you. Every game that would be taking place that night. So, for more than an hour, I’d been plugged in and standing with my teammates in our virtual base, waiting for our matchup to begin.

  “Why won’t they let us see the other matchups?” Hannah asked.

  “They don’t want us to figure out who we’re facing,” Derek said. “If we watch the other matchups, we might be able to guess by process of elimination.”

  “Could also be prep,” Lily added. “For the final round. They’re exposing us to extended time in the virtual world.”

  Hannah stepped toward the door and peered out the force field.

  “It really makes you feel alone, doesn’t it?”

  I followed her gaze down the empty street that should have been bustling with people and noise. Honking horns. Herds of umbrellas crowding the sidewalks. Instead, it was silent. Nothing but the sound of humming fluorescent lights and steam escaping through the street’s vents filled the air. Traffic lights changed on their own for the trafficless street. Other than the neon lights, everything was a shade of dark gray, emphasized by the darkness and moonlight. The buildings stood impossibly tall, and only shoulder’s width apart. It all reeked with a strange, foreboding sense that creeped through my gut. It made me completely aware of everything around me. Of the sounds of my teammates’ breaths and their feet scuffing along the floor. It even heightened the sense of my own body, where I ended, and the game began. And every nerve, every inch of me knew.

  This place felt like a trap, except the prison wasn’t the virtual world. In here, you were alone, and the real prison was your mind.

  I shuddered.

  Ten feet from our base, the flag flickered into view, its code glitching a few times before growing solid. Even still, it remained as a computerized image, almost pixilated in a way. It was the only thing in the game that didn’t look real, so it would stand out for the viewers against the bleak gray background.

  We gathered around the screen next to the doorway, waiting for the matchup stats. Within a few seconds, our opponent’s name appeared.

  DEFIANCE VS. K-RIG

  Oh, no.

  Not them. Anyone but them.

  My eyes fell shut, and my chest felt like it had just collapsed in on itself. I’d never vomited inside the virtual world before, and suddenly, I found myself wondering if I’d end up puking in the pod as well. Apparently, finding out you’re about to fight the greatest team in the world makes you wonder about all kinds of existential shit.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Lily muttered.

  The countdown started. 30, 29, 28 . . .

  “This is for real,” Hannah said. “This is actually happening. We can’t play them. We’ll be destroyed.”

  I shoved down the sick taste in my throat and turned to face my team.

  “Calm down,” I said between my teeth. “All of you. The crowd can see us.”

  “Yeah,” Lily replied. “Because that’s what’s important right now.”

  I ignored her comment and looked to Derek. “Any suggestions on strategy?”

  He shrugged. “Pray.”

  I frowned. “I’m being serious.”

  “Me, too,” he said, but I stared at him until he broke. He sighed. “No deviations from the plan. You and Lily go for the flag. Stick to the rooftops. Try to be as inconspicuous as you can. Hannah and I will guard our base.”

  “That’s . . . pretty basic.”

  “That’s what we came up with.”

  “It’s not good enough. Not against them.”

  He nodded at the countdown. “We’ve got fifteen seconds. What else can we do?”

  I shifted my weight a few times. He was right. It was the best we could do.

  “Anything else?” I asked.

  “Survive.”

  Oh, how quickly my hopes for this tournament had gone from thrive to survive.

  We lined up at the door, waiting for the shield to drop. Lily and I stood in front, ready to bolt, while Hannah and Derek took up the rear.

  The countdown continued.

  10, 9, 8 . . .

  I took a sprinting stance and counted down with the clock, trying to ignore the swirling in my gut. We were down a player, my team was in shambles, and we were seconds away from facing off against the best team in the world.

  Survive. No kidding.

  CHAPTER 11

  “It has to be a trap.”

  Lily’s voice came through the mic as we raced along the rooftops. Half a block up on the street below, K-Rig’s flag shimmered against the grayed darkness of this world. The space around it was empty. Quiet.

  “Doesn’t matter,” I said as I cleared another gap between the roofs. “We have to go for it. Don’t hesitate.”

  “You pick it up,” she huffed. “They’ll be expecting me.”

  Lily was our fastest runner, and even though we’d never played this game live before, if K-Rig had watched any of our old RAGE matches, they would have picked up on Lily’s speed and probably assumed she’d be the one going for the flag.

  “Got it,” I agreed.

  Lily unsheathed her axes, preparing to defend. I kept my hands free and raced straight for the flag. We hit the edge of the roof together and pushed off, arcing through the air. Lily landed, axes out, ready. I touched down beside her, rolling as I landed, and cleared through the flag. A bluish flash consumed me.

  I had the flag.

  Step one, done.

  The street remained quiet. No sign of K-Rig. Just the mist, red lanterns, and flashing neon. They had to be somewhere. I scanned the rooftops, the tight gaps between the buildings, the shadows.

  Nothing.

  I traded glances with Lily. She shrugged.

  “We have to go,” she said.

  We had no other option but to start running the flag in. Just standing here wasn’t going to win us any points. But common sense did nothing to calm my shaky nerves.

  Something wasn’t right about this.

  I turned on my heel and booked it down the street, heading south. Lily flanked my left side, knowing it was my off-hand.

  “I’ve got the flag,” I said into my mic. “Lily’s with me. K-Rig is MIA.”

  “They’re here,” Derek replied. “Three of them,
at least.”

  Three. Where were the other two, and why weren’t they attacking us?

  As I ran alongside Lily, grunts and clanging swords came through the mic. Then Hannah’s scream, which abruptly cut off.

  I pressed my lips to the mic.

  “Hannah? Derek?”

  Nothing.

  Great. Two on five already.

  I ran faster.

  My feet slushed through puddles, and the wind whipped my hair back as I ran. A bluish glow trailed behind me. Might as well put a flashing sign over my head. I’m Right Here.

  We can still win this, I told myself. A spark of hope grew in my chest, and for a minute, I believed it. But halfway back to the base, the three members of K-Rig rounded a corner and cut off our path. Lily and I ground to a halt and turned to reverse direction. The missing two members of K-Rig stepped out from the alleyways, one from each side of the street. Here was the trap. They’d planned this. The whole thing. They let us pick up the flag while they took out our guards, just in time to sweep back to the runners and surround us on all sides. Perfectly timed. Perfectly executed.

  Hell, it was just plain perfect.

  One of them charged and plowed into Lily, knocking her back and off balance. Two quick slices with his blade, and he spilled her insides on the road. Her mouth opened to scream, but only air escaped as she crumpled into a heap on the road. Slowly, her body faded from view.

  My heart thrummed in my ears. I was alone, and we were about to lose.

  All five closed in.

  My throat restricted with every step they took, as if their feet were tightening a noose line. No, Kali. You go down fighting. You always go down fighting.

  I gritted my teeth, drew my sword, and took a stance. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the one on my far right smirk at me. Well, dumb-ass. Why don’t you just paint a bull’s-eye on your forehead?

  I faked a turn, like I was going the opposite way, and lunged for him, thrusting my sword through his chest. He stumbled back. His mouth opened and closed several times in complete shock, like he was witnessing an event he’d never seen before. I gripped the hilt and slammed into him. The full length of my blade disappeared into his chest. A gasping moan escaped his lips. I saddled up to him, so we were merely inches apart. He smelled of blood and sweat, and fear. His eyes went wide.

  I brought my face even closer, so my lips nearly brushed his.

  “Smirk at me again,” I dared him.

  He didn’t.

  His eyes grew even wider, and a choking, clinking sound came from the back of his throat, like a fish out of water. Poor baby. Can’t get any air. Reeling back, I ripped my sword from his chest. He collapsed, his eyes glazing over in an instant. I turned to face the remaining members of K-Rig. For a second, just a split second, they looked impressed.

  They circled me, moving in sync. Step for step.

  Okay, now I’m really screwed.

  I knelt low and fought how I did best when outnumbered or hopelessly outranked. Something I’d done in my first championship.

  I closed my eyes.

  The raindrops and neon buzzing filled my ears, then the sounds of K-Rig’s shallow breaths. I focused my own breathing, calm and deep. Footsteps echoed along the pavement toward me.

  I moved, sword out, deflecting every blow that came toward me. Sound became my ally, directing me where to go. The wind carried me. I was a cyclone as K-Rig came at me, all four of them at once. The sharp clanging of sword against sword created a grating techno beat, like chains smashing against steel. Looks like I had a new sound track.

  For half a second, they pulled back, panting. One of them swore in Korean. At least, I assumed so. Mandarin and Korean weren’t close enough for me to understand his meaning, but judging by the sharp harshness in his voice as he spat the word, it was something nasty.

  I kept my eyes closed.

  Another one said something else in Korean, this time not as harsh. More like a command. It went dead quiet for a second. Then they started zigzagging, tapping their feet along their pavement like they were dancing. Closing in, backing out.

  Fuckers.

  I rotated my stance, following the sounds, circling my sword around me.

  They stepped faster. One whipped past within an inch of me, so I felt the breeze on my lips. My muscles seized, and I swallowed thick. A thousand steps echoed together, like four different drumbeats playing over the top of each other, making it impossible to tell which was which.

  No choice. I opened my eyes.

  Wrong move.

  A sword drove into my back. I went rigid from the pain, and hot liquid spilled down my backside. My knees gave out, and I crumpled to the ground. Blood gurgled out of my mouth. I coughed and sputtered as little eruptions of the red stuff spewed from my lips. I must have looked like the little volcano that could.

  A member of K-Rig knelt beside me, his eyes searching my face. He unsheathed his dagger and raised it over my head. I grinned at him, fully aware of the blood inking my teeth and spilling down my chin. Straining against my choking lungs, I spat three words at him.

  “Make it count.”

  He faltered with his blade, like he’d hit some invisible wall. His eyebrows went up. Impressed again. And, apparently, he understood English.

  Then his expression morphed into one of determination and he slammed his dagger straight down. Pain exploded in the side of my head. Blinding, indescribable pain for only a fraction of a second, then the jolt sent me hurling back to reality.

  I sat up in the pod, trembling slightly. Nothing but the pod’s shimmering white core surrounded me. While none of it had been real, adrenaline still seared through my veins. Dying in this game felt the same as the RAGE tournaments: like your soul was being ripped out of your body.

  I shuddered.

  The announcers’ voices cut in and started streaming through the pod’s speakers.

  “And Team Defiance wipes out,” Marcus said. “Wow. What a way to go. Though it’s not so surprising given their handicap going in.”

  “I had hopes, you know,” Howie admitted. “They’ve proven they can hold their own in the RAGE tournaments, and they’ve come back from handicaps before. But with that loss, Team Defiance drops down into the losers’ bracket.”

  “You know, Ling did put up an amazing fight in the end. We’ve seen her fight like that before in her first RAGE tournament championship. Too bad it wasn’t enough.”

  I knew going up against K-Rig was an almost guaranteed loss even with all five players. Still, there was a part of me that agreed with Howie. I had hopes. Like he said, we’d come back from handicaps before. We’d faced teams that had seemed invincible. But we hadn’t been playing at this level of competition. Maybe we weren’t ready for it.

  My pod’s doors opened. Around the room, my teammates all sat on the edges of their pods, staring at the floor. Finally, Derek looked up.

  “Good try, guys,” he said. “We fought hard. I don’t think we could have asked for more.” He stood. “Come on. Let’s go do the press conference.”

  I still stared at the floor but cleared my throat.

  “Right behind you,” I said. Lily and Hannah filtered out of the room. Derek remained behind and knelt in front of me.

  “Losers’ bracket means we’re against the easier teams,” he said, trying to make me feel better.

  “And it means we’re one loss away from defeat.”

  “Kali, we had a rough start. It happens. We’ve been in this position before.”

  We had. In the first tournament we’d fought together, we’d been in the losers’ bracket the entire time and still came back to win in the end. But the thought wasn’t enough to push me out of my pod or stop the sinking feeling in my stomach.

  Derek squinted at me for a minute, like he was trying to read my mind.

  “
You’re worried about Rooke,” he concluded.

  “I’m worried about everything.”

  He studied me for a minute longer. “And what do Taoists think about worrying?”

  I sighed. “That it’s fruitless. That it does nothing but contribute to disharmony.”

  “And how do you deal with it?”

  It was usually Rooke who asked me these types of questions. Looks like Derek was playing the part for my sake. I offered him a meek smile. “By accepting things as they are and carrying on anyway.”

  “Exactly. So, get up.” He stood, offering his hand. “Let’s get out there.”

  I used his hand to hoist myself up. We headed for the doors, and he lingered in the doorway for a second.

  “What you did at the end there,” he began. “Fighting with your eyes closed. I know you’ve done that before, but it’s still pretty impressive. Even K-Rig looked shocked. Definitely all-star material.”

  “It wasn’t enough.”

  He didn’t push it further. He knew I wasn’t in the mood for compliments. But I did kinda kick ass there, in the end.

  We made our way outside to the edge of our property and through the gates encasing the house, to where an outdoor pavilion housed the media. On windy or rainy days, the outdoor pavilion wasn’t ideal, but it was a way to keep our home off-limits and yet still allow the media to interview us after the matchups.

  I sat on a panel with my teammates as our hired security made sure no one crossed the lines toward us or the house. I could only afford them during matchup nights, but Elise had set up a state-of-the-art security system around the house when we’d first moved in. Elise. Someone I’d fired. There went my sinking stomach again.

  As I settled into my seat, I glanced at the one next to mine. Rooke’s. It was empty.

  The crowd snapped pictures of us and conversed amongst themselves until I pressed my lips to the microphone.

  “We’ll be answering your questions for the next thirty minutes. Raise your hand, and I’ll choose from the audience. When I do, stand, give us your name, and proceed with your question. One of us will answer. Got it?”