Savage Run

Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Still not quite able to believe that we've reached the shore, I hesitantly stretch my legs downward. Soon the rocks at the bottom of the lake press against my feet—firm and unyielding. I exhale. Standing up, I gasp in relief; the water reaches just above my waist. We have reached the shore!

Ecstatic I have managed to live through two of the three rounds in this phase, I jump into Arthor's arms, whooping and screaming. "We made it!"

He squeezes me back, and we stand wrapped in each other's arms for a long time. Not until I start thinking about how he's got his arms around me do I feel awkward. It's not that I'm attracted to him, and I don't think he likes me in that way either. But standing so close to him, sharing this, not only physical, but very emotional moment, it feels so good to have someone who understands what I've just been through.

I let go. "Sorry."

"No apology needed," he says.

When I turn toward the shore, I see bushes and trees—foliage—but I can't make out any more than that; the fog is still too thick. Eager to get out of the e-conda infested water, I wade toward land, and the instant my feet touch the raggedy, stony shore, I lie down onto the rocks, my legs still in the water. I don't really care how they're stabbing into my back or how I'm cold and wet. I'm safe. And I'm alive. No more e-condas will come after me, and I don't have to worry that one of them might electrocute me or pull me down. How many young men lost their lives?

I press my palms to my eyes and release a laughing, crying sound, and with it, all the tension in my body releases. A moment later, it feels as if all my guts and muscles and bones have been scraped dry and pumped full of jelly. Though my survival has so much more to do with crazy luck than anything, the joy of having lived through the first two rounds is not any less.

When I finally resolve to open my eyes, I let my gaze wander up toward the sky, and there I see Devil's Cliff. It hangs over me like a bad omen. The mountainside is a jagged and vertical sloped monster of a rock, and it extends to the heavens like a pillar of fire—the height dizzying—the red surface looking like it could be something from Hell. Many participants are already climbing up the wall, their fingers and toes gripping onto the edges of the rocks. For the life of me, I can't see the top. The fog is still just as thick. Something tells me it could be much higher than what I dare to imagine. Or dread. How in the world I'm supposed to make it to the top of that mountain is beyond my comprehension. And with the sun soon to set, my muscles already way past spent, climbing Devil's Cliff at night will be impossible.

There isn't a single part of me that isn't achy or sopping wet, but I can't lie here all day. I scramble to my feet and look for Arthor. I find him standing at the base of the cliff reading a sign. Walking over to him, I notice that my legs sting, and when I look down, I see that they're riddled with minor burns. However, all my pain is temporarily forgotten when I see the back of Arthor's right leg. Part of his calf has a chunk removed. And we still have a cliff—the tallest cliff I've ever seen—to climb. But what's even more mind-boggling is that he hasn't complained about it a single time. I pause behind him. Will he be able to climb the cliff? My heart drops. If he can't climb the cliff by himself, I'll either have to abandon him while I continue to press forward or help him climb to the top.

Arthor turns around and points to the sign.

Fifteen-minute rest stop max.

Without warning, there's a scream from above, and then a loud thud behind us. Instinctively, I turn to look—but stop myself—I know what I'll find there, and I don't want to see it. I never in my wildest imagination would have thought that I'd grow so callous about a dead teenage boy that I'd refrain from walking over to him and showing my respects. But I don't. And I hate myself for it. Instead, I tell Arthor to sit down, and after he complies, I rip off a piece of my uniform, to tie it around his injured leg. He moans a little when I cinch it, but stops when I stare him in the eyes.