Savage Run

by E. J. Squires

  Contrary to what I had expected, Johnny isn’t lying in a pool of his own blood. He’s standing above the saber-toothed tiger, pulling the blade out of the lifeless beast’s cranium. When our eyes connect, Johnny shoves the tiger to the side, and heads straight toward me. My chest fills with terror and I immediately swivel around and head deeper into the river.

  “Stop!” Johnny yells.

  “Not in a million years!” I lift my feet and let the river pull me with it, but just as the current draws me beneath the surface, I realize the river is no friend of mine either. First, my shoulder crashes against a rock, and next, my hip scrapes against a tree or large root. I kick my legs and move my arms, and soon I reach the surface.

  I hear a loud roar downstream. A waterfall? I scan ahead, and sure enough, the end of the river is just a few hundred feet away. Fighting to keep my head above water, I look up to see if there are any low-hanging branches or vines to grab hold of that might prevent me from going over the edge. But there’s nothing. I do, however, see a large boulder protruding out of the river. If I can just steer myself toward it, I can cling onto it.

  Though the rock is heaven sent, it is approaching all too quickly and the closer I get, the more I begin to worry that I won’t be able to control the impact—especially with my injured foot. But there is no time to reconsider. I stretch my good leg out in front of me and when it collides with the rock, I bend my knee and reach my arms around the boulder. The surface is slimy and there’s no place to lodge my fingers. Instead, my palms skate across the rock and I continue down the stream. Soon I’m at the edge of the river, peering down to the bottom of the waterfall, and as I tumble over the edge, my head spins.

  Chapter 29

  I splash into the pool of water and sink all the way to the bottom. When my feet hit the rocks, a surge of pain shoots up my injured leg, causing me to scream out in pain. I push off from the bottom with my right leg and before long, I float to the top, and swim to the bank. I crawl out of the water and drag myself onto the muddy rocks, panting for air. But there’s no time to rest. I stagger to my right foot and hop over to the side of the waterfall. I press my body and palms against the cold, wet, black rock, and mist sprays on my hands, prickling my skin. I wonder how much time I’ve lost and how far after the others I really am. The worst would be if by the time I get to the cages they’ll all be filled.

  I start to climb up the mountainside, relying heavily on my upper body and right leg, grabbing onto exposed roots and small ledges. Every time I put pressure on my injured foot is like an assault, and I bite my lips until they bleed trying to keep from screaming. The last thing I need is for Johnny to find me and finish the job he started.

  It has started to become dark, making it difficult to see where I’m going. The setting sun is no help at all down here below all the dome of trees and the only advantage I have is that everyone else is in darkness, too.

  Halfway up the mountainside, I reach out my cupped hand, let the water gather into my palm, and drink. The cool liquid meets the hollow feeling in my stomach, but does nothing to stop the incessant gnawing—like my stomach might eat itself.

  I continue to climb, and before long, I’m at the top. In the distance, I see light and my heart sinks. With it being dark, and the way the obstacle course glows as a pillar in the darkness, it’s almost guaranteed the eight cages have already been taken. But I’m not giving up. I walk and alternately run toward the light, only slowing down when I need a break from the pain or as I approach a particularly dark area, afraid Johnny might be lurking around. I’m about halfway to the obstacle course when I feel a sharp pain in my right shoulder, sending me to the ground. I reach behind me and feel the hilt of a knife.

  “Wait up, Imp!”

  His voice works like a shot of adrenaline, and I don’t even bother to look back before I spring to my feet and make a run for it. But I can’t go as fast as I want because every time my left foot hits the ground, a knife-like jab radiates up my leg, and when I pump my arms, the back of my shoulder feels like it’s being ripped apart. I hear Johnny’s footsteps behind me, growing louder and louder, and the sound of him slapping foliage away is right at the back of my neck. I keep my eyes fixed forward, letting the bright lights in the near distance pull me to my destination. If I can just make it there. If I can just make it! Trees pass by in a blur as I whack the leaves and vines to the side. My mouth is parched, my lungs on fire, my leg throbbing.

  Finally I reach the clearing where the obstacle course is set up. I run to the center of dirt arena and look behind me. Johnny is nowhere to be seen. My eyes whip to the cages, and see that Timothy, Cory, and four other participants are standing in each their own.

  “Heidi!” Cory yells when he sees me. “You made it!”

  Miraculously, two cages are still vacant. Looking behind me once more, I don’t see Johnny anywhere. Dashing over to one of the empty cages, I reach to the back of my shoulder and wrap my fingers around the hilt. Crying out, with one quick move, I draw the blade out my flesh, and throw the knife into the jungle.

  Timothy makes a whooping sound encouraging me as I limp forward, but just as I am about to enter the cage, he yells, “Watch out!”

  Someone grabs me by the arm, jerks me to the side, and slams the entry shut. Johnny. From the corner of my eye, I see another participant emerge from the jungle and he heads toward us.

  “Get away from me!” I kick Johnny in the thigh where I stabbed him earlier and he reaches for his leg and screams.

  “I’m so gonna kill you!” His face is red and spit launches from his mouth as he yells.

  I grab onto the top of the cage, lift my legs up and kick him in the abdomen so he goes flying back. Pain stabs through my left foot. Opening the cage, I get in, slam the gate behind me, and lock it.

  Johnny sees the other participant heading toward him and he quickly takes the cage next to me. Right as Johnny’s cage door shuts, a loud alarm blasts through the jungle and the cages rise slowly, high into the air. I grab onto the shiny, steel bars to steady myself.

  “Don’t think you’re safe yet, Imp.”

  “Dude, just let her be man!” I hear Timothy yell.

  “Shut your bucket or I’ll come after you, too!” Johnny retorts.

  With a jolt, the cages stop rising. Right in front of me is a long row of monkey bars, and each row is separated from the others by barbed wires. To protect participants from psychopaths like Johnny, I suppose. After the monkey bars there are numerous swinging, burning wrecking balls, and in the far distance, a track.

  A woman’s voice comes over a speaker. “Ten. Nine. Eight…”

  I focus my eyes toward the end of the bars and in an instant all the energy leaves my body. The distance is way farther than my arms will be able to carry me—especially with the gash in my shoulder. Peering down, I see a pit of spikes below the bars, and instinctively, I wipe my sweaty hands on my pants. Maybe this is one of those obstacles where there’s a short cut. I search my surroundings for any possible clues, the artificial spotlights from the sides blinding me.

  “Good luck,” Cory says to me.

  I nod back. “You too.”

  The woman continues. “Three. Two. One.”

  The doors to the cages swing open and I hop on one leg onto a small, bamboo platform. Rising up onto the ball of my right foot, I reach up and curl my fingers around the first smooth bar. I feel my pulse in my ears.

  When I release my foot from off the podium as I hang from the bar, a shot of pain tears through my shoulder. I squeeze my lips together and pant through my nose, gripping the bar even harder. I swing from one bar to the next while keeping my eyes fixed on the bars, not forward—I’ll only become discouraged about how far I have yet to go. I quickly find a rhythm. One two. One two.

  “You’ll never make it, Imp!” Johnny’s right next to me, swinging from bar to bar like it’s nothing.

  “Shut up!” The thought comes to me again that I should tell him who he is. “Do you know t
hat President Volkov is your father?”

  “Yeah, right—that’s the most ludicrous thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “Nicholas made me promise not to tell you, but I thought I’d let you in on the secret. Everyone has a right to know where they came from.” I’m moving slower now, and I feel my arms start to tire.

  “What a crack load of lies,” he yells. “And like you’d tell me for that reason—to help me. Please. Save your breath.”

  “It’s true. Why do you think Nicholas especially invited you to this program? No one else was.” I pause for a moment to catch my breath.

  “I know what you’re doing and it’s not going to work.”

  I’ll have to add a little of my own embellishment, so he’ll focus on finishing the obstacle course and get his mind off me. “Nicholas says President Volkov did that to make sure you were good enough for him. And if you make it, President Volkov plans to announce to the world who you are.”

  “Whatever,” he scoffs.

  But I can hear that his voice isn’t as certain as earlier. “Your grandmother knew all along, and she didn’t tell you. President Volkov bought her silence.” That’s a lie. “And if you don’t make it, you’ll be sent home packing, back to an Advisor life for you.” Another lie, but I’ll do whatever it takes to get him off my back.

  I glance forward and though I’ve been at it for what seems an unreasonably long time, it doesn’t even look like I’ve made any progress. My arms and hands tremble as they clamp the bars, and my palms burn already. I keep pressing on, but the strength in my upper body is quickly fading and my motivation is dwindling, seeing how far behind the others I am. I press on, slower and slower, the burning in my hands becoming unbearably painful, and I think I feel my first blister pop. Sweat drips in my eyes, making my surroundings blurry.

  I feel my fingers slipping, and desperately in need of a break, I swing my legs up and loop them around the outside where there is no barbed wire.

  “Can’t keep up, huh? I’ll just hang out here and wait until you fall.”

  Looking past the monkey bars, up to the deep blue sky, I start to sob. I’m so tired, and being injured practically everywhere—in so much pain—I don’t know how I’ll make it. But as I look up, an idea pops into my mind. Maybe I can walk or crawl on top of the bars and balance across the beams to the end. Would it be considered cheating? Right now it’s my only option. I scoot to the outside of the bars, getting as close as I can.

  “What are you doing?” Johnny asks.

  I struggle for a while, but I finally manage to loop myself around the railing and crawl up to the top of the bars. Each of the two beams is a mere three inches, but even so, it will be easier and faster for me to crawl across than swing my way forward.

  “You’re cheating!”

  “Too bad you’re on the inside, stuck behind the barbed-wires. See you later.” Crawling on hands and knees, I soon catch up with the others.

  “You little cheat! Just wait until I catch up with you!”

  I ignore him. When I reach the end of the monkey bars, I climb down to the bamboo podium. The platform lowers to the ground and in front of me are huge, burning, swinging wrecking balls. Of course they had to burn. Below the wrecking balls are stakes that stick out from a green scum-covered swamp. It looks like the challenge is to jump from stake to stake while not getting hit by the gigantic flaming balls. Tricky. I check behind me to make sure Johnny isn’t near, and he isn’t. What luck that I chose the outer rail!

  After hopping off from two legs, I land on my right foot on the first stake. I wobble a bit, but manage to maintain my balance by reaching my arms out to the sides, slightly in front of me. Repeating the process, I move ahead a few more stakes until I approach the first blazing ball. Side to side it swings, warming my face and hands with every pass, crackling loudly. I watch the ball carefully, assessing how much time I need to clear the four stakes below it. I have three seconds at most.

  With the next swing, and just as the scorching globe passes, I launch off from where I’m standing and hop to the first stake. Keep going—just a few more. I tighten the muscles in my stomach. Once I land on the second stake, the fireball reaches its apex and begins its descent. Two more. With my heart in my head, and just as the lit ball returns, I hop from the third to the fourth one without stopping, the flames licking my backside. That was close—way too close. Just a few inches, and I’d be thrown into the swamp.

  “You don’t know anything about me!” I hear Johnny behind me.

  He must be thinking about what I told him. “Just ask Nicholas once we’re out of here.” Maybe me telling him wasn’t such a good idea after all. Somehow in the midst of trying to save my life, I hadn’t stopped to consider what consequences it would have.

  “You’re such a liar.”

  I wish I were. “Johnny, it’s the truth. I swear.”

  He makes this grunting, screaming sound, but I don’t look back. The next fireball is coming up and if I am to make it, I have to tune him out completely.

  He laughs. “Once I come for you, you’ll have no defense. One little push and whoosh! You’re a goner!”

  I take a few deep breaths, preparing myself for the next wrecking ball. Right as it passes me, I move from stake to stake, moving much quicker than the first time. Easy breezy, I can do this.

  Approaching the last round, however, I see that there are two balls in a row, the second ball swinging in the opposite direction from the first one. I can’t tell how much space, if any, is between the balls, and to make matters worse, the stakes vary in height and distance. If I don’t pause at all, I think I might make it, but one misstep and…if there was ever a time during this round when I needed solid foot holding, it is now. But my foot hurts so bad that even moving it a little causes me to I wince in pain. I wind my fingers up so tightly that they go numb.

  Right as the ball closest to me passes, I spring to the first stake. Moving on, I jump up to the second one, and grab around the edges of the wood to steady myself. Landing on the third stake, however, it wobbles, and for a split second I lose my balance and am forced to pause. Still standing on the third stake, the wrecking balls have already reached their peaks and are on their way back down. Seeing there’s no way I’ll clear the second ball on time, I freeze where I stand, desperately hoping there’s enough space between the two globes of fire so that I won’t get crushed.

  Waiting for the wrecking balls to descend, I turn my head sideways, exhale all the air from my lungs and close my eyes. As the balls come barreling down, I just give into the moment. Whatever happens, happens. If this is it, I hope it’s quick—I hope Nicholas will find Gemma for me and buy her freedom. I should have asked him to. I think he will.

  Heat is the first thing I notice, followed by intense burning as the flames brush against the right side of my face and abdomen. The sweltering pain is more than I can handle and I cry out in agony. As the balls meet in the middle, I’m crushed between them, and my abdomen and back are seared raw. When the wrecking balls finally pass, I lose balance and fall straight down. But before I hit the swamp, I manage to clutch onto the wooden stake, my numb hands digging into the splinters, my legs clinging to the wooden beam.

  My abdomen and back burn, and the right side of my face feels like it’s on fire. Opening my eyes, I see I’m a mere foot above the swamp and only five stakes away from the end. I figure that my options are either to climb up the rod or somehow maneuver my way from stake to stake from down here. I decide on the latter because if I climb upward, I’ll run into the wrecking balls again.

  Then there’s a faint laugh above me. Johnny. “Hey, Imp! You stuck? This is awesome!”

  He doesn’t wait for my answer before moving on, and I wonder if it is because of what I told him earlier. Maybe he wants to prove to President Volkov that he is good enough to be a Master. And the next president. Or maybe he just thinks there’s no way I’ll get out of this alive.

  I peel one of my hands off the wooden rod, det
aching it from the splinters that have wedged beneath my skin. Drops of blood fall into the mire below as I reach toward the next stake. Still clinging onto the first post, I lean over, and proceed to push off with my legs to get to the next one. In the transfer, I sink down a few inches, and to stop my decent, I wrap my legs around the stake, squeezing my inner thighs together so hard that they cramp, trying to avoid touching the wood with my burned abdomen. My hands sting something awful, but not nearly as much as my face, stomach and back where the flames scorched my skin.

  I wonder if Nicholas will care if I die. If my father will care. Or Gemma’s mother. Or Gemma. It’s not like I was an especially good person toward any of them, only took what I thought I needed and left them behind. Even Nicholas.

  I move onto the next stake, gritting my teeth, stifling screams of pain, red-faced and tearful. I shouldn’t cry right now. It will blur my vision and I need all my senses to make it through this part. Any movement sends stabs of pain through my body. Then the nausea comes, and I vomit down the side of the stake, making it even more slippery. How can I make it? The burning wrecking balls are swinging just as eagerly above my head. I haven’t seen anyone in some time and I wonder if all the others beside Johnny have died before they even made it here or if they just passed me without me noticing.

  I cling to the stake, sliding down a few inches now and then, my legs shaking, and my arms giving out on me. I tell them to clench harder, but they won’t listen. I reach for the next stake, and in the transfer, my legs sink into the swamp.

  But then, as if the liquid wakes some part of me, something inside of me revolts against the weakness. Mai’s words echo in my mind. “You have to be stronger than ever before.” This is the moment she was talking about, and though she didn’t know exactly when that moment would come, I do. Because this is the moment I want to give up, and I could—easily. Oh, it would be so easy to release my grip. Sink into the swamp and drown. It would be over in a few minutes and there would be no more pain. But this is when I can’t give into what’s easy. If I give in, Johnny takes the money I could use to set Gemma free. I can’t let that jerk win! I can’t let him be the victor of this entire program where freedom is the ultimate reward! He hasn’t a moral bone in his body! And to think he might be the next president of Newland…