Page 35 of Galaxy Games Four-Book Box Set (Galaxy Games)

35

Sprout

B laze

My mouth is hanging open in surprise as I parse through exactly what I just watched on screen.

“Did we just watch a faction take over the airwaves from one of the most powerful corporations on the planet?” I ask, my tone incredulous.

“Aye.”

“And did they exonerate you within minutes of the network framing you?”

“Aye.”

“And were they using us to rally around?”

“Aye.”

“And is Crimson now the poster child for the insurrection?”

“Red,” he corrects. “Maybe. They sure gave him a flattering closeup.”

I punch him lightly in the shoulder to continue our ridiculous reptile argument, then bend to snag the little fellow to return him to his perch on my shoulder.

I never would have asked to be at the heart of a rebellion, not in a million years. And even though I don’t believe in slavery, and the very idea of The Game is repugnant, I never would have peeked out of my safe little bubble to rally ‘round this cause if I wasn’t at the epicenter of the shitstorm.

But since not only I, but Jahzara Zedd think I’ll be dead by this time tomorrow, I’m on board.

“People don’t want slavery anymore,” he says, wonder in his voice. “I thought it was just slaves who hated slavery. I knew the tide would never turn against slavery until everyday people spoke out against it. Whoever interrupted TMN’s broadcast was no slave.”

“They must have resources,” I say. “They had access to the raw footage, spliced it together, and hijacked the airwaves. It took cunning, and access, and balls.”

“Aye.”

We freeze when we hear soft footsteps along the empty sidewalk crossing the mouth of our alley. Xzavic’s body tightens underneath me, then stands down when we see it’s just a lone boy.

He’s wearing a small blanket tied around his neck. From here, even in the dim light, I can see it’s red. He has a two-foot-long stick and is fighting a duel with an imaginary foe as he walks along.

He stops all forward motion and his head swivels toward us. We’re underground, well-hidden below street level. He couldn’t possibly know we’re here.

As he strides toward us, Xzavic grips my waist and sets me on the cement in front of us. We’re both on high alert as we grab our swords, poised and ready to kill. A hot wave of shame passes through me as I realize I am ready, willing, and able to kill this… child.

His skin is heavily patterned blue and black. His eyes are white. All of his eyes. I can’t see irises or pupils, just white. Maybe that’s what helped him see us when we were completely hidden.

“I know you,” he whispers when he’s ten feet away.

He keeps his eerie gaze on us even as he points to the screen behind him with his stick. It’s back to regular programming. Zedd’s thirty-foot high face cuts to a picture of Xzavic thrusting into me last night in that cave. They show this on the street? For any child to see?

“You’re Titan and Slayer,” he says with all the excitement of naming his two favorite superheroes. “Why aren’t you wearing red?”

“Um, hi?” is my answer.

“Oh… super-secret. It would call attention.” He looks us up and down again, eyes widening with excitement as a plan forms in his head. “Hungry? My uncle’s a good cook.”

Hungry? I’m starved, but, sadly, I’m not sure I can trust this child, and even if we could, it would put him and his family at risk.

“I’m Sprout.”

“Hi, Sprout, I’m—”

“Slayer,” he says, his head nodding. “Don’t worry. I’m one of the good guys,” he says proudly. “You can follow me. My uncle will share food with you, and you can stay the night.” He’s so excited he’s hopping from foot to foot.

He’s about to take off down the alley, assuming we’ll follow, when I say, “It’s not safe to befriend us, Sprout.”

“Don’t worry, we all wear red in our house. You’ll be safe.”

“But you might get in trouble for helping us.”

“No. It’s part of The Game . Civilians can help. Didn’t you read the rules?” He hurries ahead toward what appears to be a dead end marked by a chain-link fence.

“Should we?” I ask Xzavic.

“Might as well.” He shrugs.

I shoulder my pack full of useless canisters—I don’t know why I’ve insisted on carrying it this whole way, or the rifle for that matter. Xzavic grabs his makeshift purple bag and our swords. We follow white-eyed Sprout to the chain-link at the end of the alley.