Only a Game (Olympus Drive Chronicles)

Chapter 18: One jump ahead

Viktor

"What happened to you?"

"Nothing note worthy what so ever," I say, panting as I skid to a stop on top of the Labyrinth walls. My unending torture chamber and yet also my only source of entertainment. I'm quite accustomed to leaping from one wall to the next. And it's not like it's the first time I've met my father, bloody and bruised after clearly running for my life.

"Did you see anything?" he asks, looking me up and down.

"Nope. All good," I say, breathing heavily.

"Come. Even if it is daylight, we should be going," he says, tossing me one of the duffel bags to carry. "Supplies. Don't drop that."

"Yes, dad. I'm completely stupid."

"You act it sometimes; parkouring down the walls."

"I didn't have a line, now I do," I say, following him as we descend the stairs to our bunker. I glance up, bidding the sun farewell. Until another day. Someday I will walk out whenever I like and I'll visit the sun and the stars without fear of reprisal.

"It's still a ridiculous risk. I don't know what gets into you," my father, who has never had an emotional impulse in his life. He's never done anything for the fun of it, I'm sure.

"I'm fine," I mutter, following him in as he seals the door shut.

"Clearly not. Unpack the bags and organize our supplies, then we'll have lunch," he says, going to his work tables. Of course he's going to go back to work. "And don't tell me you're not hungry. I've decided I don't care if you're hungry or not. You're eating."

"What if I am actually not hungry?" I mutter.

"I just said. I don't care."

"Didn't Labyrinth start today?" I ask, opening the first duffel to start unpacking and organizing the MREs.

"This morning, yes, it did. I need to focus now, Viktor. We'll have conversations later while you eat."

"Then I'll look at the plans?" he said that I could when I was eating that horrible oatmeal.

"Yes, I'm a man of my word. Now hush."

"Can I play music?"

"Not that dribble you play. No, I am trying to think. Do you want to get out of here or not?"

"Sorry," I mutter. He doesn't answer. I know it's important and he is the only one getting us out of here. I just---I sometimes wish that I could do a million things I enjoyed. Just for one day. And then I could die. I don't care. I'd die then if only to be happy for an entire hour together with no fear or reprisal or painful death. I don't care much for a long life. It's my life. I'd sooner live it as I see fit.

"The water leaked, I'm going to get more," I lie, shoving a full bladder inside the cabinet, far near the back where he won't see it for ages.

"Hurry," he doesn't look up, instead lighting a cigarette.

"I will," I shall not. I'll stroll upon the walls in the sun, and listen to the radio that I have clipped to my bag. And for a few hours, I'll be free.