Savage Run Book I

  15

  It takes me a moment to register that there’s an alarm clock going off. Opening my eyes to a dark room, I turn my head toward the sound and see red symbols reading 6:30 a.m. Where am I? My body feels sore, and I’m lying on a hard surface. Slowly, it starts to come back to me. I registered for the Savage Run, Sergio took my locket, my father was furious…Nicholas…Arthor…and…Gemma. Remembering that she was shot makes me gasp, and I feel like I’m going to be sick. Was it real? Is she dead? I desperately yearn for it all to just be a nightmare. But it isn’t.

  I close my eyes and sit for a long while, finally coming to the conclusion that I have to find a way to control my emotions. The only way I know how to do this is to pretend I don’t care. Like I’ve done so many times with my father. Gemma didn’t really mean anything to me. She was just another person who I brushed shoulders with, and I can live just fine without her. I stuff the pain down, deeper and deeper, and tell myself that Gemma was a good friend, yes, but I’ll be just fine, like I was before I met her. The only person I need to care about is myself. I can’t let one friendship lost ruin my life. I have to be rock solid, stronger than anyone, and the only person who can make that happen is me.

  Once I feel like I have a hold on my emotions, I sit up. My new Savage Run uniform is lying on the floor. I pick it up and place it back on the bed. I undress, retie the gauze tightly around my chest, and then slip into the uniform. The pattern is the same as the one the Unifers wear, but the suit is tight fitting and made of stretchy material. A few minutes pass. The door opens and a plate of scrambled eggs and toast is slid into the room, next to the untouched one from last night. I pick the plate up, stuff the eggs into the toast, and eat it.

  At a quarter to seven, my door opens. I step into the hallway and trail after the others all the way to the outside.

  When I come outside, I see Nicholas, Arthor, and—ugh—Johnny standing together and conversing. I don’t go over to them. Hundreds of participants are making their way to the Conference Center for the Opening Ceremonies. Some guys are walking with their heads down, avoiding eye contact with anyone. Some are running down the street with their city’s flag, screaming at the top of their lungs. Others are speaking loudly, the excitement in their voices overexaggerated.

  Mai approaches me and studies my face for a while before saying, “You know, life doesn’t always end up the way one imagines.”

  I feel my eyebrows wrinkle. I open my mouth to ask, what, I don’t know. Because what does one say to a morning greeting such as that one? She walks away before I can manage to ask anything.

  “Good morning,” Arthor says with a grin, patting me on the back.

  “Hi, good morning,” I say. “Nice outfit.” His matches mine exactly, though he fills out his suit much better than I do.

  “Sleep well?” Johnny asks.

  He must have followed Arthor over here. Is he talking to me—actually being civil? “Uh…yes.” I wait for his next sarcastic remark, but it doesn’t come. I remember Arthor’s comment yesterday, how he said that everyone’s afraid. Maybe Johnny is afraid, too, and he becomes nice when he is fearful. That knowledge could be very useful during the obstacles.

  A guy with bleached white hair struts past us and pumps his fists into the air. He’s chanting, “I’m a savage. I’m a savage.” He moves in a jittery way, like he’s downed one too many coffees or something. Maybe nerves—might be his way of dealing with what’s about to transpire.

  Another registrar walks up to Nicholas, and I step a little closer to listen in on their conversation.

  “I have some pretty ambitious participants. You?” the registrar says.

  “A few.”

  “What about that Joseph of yours?”

  “He’s a good guy.”

  “But how come you let him register? I mean…you don’t really think he’ll make it, do you? All you can do is feel sorry for the little guy.”

  Nicholas catches me looking at him, but he doesn’t break eye contact. “He may be little, but he’s smart. And he knows that all the things he needs to succeed are within the obstacles themselves.”

  I should look away, but there’s something about looking into his eyes that makes me not want to.

  “Well, smarts will only get you so far,” the registrar refutes. “That’s Cory, an Advisor from Asolo.” He points to the guy with the white hair. “Cory’s Master father fell in love with an Advisor, and they had him. He wants to make his father proud and complete the Savage Run so he’ll be a Master, too, and after this, he’s planning on running for office and working for President Volkov.”

  “Interesting. Excuse me,” Nicholas says to the registrar, then walks toward Mai. “Mai, will you escort everyone to the Conference Center? I’ll be right there with Joseph.”

  Mai nods, and they start walking down the road, merging with all the other participants. We start to walk after the others, but at a much slower pace.

  “Mai insisted I tell you that during the first obstacle—the marathon—the landmines are rigged to go off at one hundred and fifty pounds. She thought it might help you feel better about everything.”

  “Mai said that?”

  “Yes.”

  It’s strange that she’d insist on that. But then again, she is a woman. “Taking orders from her now?” I tease.

  “Not usually. But I thought it would be a good thing for you to know,” he says.

  I weigh 105 pounds, and he must know this from my fake ID card. It was one of the things Sergio didn’t change. So why is he telling me…oh. If I team up with anyone else, I could be blown to bits if the other participant steps on a landmine. Most likely, I’m the only one here who weighs less than 150 pounds. If I run alone, I’m pretty much guaranteed that I’ll make the first obstacle.

  I tuck an imaginary stray hair behind my ear. “I don’t think it’s fair that you’re telling me this.”

  “Nothing in life is fair. You are free to use the information anyway you want. I know it may not be completely fair, but things are complicated.” He opens his mouth to speak, but closes it again. Then he opens his mouth again. “I don’t like anything about Savage Run or the creators of it. My father sells it as an opportunity for freedom, when in reality, it’s just another way to gain control.”

  Whoa, what does that mean? I slow down a little. His comment almost makes me think that he’s planning against his father. Should I believe him? “So why did you choose to work as one of the registrars if you’re so opposed to it?”

  He exhales at length. “It’s the only way I can help.”

  “Help?”

  “My father wanted me to be the venture manager, but I would have shown my disgust for the program too openly, so I declined and told him I’d rather work in the trenches getting to know the participants—the lower classes.”

  Either he’s really great at lying or he’s actually telling the truth.