16
We stop in front of the Conference Center, a huge white, glittering dome. Hundreds of participants and their representatives are making their way in through different doors.
Nicholas’s eyes turn intense. “Listen, I…I think you just might have a chance to make it through the first phase. The way that it’s set up, one doesn’t have to be strong to survive, only smart. Strength will only get you so far; intelligence will get you all the way.”
He thinks I’m smart?
“And stay away from Johnny if you can help it. I don’t trust him,” he says flatly, his eyes scanning the crowd.
Yeah, he hates my guts.
Once we enter the dome, Nicholas and I press through the crowd of young men until we catch up with the others. The dome ceiling looks as tall as the heavens, and hundreds of voices echo off the walls. I decide it’s safest to walk next to Arthor, and he smiles at me when he sees me. Passing other participants, I’m certain a few of them look at me with disdain, but I throw the thought from my mind. I’m just being overly paranoid. I’m hardly important enough that they would be thinking about me right now; they’re probably just stressed about the long days ahead.
“I get the feeling imps receive extra perks,” Johnny sneers, appearing out of nowhere. He walks uncomfortably close to me, shoving me just enough so I lose my balance and stumble.
He does have a point. Nicholas did give me unfair information.
“Why are you trying so hard to make yourself look stronger and superior?” Arthor asks Johnny.
“I’m not trying to make myself look stronger and superior. I am stronger and superior. Thing is, it makes me angry when another participant gets an unfair advantage over me,” Johnny says, shoving me a little harder so I go tumbling toward the ground. Fortunately, Arthor catches me.
“Come on, man,” Arthor says, helping me find my balance. “Give him some slack.”
“Slack? Are you serious? Are you on the imp’s side? Don’t you see that Joseph is receiving preferential treatment?”
“Just drop it,” Arthor says.
“Hey, I’m just speaking up for everyone,” Johnny says. “This is ridiculous. Seriously…” He huffs, but thankfully he shuts up and walks ahead to the front of our group.
We take our seats in the tenth row, with me sitting between Arthor and Nicholas. There are ten chairs on the stage and a stand where I’m sure President Volkov will speak from. The hall fills up quickly as participants funnel in from every direction, their voices so loud I can’t hear what Mai is trying to say to me even though she sits right next to Nicholas.
When the clock on the wall reads 7:30 a.m., a trumpet march blasts through the speakers. I almost swallow my tongue. I recognize the upbeat melody as the one they played before each Savage Run pre-event newscast. The apothecaries would be glued to the radio whenever I came to pick up medicine.
My father wouldn’t be caught dead listening to it or reading about it in the paper. But I do wonder if he’s watching now, cursing my name, or if he’s rotting away in some prison, cursing my name. Surely he must hate me so much more after what I did to him. I never did anything to deserve his contempt more. And I’m to blame, of course.
The music fades, and a representative with silver hair and an athletic build walks onto the stage, taking his place behind the stand. “Welcome to the Savage Run,” he says. “My name is Otto Jensen, or OJ, and I am the official host of the Savage Run. On this premier day of this event, we have put together a small audiovisual of the ten most memorable moments in Newland obstacle course history that inspired the obstacles in the Savage Run. I hope it will motivate all you participants here today. Enjoy.”
The lights fade, and a projection pops up right in front of my eyes, accompanied by a dangerous tune. The first contender, a fierce-looking golden-haired boy, appears on my screen. Screaming, he wrestles an alligator to the ground with his bare hands. Finally with one snap, the boy cracks the alligator’s jaw open, splitting it in two. The image melts into the next one. A boy with black hair and skin appears on my screen. The boy is one of many clinging onto a tightrope above a glacier, inching himself forward. Bodies lie frozen below, their lifeless, blue faces staring up into the heavens. I close my eyes to escape the image, feeling my stomach churn with nausea. The images continue, each one more disturbing than the next, and I have a hard time keeping my eyes on the screen. The ninth image is of a grossly muscular boy, nothing like I’ve ever seen. The boy runs alongside other competitors in a jungle. But then the boy does something unexpected. He finds a sharp stick and starts stabbing the others in the stomach with it, their blood running down their abdomens and legs. Tigers attack out of nowhere, drawn to the scent of fresh blood. Fast-forward and the muscle-bound boy runs ahead and crosses the finish line first, his arms raised in victory.
Is this the kind of thing I’ll be up against? That I’ll have to revert to so I can stay alive? I look over at Nicholas, who isn’t even watching the screen directly in front of his face. Instead, he’s looking down at his hands in his lap.
The final top ten episode appears on the screen, and I immediately recognize Tristan, Arthor’s brother, as the boy climbing a snow-covered cliff. I glance over at Arthor. His lips draw to a line, and he looks away from the screen. He knows what’s coming. This is the moment his brother died. I look back to the screen, not really wanting to watch, but unable to tear my eyes away.
Climbing the steep cliff, Tristan finally arrives at the top with the Culmination flag in his hand. A redheaded participant makes it to the top, and seeing Tristan, he immediately lunges for him, punching him again and again until blood flows from his mouth and nose. Why would he be doing this, and why is this clip being shown? I close my eyes for a second, and when I open them, somehow Tristan has flipped the boy onto his back, straddling him. The boy kicks his feet against the back of Tristan’s head, and they roll to the edge of the mountainside, the redheaded boy ending up dangling over the edge, above the icy water 150 feet below. The boy screams, and for a moment, Tristan hesitates. Then he reaches his hand out to help the boy and hauls him up, but this act of kindness, of complete selflessness, costs him everything, as the boy pushes Tristan off the cliff into the water below, sending him to his death.
My screen closes and the lights in the hall turn on. I look over at Arthor again, and he has his eyes closed. Instinctively, I reach for his hand, but before I touch him, I withdraw it. I’m not sure my touch would be welcome.
“Savage Run was designed with these events in mind and to challenge both the body and the mind so participants are adequately tested, proving that they are suitable to join the superior Class-1 Master race. I believe every single participant here today has the seeds of greatness deep within him. It is the responsibility of each of you to bring that greatness out in yourself. Just remember, we created this program because we believe in you. And now, finally, for the moment you have all been waiting for,” OJ says. “Please welcome President Volkov and the representatives of the official participating countries, the generous benefactors of the Savage Run.”
The crowd erupts into applause, and I clap along with them, but not because I’m excited. My thoughts are still on Tristan and how with one decision, his life was over. Hopefully, I don’t meet his fate, too. I want to say to Arthor that his brother did the honorable thing and that’s what was most important. But he’s dead. Is doing the honorable thing really the most important? Or is doing whatever it takes to stay alive?
President Volkov strides onto the stage, his bald head catching the light of the follow spots. He welcomes us brave souls, telling us we should be so proud to be the few who still believe in the ideal of liberty and strength. This opportunity, he says, was made for us and for anyone who ever had a dream in their hearts.
I look over at Nicholas, and when his eyes find mine, they are full of quiet bitterness. Seeing him in such close proximity to his father, it becomes obvious to me that he wasn’t lying about how he feels. I can s
ee it in the way his whole body tenses and in the way his eyes smolder. To anyone else, he might just look tough and proud—it’s easy to miss the subtle contempt in his eyes. But it’s there. Very much so.
“Before I reveal in which nations the obstacles will be taking place,” President Volkov says, “I’d like to personally thank the leaders who voted in favor of hosting my program. Most politicians know that sporting events rarely produce a financial gain, which is unfortunate. However, when a country becomes involved in supporting an event such as this one, research shows that there is a measurable increase in happiness among the nation’s citizens. The excitement and partying will infuse fun into the otherwise dreary, day-to-day routine. And who isn’t looking for more happiness in life?” He pauses and ambles across the stage.
And oil, is all I can think.
“Most people don’t really want true freedom because it requires a hundred times more than living in bondage. But you Savages, you know what freedom costs, and you aren’t afraid to embrace it. And now for the grand reveal.”
The moment of truth. When all will be revealed to me. But there’s someone missing, and I feel weak without her. Afraid. Alone. Gemma should have been here with me now—she deserved it more than anyone. Why do some lose it all? I chew the inside of my mouth until I can taste blood—anything to keep my thoughts from going back to Gemma.