Arena One: Slaverunners (Book #1 of the Survival Trilogy)

Sumo doesn’t seem to want to kill me yet. Instead, it seems as if he’s enjoying our fight—and that he wants to toy with me.

  So instead of crushing me to death, he spins me around fast, several times, then throws me. The axe goes flying from my hands and the world goes rushing by as I fly through the air. I smash, head first, into the metal wall of the cage.

  I bounce off it, and land hard on the ground. The crowd roars. Again I manage to miss one of the cage’s protruding spikes, but barely. I look up and see the body of his last victim, still impaled on the cage wall, and realize I am lucky. The axe hits the ground with a clang several feet away from me.

  My head is ringing, and I’m disoriented as I lay there, face first on the ground. Out of the corner my eye, I see him charging. But I’m too beat to move.

  Move, soldier! MOVE!

  Somehow, I force myself into motion. I scramble to my knees, crawl over to the axe as fast as I can, grab it with both hands, and spin around with it.

  My timing is perfect. As Sumo is gearing up to stomp me, the axe comes flying around and connects with his calf. I feel the blade entering his flesh. Blood squirts all over me.

  There is a tremendous roar from the crowd. I realize I must’ve done some serious damage.

  He falls over, like a log, and lands with a crash. He is screaming and reaching up for where his foot once was, and I am shocked to see that my axe has chopped it off. Blood gushes everywhere, and he lies there, screaming, grabbing at his stump.

  “KILL HIM! KILL HIM!” the crowd chants.

  I know that this is my chance, that I should finish him off. But still, as I stand over him, holding the axe, I just can’t bring myself to.

  Instead, I just want to get far away from him. But I am stuck in one corner, and his body is blocking my path. So I run and jump over him, trying to get to the opposite side.

  Another mistake. Once again, I have underestimated him. He reaches up and grabs my ankle in mid-air and I fall to the ground, face first, hitting it hard. The crowd screams.

  He grabs my ankle and drags me towards him, one hand at a time. I feel like I’m being pulled into a conveyor belt, as I slide on my stomach, inevitably towards him. I realize that in another second I’ll be on top of him, and he’ll crush me to death with his upper body.

  I am still clutching the axe handle, and with my final bit of energy, I manage to lift my upper body, spin around, and with both hands, bring the blade down hard, aiming right for his head. There is a sickening noise as the blade lodges into his forehead.

  For a moment, I freeze, as does the crowd. I can still feel his hand gripping my ankle, and wonder if the blade went deep enough. Then, finally, his hand releases and his eyes open wide. I am stunned to realize that he is dead. I have killed him.

  The crowd is completely silent. I scramble away from him, not trusting that anyone his size could actually be dead, that I could have actually killed him. I stand at the far end of the ring, breathing hard, warily looking down, waiting for him to resurrect. But he does not. He is dead. Really dead.

  Suddenly, the crowd roars, jumps to its feet, erupts in a huge cheer. They whistle and clap and stomp, and it never ends.

  And that is when I realize: I have won. I can really do it. I can survive.