The Colosseum

Home Stretch

Ezra

The eastern border of the nation is best known for its docks, and on the ocean and headed to another land is the safest place I can think of right now. Thinking, which is becoming increasingly difficult to do as my gunshot only continues to bleed. By now I'm pretty much over the pain, but the side effects are really starting to kick in.

"Why do you think he let us go?" Kova croaks next to me, staring out the review, despite Ten and the northerners being far out of view.

"I think he let you go," I correct. "In his truth interview, he said he didn't want you to disappear; that you challenge him, but he doesn't mind it. I think he's confused on whether he wants to kill you or save you, but there's no question about what he wants to do with me." Since the beginning, he's dreamt of my name and date of death on a tombstone, and today he nearly had it. Yet he made a point of shooting me so close to my heart, then wasting the bullets on Annette. Was that message for Kova, or for me?

Defeated, Kova sighs. Clearly, a lot is going on in her head, but she keeps it to herself. I know she pities Ten far more than I ever will, and I'm assuming because of that, she doesn't bother to waste her breath. Though I'd live a lot more comfortably if he ceased to exist, I'd still rather have Kova talk about what she's feeling instead of bottling it up. But I won't make her talk unless she wants to.

"We're coming up on the city," I warn. "Hold onto something, it might get rough."

"Where are we going?" she anxiously questions, sitting up and clinging to the armrests on either of her sides.

"To the docks. We'll board a ship and get the hell out of here."

"You know how to drive a boat?" she dubiously inquires.

"Not really," I admit. "It would be easier to figure out a catboat, but a cog is most likely stored with supplies for a long trip, so we'll try to take one of those."

"And after that?"

Helplessly, I look at Kova, who reflects my own loss of answers. "Go anywhere but here?"

Tautly, she nods. "Alright, let's do that, then."

The first shadow of a city approaches on the horizon, sparsely farms and outer posts for guards and agriculture being the first signs of the warm nation that we come across. Holding my breath, I drive by the buildings, seemingly unoccupied until someone from a watch-station emerges from a small building, their uniform splattered in blood. Loosely, a fire-poker hangs from his hands. Vague eyes stare through the windows as we pass by.

"We really lost, big time," Kova tremors. "And the worst part is we can't help a single person, because they'll just see us as their greatest enemy."

"Perhaps I was, all along. What good did I ever do these people? Or your people?" I mutter, ashamed that with all of that time I spent planning for a strategic takeover of the north at everyone's expense was a total waste. I could've been making compromises with the north, giving better living standards to the desert, ending the brutality of the Colosseum. Instead, I saw dominating the snowy nation as the only way out of their threatening position, and everyone else paid the price for it.

"You changed," Kova remarks. "That's the good you did for everyone."

"That came a bit too late to help anyone."

"I wouldn't say that. If you're that pissed about it now, you'll be pissed enough to do something about it later on. Believe me, things like this can last for years, and this time, I'll be there to help you the whole way through."