What Are You Willing to Risk?

by P. L. Camery

  “And yet you’ll have to learn from him,” the older man warned, “At least you will if you value your cast status and want to stay in this program.” In the ensuing silence, the class glanced between him and Lawrence as the two stared each other down.

  Finally, seeing he had reached a limit, the boy looked away and grumbled, “Yes sir.”

  Smirking, his adversary continued, “As I was saying, General Stone will be your new instructor. He is to teach you combat training and strategy, which will be tested with periodic games of Risk. Team captains for these games will be chosen by General Stone prior to each game based on student performance up to that point. Those who he believes have a higher aptitude shall be promoted to this role. It is as simple as that.” The man waited, and when no one protested he motioned for Roland to step forward, “General Stone, your class.”

  Roland nodded then began, “To start off, I would like to see where each of you is at, how you will respond in a one on one combat situation against me. Any volunteers to go first?” Lawrence was the only one whose hand rocketed into the air. “Alright,” the older boy pointed at him, “You first Mr…”

  “Richardson,” the rebel boy said curtly.

  “Okay Mr. Richardson, show me what you’ve got.”

  The boy strode forward confidently, eager for the chance to destroy this enemy. But from the corner of his eye he spotted the older soldier’s disapproving frown. Careful Lawrence, he warned himself, you don’t have combat training yet. Keep the fancy stuff to a minimum.

  Taking a deep breath, the boy brought his fists up and took a stance the he hoped came off as uncertain and feeble. He was relieved to hear two of his classmates chuckling at him. But Roland appraised him and frowned, “I know you can do better than that, stronger stance!”

  “I don’t need one to deal with you,” the boy snapped.

  Roland shook his head. “Lesson one,” he said to the class, “Always know where your body is. When facing an opponent, you need to have a strong stance. It is your base to attack and defend from, without which you will mostly likely be knocked down.”

  Roland stepped forward and swung like he was going to hook punch but spun around and kicked instead. Predicting the combo from how far off target the punch was, Lawrence easily back pedaled out of reach and grinned, “You did say most likely.”

  “Smartass,” Roland grumbled as he raised his fists and took a defensive stance. Smirking, Lawrence took a deep breath then lunged forward, channeling all the anger and frustration that had built up since the night before into a haphazard frenzy of jabs and kicks. Roland quickly saw that the adrenaline-high boy moved much faster than he could and conserved his energy through a minimal defense, letting the weaker blows hit him so he would ward off the more important attacks. The boy knew he was being stupid, that he would soon tire himself out. But this was not a fight he was expected to win, so might as well have fun playing the reckless rookie.

  Two minutes of this went by before Roland managed to catch Lawrence’s foot mid kick. The boy instinctively used the soldier’s hold as leverage to kick his free foot to Roland’s jaw. There was a unanimous “owe” from the class as Roland’s head tilted back and Lawrence fell to the ground. Then the soldier shook his head back to its senses and lunged just as the rebel got back to his feet caught the older boy by his fists. They struggled to push each other over, shooting daggers with their glares. Then Roland surprised Lawrence by speaking. “She still cares about me,” he hissed, just loud enough for his opponent to hear, “I talked to her before coming here. Your hold on her isn’t as strong as you think.” Lawrence could feel his brain spinning, Is he bluffing? Did he talk to her? What did she say? In the moment it took him to think this Roland shoved him backwards and he staggered, taking a few steps back to regain his balance. Then as the older boy advanced, Lawrence let out what could only be described as a battle cry and tackled Roland to the ground. Both boys were panting and drenched in sweat. Lawrence got to his feet and Roland sat up, “Not bad Mr. Richardson. A lot of wasted energy with the constant attacking, but an understandable strategy for someone who knows he is strategically outmatched.”

  Lawrence had to struggle to restrain his temper as he spoke, “Whatever you say General.” Then he offered his hand.

  Roland eyed it for a moment then allowed himself to be helped up. “I almost though you’d drop me back down,” he said in a halfhearted attempt at a joke.

  “No,” Lawrence glared at him, “I actually play nice.”

  The soldier laughed awkwardly as the stone-faced rebel returned to his place in line. Roland scanned the class and blew out a breath, “So who wants to go next?”

  *****

  When the bell finally rang, Mavis was relieved for the day to be over. Though no one seemed to know why, the tension in the atmosphere- having trickled down from those who knew of the previous night’s activities to the increased IP force to the populous- was stifling. She wanted to be out of it. She wanted to be back in the rebel city, where even though there would be questions and criticism at least she could speak openly about what happened.

  “Mavis!”

  When the girl heard her name, it took all of her will power not to sprint through the university hallway. She turned to deliver a polite smile, “Hello Kara, I haven’t seen you in a while.”

  “I know! It’s been forever hasn’t it,” Kara said, striding forward and looping her arm around Mavis’s, “but I’ve just been so busy with the job Roland’s daddy got me.” She lifted her phone, snapping a picture of the two of them before striding forward, pulling Mavis with her. “I work so late into the night, hunting the rebel scum, and sometimes it’s just not worth getting up in the morning. You know how it is Mavis, how hard it is when you’re out so late.” The girl looked at her, emphasizing the last three words.

  “No,” Mavis responded coolly, “I can’t say I do, I’m more of a morning person.”

  “Aye don’t be modest,” Kara slapped the girl on the shoulder, “I hear you were out until early this morning causing quite a riot.”

  Mavis feigned amusement, “And where did you hear that?”

  “Oh, around,” she responded with a dismissive wave.

  “Well,” Mavis paused, arranging her words with care, “I did happen to be out late last night, out for the last two nights in fact.” She leaned in and finished with a flushed grin, “I was with a boy.”

  “Who?” Kara jumped to ask, shedding her friendly demeanor.

  The rebel girl laughed, “That’s for me to know and you to wonder.”

  “Awe, come on Mavis!” Kara complained, slipping back into the ditsy gossip, “Tell me! I can keep a secret.”

  Ha! Unlikely. “No, no,” Mavis said with an apologetic smile, “I don’t want to make you jealous.”

  “So, someone we know?”

  “I’m not telling!”

  Kara sighed, “Well if that’s all you have to say I suppose I’d better get going.” Her smile was so fake Mavis wanted to slap it from her face. “I have a long shift this evening, you know how, oh- wait I’m sorry you don’t know yet how it is to have a job.” Kara’s sardonic show of empathy came with an awkward pat on the back. “I’ll see you later Mavis!”

  The moment Kara left, Mavis became aware of movement from her surroundings. She was in a three way in intersection, still in the school halls. She recognized many of the students watching her as those who had been there when she spoke with the Dean the other day. Had Kara set them on her? Seeing no IPs or professors nearby she strode into the hallway that lead to the closest exit. Then two individuals, both middle cast girls, blacked her path. “Excuse me,” Mavis said politely as she moved to circumnavigate them. But as she darted left and right, the girls matched her movements. Irritated, she tried shoving through them, “Excuse me!”

  Her two adversaries threw her back and she stumbled until she was in the center of a tightening circle. “You aren’t going anywhere bitch,” o
ne of the boys snarled. “Not until after we are done with you, assuming you can still move.”

  Mavis sighed and crossed her arms, “What is it you want with me?”

  “As if you don’t know!” a girl said, “Miss prim and perfect and thinks she’s upper cast. We want to put you in your place.”

  The rebel took a deep breath then spoke slowly, “I don’t know what you’ve been told but I…”

  “Don’t act like we’re dumb!” One of the bigger boys barked with a murmur of agreement. “You think you’re better than us, you think you’re all high and mighty, you think your little friendship with the dean, getting him to have more IP’s will keep you safe?”

  Mavis struggled not to roll her eyes, how incredibly ignorant and stupid could these people be?

  Apparently stupid enough to ambush me. The rebel girl took a defensive stance and even though it was useless, said, “I’m going to give you guys one chance to back down. I promise I won’t tell anyone and we can just forget about this little inconvenience. But if you attack, I promise you’ll be punished for it.”

  “Yeah right!” one of them screamed as others rushed forward. The moment Mavis took her first punch, with her adversary’s head jerking up as fist impacted chin, she knew there was no going back, no trying to run. If they wanted to try and bully her- well then, she was more than willing to demonstrate the consequence of that ill-considered decision. Knowing they had provided the perfect combat environment, one with no authority, no consequences, she did not hold back.

  Her movements were sharp and decisive. She threw very few attacks, but instead focused on avoiding attacks and using individual’s momentum to ram them into others or to flip them to the floor. As one boy lunged at her she twisted his arm behind his back and used him as a shield. The boy doubled over, grunting as blow after blow hit him. Then Mavis shoved him to the ground and grabbed a girl’s wrist, pulling her so that she toppled over the boy. As another girl threw a punch, Mavis dodged it then grabbed her by the neck, ramming her head into the nose of a third girl. The latter screamed as blood dripped from her nostrils and she fled. The others stood still, petrified by the trail of blood on the otherwise immaculate floor. “You bitch!” one boy exclaimed, breaking the silence as he sprinted towards her. The rebel girl watched him, then a second before impact rammed her knee into his groin and he collapsed, paling as he grasped at the injured area, in too much pain to speak. The others stared, and as she strode towards them, they maneuvered backwards, wearing the petrified faces of frightened animals.

  Mavis offered a polite smile, “Excuse me, I need to get by.”

  By the time Mavis had arrived at the lab, Lawrence was already immersed in the three screens of his computer. Muttering to himself, the boy shook his head and set to rearranging the information before him. Then he took a step back and crossed his arms, eyes darting under knitted brows as his foot tapped vigorously. He growled. “Infuriating piece of machinery!” Then his fingers made sharp slashing motions to move what was displayed. Sighing, Mavis deposited her things by the door and approached.

  “Shh, shh,” she soothed, pressing her fingers into his shoulders. Lawrence flinched and pulled away. He glared over his shoulder then opened his mouth to protest, but Mavis entrapped him in her arms and shook, “Now don’t even start with me! You’re not the only one who has had a bad day so shut it!” The boy struggled for a moment then blew out a breath and hunched his shoulders. Mavis turned him to face her; her heart constricted at his defeated expression but her anger from the hasty attempt to snap at her heated her tone, “What?”

  Lawrence shook his head, “Everything is going wrong. All wrong. And it’s all my fault, always my fault.”

  “Don’t think like that Lawrence, it’s…”

  “It’s true! You know it’s true,” he insisted, “Don’t even pretend it’s not. My sister is going mental, Mavis. Every moment I’m not coming up with a solution she is being tortured in her own mind! It’s my fault we went to the Facility in the first place and I’ve gained nothing. I don’t know any more than I did last week about how to fix this, there’s no solution,” he began to pace, “no solution, no solution, no solution! They have no information for bringing victims back, no intention of doing so. There’s no way to reverse it, no way, no way. Don’t you understand that? I have to…” he stopped as her open hand struck his cheek.

  They stared at each other for a moment before Mavis said, “This isn’t helping Lawrence. Reality continues, and you can’t face it in this state.”

  “But I…”

  “You need to get over yourself,” Mavis interrupted, “stop moping and start working.”

  “But I’ve been working!” he roared, advancing on her with so much wound up rage she thought he might hit her. “I’ve been at it every available second. I’m trying Mavis I’m trying!”

  “I know you have!” the girl yelled with equal volume, stunning him into silence. Then she took a deep breath and continued more softly, “I know you have, but we can’t give up. We need to breathe and keep trying.” The boy’s defensive glare told Mavis he was in no position to be reasoned with. Instead she took him by the hand and directed him into his chair, “Why don’t you take a break, let me look at this for a while.”

  Lawrence continued to glare but allowed her to push his

  rigid form into the seat. Mavis tried to ignore the nervous discomfort rising up her spine as she felt him watching her rearrange files on the screens. Relief finally flooded her when he broke the silence, “I like watching you work.”

  “What?” Mavis had to stifle a laugh, amused by the change of topic. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I don’t know,” Lawrence considered for a moment then continued, “Just, the way you go about your work, how your movements are, precise and with purpose, even though you’re being all scatterbrained working on ten things at once. There’s something sexy about it.”

  “Is that so?” this time she did not bother to contain her laughter. “How quickly your mood changes. Maybe you’re the one we should be worried about Lawrence Richardson, because you need a sanity check.”

  “I was just commenting,” the boy lowered his head in embarrassment, “so anyways. I’m not sure what you’re expecting to find. I’ve been…”

  “The drug should actually be out of her system by now,” Mavis interrupted in astonishment. When Lawrence did not respond she turned to find him gaping at her.

  “What?”

  “It’s only supposed to last five hours,” Mavis explained, “There’s no way to be sure but…”

  “Where did you get this information,” the boy demanded, darting to his feet and approaching the screen.

  “It was in the file labeled 005617results,” Mavis said as she made room for the boy to see, “The document was only discussing their observations and there was a comment on average duration, it had nothing to do with the mechanism of the drug, which is probably why you over looked it.”

  “Mmm,” Lawrence responded as he scanned the information for what Mavis assumed was the twentieth time.

  She gave him two more seconds before demanding, “Well, are you just going to stand there gapping or are we going to check on her?”

  The moment Mavis and Lawrence entered Destiny’s improvised cell Mavis wished they hadn’t. Destiny sat perfectly still; staring vacantly as her arms hugged her knees, she made no gesture to indicate awareness. Rigid with anxiety, Lawrence approached his sister and crouched down, “Destiny? How are you feeling?”

  “Splendid,” Destiny lifted her gaze to meet his, “no thanks to you.”

  Her glare was cold, deliberate in a way that told Mavis that she was in full position of her wits. Anger flared up within Mavis, “Come on Lawrence, it was a mistake to come. Let’s go.” She gripped his arm and pulled him upright.

  They had taken two steps when Destiny said, “It should have been you.” The boy stopped dead in his tracks, blank stare fix
ated on the cell door. “It should have hit you, they were aiming at you!”

  “Don’t listen to her,” Mavis commanded, tugging at him, “Come on, let’s go.”

  “Do you know what it’s like brother?” Destiny’s glare darkened as her tone rose, “The nightmares tormenting you without rest, the continuous torture, the constant interrogation. Not knowing if you’ll survive, wishing you were dead, desperate for a way to make it stop. Can you understand any of it? Of course not! You were always the lucky one. The gifted upper cast prodigy who never got in trouble even though everything is your fault. That dart, the nightmares were your price to pay, not mine. Not mine!”

  “Don’t you think I’d have traded places with you in a heartbeat?” Lawrence bellowed, tuning to face her, “You’re right, it should have been me. And I wish every minute that it was!”

  Destiny scoffed, “Easy to say now isn’t it? When you’re so wonderfully ignorant.”

  “Oh get off your high horse!” Mavis rebuffed, “You should be grateful not angry! It’s thanks to Lawrence and Cal you got out of the facility at all. And you brother has been working non-stop trying to find a way to help you! It wasn’t even his fault you got shot…”

  “It was his choice to go to the Facility in the first place!” Destiny protested.

  “And all of us agreed to go,” Mavis countered, “So suck it up.”

  “That’s not fair!” Destiny screeched, bolting to her feet, “You don’t know what I’ve been through,” tears and hate came to her eyes, “neither of you do!”

  “Destiny…” Lawrence reached out to calm her.

  “No!” Destiny yelled, pulling away, “I hate you, stay away from me!”

  “But…”

  “Just get away!” she hissed, “I don’t care if you are my brother. I wish I hadn’t taken the dart for you. I wish you had died with our parents!”

  Lawrence opened his mouth to respond then closed it again, his face contorting with something between pain and rage. Finally, he growled, ‘Well- I hate you too!” then sprinted from the room, slamming the door behind him.