The Runner

CHAPTER ONE

The back of my arms shivered. The arch of my back aches to be turned over or moved. The dim red lights above stung my eyes as I peel my skin from the cold hard concrete. I immediately stretch my back, arching while moving my hips, hearing my own bones crack and grind from within me. I contort and twist my body in every direction, making sure to leave no bone silent. My ankles immediately crack the second I turn them downwards. How long have I been unconscious? I can't even picture the moment I went down.
My mind becomes only of fear as I look around. I can tell the darkness stretches far, with only a few strips of red lights across an abyss of emptiness. The dim red light behind me only reveals a few feet. It bounces from wall to wall, trapping me inside. A room. A small, cold, room. A few feet in front of me, the silhouette of thin vertical bars. Trapped once again. What have I done to land myself in jail? Why was there no trial? My mind races with possibilities of what might have happened.
    •    My first thought; kidnapped.
    •    Second; jail.
    •    My current conclusion; amnesia.
I finally decide on jail. I must have gotten into a fight and lost my memory. Probably a large woman, (although let's be honest, she doesn't need to be very large or strong) punched or pushed me. When I fell, I hit my head and lost my memory from the past few weeks. That must be it.
I hope that's it.
Suddenly, bright fluorescent lights startle the room. Mine, as well as 99 other cells. I squint, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the sudden light. My head pounds inside itself- I'm assuming a concussion. Finally, I brave the light.
I look up to see a boy about my age, standing up in a cell similar to mine. He looks just as broken and confused as me. I wish he wasn't. For a split second I hoped someone else would know what was going on. But he doesn't. The other people in their cages shake at the bars, trying to pry them loose. For a second I wish I hadn't woken up. Maybe sometimes being dead is better than being  blind within a nightmare. I can admit that I liked the control living my own life gave me. Made my own decisions, went where I wanted to go. nothing can compare to all of the freedom living could give you.
I stand up. My knees feel weak as I try to walk towards the bars. Slowly, I shuffle over, only to witness the most horrific thing my eyes had ever seen. Rows and rows of people crying and pleading for their lives inside their cages. I hear a girl's cry from my left, on the other side of the cell wall. There are even more people trapped than what I can see. Now I have acknowledged it, I can hear their whimpers and trembling like they are just an inch away.
How many of us are there? One thing is for sure. It may look like a prison, but I am not in jail, no matter how much I wish I was. We are all a part of someone's sadistic game. On the other side of cells, a girl emerges from the dark to reveal she is covered head to toe in blood. The room falls silent once again. No screaming, only pure shock. The metal bars slide open. We are partially freed from our cages, but no one steps forward. Who would? Slowly, bodies start trickling out. I peek around the corner of my cell door. The walkways begin to fill up. I step out to look into the cell next to mine. The girl is still crying. She hasn't moved an inch from where she would have woken up. She looks up at me with tear filled eyes. Her face is stained red with a distinct trail leading from her eyes, down her neck. I can't imagine I look much better, seeing as she's surprised by how I look. The girl looks me up and down, finally the tears had stopped. Her voice strained, she only can manage a pitchy whisper,
"Where are we?" her voice breaks apart.
"I don't know." Unlike me with the boy, she is relieved by my answer. She lets out a shaky sigh as she tries to stand, and begins walking towards me. Her arms cross together as if she's trying not to let her limbs fall out of place. Like her torso needs the security of her arms to be one with the rest of her body. I can't do anything but watch.
"What's your name?" I ask.
"Olivia," I can hear her tears begin to resurface as her face scrunches up at something so simple as a name.
"It's okay Olivia, we're going to be okay," she doesn't believe me. And neither do I.
She sniffles, "what's yours?"
"Amelia."
"Hi Amelia."
"Hi," I say, relieved I haven't forgotten my name.
A large BANG causes us both to flinch. We both move quickly to look over the railing, down to the floor below us. To the right, a boy bangs on a large steel door.
"LET ME OUT!" The boy grows angrier by the second.
"I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME!" No one stops him. Instead we watch like kids at the zoo.
"LET ME OUT YOU FUCKERS!" The sides of his fists bruise from the steel. His aggression does not receive a response. He breathes heavily. His face has turned red with his veins bursting out of his skin. He turns around to face the gallery staring silently at him. I watch as his eyes glance from person to person all throughout the upper and lower sections.
"WHAT ARE YOU GUYS STARING AT?!" Saliva spews from his mouth as his eyes and body become feral. Like he had become overwhelmed with rabies or rancid on steroids. But I can see the pain in his eyes. I wish I wasn't able to. As he yells at us and moves his arms like a mad man, even from several yards away, I can see his eyes grow desperate. Only love could disturb someone to this level of madness. He tries his hardest to slow his breathing while also trying not to falter to his peers. Distraught and confused, he storms off back into his cell. He walks back in a way that makes him look enraged. I look around with only my eyes, afraid to make the first move. No one knows what to do, for once in my life, I don't know what to do. For what feels like hundreds of moments, we all stand idly, waiting for someone to give us direction.
Until finally, someone does.
In the center of the second level, on a narrow path connecting both sides of the cells, a boy speaks up,
"Everybody listen up!" The boy says with his arms raised, making sure everyone is paying attention. What else would we be paying attention to? We turn our heads. A boy with brunette hair and a strong, athletic figure steps up onto a railing, making himself taller than the crowd.
"I don't know what's going on, and I'm sure you don't either." The faces around him look up, confirming his assumption.
"But someone put us here, and there's no way out." I know what he says is the truth, but for such a tragedy to be spoken confidently like fact, sinks a hole straight through my chest. The realization that I can't escape. "But until we figure out why we're here, we need to stay calm and not do anything stupid that would put us in any more danger."
"And what if they kill us before then?!" A new voice echoes from the bottom level. A different boy, more neatly polished but equally as confident. His dirty blonde hair drips with sweat. All of our hair drips with sweat.
The room falls silent.
"Huh? What then?" He challenges the first boy's optimism. We await the other boy's response, knowing that he has a point.
"We need to have faith!" He tries to regain his crowd. He doesn't know that it's much easier to believe the worst. Especially, when the worst is the more likely option.
"Screw faith! We need to fight back!" The blonde boy argues. A few voices take his side. If I wasn't so desperate to be out of this hell, I would take the brunette's side. But for right now, I want to get out. And it seems like aggression and chaos is the way we do that.
The brunette sees the crowd losing the hope he wished to give to them. "Guys! Do not listen to him. Right now, there is nothing we can do. We have to save our energy on what will make a difference!" If he wanted everyone to have faith, telling everyone there's nothing they can do is not how you do it. I can see most of the people doubt him. If I am being honest with myself, I am too. I don't understand how we're expected to stay optimistic trapped in a cage with no way out. Our families are out there somewhere, wondering where we are. I can be smart about it if I'm fighting for myself, but that wouldn't be fair to them. Right now I can feel my mothers grief. At this point, she would've noticed I was missing. I imagine she's running to all ends of the Earth to find me. I can't afford to believe I'll survive this.
After no response. The brunette boy steps down from the rail and slips back into the crowd.
"Let's tear this place down!" About sixty people cheer as they follow the blonde to chaos and destruction. I catch a glimpse of the brunette going back into his cell. I follow him. He seems to be one of the only sane and level headed people here, and getting him to be on the same side as me would give me peace of mind. I squeeze past the bodies of undecided souls as they weigh their options. I leave Olivia to them, hoping to get a minute away from the grief and sadness her presence seems to carry.
I stand at the entrance to his cell, shifting uneasily. I find him sitting on the thin metal framed bed with his hands wrapped around his head. His fingers intertwine with his hair.
"Hey..." I say softly, trying not to startle him. It didn't work, he flinches as he lifts his head suddenly.
"Hi.." His voice is lower than before. More tired and defeated. His eyes take me in. Not in a sexual or demeaning way like I'd expect, his eyes linger on the bruises on my arms and my sweat-soaked shirt. He doesn't say anything. Outside of this nightmare he would have said something. But not here. Here, everyone looks the same. Covered in bruises and trembling from adrenaline.
The moment pauses as we share hopeless glances. Two stray dogs, defeated.
"They want to believe you," I look down at my feet, knowing damn well I'm a coward for rooting for chaos. "I want to believe you," I look up, hoping he believes me. His wet hair curls around his tired eyes as he looks into mine. He sees right through me.
"But you don't," he blinks slowly, giving me a slight shrug. His voice matches his face in this moment; raspy and broken. No hope left.
"We're scared. It's easier this way," I try to stare into his eyes more intently, making sure he knows I'm being sincere. He looks back down. "Let them have hope that what they're doing is making progress."
"Yeah? And what happens when they're all out of hope?" His eyes begin to fill with anger or desperation. It all seems the same in this light. "What happens then?"
I don't respond. He's right. Once they realize it's impossible they'll start taking their anger out on us. But it's also the first day. We all just woke up. For right now, I'm thankful they have any hope at all.
"Then we'll deal with it when it happens," he rolls his eyes as I say it. "You don't want to be on their bad side right now."
"Why are you saying all this?"
"You're smart." He's surprised by my comment. "And the only one with any sense of direction."
He pauses, replaying my words back over in his head. Finally, his eyes stop darting and focus on mine. "What's your name?" He asks.
"Amelia," I say glossing over the lump that has suddenly formed in my throat. "What's yours," I say at an almost whisper.
"August," his eyes don't move, and his voice doesn't falter like mine.
Both of our eyes dart towards his cell door as a loud crashing noise ensues from downstairs, followed by cheering. I can feel his sarcastic eyes back on me. I turn back to him, "Hope." Nothing more needed to be said. August left that statement as is and tolerated their chaos. As more destruction and rioting is heard from downstairs, August and I ignore it. I fully enter his cell, and quietly sit on the floor next to his bed, where he stays.
"Do you remember when you passed out?" I ask, staring numbly at the floor as I slouch further against the cold wall.
"No. Last thing I remember, I was watching T.V with my family," He scoots back on his bed, laying his back against the wall as his feet dangle next to me.
"I don't know the last thing I remember." My words catch his attention once again. His eyes flicker to my face, still staring blank at the floor.
"Maybe that's a good thing."
"Yeah... Maybe."
Time stops once more.
"Why do you think we're here?" I ask the question everyone else has been. I don't know why I expected a different answer other than I don't know.
"Maybe we'll find out soon." He says optimistic words, but even I can tell he doesn't hold much faith in what he's saying.
I need to learn how to stop sucking the hope out of everyone I come across.
"I found something!!" A voice from downstairs shouts.
Everyone's footsteps are loud against the hard floor as we race to the railing. Everyone on our floor gathers around the railing, looking down at the group on the first floor. Suddenly, the boy shouts again,
"I think I found a camera in one of the cells!"
Gasps echo throughout the large jail-like facility as the blonde boy runs to see for himself. Just like before, everyone else follows. This time, including me and August.
Panicked, we both shuffle through the crowd of teenagers around the cell in question. Mixed voices of both despair, and curiosity. Some see us coming and move for August, others don't budge. When we get to the front we find the blonde boy in the center of the cell, inspecting a small object. The crowd waits eagerly for a verdict only a few feet away, watching his every movement.
"So, what do you think?" August finally speaks up.
The blonde boy whose name I still haven't figured out, stares at the device trying his best not to look puzzled. August seems to hold little patience as he walks up and gently turns it back and forth, letting the boy still hold on to it. A smart move on August's part.
"Carrington? You just gonna let him touch it?" One of the blonde boy's followers mumbles to him. Carrington. I swear I've heard the name before.
"Shut up Max," Carrington waves him off. Surprisingly, Max does not seem bothered by it.
I move up to them both, taking a look for myself.
"I think he's right. It's a camera," August whispers while inspecting the wires.
Carrington takes back control over the device and holds it above his head.
"It's not a camera!" Carrington announces to the 97 people trying to listen in. Sighs of relief waves over the crowd.
"Then what is it?" Someone from the back asks.
"Just a piece of the light that fell off," Carrington lies. If I didn't know the truth, I'd believe him without question. Especially when all we want is good news. It doesn't matter if it's real or not. The crowd begins to disperse. Carrington's original group of outlaws seem to unofficially claim the ground floor, as the people who sided with August go back upstairs to hide in their cells.
"Max, leave us," Carrington says without looking away from August.
"Hehe, good luck guys... you'll need it," Max laughs as he shuffles out of the cell, leaving us alone.
Carrington and August stare each other down for what feels like a lifetime.
Finally, I speak up, "Why'd you lie?" I ask as I cross my arms.
Carrington slowly turns his head towards me, sticking his tongue in his bottom lip, making a smirk. His eyes meet mine as he looks me up and down.
"What's your name?" He bites his bottom lip while smiling, showing off his perfectly white grin. August immediately shoves him with a brewing fester in his eyes, but Carrington's eyes never leave mine, just as his smile stays the same. I roll my eyes.
"Answer my question," I say looking at the ceiling. I can feel him roll his eyes.
"I didn't want to scare them more than they already are," he sighs.
I look back down at him blankly.
"What? You don't believe me?" He says shocked, raising his eyebrows defensively.
"I believe you only do things that benefit you."
Carrington's face drops. A wave of seriousness glosses over his eyes as his brows furrow. Step by step, he inches closer to me.
"If that were true, you wouldn't be here," he says intensely. I want to back away, all the way to the wall, then out of this cell. August nudges his shoulder, pulling him back.
"Hey, back off." Thankfully, he does. His eyes still linger on mine longer than they should as he walks away, exiting the cell. His looming intimidation lingers.
August tries to comfort me as Carrington leaves, but I can't focus on a word he's saying. My thoughts can't help but grow on what Carrington said. If that were true, you wouldn't be here. What does that even mean? Is it a threat? If he had it his way I would be dead? Or just not there in that moment?
August can see the confusion linger on my expression.
"Don't worry about him. He's just trying to scare you."
It's working.

           It was hard relaxing that night. The bed made my back sore and squeaked every time I moved. Also, the fear of Carrington's threats. Not to mention everything else I have to worry about. My family, where the hell I am, what I'm doing here, Carrington, the camera. It's a good thing- the silence of the night didn't last for long. The thing that troubled me the most, was why.
All of a sudden, in the darkness of the night, the red LED lights flashed on again as a loud chime rang through the ears of 100 sleeping teenagers. Startled, I sit up and don't dare to move. Another loud chime rings through both of the floors. Barefoot, August comes running into my room like he's afraid of being seen, cautiously ducking next to my bed.
           "What's going on?!" I whisper, still too afraid to move.
           "I don't know," August whispers back, his eyes wide with adrenaline. We wait silently in the dark with only the red glow to see.

"Ladies and gentlemen, will you please all meet on the first floor. I repeat, make your way to the first floor immediately."

August and I look at each other in fear, both of our eyes wide open. We both look out of my cell to see people quietly tiptoe downstairs. We take a deep breath, then follow them. As we make our way down the stairs, within the red light we see Carrington, standing more composed than anyone else in the room. I walk up to him.
           "What is going on?"
           "Why do you think I know?"
           "I think you know more than you're letting on."
           "Maybe so, but I don't know anything about this." Now that I'm next to him, I see now that it's not composure that's written within his stance, It's confusion mixed with anger. He knows something. I'm positive about it. Before I get the chance to press him further, the loud voice comes over the speakers once more.
The red lights turn blue.

"Hello. I'm sorry to have kept you waiting. You will know all, soon enough. But for right now, it's time I give you your roles. I have analyzed your behavior and selected teams accordingly."

Murmurs and nervous whispers fill the tense air.

"You will now be separated into two teams, the runners... and then the hunters."

"The Runners are..."

The voice begins to call out names. I tune out the horrified cries from the audience until I hear one name that deepens a pit in my chest...

"... Amelia Holloway...."

Carrington slowly turns to look at me while I can't move at all. I feel a hand squeeze my shoulder. August.

"...August Ryker..."

I guess we're both runners, whatever that means.

"That doesn't sound good," August tries to lighten the mood, but he's right. It doesn't.

"And now for the Hunters... Carrington Bradford..."