The 1st Game

6

6

“Get down,” I say, my voice tense. Winter and Sam both mirror my face of shock as we hide behind some bushes. I didn't expect this. I watch the red-eyes patrol the area in unison and I think about how we could get to the pile.

The soldiers must have put new supplies and weapons in the middle, because the mountain looks bigger then it did yesterday. Trying to draw us in. They must be able to program whoever they inject the serum with. Fight. Kill. Guard. I wonder what else they could make them do.

“There.” Sam points at movement on the other side of the oval. I see the shapes of two people hiding within the foliage. They must have had the same idea as us. I look closer and notice one of them is holding an axe. Dale. The other one's name is Roland.

“Two guys,” Sam says. “One of them with a weapon and the other without. They haven't spotted us yet.”

Winter looks at her, fear clear in her eyes. “We have to go back. There's no way that we're getting to the middle with all those people.”

“Hold on,” I insist. I take the binoculars out of our bag and zoom in on the two boys. “They're having a discussion.” Dale looks like he's getting angry for a second, but then the other boy takes the axe from him. They exchange a few more words, and then Dale runs off. Roland steps out of hiding and starts to sneak up to the pile.

The boy barely gets a few metres before one of the red-eyes notice him. An 18 year old, built like a truck, holding a sword. “Sam, get ready,” I say. “Winter, you stay here.”

As soon as the two start fighting, the other red-eyes leave their positions and charge towards them. “Now!” I screech. We run in to the oval as fast as possible. I make sure not to trip this time as I pump my legs as fast as possible. I am getting something this time.

Just as we reach the pyramid, Roland's head is decapitated, and then they spot us. We grab as much as we can fit in to our arms and then we're speeding away. I feel something whistle by my ear and slam in to a tree trunk. An arrow. Fuck.

By the time I reach Winter, I've dropped almost half of what I retrieved. “Run!” I shout at her. She sprints ahead of me. I can feel my pulse going crazy and I can hardly breathe, but I don't stop. I just run.

We're at the other side of the school when I finally turn around. No one is behind me. They must have stopped a while ago. I sigh in relief and drop to the ground, legs numb.

I breathe in the smell of the grass and dirt, closing my eyes. I'm alive, and I have supplies. I feel an ant crawl on to my face, but I'm too exhausted to flick it off. Just as it's jaws sink in to my cheek, I realise that no one was behind me.

“Sam!” I scream, shaking my face and standing up. I don't see her.

“She was right behind us!” exclaims Winter.

I run my hands through my hair. Where is she? Did they get her?

“No, no, no, no!” I punch my hand in to a nearby window. It shatters, and bits of glass cut me. The blood rolls down my arm and drips on to the grass.

“Are we gonna go find her?” asks Winter. I contemplate it for a second and then shake my head.

“No. She told us to come here in the plan so she knows this is where we are.”

“But – but what if she needs help? Or she's in pain? We have to-”

I turn to face her. “What? We have to what? She's the smartest out of both of us! How are we supposed to help?”

Winter has tears in her eyes and guilt pulls at me. “Sorry. I didn't mean to shout.” I look away. “She'll find her way back. She has to.”

I go over to the items that I'd scavenged from the oval and sort through them. Another backpack, two daggers, a bow and arrows and a triple staff. When I open the bag, my heart sinks. Only two cans of soup. No water. Sam has the other bag.

I look around and find a tap. In my mind I see it pouring out freezing, ice cold water, but I know before I even turn the knob what will come out. Nothing. I try not to think about my parched throat as I tell Winter that we have no water.

I'm interrupted by the sound of the speakers turning on. “Attention, attention. A very important announcement is about to be made,” the man says. For a second my hopes fly up, hoping he'll say that we can all go home or the police have arrived. “From now on, each day I will be ranking the top ten contenders to win the Game.” My stomach drops and my hope dies. This is bad. This is very bad.

“As we study you, we will be giving points to those who we believe are the best competitors and telling you every day. If a person is to kill one of the current Ten, that individual will be given something they desperately want.” I suck in a breath. Anyone in that Ten will be dead before they know it.

“So, let's begin!” I close my eyes and cross my fingers. Not me. Not me. Not me. I don't recognise any of the names he's calling out. As he gets down to the final five, I start to feel safe. I'm not that good. “Number Two: Julia Vale. And finally, number one...” He reads the name. My blood turns to ice and my mouth falls open in horror. No. It's not possible. Except I am not number one.

Sam is.