14:33 crap crap crap
I should be three seconds ahead.
What can you do in 3 seconds? You can blurt out a curse word, is what you can do. Maybe a few if your tongue is that talented. But in this everyday race, three seconds is your life.
I inhale sharply and kick up my pace, strides lengthening. Up ahead I know is the Pit, a giant crack running through the center of the city, small wires and bridges lacing across it like a fucked-up stitching job. Most of the mob that didn't get blown sky-high is ahead of me. But this is where the hell-race begins to even out.
(aha, in my favor)
Big vehicles like trucks and tanks can't get past on the bridges. If they survived the bomb blast, they'll now have to pay for it by going around.
However.
A few lightweight vehicles jump across, crumbling the bridges as they go, leaving those still on the other side swearing after them. I catch sight of the red sports bike. The rider turns around, and I swear I can see him grin through the helmet. Jaz skids, switches course, and heads towards the bridge I use.
"No. You. Don't," I pant, sprinting after him. Too late. As Jaz jumps across and lands on the weak bridge, it crumbles under his weight and falls into the chasm. "Bitch!" I yell at him. He lifts up the middle finger as he rides away.
10:19
No no no no. I need to be already on the other side now by 10:20. There's no way. I backtrack, something I hate doing, and stand on the edge, scanning for an opening. Each second is one I'll be dead for in the next week.
And-
I peer, trying to make out what it is.
It's a hole. A slightly larger-than-human-sized hole in the wall halfway up the chasm on the other side. I grab one of the ropes strewn across.
"It's her, it's the runner chick!" I whirl around. Stupid car gang revs toward me, honking and laughing. Ever since one boy finished the race the very first year in a car, they've all modeled theirs to look like his. So far, they're still here.
Unfortunately too, because they're coming right at me. I tighten my grip on the rope and prepare to swing. Angel West you're gonna kill yourself. One of the car riders reaches out of their window to snatch my band.
I jump
I love going fast, but this is too fast. Speeding towards a solid wall aiming for a small dark thing that seems like it could be a hole: not my best idea. I squint as my eyes tear up from the wind and get ready to let go-
I fly
YOU ARE READING
Deathrun
ActionYou get five years before they kick you out, five years before you're dead. You're dead either way, really. Assuming you make it out of those first 20 minutes of hell, the world of races awaits you. Races where everyone's betting on their favorite p...
