Blindsided - Short Stories with Twists to Die For

Run for Your Life

Five people are demanded to select four runners to participate in races.
Those who lose shall die.
But why are they there?
Who is behind the deadly plot?
And what do they have in common?
Read on to find out.

Word count: 3275

This will be the longest story of the collection.

Them
Unknown location, Unknown County - Then

They all stood there, frightened.
Where the hell were they?
The room was dimly lit, and bitterly cold. Not a single window, just a wooden door.
No one dared try to escape.
They were drowsy, the drug having just worn off for all of them. Shock and nerves sent shivers down each of their spines, and they shuddered at the thought of what was going to happen next.
A man with a deep voice spoke, yet his expression was impossible to read.
"There will be two races. Two versus two. The first shall commence in 20 minutes, once you have selected among yourselves who is to participate, and who rivals each other. As you may have already figured out, there are 5 of you, meaning one of you is not required to participate. That individual, however, is still obliged to stay until they are dismissed alongside our winners. Our losers will suffer a hefty forfeit," and every single one of them gasped a gasp of horror, for the man in black had just extracted a gun from his belt.

Matthew
Regents Canal, London - Before Then

Adrenaline coursed through Matthew's veins as he ran at such a great speed he could barely see a few feet ahead of him. A thick layer of sweat formed a film over the nape of the award winning athlete's neck, and he slowed down to prevent over exerting himself any further: everything, from his forehead to his toes, burned. The sun's rays beamed down, setting the temperature of this fine London day to a high of 25 degrees Celsius. Despite the scorching heat, Matthew had left his apartment at 3pm on the dot for his second run of the day, enthused to sprint along the canal's toe path before returning to his wife for the evening. She was a thirty-one year old woman with ruby-red locks of hair that cascaded all the way down her back; her husband, a 22 year old with high aspirations at the time, had immediately seen the beauty shine through that 19 year old he would soon learn to love.
Come on Matthew. Make it to the next locke, then turn back and go home. He would have happily run for hours, but it was unsafe under these weather conditions, and he was starting to feel it.
1,2,1,2,1,2,1,2 - nearly there; keep pushing! - 1,2,1,2,1,2,1,2 - made it! Phew.  Matt stopped to catch his breath and extracted his drink, acknowledging politely a passerby.
"Alright?" smiled the woman.
"Yes, thanks, you?"
"I'm okay, thanks. Glorious day!"
Winding up the conversation and taking a sip from his water bottle, Matt set off home at a light jog. He, as he was always fond of whilst jogging, focussed on the gorgeous surroundings. It was the details of nature he adored, from the way the birds flew in arrows above him to the glistening water that ducks spent their time paddling along, sending ripples through the delicate, glass-like canal. Just a sharp left and a pebbly path, followed by another left, and there he would be. At his apartment block to be met with his wife in her professional white uniform. Home.

Anya
Bahamas, a Nightclub in Birmingham - Before Then

Another night of drinking. Another man, too. She'd been top of her game at school, always knew her stuff at college. Well, the first year of college. Her life had descended - at her own expense, mind - and now here she was wasting it all. Her intelligence, her talents - all of it. A 23 year old living with her parents with nothing better to do than drink at clubs. Anya intended to find a basic 9 to 5 to start with, maybe an apprenticeship. She was always making excuses to explain why she hadn't quite yet, but who was she trying to convince? Her parents? They were prepared to kick her out by the end of the year if she couldn't pay rent. Her friends? They were well ahead of her in life, and she was losing contact with them rapidly. Herself? Probably.
So there she was at 2am, stumbling into her parents' house.
She was startled - her mother's tall figure stood strongly in front of her, casting a thick shadow across the kitchen floor.
No. It was her father.
Oh dear. Her father was the strictest parent. Was she about to be kicked out?
Hang on. She needed water. Yes, she was so dehydrated, her throat had turned dry as a desert.
She walked through her father and he disappeared in thin air.
Or was she hallucinating?
She needed water.
Where had the fridge gone?
She collapsed onto the table.
She needed water.
She was being fed water by someone. It trickled down her throat. Oh, it was glorious. Water had never tasted so good.
"This is the worst you've been, Anya. What the heck are you doing? You're 23 and still living with your parents with no job! Outrageous. You have no idea..."
A hung over Anya did not remember anything in the morning. She ran to the toilet to vomit. Oh, it wasn't morning at all, it was 1pm. She staggered back into bed. She must get a job.
She must get her life together.
She must get her life together.