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Wasteland Page 11

by Ann Bakshis


  As the crowd stands up in applause, I can feel the ground spin.

  He twirls me around, kissing me hard on the lips. I can feel my legs going out from under me, but his hands are on my back, propping me up. He thanks everyone just as we enter into the stadium. I try and pull away, but his grip tightens.

  “Why did you say that?” I practically scream at him, but it only comes out as a whisper due to the volume of the audience in the stands.

  “Who says it won’t come true, Trea? I’m a man of influence and money. If I want something, nothing can stop me from getting it.”

  It is the first time in months that he uses my true name. I pull myself hard out of his grasp, almost knocking into the people entering in behind us.

  “You’re insane,” I say, as I turn to walk away.

  He reaches for me, grabbing the collar of my jacket, pulling me backwards. His hands close around my wrists, squeezing hard enough to halt the circulation. My right arm begins to tingle as my pulse pounds. I can hear the blood pumping through my ears.

  “I own you,” he spats at me, “and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.”

  Rage soars through my veins. I’m sickened at the thought of being his lover, yet the sensations I’ve felt when he has touched me have been uncomfortably pleasant.

  Why am I so conflicted?

  He pushes me in front of him, guiding me to our seats, located five rows up from the arena floor, right in the center. The boxes are marked, so the general audience knows they’re off limits. Each Possessor is given two seats as well as two monitors: a private monitor so they can view the fighters before they enter the ring, with a communicator in case there are any last-minute instructions that need to be given, and a second monitor focused on the arena itself, a full aerial view of the battleground. Artemis has me sit on his left. He enters in his code for the private monitor, which then displays five of his fighters sitting in the holding area. As he is talking to Matt about the other fighters, I look around at the stadium, trying to locate the nearest exit.

  The interior of the arena is a harsh gray metal, polished, and no glass. The sky above is clear blue, but a retractable ceiling slowly closes, shutting it out. The seats are upholstered in crushed red velvet, which is very comfortable. The wall surrounding the arena is made of pressed metal sheets, perfectly melded into the base of the stadium, but only comes up waist high. The arena floor itself is sizeable. The same gray metal covers the ground with intricate lines and curves swirling back and forth along the floor, but I don’t see any entryway for the fighters to access the arena.

  I focus my attention to my task and scan for the exits, but the only ways in or out are through the entrances that are guarded by Regulators, and most of them are carrying Levin guns. I give up the idea for the moment, but know I need to get away from Artemis as soon as possible.

  Time slowly ticks by as people try to find the last remaining seats available. Those who didn’t come early enough are stuck watching the screens outside as they aren’t allowing anyone to stand in the aisles, not even along the back wall behind the highest rows of seats. The lights dim as spotlights illuminate the arena floor.

  Chapter 10

  “Good morning, Tyreans,” a man announces in a booming voice that emanates from speakers inside the chairs’ headrests. “Make sure you have your favorite fighter picked for this opening battle day. In this series of battles we have forty contestants, the most we have had in two years. In addition, we have a special opening sequence for tomorrow’s phase, so be sure to get here early to get a good seat. Now, please sit back, watch the monitors in front of you, and let the battles begin.”

  The crowd roars in applause and cheers. People begin to shout their favorite number, even though the arena floor is still empty.

  A subtle whirring sound begins to my right. I look over and notice a section of the arena floor has given way, disappearing below. Seconds later it rises, carrying with it the first fighter. The section locks back into place with the rest of the floor, leaving the lone man standing amidst the harsh lights.

  The fighter stands about six feet tall, dark, bushy hair covering parts of his arms and the majority of his head. His biceps are thick with muscles, and a Pugio blade at his side. He stands at the ready, waiting for his opponent to rise. The crowd grows silent at the anticipation of what is to happen next. The whirring noise begins again, this time from my left, as a piece of the floor drops away. I’m sitting at the edge of my seat just like the rest of the audience, waiting to see what will surface.

  The clanking noise registers with me before I actual see what is coming, it’s the sound of a battle droid springing to life, moving around down below. The fighter steps onto another section of the floor, moving closer to the gap. The clanking gets louder the closer the fighter gets to the hole. I look down at my hands and notice I’m clinging tightly to Artemis’ arm, scared and thrilled with the expectation of what this fight might be like.

  The piece that had fallen away rises up empty and settles back into place.

  The fighter is cautious, leery of moving forward.

  He takes a step back, almost falling through the hole that has suddenly appeared behind him, the cold black eyes of a battle droid staring up at him. The man whirls around, stumbling backward as the droid emerges from its crypt. The mechanical beast is the same size as the ones Devlan had me train with.

  A blur rises from the wall surrounding the arena, a slight sheen between the audience and the battle. The droid shoots a ball of energy from a weapon connected to his hand, but the fighter is quick and dodges it. The energy ball hits the shield that has risen and is immediately absorbed.

  The floor breaks apart, jigsaw puzzle pieces floating in every direction.

  The fighter is forced to jump from one tile to another. He is able to force some to move downward and away from the massive arms of his opponent as it tries to crush him.

  The crowd lets out oohs and aahs at the sight, but no other sound is made.

  I’m still gripping onto Artemis as I watch, trying to force myself to let go, but it’s like I’m glued to him.

  The fighter dodges more blows and shots. He appears to push a button on the blade, which brings the item to life; blue energy streams swim around the blade, dancing from the hilt to the tip. I watch as the fighter slashes at the droid, slicing through the metal as if it was paper. Within ten minutes of the battle beginning, it has ended with the droid being defeated and the fighter winning. Cheers and applause escalate as the droid is removed and the man is led back to the holding area.

  The same types of battle play out for the next four hours before we are given our first break. Fighters two and three also win, as well as Wes. Fighter five is not so lucky. The droid crushes her within two minutes of entering the arena. The lights are dimmed as they clean her from the floor. With fighter number eleven we get to witness what happens when human flesh comes in contact with the shields around the arena. The droid tears through the protective material, exposing the man’s arms, then the fighter is thrown at the shield, losing his right arm as the shield burns it cleanly off. His screams reverberate off the walls as he falls to the ground, and is eventually carted away.

  Not all the losers are killed or seriously injured. Some admit defeat by laying their weapons down on the ground and kneeling. The droid is immediately stopped and the fighter escorted below to be branded.

  Aidan finally wins his first match in a long time. I cheer loudly for him, but Artemis ignores his accomplishment. After a quick lunch of sautéed shrimp, garlic noodles, and wine, the battles resume. Both Matt and Raven are victorious. Matt sets a new record for the quickest win in history. It’s close to ten o’clock in the evening when Corinna finally enters the arena. She has some stumbles, getting a bad scratch along her right thigh. Even though she’s bleeding, she still manages to defeat the droid.

  Since she is the last of Artemis’ fighters, as soon as she is back down below we get up from our seats and
exit the stadium. We’re the only ones in the elevator going down to the garage. I stand outside the holding area, as only the Possessors are allowed inside. Looking up at the screen, I count how many are left for the second half of the battles tomorrow.

  Of the forty fighters, eighteen are victorious, four are dead, nine seriously injured, six admitting defeat, and three who have not competed yet.

  Artemis comes out and is immediately called over to a group of gentlemen who are congregating at the far end of the platform, out of earshot from me and the Regulators patrolling the area. He returns a few minutes later, grinning ear to ear, requesting his shuttle from one of the attendants. When it arrives, the five fighters join us, all with new victory tattoos they are showing off to each other. We climb into the vehicle and are quickly whisked away back to the Letchworth.

  Corinna and Raven both decided to get identical markings, a thin red band around the upper part of the bicep with small diamond shapes dripping down along the length of the stripe. Wes is groggy and dangerously close to falling asleep on Matt’s shoulder. Aidan sits quietly, a smile fastened to his tired face.

  I can hear the screams from the crowd as the shuttle pulls out.

  We enter under the Letchworth, exit the shuttle, and ride the elevator up to the top floor, everyone in good spirits. Bottles of champagne are lined up on the dining room table, each labeled to one of the fighters, and even one for me. Matt, Corinna, and Raven pop the cork on theirs and begin downing the contents, splashing each other occasionally. Aidan goes into the kitchen looking for food, while Wes takes his bottle into the game room. I follow Aidan into the kitchen and find completed meals in the fridge just needing to be heated up. He turns on the oven and pops the trays in.

  “I was really cheering for you today,” I say to him, as I look around for utensils.

  “I could hear you. I think you were the only one shouting my number,” he says with a grin.

  “I heard some others chanting it,” I lie.

  He winks at me and I smile back.

  The timer goes off on the oven. He finds mitts for his hands and removes the trays. I follow him back out into the dining room with the utensils I finally locate next to the sink. Matt and Raven are laughing loudly, legs draped over the arms of the dining chairs. Aidan sets down the trays and we all sit down to eat as Corinna goes to fetch Wes. We stuff ourselves with meatballs, spaghetti, various vegetables, and garlic bread. I finally crack open my bottle at the insistence of Corinna who has already finished hers.

  The wrapping has been conveniently removed, and the cork is precariously sitting in the neck. Artemis steps off the elevator with a cart full of additional bottles a few moments later.

  “To the winners,” he shouts as he raises a toast.

  They all hoist their bottles in unison; clinking them together. I too raise my bottle, nearly dropping it when Wes knocks his into mine.

  I feel silly and light headed the more I drink, but I feel no pain and no worries at this moment. I spot Artemis watching me, grinning as I take another sip. His eyes sparkle more than when I first met him, hair tousled carelessly around his face. I feel a flush, a warmth building in me the longer I watch him then look around and realize we are the only ones left at the table.

  “Where did everyone go?” I mumble, placing my bottle down.

  “Wes and Aidan are in the game room, and I believe Corinna, Matt, and Raven went down to the hot tub.” He picks up a glass of clear liquid and walks over to me, sitting in the chair next to mine. He gently rubs my right arm with his fingers, tugging slightly at the Velcro strap around my bicep. “How bad of an injury is this?”

  My brain is fuzzy, so I can’t formulate a lie too quickly. He notices the lengthy pause in my response, but doesn’t push for an answer. I finally gather my thoughts enough to give a vague response.

  “Mangled…it’s a really bad injury…horrible accident.”

  He leans over, brushes his lips against the sleeve on my arm, kissing it gently as if to heal it. I want to push him away, but I can’t. My body is hoping for something else.

  “What was in that bottle?” I slur.

  “Champagne, of course, why? Did it not taste right?”

  I can’t answer as he moves his lips up my arm, my neck, my cheek, and finally my lips. I resist for a moment, and then kiss him back. I feel the heat rise between us and find myself in his arms, lifting me out of the chair, and carrying me down the hall to his room. The little voice in the back of my head is pleading with me to stop, to run away, but my body wants differently.

  His hands wander as they unfasten buttons and pull off my shirt. He leaves the sleeve on my arm untouched. The silk sheets on his bed feel cool against my hot skin. Eventually we tire, nestling together as we both drift off to sleep.

  The pounding is what rouses me from my first pleasant dream in years.

  At first it’s in my head, but as I slowly open my eyes I notice the noise is coming from Artemis’ bedroom door. He groans in annoyance as he gets up and puts a robe on.

  “Artemis!” Raven is shouting, as she continues to pound on the door.

  He ties the sash as he unlocks the door and opens it, allowing her to storm into the room.

  “Where is she? What have you done with Corinna?” she screams, arms flailing about.

  “I’m surprised it took you this long to notice your roommate is gone. Or perhaps you were sleeping elsewhere last night, Raven,” he says in a controlled voice, though his tone is one of irritation. “I sold her last night.” He turns around and begins to walk back to bed when Raven grabs him by the shoulder and whips him around.

  “What do you mean you sold her? She won the battle yesterday, how could you do this?”

  “It’s very simple,” he begins, as he sits down at the end of the bed. “I’m a business man and when a great deal comes along, I take it. I was offered a lot of money by the Superior of the Tyre hatcheries for her. It was an offer I couldn’t pass up.”

  “You asshole,” she says, as she slaps him hard across the face.

  He grabs her wrist, almost bending it backwards.

  “I’d be careful if I were you,” he hisses harshly. “I would sell you also to the hatcheries if you had working parts, and there are other places to offload your kind.”

  He shoves her away, causing her to fall onto the floor, straightens his robe, and walks out of the room. As she stands up, our eyes lock. I lay there gripping the sheet tightly up under my chin covering my naked body.

  “Well, sweetheart, you will never have to worry about your fate. Sleeping with the boss always keeps someone employed.” With that, she walks out of the room.

  I lean over, pick my clothes up off of the floor, dress, exit into the hallway, and enter my room. Disgusted with myself for allowing my hormones to overwhelm me, I force myself to throw up in the bathroom. Yet, I don’t feel what happened was entirely in my control. The champagne did have a weird taste to it, different from that of the second bottle.

  Taking a hot shower, I scrub myself until I’m raw then dry off quickly, brush my hair up into a ponytail, and brush my teeth. Upon reentering my room, I spot a new outfit laid out for me on the bed. Shiny metallic blue pants, white studded belt, blue sequin tank top, and white leather jacket. My footwear consists of matching white leather boots with blue trim.

  I’ve decided now is the time to run, to leave Artemis and Tyre before something else happens. I rummage through the drawers in the dresser, looking for something else to wear, only managing to find a black tank top, which doesn’t show up under the blue sequined one, as well as tight black leggings that hug my body so they aren’t noticeable under the blue pants. I will just have to make do with the boots.

  Everyone is gathered in the dining room, eating breakfast. I grab a plate, but only partially fill it, as I have no appetite. No one speaks as we eat. The absence of Corinna is palpable and appears to make everyone uncomfortable. When breakfast is over, we climb into the elevator, get into the shuttle
, and head out to the stadium without anyone saying a word. The fighters get into their line and are assigned new numbers. There are nineteen competitors today and those who are triumphant will move to the final round tomorrow.

  Artemis seizes my arm and walks me over to the elevators for our trip to the surface. When we are in front of the Tyre Press Corp, Artemis encourages everyone to choose number eight today… Matt. He squeezes me playfully in front of the crowd, but I try to ignore the attention. They ask me how I’m enjoying the battles so far, and though I’d love to say exactly what I think, but I don’t want to put Artemis on guard, so I lie and tell them it’s absolutely thrilling and that I’m enjoying every moment of it, all with a fake smile plastered across my face. We wave goodbye to the crowd and make our way to the seats we occupied the day before.

  While Artemis is talking with Matt over the monitor, I check out the stadium again to see if there is any possible escape route that I might have missed yesterday, but it’s of no use; the place is packed to the brim and Regulators are everywhere. The roof is still closed as the lights begin to dim, and the spotlights engulf the arena as the announcer from yesterday begins to speak.

  “Welcome, Tyreans, to the second day of competition. I hope you are all prepared for this most exciting day of events. As we promised you yesterday, there is a special opening act before beginning our second round of battles. Please help me welcome one of our most beloved and victorious past winners, Munera!”

  The center tile of the arena rises. On top stands a very tall, dark woman wearing brown leather shorts and a matching single strapped shirt that barely covers her midriff. At a quick glance, I could’ve mistaken her for Raven until I spot the markings that cover her right arm and leg: winner’s tattoos of all different colors and styles. Her frame is thin, but strong, and her hair is cut so short it curls up right against her scalp. The crowd is screaming louder than yesterday. She throws her arms up into the air and everyone loses control. The weapon she is carrying in her hand is one that I have only seen in photos Devlan has shown me.

 

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