"I am Unnamed. My title is dead."
In the World, the Planet, and the Base, it's either be number one or die.
The alternative to dying, however, is to become an Unnamed. Turning eighteen means that you will compete for your name. Come out on top, you...
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The Runner watches the clock as it makes its way around to noon.
The sun shines down onto him as he runs, the heat almost seeming to increase through his jacket. Good thing he brought a water bottle with him.
The Runner steps onto the tan competition track and looks around for the boy he had seen the previous night. He waits for a few minutes, absentmindedly drinking water as the day grows hotter. Did he stand him up?
There's a loud bang behind him.
The Runner turns around, startled, water from his bottle sloshing onto his face. His heart kick-starts and dread clings to his veins. What is this about?
The boy he was supposed to meet stands a good distance away, a gun raised and pointed at the Runner.
"Run!" the boy shouts across the empty space between them, the weapon in his hand smoking.
"What?!" the Runner exclaims. "Are you going to shoot me?"
"Not if you run!" He responds, shooting the gun in the air again as a warning shot. "Run around the track until I say stop."
The Runner takes off at half speed, looking over his shoulder at the boy, not trusting he won't shoot. Do they know about what the Elites set up? Does he know the Runner is going to be reporting everything back to Mortimer the Elite Solver?
This is insane!
"Faster!" the boy shouts, shooting again, and this time the bullet hits the dirt on the inside of the loop close to the Runner. He lets out a small cry, losing his rhythm. "Run faster!"
The Runner writes the boy off as crazy and starts to sprint. He has to do this. He has to do this to learn about the Unnamed. To save the people in the cities.
Close to the spot he started, he begins to slow down.
"Keep going!" The boy shouts, shooting in the air again.
The Runner keeps running.
Why is he doing this to me?
He goes around the first curve and onto the second straightaway. The sun beats down onto him and he can feel sweat trickling down every part of his body, especially where his jacket sits.
He arrives to the next curve and makes his way to the first straightaway. It's where he begun; where the boy stands.
His eyes go wide at the scene before him.
The boy stands with the gun aimed at the Runner's head.
"Stop," he says quietly, and the Runner halts.
The boy's hand is steady as he holds the weapon at arms-length toward the Runner.
Is he really going to shoot me? the Runner thinks in a panicked thought.
