The Unnamed | The Unnamed Duology Book 1

3: Dangerous

The daylight comes fast as the Runner sleeps, and he wakes up earlier than anyone else. He makes his way up to the room with the treadmills, pulling his jacket on. He can hear the rain pounding on the roof.

It's going to be a miserable day of running, he thinks to himself.

Turning on the treadmill, he starts at a good pace, clicking it up as he goes. He tries not to wander off in thought as he runs on the track, but the outcome is inevitable, especially with the dangerous thoughts that arise.

Would he win if he made it to the last round of the Competitions? The Runner thinks he would, considering the effort he puts in each day. He'll definitely get a Name, and he knows it. He's better than most of the people he runs against.

Soon, other Runners wake up and they begin to jog too, muttering about the weather. The Runner laps almost half of them as they run around the room, sounds of heavy breathing and of shoes slapping on the hard-padded floor. It's comforting to him, the noises of the morning. This is his home.

"How do you do that?" A girl Runner asks, her hands behind her head to help her breathe as everyone slows to a stop. Running before breakfast. Running before everything.

"Do what?" the Runner smiles confidently. The girl is pretty with her brown hair and tan skin. He notes that she's not built to be a Runner.

"That. You lapped all of us. Like, twice."

The Runner shrugs and gives a soft chuckle.

"I don't know. I just love to run."

The days pass by slowly, the Runners' Master giving him little tips for next year's Competition. He will be participating in that race after turning eighteen in August. The one for this year is in the middle of October, when it's cool enough outside for the first Competition.

The Elite Leader keeps talking to the Runner as if he wants him to know more about what's going on, especially about the notes that go between him and Mortimer the Elite Solver, but he knows he can't do that. He doesn't have that kind of power. No one does. Everyone stays in their Category and no one knows more than they need to. It's just how it is.

The day of the Competitions for this year comes and the Runners gather around the flat screen above some treadmills in the Runner's Building. A few of them dragged out some stools from the kitchen so they could sit. It's one of the only days that the different Paths and Sections can rest from their work schedule, like having a vacation.

The many emblems pass by on the screen with music blaring over the speakers around the room. The Runner smiles as the other Runners around him let out a loud cry when their blue emblem passes over the screen.

"Hello, and welcome to this year's Competition," the Elite Leader smiles to the camera. "I am the Elite Leader, and I will be announcing the Builder's Competition this year. Sections, as you know, you are only permitted to watch your Category's Competition, unless your Masters ask you if you want to watch the Competitions with them. There will be no work today, as well as for the next week due to the competitions."

"Thank you, Elite Leader Thomas," A man, another Leader, says, flashing a smile at the camera. "And now for the channel tuning list."

Numbers and emblems scroll across that page, and one of the Runners that will be competing next year stands up to change it to the appropriate channel.

"Welcome Runners! Here, you will watch your childhood friends compete for their Names and for their lives.

"The rules: They must complete the course. They must finish in the top ten to receive a Name. They must go gracefully if they finish below Tenth. Those ten have to compete in the next race," the large man, another Leader, croaks as he sits behind his desk. "Our goal is to create Elites, the best-of-the-best in the World, the Planet, and the Base. Without them, we would not have the life we have today."

They introduce each of the contestants, giving them numbers, though everyone in the Runner's Building know exactly who they are. They had grown up with them. The numbers merely help with identification and cheering.

The competing Runners all line up at the starting line, nervous energy around them as they stand alone on the dirt road on the far side of the World. A bang goes off and they take off. The course is long, as always, and they have to hold up. A few of them shoot ahead while a few stagger behind. Half way into it, a handful of people are jogging slowly, barely able to keep up. In front, there are a few going head to head.

And then there's number forty-seven. He's hauling butt in the very front, kicking up dirt. He knows he'll win.

And he does.

The race finishes and number forty-seven cries tears of joy.

I'm going to be him next year, the Runner thinks to himself, pride swelling in his chest.

They're marched up on stage, one by one to receive a name. His name is now Stark.

Once the top ten are named, the Newly Unnamed step up onto the stage.

"The Unnamed," the Announcer proclaims.

A girl in the front looks into the camera with fire in her eyes. She had finished eleventh. She places her fist over her heart, and several others do the same. The announcer seems flustered by this and the Guards rush in quickly to take them away to who-knows-where.

Everyone in the room cheers for their friends, but the Runner stares at the screen, watching the girl with red hair disappear from sight.

For once, he lets himself think dangerously. He wonders who she is, and why she did that.

She's dangerous, he tells himself.

And that intrigues him.

- if you'd like to read ahead, this book is available for free as an ebook and is also available as a paperback. -