Page 53 of Galaxy Games Four-Book Box Set (Galaxy Games)

53

Playing for Keeps

S adie

He was right about the surprise.

The hallway is packed with one hundred people all wanting to race off the ship. At first, the group was orderly. But the longer we wait, the harder the press is from behind. I’m now smashed so hard against 1213 there’s no space between us. My arms are around his waist, which is a good thing because if they weren’t, we would have already been separated.

Someone yells, “Let us out!” and things get more unruly. I flash to pictures I saw on the news where people got trampled at a sports event that got out of hand. I no longer think the situation is safe.

″1213.” I pat his back and he bends his knees so he can hear me. “Does that door open outward?”

He nods.

It’s a metal door maybe six feet wide and will open out and down like a drawbridge.

″I think there will be a stampede when it opens,” I say.

″That’s why I want you on my back. Don’t worry. I’ll get us out of here alive.”

That he’s the galaxy’s biggest cynic is a plus for our team. So far, he’s always been a step ahead of me.

As soon as I hear a metallic click that I assume is the doorway opening, I reach up, put my hands on his shoulder, and jump onto him. After he hefts me higher, I surround his waist with my legs, drape my arms over his chest, and hold onto my forearms for dear life.

Is the door opening slowly on purpose? People are pushing harder, I hear shouting behind us and if 1213 wasn’t so strong, his cheek would be pressed against the door like the others who are in front.

As soon as we see daylight through the gap, he slides toward the opening on our left. We’re easily twenty-five feet above the ground.

″Hang on!” he calls. I grip my forearms more tightly and he leaps through the gap onto the ground below. His knees act like shock absorbers, taking the impact without a problem.

″Head to the flag. Head to the flag. Head to the flag,” a robotic voice repeats. “The first forty couples will move to the next round.”

I see a flag far off in the distance to our left. 1213 takes off at a breakneck pace. I hold on with all my might, trying not to fall off or throw him off balance.

I consider offering to get off and run on my own, but we’re in the front of the pack, and stopping would only slow us down. 1213’s running like the wind and seems to be making good time, even with me on his back. I’m in good shape, but there’s no way I could run as fast as him.

I snuggle against him, telling myself I’m doing it to make less wind drag so he can go faster. Actually, I’m enjoying being this close to him. He may not be particularly nice or much of a conversationalist, but his fur is so soft and his muscles are so hard.

With my head tucked against his shoulder blades and my arms secured around his neck, I turn my attention behind us. The first thing I see are five couples hot on our heels.

Then I look back at the rest of the pack. They’re strung out between us and the ship. I’m not sure what I see when I look at the ship. There’s something piled near the foot of the exit ramp. 1213 is running fast, I’m jostling against him, and we’re probably close to a mile away, but I think I’m seeing bodies scattered on the ground.

Tucking my head closer to 1213, I close my eyes and convince myself that is not what I saw.

Twenty minutes later, 1213 stops a few feet away from the flagpole with The Game logo fluttering in the light breeze. I jump to the ground behind him. He’s barely winded as he inspects his surroundings.

I take this moment to look around, too. I was too busy hanging on for dear life to notice much about the environment.

It’s disorienting. I’m standing on soil. There are clouds in the sky, but that’s about the only thing that seems familiar.

The ground is reddish, dotted with scrubby yellow plants. The sky has a bottle-green cast that makes the landscape and everything in it look creepy. There are no trees nearby, although perhaps that’s what I see in the distance.

I hadn’t realized, because 1213 was doing all the work, but we’ve been heading uphill since we left the ship. As the other contestants join us, they’re all panting, some leaning with their hands on their knees as if they just completed a marathon. Glancing at my partner again, I can see no signs of fatigue at all.

Out of one of the speakers attached to the pole, we hear, “You have one minute to obtain hydration and nutrition from the nearby barrels.”

We don’t wait to be told twice. We grab three of everything. I put my extras in my pack, then drink eagerly.

″Eat a bar,” 1213 says as he hands me one.

″Thanks, but I’m not hun—”

″You haven’t eaten today and whatever’s coming next is going to be another surprise,” he says as he places the nutrition bar in my palm. “Eat.”

There are drones everywhere. All the better to film us, I guess. A large one, carrying what looks like a six-by-eight foot flatscreen TV, stops in front of us. It’s showing a hologram of our exit from the ship.

1213 and I are the first out. There he is, me on his back. Just as I suspected, his knees bend to absorb the impact and then he takes off at almost preternatural speed.

Then other couples spill out onto the soil before the ramp is even halfway down. Some fall on their knees, then rise and, looking dazed, follow the orders to run to the flag. Others, though, are not so lucky. They just lie on the ground, looking broken.

The cameras pan in to delight the viewers’ prurient interests. Showing the carnage in close-up detail. A few on the ground are still alive, though too badly injured to rise. Then the video starts at the beginning and plays again, as if we didn’t see enough carnage the first time around.

I must be a slow learner. Although 1213 knew from the beginning, it’s only now hitting me that we’re not in the Amazing Race . We’re playing for keeps, and not everyone’s going to make it out alive.