Arena Two

“It was so scary,” Brooks says.

Her voice startles me in the darkness. It is so soft, I wonder at first if she even spoke. She hasn’t said a word for hours, and I thought she was asleep.

I turn and see her eyes are open, staring out with fear.

“What was scary, Bree?”

She shakes her head and waits several seconds before speaking. I realize she is remembering.

“They took me. I was all alone. Then they put me on a bus, and took me on a boat. We were all chained together. It was so cold, we were all so scared. They took me inside that house, and you wouldn’t believe the things I saw. What they did to those other girls. I can still hear their screams. I can’t get them out of my head.”

Her face crumples as she starts to cry.

My heart breaks into a million pieces. I can’t even imagine what she’s been through. I don’t want her to think about it. I feel as if she’s scarred forever, and it’s my fault.

I hug her tightly, and kiss her on the forehead.

“Shhh,” I whisper. “It’s all right. That’s all behind us now. Don’t think about that anymore.”

But still, she continues to cry.

Bree buries her face my chest. I rock her as she cries and cries.

“I’m so sorry honey,” I say. “I am so so sorry.”

I wish I could take it all away from her. But I can’t. It is now a part of her. I always wanted to shelter her, to shelter her from everything. And now her heart is filled with horrors.

As I rock her, I wish we could be anywhere but here. I wish things could be how they once were. Back in time. Back when the world was good. Back with our parents. But we can’t. We’re here.

And I have a sinking feeling things will only get worse.

* * *

I wake and realize it is daytime. I don’t know how it got so late in the day, or how I slept so long. I look around me on the boat, and am completely disoriented. I don’t understand what’s happening. Our boat is now floating, adrift in the Hudson, in the middle of the huge river. Bree and I are the only ones in the boat. I don’t know where everyone else is, and I can’t understand how we got here.

We both stand at the edge of the boat, looking out at the horizon, and I see three slaverunner boats speed right for us.

I try to burst into action, but feel my arms bound from behind. I turn to see several slaverunners on the boat, see that they have cuffed me from behind, hold me back. I struggle for all I can, but am helpless.

A slaverunner boat stops and one of them gets out, his mask covering his face, steps onto our boat, reaches down and grabs Bree. She squirms, but is no match for him. He picks her up in one arm and begins to carry her away.

“BREE! NO!” I scream.

I struggle with everything in the world, but it is useless. I’m forced to stand there and watch as they drag Bree off, kicking and screaming into their boat. Their boat drifts away on the current, towards Manhattan. Soon, it is barely visible.

As I watch my little sister get farther and farther away from me, I know that this time I lost her for good.

I shriek, an unearthly shriek, begging, crying, for my sister to come back to me.

I wake up sweating. I sit bolt upright, breathing hard, looking all around, trying to figure out what happened.

It was a dream. I look over and see Bree lying beside me, everyone else asleep in the boat. It was all a dream. No one has come. No one has taken Bree.

I try to slow my breathing, my heart still pounding. I sit up and look out at the horizon and see dawn beginning to break, a faint sliver on the horizon. I look over at the dock, and see Ben sitting guard. I think back and remember Logan waking me, remember standing guard myself. Then I woke Ben, gave him the gun, and he took my position. I must have fallen asleep after that.

As I look over at Ben, I realize he is slumped over. I can see from here, in the faint light of dawn, that he is asleep, too. He is supposed to be standing guard. We are defenseless.

Suddenly, I spot movement, shadows in the darkness. It looks like a group of people, or creatures, heading closer to us. I wonder if my eyes are playing tricks on me.

But then, my heart starts pounding furiously in my chest, and my mouth goes dry, as I realize this is not a trick of the light.

We are unprepared. And people are ambushing us.

Five

“BEN!” I scream, sitting up.

But it’s too late. A second later, they charge us.

One has overtaken Ben, tackling him, while the other two take a running jump right into our boat.

The boat rocks violently as they man our craft.

Logan wakes, but not in time. One of the men goes right for him, knife drawn, and is about to plunge it into his chest.

My reflexes kick in. I reach back, grab the knife from my waist, lean forward and throw it. The knife goes flying end over end.

It is a perfect strike. It lodges right into the man’s throat, a second before he stabs Logan. He collapses, lifeless, on top of him.

Logan sits up and throws the corpse off, and it lands in the water with a splash. Luckily, he has the presence of mind to remove my knife before he does.

Two more come charging my way. With the light picking up, I can see that they are not men: they are mutants. Half men, half I don’t know what. Radiated from the war. Crazies. This terrifies me: these types, unlike Rupert, are super strong, super vicious, and have nothing to lose.

One of them heads for Bree and Rose, and I can’t let him. I dive for him, tackling him to the ground.

We both go down hard, the boat rocking wildly. I see Logan out of the corner of my eye diving on top of the other, bumping him hard and splashing him overboard.

We have stopped two of them. But a third one races past us.

The one I tackle spins me around and pins me down. He is on top of me, and he is strong. He reaches back and punches me hard in the face, and I feel the sting on my cheek.

I think quick: I raise a knee hard and slam it right between his legs.

It is a perfect strike. He groans and slumps, and as he does, I reach back and elbow him hard across the face. There’s a cracking noise as I break cheekbone, and he collapses in the boat.

I hurl him overboard, into the water. It was a stupid move. I should’ve stripped him of his weapons first. The boat swings wildly as his body leaves.

I now turn to the last one, at the same time Logan does.