The Death Race

The Landing

I wake up to a jolt. I seem to be strapped in; a chair. I look around me and to my surprise find myself and other competitors on a plane. There are no windows so I can't see where we are. I look down at myself and am surprised to see myself in a black tracksuit. I shivered at the thought of someone changing me while I was out. A sharp pain in my arm draws my attention away from my clothes. There's blood trickling out of a bump in my right arm. I'm not sure what the bump is. Maybe I hit on something. I run my left hand across the bump. "It's a tracking device. Everyone has them," a girl's voice says. She showed me her arm and sure enough she had a bump too, in the exact same spot. "A tracking device?" "Yeah, so they can track us and see if we're dead. " the girl said. She looked about 16. She had black hair with light blue eyes. She was also wearing the same black tracksuit as me. "My name's Clarke" I replied. "Lilly." The lights started to flicker on and off, producing an eerie effect. Everyone starting chattering away, trying the get rid of nerves. The ship started to violently shake, proving we were landing. "Were do you think we are?" I ask Lilly. "Probably some desolated island." Lilly replied. I sat back in my seat and waited for the shaking to stop. "I don't feel good." Lilly whispered. She did look a bit pale. "It'll stop soon. You will be alright." I replied. The shaking continues for about another five minutes. "Do you feel that?" I ask. "No." "Exactly, there's no shaking,"  The chattering had stopped, all was quiet. We sat still for several minutes, in silence. Either my vision is getting cloudy or they're producing that sleeping gas again. "SLEEPING GAS!" I hear someone yell from across me. I covered up my mouth and nose with my shirt. I could see people's heads dropping like flies. I could feel it getting inside my lungs; it was stinging my eyes. I was struggling to breathe; I took a deep breath gave into the gas. My head dropped quickly and violently. The last thing I saw was about a dozen soldiers charging through the door, guns in hand.