Savage Run

Chapter 9

Chapter 9

It takes me a moment to register that there's an alarm clock going off. Opening my eyes to a dark room, I turn my head toward the sound and see red symbols reading 6:30 a.m. Where am I? My body feels sore and I'm lying on a hard surface. Slowly, it starts to come back to me. I registered for the Savage Run, Sergio took my locket, my father was furious...Nicholas...Arthor...and...Gemma. Remembering that she was shot makes me gasp and I feel like I'm going to be sick. Was it real? She's dead? I desperately yearn for it to just all be a nightmare. But it isn't.

I close my eyes and sit for a long while, finally coming to the conclusion that I have to find a way to control my emotions. The only way I know how to do this is to pretend I don't care. Like I've done so many times with my father. Gemma didn't really mean anything to me. She was just another person who I brushed shoulders with, and I can live just fine without her. I stuff the pain down, deeper and deeper and tell myself Gemma was a good friend, yes, but I'll be just fine like I was before I met her. The only person I need to care about is myself. I can't let one friendship lost ruin my life. I have to be rock solid; stronger than anyone, and the only person that can make it happen is me.

Once I feel like I have a hold on my emotions, I sit up. My new Savage Run uniform is lying on the floor. I pick it up and place it back on the bed. I undress, retie the gauze tightly around my chest, and then slip into the  uniform. The pattern is the same as the one the Unifers wear, but the suit is tight fitting and made of stretchy material. A few minutes pass. The door opens and a plate of scrambled eggs and toast is slid into the room, next to the untouched one from last night. I pick the plate up, stop the eggs into the toast, and eat it.

At a quarter to seven, my door opens. I step into the hallway and trail after the others all the way to the outside.

When I come outside, I see Nicholas, Arthor, and—ugh—Johnny standing together and conversing. I don't go over to them. Hundreds of participants are making their way to the Conference Center for the Opening Ceremonies. Some guys are walking with their heads down, avoiding eye contact with anyone. Some are running down the street with their city's flag, screaming at the top of their lungs. Others are speaking loudly, the excitement in their voices over-exaggerated.

Mai approaches me and studies my face for a while before saying, "You know, life doesn't always end up the way one imagines."

"Good morning," Arthor says with a grin, patting me on the back.

"Hi, good morning," I say. "Nice outfit." His matches mine exactly, though he fills out his suit much better than I do.

"Sleep well?" Johnny asks.

He must have followed Arthor over here. Is he talking to me—actually being civil? "Uh...yes." I wait for his next sarcastic remark. But it doesn't come. I remember Arthor's comment yesterday, how he said that 'everyone's afraid.' Maybe Johnny is afraid, too, and he becomes nice when he is fearful. That knowledge could be very useful during the obstacles.

A guy with bleached white hair struts past us, pumping his fists into the air, chanting, "I'm a savage! I'm a savage!" He moves in a jittery way, like he's downed one too many coffees or something. Maybe nerves—might be his way of dealing with what's about to transpire.

Another registrar walks up to Nicholas and I step a little closer to listen in on their conversation.

"I have some pretty ambitious participants. You?" the registrar says.

"A few."

"What about that Joseph of yours?"

"He's a good guy."