The Dying Game

by J. D. Heath

  We all fall silent. I ask, “So what’s this Control that Brallen keeps talking about?”

  Clark snorts. “I’ve heard of it but always in a whisper. It’s a group of some of the world’s most powerful. It’s like a secret society. But who they are and how they’re involved in this? No clue.”

  Gina locks her arms around her knees and rocks a bit. She says, “We need that third cache.”

  We do but we’re all tired. I don’t know how much time has passed since we Norton unleashed Armageddon on us. It feels like an eternity’s passed by, but it could have been as little as an hour ago. Clark’s hands go back to his legs and he rubs at them furiously. That worries me.

  Clark catches that look. His smile’s mean and angry. “Don’t worry. I’ll make it.”

  “I hope so.”

  Paisley says, “We need a real plan. Not just go get the other cache and load up in case they come at us plan either. Clark, you’re the military guy. What do we do?”

  Clark says, “We have to herd them to where we are, get them somewhere we can fight from. If we could get to Baumer first that would be ideal but I have a good idea that that’s going to be hard to do. He’s clever, and he’s not likely to make a mistake the others one will. He hunted his victims and he’s likely to do the same to us, get behind us or ahead of us, take the opportunity to study us so he can make the kill.” His gaze slides toward me. “Sorry.”

  I look away. “Yeah, me too.”

  Clark says, roughly, “No, I mean it. It sucks when you’re looking at the face of someone who took someone you love and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it. I was a good man, a SEAL, and I believed in this country and killing for it and nothing else. All up until they killed my daughter.”

  Gina gasps. Her hand comes out and goes to Clark’s legs. She reaches deep into muscle, squeezing and kneading. Clark lets out a little groan of relief. “You must’ve been a masseuse or something.”

  “Something.”

  Paisley asks, “What happened to your kid?”

  Clark doesn’t flinch from that question. “They sent us in on a mission. They never told us who it was against. Turns out it was a big cartel guy. We were already in it before we had an idea of what it was, which good old sanctioned murder. Our government had an interest in making sure he went down, you could say. Only, he got out. He made us thanks to his contacts in the government. And he came after our families. They didn’t get my wife, but they got my daughter.”

  Gina’s fingers work faster. Clark looks down at her hands and then he says, “Thanks.”

  She withdraws her hands. Her fingers find mine. She has, “So you started killing people?”

  “I started by killing the men who killed my daughter.” His grin’s lopsided. “It’s a slippery slope, isn’t it? Revenge, I mean. It starts off as one thing and before you know it, you’re neck-deep in blood you never meant to spill.”

  Gina looks at me. My cover can’t be broken. As far as any of them know I’m a cop turned killer, one out for revenge. “It is.” Fuck, it is. “Can you go Clark?”

  “Yeah.” He gets to his feet. “Here’s my plan. We head back toward the cell rooms draw out the group. Right now they are our biggest worry. We’re going to have to either split the team, if those three idiots have decided to be a team, or kill them all.”

  CHAPTER 11: GINA:

  This is it. Kill or be killed. We’re heading back through the maze now, trooping along. The knife rests easy in the sheath on my hip. My breath catches with every tiny sound. I’m on such high alert that my nerves are jerking, sending off confusing signals to my brain.

  We reach a small split in the hallway. Clark holds a hand up and melts back against a wall. We follow suit. Morgan moves ahead of me then crosses the corridor, putting his back against the opposite wall. He and Clark nod at each other then they’re gone, zooming out into the hallway.

  Paisley says, “Well come on little lamb. No sense in lettin’ the boys have all the fun.” Then we’re on the move. The hallway we’ve entered is the same as all the rest. Concrete walls, concrete and steel ceiling. Lights twinkle from above but they’re dim and sickly yellow, giving the place an even creepier vibe.

  More steel doors stagger along the walls, unevenly spaced. Those doors are everywhere and I wonder where they lead.

  Right now it’s just us there so I ask, “Clark, why don’t you think these doors will lead us out?”

  He casts a look at me. “Because if they did, they wouldn’t let us near them.”

  Point made.

  We faded against the walls, put our backs to them. Morgan and Clark are on opposite walls. I’m against the wall Morgan’s against. He looks forward, I watch our backs. Paisley and Clark are doing the same. We get to the next intersection. Clark and Morgan are out first, and then we go.

  There’s a noise from somewhere up ahead. Clark lifts a hand over his head and Morgan’s hand presses me against the wall. The noise comes again. We all flatten ourselves, listening hard. The sound becomes distinguishable a moment later.

  Footsteps.

  Running footsteps.

  A shout comes on a whoop of laughter, “Let’s get ‘em!”

  Ally! My fingers go the blade. The hallway absorbs sound, the concrete muffles it and then magnifies it. It’s hard to tell where that voice is coming from.

  Behind Ally’s comes Tayne’s voice. He’s howling like a wolf again and that sound makes the hair on my arms stand up. Ae we going to have to kill them?

  We are, because just then they come flying down the hallway at us, the knives in their hands gleaming and the sounds of their fury ringing and echoing from the walls and ceilings.

  Tayne flies toward us, his lank hair bobbing over his forehead and the knife in one upraised hand. He’s covered in blood. It looks like he’s been bathing in it. Ally’s hair, stiff and tangled with clotted gore, riots over her face. She’s laughing. It’s too late for her. She’s reached some place where insanity capers and killing’s a good thing.

  It’s Tayne that reaches us first. Ally screams, an exultant, triumphant scream, “Yeah baby! Thrill! Feel it! Feel it!”

  It’s Morgan that meets Tayne first. He rushes in, his fist coming up and then slamming into Tayne’s sallow face. Tayne skids and goes down right on his back. He slides along the floor. Paisley screeches something then she’s grappling at the knife in his hand.

  I somehow get turned around and a weight lands on my back. It’s Ally and she’s trying to both strangle and stab me! I get my free hand up and between us. She’s riding me, kicking at my ribs with her sharp little heels and then her teeth sink into my scalp, bringing a burst of pain so intense it enrages me.

  How dare she? It’s a battle to the death and I know Clark’s right. We’re not far from the cell room now and there must be cameras on and playing, capturing this for the audience. The audience won’t have much interest in the caches, other than who got them and who bet on who getting there first.

  But this?

  Oh yeah. They’ll want to see this.

  Ally’s fingers claw at my neck, and blood trickles from below my ruptured skin. It’ll be the knife next if something doesn’t happen to stop it. I get my face wedged upward and then her arms are locked around my face.

  So be it. I bite down, hard. The knife makes a stab at my face but she accidentally hits her own arm instead.

  She doesn’t even feel it.

  Paisley had it right. This is Ally’s drug and she’s high as hell, buzzed on too much adr4enaline and insanity to feel a single thing. I’m biting her so hard my jaws are aching and she’s still laughing and screaming, but not in pain, in ecstasy. One hard kick from her heel shoots agony up along my rib cage.

  We keep spinning in a circle. I’m dizzy and she’s still riding me like a sea-hag. I don’t know what kind of workouts she does, but they’ve left her inner thighs as strong as steel springs and I’m beginning to really worry that she’s going to crush my ribs with those thi
ngs. I aim for the wall and crash her into it so hard my body feels the impact. I feel the give and yield of flesh below my teeth and then blood spurts into my mouth.

  Horrified, sick, and determined not to die, not like this, I release her flesh from my mouth and slam her back into the wall again. I spit, hard, spewing blood out of my mouth in a short arc of crimson droplets.

  Tayne’s trying to stab Morgan and Paisley’s stalking in, the knife at the ready but not striking. I slam back into the wall again and Ally screams, “Thrill! Thrill!”

  Fuck this. I reach up and grab her hair. I move, lowering a shoulder and twisting to one side before she can clench her seriously-toned thigh muscles back around me again. Hair rips from her scalp. I yank harder and manage to dislodge her for her good, spilling her over my body and to the floor.

  She looks up at me. For a brief moment her eyes clear. She sees the blade in my hand and the intention written all over my face. She whispers, “No. God please. I don’t want to die.”

  For a moment I pity her.

  But she chose this.

  Chose it.

  And she just tried to kill me.

  The fingers of my left hand dig deep into her scalp, fist it and use it to raise her to her feet. She comes up with a howl of sheer terror and memories hit me, like they always do when I hear something that reminds me of the night my life was taken from me.

  I press the very tip of the blade into her ribs and then, with a quick thrust of my arm, I slam it home. Flesh yields and parts. The blade slides past hard ridges of bone. Blood spurts and she gurgles out, “I want to go home.”

  “You’re going,” I say softly. “Go on, go.” The knife goes deeper. She clutches at it. Time stands still. Tayne’s still fighting but right here, me and Ally, we’re locked into some sort of bubble. It’s just the two of us, just us, as a single tear slides down her face and she whispers, “Mom? Are you mad at me?”

  Jesus. I don’t hate her. I don’t. I wish I could because it would make all of this so much easier. I don’t hate her, so I give her what she needs. “No.”

  Then I let her go, dragging the knife out of her body, destroying arteries and a vital organ along the way. Ally wobbles back and forth. Then she collapses in a heap. Her eyes are open. Her mouth, a bloody rose, is cratered into a perfect O, then it goes lax. Her feet kick and her fingers twitch but it’s just her brain firing off a last few impulses.

  Ally’s dead.

  Tayne’s not. He’s a slippery bastard. He’s somehow gotten away and is on the run, haling ass down the hallway with Paisley right behind him. Clark’s nowhere in sight, and I can’t process much beyond that notation of his absence.

  Morgan rushes in and grabs me. There’s a large jagged tear showing on his left sleeve and a thin weeping of blood rises from that fabric. His eyes are wide and his breath’s coming fast and hard. I say, “You’re hurt!”

  Brallen,” he pants out. “I never even saw him coming.”

  I hadn’t seen Brallen at all. I look right and left. “Where’d he go?”

  “No idea.” Morgan looks down at his arm and then down at Ally. Clark’s gone, probably chasing after Tayne or Brallen. He says, “I’m so sorry.”

  He pulls me close, right up against his chest. There’s wetness on my face and I can still taste the coppery tang of her blood in my mouth. I whisper, “Water,” but I forget that request when his mouth comes down on my mine. I want to say no. I have blood in my mouth.

  But he kisses me and I forget that. I forget about everything else and it happens all over again. There’s just two people here and this isn’t life or death like it had been with Ally. This is sweetness in the storm. This is life in the midst of brutal death. This is something real and solid, just like his broad chest. This is everything.

  His hard, muscular body takes my weight, holds me up and gives me fresh hope. There’s something past death, past this trap we’re caught in, and I can feel that in the sturdy beat of his heart below my chest, feel it infusing me when his breath blows into my mouth. He’s so alive, so real, and I need this right now, more than anything else I need him right now.

  His beard scrapes against my skin, a sexy little rasp that sets lust to flowing through me. My core dampens, and my body goes first stiff and then loose and trembling. I want so much more than this kiss and I want it now, but that’s not possible. I know it isn’t possible.

  I want it anyway.

  He steps back. He rummages in the backpack and hands out one of the small bottles of water. I twist the cap off and let it flow into my mouth. I swish and spit and say, “This isn’t about you. Swear. But you should do it now. I bit Ally hard enough to get blood in my mouth.”

  He takes the bottle, swishes and spits and hands it back. I drink half of what’s left eagerly and hand it back and he finishes it. He tucks the empty back into the bag and we set off again. The knife’s back in the sheath but my fingers stay on it.

  It’s kill or be killed.

  I’ll be damned if I’m going to let anyone kill me without a fight.

  CHAPTER 12: MORGAN

  I hadn’t meant to kiss Gina but I can’t be sorry about it. Not at all. I am sorry I wasn’t there to help her. Brallen snuck up behind me, which pissed me off even more than my not being there when she needed me.

  Brallen had given Clark a hard kick in the upper thigh, toppling him for a moment. Clark went after him but by then Tayne was slashing and jabbing with that knife, keeping Paisley at bay. She tripped and fell into me and we both went down.

  Paisley managed to deliver a glancing blow to Tayne’s side as she went down. By the time we untangled our limbs he was gone. Clark and Brallen were gone, and Ally and Gina were locked into a lethal embrace that ended with Ally dropping to the floor, dead.

  The others are somewhere and I’ve no idea of where. That we’re playing for the cameras now keeps me silent as we walk. I can’t afford to give anything anyway and I know it.

  I’m wound up, every nerve taut and screaming. Blood rushes through my veins and my heart keeps bumping up its pace. This is fear and adrenaline all mingling together and creating sort of super-charged state of being.

  This, I suppose, is what those who volunteered for this call Thrill.

  They can keep it.

  We spot Paisley ahead. She’s winded and leaning against a wall, the knife dangling from her fingers. She goes into a defensive posture when she realizes she’s not alone and she doesn’t drop that pose either as Gina and I approach her. I ask, “Where’s Tayne?”

  Paisley shakes her head. “The little sweetie ran off. He’s fast, I’ll give him that. I might’ve been able to catch him if he hadn’t kicked me in the box.”

  Ouch.

  Paisley adds, “My fault, that one. I should’a known that little mama’s boy would know right where to land a blow.” She surveys us. “Ally?”

  “Dead.” I feel Gina’s body tense when I say the word.

  Paisley nods and swipes a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Clark?”

  “No idea.”

  We take a fast stock. I’m bleeding but the wound is shallow. Gina’s going to have one hell of a set of bruises on her slender throat. She’s got a few bare spots in her scalp and a shallow cut in her hand. Paisley, other than her abused crotch, is fine.

  Paisley takes a water bottle and drains it. She hands it back so I can tuck it into the backpack. A trail of discarded water bottles is a trail right to us and we all know it. We don’t know which direction Clark might have gone in so we just keep heading back toward the cell rooms, our shoulders and hands twitching at every little sound.

  We find Clark a few hallways up—and Brallen too. Clark’s behind Brallen, and putting that wire he’d found to good use. Something in me goes to a full and swift stop. I can’t watch this. I can’t.

  But I have to.

  I have to bear witness to everything we’ve been made to do here so I can make sure no detail goes undone.

  Brallen fights it. His hands
claw at the wire, which is drawn so tightly against his throat that blood runs from around it. Clark’s face wears a tired and agonized expression and that cuts deep into me. Brallen tried to kill me and he likely tried to kill Clark but at the end of the day he’s a human being, a fucking person and he’s dying right before my eyes.

  It ends, finally. Clark drops the body and coils the bloody wire before tucking it back into a pocket. He limps over to us. He says, “Who’s left now?”

  I look at Brallen. How did he go from being a kid who had everything in the world to being a corpse on the floor of the Fortress? Well that was easy enough. He killed people and his family had him shipped into this. I clear my throat. “Baumer. Hampton. Tayne.”

  Clark nods. His hands tremble a bit as he lifts them to is face and rubs at it. “We need food.”

  Really? He wants to eat and at a time like this?

  My stomach looses a soft gurgle. We didn’t have breakfast and we’re living things for the moment. We still need food. We need food and water and we do need rest.

  More than that, we need a respite from the horror.

  We backtrack our way to the blind ells again. Paisley and Gina stand at the opening, keeping watch while Clark gulps water and breaks open MREs. He says, “They’re terrible cold but they’re not much better heated up. We can’t risk them smelling them when they heat.”

  I agree. Clark arranges out four packs of the same thing and we all hunker down to eat, all of us facing the opening that leads into the ell now.

  Somewhere out there Tayne and Baumer and Hampton lurk. I find myself praying they kill each other as I chew the rubbery food and sip at a bottle of water I share with Gina. Gina says, “We’re down to six bottles of water now.”

  Clark nods. “Yeah. This spiking of our adrenaline guarantees we’ll be thirsty. They didn’t put enough in the caches to last three days, did any of you notice that?”

  We all had. Clark says, “Just another one of their lies. They expect this to last mere hours I bet.”

  Paisley asks, “Why hold us so many days then?”