Savage Run

Chapter 13

Chapter 13

My feet still ache, and I'm exhausted physically and mentally. I can hear the end of the marathon just beyond the hill, which gives my feet renewed strength. Go, don't stop! Go, Heidi! Cresting the hill, I see water. Blessed water! The sun reflects off the surface of the lake like a gold medal and a sudden surge of energy awakens my tired arms and legs. With every muscle in my lower body aching, I dash toward the lake and jump into it. I plunge my face into the cool water and drink deeply. I hadn't thought to ask if the water was safe, but everyone's drinking it, so it must be. Unless they want everyone to die at once, which would make the Savage Run a complete tragedy. It would do nothing for Volkov's popularity. I high-five Arthor, and his face is beaming.

"You made it," he says.

"Yeah, thanks for pushing me back there."

"You don't need to thank me."

I roll my eyes.

"Just keep going, okay?"

"Okay. And if you need it, I'll help you out."

We sit down and I pull off the Savage Run shoes. I dig my feet into the wet sand and feel the grains rubbing against my sore toes. I'm sure if we stick together, there will be an opportunity to pay him back.

A cameraman wearing a Savage Run outfit films me from a mere six inches away.

"Why are you filming?" Arthor asks.

"This is for President Volkov," the cameraman says.

I just ignore him. It's not like I have any extra energy to give him. A few of the cameramen are out on the water in motorboats. They'll probably be following us all the way, catching the gory details of the interaction between the e-condas and us. President Volkov wouldn't want to miss seeing how his precious creations interact with the inferior class. I try to look for any short-cuts. Nicholas said not every obstacle course had one, but I had almost expected that at least one of the two first would.

Watching the other participants brave the lake, wading forward into the unknown deep, I can't help but dread what's to come. They've probably starved the predators for days so the slithering electrical monsters will eat anything offered to them.

Arthor and I relax for a few more minutes before delving into the second round, allowing our muscles to regain some strength before we put more demands on them. There's a flashing sign that reads if we wait longer than twenty minutes to continue, we'll be disqualified. This could mean a myriad of things including being shot like the young man who tried to get a head start in the marathon. The sign also reads to swim toward the setting sun, which would be westward. How long will it take me to swim ten miles when I'm exhausted, hungry, and find it hard to stay focused? At least four hours, I'm sure. My arms grow heavy at the thought.

If I were still back at home, I'd be riding around on my bike, delivering medicine right now, trying to sneak a peek of the Savage Run coverage between runs. But I don't want to think about the life I chose to leave behind. Nor the people I betrayed.

I wiggle my legs a little—the achiness in my joints is impossible to ignore. Sitting down, my body has decided to revolt and feels even stiffer than while I was actually running. But I don't have the luxury of time to sit here and rest and I must keep going before I grow too sore, unable to get a move on.

I look over at Arthor. "Ready?"

"Yeah," Arthor says, his eyes void of their normal energy, his shoulders slumping. Instead of getting up, like I expect him to, he remains seated for a while longer. Eventually, he climbs to his feet and slowly tilts his head from side to side, loosening the muscles in his neck.