“And mine!” LaBerge threw in.
“So you want me to get beaten before I can ruin your games?” I asked. “Is that it?”
“Perhaps,” Veego said. “Then again, I’m not one to miss an opportunity. If it turns out that you actually have some ability, this little diversion will start to build some excitement around you.”
“Uhhh . . . what does that mean?” I asked.
“If you’re going to compete, I want the betting to be strong. That won’t happen unless the people love you . . . or hate you.”
“So how are you going to do that?” I asked.
Veego gave me one of her icy smiles and gestured for me to enter the arena. “Let’s find out.”
“Veego,” Nevva Winter protested. “This game hasn’t been scheduled. It goes against every protocol I can think of that—”
“Then stop thinking, Miss Winter,” Veego said coldly.
A million questions flashed through my head. Who were the trustees? I guessed that in some way they were the bosses of Veego and LaBerge, but what kind of business were they running that had to do with these deadly games? Whatever it was, Saint Dane was somehow involved. He had to be. Who else would know about me?
The answer to that mystery was going to have to wait. I first had to survive this latest challenge that Veego was throwing at me.
“This way, Challenger Red,” LaBerge said while gesturing into the arena.
I thought about running away, but the two dados that suddenly appeared behind me ended that idea. I was trapped. I stood up from my chair and walked toward the arena entrance. Nevva Winter stood with her arms folded tightly in front of her. She seemed genuinely nervous about what was going to happen. Join the club. I wasn’t sure if she was worried about me, or about what her bosses would say if something bad happened to me.
I stopped right in front of her and asked, “Can you stop this?”
Her gaze darted around like she didn’t want to make eye contact. “I—I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
“Yeah, tell me about it,” I said. “You owe me.”
What the heck? I thought I’d throw a little guilt on her. If she hadn’t shown up, I probably wouldn’t have been headed for another showdown. Maybe if she felt responsible, I might be able to get help from her later. If there was a later for me, that is.
“This is so exciting!” LaBerge squealed. The guy really was annoying.
As I walked, I tried to subtly stretch my muscles. I had no idea what to expect inside that arena, but I needed to be ready. I stepped through the portal into what looked like a big gym. It was at least a couple of times larger than the double-gym back at Davis Gregory High, so that made it about the size of four basketball courts. The black floor felt like firm rubber that sprang back a little when pressed. Looking up, I saw that the ceiling soared up many stories. There looked to be a jumble of apparatus up there that would probably be lowered when needed, just like in a gym. High up on one wall I saw a big black screen that was very much like the screens on top of the buildings out in the city. But this screen didn’t show any images or geometric patterns. Instead there was a slew of brightly colored numbers in vertical columns. I had no idea what any of it meant, other than the two words that were above the columns of numbers: CHALLENGER RED.
“What’s all that?” I asked Veego.
“That shows us how the wagering is running for the match,” she answered. “With some contests, challengers compete against each other and wagers can be placed on either. With Tock, wagers are placed on a single challenger to either win or lose.”
“You mean all the people out there are going to bet on me?” I asked, stunned.
“No,” she said.
That was a relief.
“Most will be wagering against you.”
Oh. Great.
The three other challengers stood inside a large circle marked on the floor; it looked to be about twenty yards in diameter. The challengers were spaced evenly apart from one another and about five yards inside the edge of the circle. Each stood in a square outline on the floor, holding one of those long metal weapons. Halfway between each challenger was a pedestal that rose about five feet in the air. On each was a purple and yellow flag. These pedestals and the challengers formed a circle within a circle.
“So how does this game work?” I asked Veego.
“Very simple!” LaBerge answered. He bounded into the circle of challengers. In the very center of the ring was another circle on the floor. This one was about three feet in diameter. LaBerge jumped inside this tiny circle and said, “You begin here, in the dead center. When the counter starts—” He looked up to the wall opposite the betting scoreboard, where I saw another, smaller screen. On cue, the number “120” appeared. “You’ll have a hundred and twenty clicks to gather each of the flags and return them here to the center. Couldn’t be simpler!” To demonstrate, he ran to one of the pedestals, grabbed a flag, and ran back to the center circle.
He was right. It couldn’t be simpler. But I didn’t think for a second that it was going to be that easy. The three challengers with the weapons pretty much confirmed that. I didn’t think they were there as cheerleaders. Blue, White, and Black. There was nothing unique about them, though they did look to be in pretty good shape. They all seemed to be roughly my age, maybe a little older. There was nothing about them that screamed out: “Highly trained, awesome competitor.” That was good. Maybe this would be a level playing field after all. Or playing court. Or gym. Or whatever the heck it was.
The one thing that stood out about them was their attitude. The three of them stood straight, like soldiers, looking straight ahead, showing no emotion. These guys definitely had their game faces on.
“What about them?” I asked.
LaBerge lifted his hand into the air and said, “The challengers are what make Tock interesting.”
Yeah, I figured that.
While LaBerge stood with his hand in the air, I saw something being lowered from the ceiling. There were three large silver balls on the ends of ropes. Each was about the size of a beach ball and they were tied together. The cluster descended toward LaBerge, who reached up and untied them. Instantly the balls swung free. The ropes they dangled from seemed positioned roughly above the outline of the circle, so the balls swung outward. All three swung right toward a challenger. They each put their metal weapons down on the ground and grabbed the ball that came their way.
“They will try to stop you, of course,” LaBerge explained. “They will swing the Tock rocks to try and knock you off balance. I should warn you, they’re heavy. Getting hit . . . hurts.”
Big surprise.
“Of course, the other challengers aren’t allowed to step outside their squares,” LaBerge said. “That wouldn’t be fair.
“Wouldn’t want to be unfair,” I said sarcastically.
As I looked at the setup, I had a feeling of déjà vu. This game looked somehow familiar, but I couldn’t remember why. There was no way I had seen anything like this on Second Earth, but still, I felt as if I’d seen it before. I didn’t spend much time wondering about it. I had other things to sweat about. Getting hit with a swinging ball didn’t seem like that big of a deal though. Even if I got knocked down a few times, the worst that would happen is I’d be black and blue. It would be like playing dodgeball at home, only the balls would be a little harder and I had to be better at dodging. How bad could it be?
LaBerge explained exactly how bad it could be.
“Oh, one other teensy little thing,” he said. “It would be in your best interest to gather the flags quickly. For after sixty clicks . . . ” He made a gesture to nobody in particular. All three challengers let go of the silver balls and let them swing free. Good thing because a moment later I heard a sharp sound, like a knife being sharpened. Or three knives. My stomach dropped when I saw that the silver balls had changed. A ring appeared around each one that made it look like the planet Saturn. The ring sto
od out from its orb by about six inches all the way around. “Razor sharp,” LaBerge explained. I then heard a steady hummm sound. The circular blades began to spin. The Tock rocks had transformed into buzz saws. “Quite effective for cutting off limbs . . . and other body parts.”
Gulp.
LaBerge continued, “Once the blades appear, the challengers use those metal rods to control the Tock rocks. Wouldn’t want them to lose an arm. This game isn’t about them; it’s about you.”
“You’re a sick guy, you know that?” I said to LaBerge.
He chuckled. “The blades make for an interesting contest.”
Interesting contest? I could think of a few other words to describe it. LaBerge made another gesture. The blades stopped spinning and retracted into the silver balls. The three challengers each retrieved one and they went back to their positions. I wondered who was controlling all this apparatus. Probably some behind-the-scenes dados.
“So what happens if I duck these things for the full time and don’t get all the flags?” I asked.
Veego walked up next to me and said, “You’ll start over, only the second time around, the blades will be out from the start. You’ll keep playing until you get all the flags . . . or bleed to death.”
I hated Quillan.
Glancing back, I saw Nevva Winter standing in the entrance to this gym-from-hell. She gave me a slight helpless shrug. It looked as if she genuinely felt sorry for me. Not that it did me a lot of good.
“Let’s begin!” Veego announced.
She cleared her throat and strode to the center of the ring. LaBerge quickly returned the flag to its pedestal and joined her. With a wave of her hand, the lights went out. We were in pitch darkness. Music blasted from unseen speakers. It was the same kind of upbeat thumping music I’d heard before they played the Tato match. The show had begun. A moment later multicolored strobe lights swept the arena. The other challengers didn’t move. They kept looking straight ahead. Sixty ticks. That’s when the blades would come out. I needed to get those flags in sixty clicks of that clock. How long was a click? A second? Two seconds? A half second? Whatever it was, after sixty of them I’d be deli meat.
A spotlight hit Veego and LaBerge.
“Click click click . . . ,” LaBerge sang. “It’s time to make your pick. Eyes on the clock, watch for the rock, it’s time to play some Tock!”
His rhymes were getting old.
“Good evening to the citizens here in Rune and across all of Quillan,” Veego announced like a circus ringmaster. “Tonight we present you with a unique event. A new challenger has joined us, and has requested that he be given the chance to compete in the games immediately.”
Liar.
“LaBerge and I are only too happy to accommodate him, and bring the contest to you in this special presentation! We have high hopes for this challenger, though as of yet he is untested. Will he survive the dangers of Tock? Or is he simply another pretender who will fall to the blades?”
Man, she really knew how to sell it. Or sell me.
“Of course, wagering on an unknown is a risk, but if the new challenger succeeds in gathering all the flags, a full wager will provide you with enough nutrition to feed you and another citizen of your choice for the unheard-of time span of four quads!”
What? These people were gambling for food? How long was a quad? A day? A week? A year? The time frame didn’t matter as much as the payoff. How bad were things on Quillan if people had to gamble for food?
“Of course,” LaBerge added, “you don’t have to make a full wager. Perhaps you think the challenger will retrieve only one flag. Or two. Or run out of time and need to try a second time. Or perhaps you feel he will lose an arm! There are so many ways to wager, but you must hurry because the match will soon begin.”
This was just wrong.
“Introducing,” Veego said, “for the first time in the city of Rune, or anywhere else on Quillan, our new competitor. Will he last? Will he fail? Will he move on to become a force to be cheered? Or die here before his career begins?”
Good questions.
“It is my pleasure,” Veego said, raising her voice, “to present to you, the new . . . Challenger Red!”
The music pumped hotter as I was hit with a spotlight. I had all I could do not to shield my eyes from the light. That would have made me look like an idiot. Not that I should have cared. It was an odd feeling. I didn’t see the cameras, but I assumed that our images were being transmitted all over Quillan, just like the match that killed the Traveler from Quillan. But here in this lonely gym there were no crowds. There was no cheering. There was music, but that was about it. I wondered if Saint Dane was watching.
I walked slowly into the ring, toward Veego and LaBerge. The numbers on the overhead scoreboard started flashing. It looked like a computer screen, with numbers rising and falling quickly. I had no idea how the betting was going. Did people get a look at me and think I had a chance? Or did they think I was pitiful and would soon be swimming in my own blood? Truth be told, I didn’t care what anybody thought. I wasn’t fighting for food, I was fighting for survival. Veego and LaBerge glanced up at the flashing numbers. They frowned and gave each other knowing looks.
“What?” I asked.
“You’re not inspiring confidence,” Veego answered. “The betting is running twenty to one against you.”
Great. Everybody thought I would soon be hamburger.
“Good luck,” Veego said, and strode off.
“Have fun with it,” LaBerge said, and clapped me on the shoulder.
Fun? You say that to somebody before a basketball game, not a date with three swinging guillotines. LaBerge hopped out of the ring. I was left alone. The strobe lights kept flashing and the spotlights swept the floor. It was unnerving. Every time I got hit with a light, I was momentarily blinded.
“When do the lights stop?” I asked.
“They don’t!” LaBerge called back. “It’s all part of the fun.”
Right. More fun.
Above me the numbers on the board continued to move. I didn’t know how long they were going to wait until closing the betting. I took the time to look around and formulate a strategy. An idea hit me that seemed too good to be true. I looked up and judged how far those killer pendulum balls would swing outside the circle, and guesstimated that it wouldn’t be all that far. Nobody told me I couldn’t leave the circle. I figured that all I had to do was run outside beyond the swing of those balls, then duck back inside to grab each flag. Could it be that easy?
No, it couldn’t. A second after I formulated this plan, I heard a slow, steady hummmm sound. The wide circle we were standing in wasn’t a painted line on the floor after all. It was the top edge of a metal cage! The cage rose up out of the floor until it became a circular steel curtain all around us. No wonder they didn’t bother telling me I couldn’t leave the circle.
“Anything else you haven’t told me?” I called out.
“No, that’s about it.” LaBerge chuckled. “Are you ready?”
“No,” I shouted back.
The numbers on the overhead board froze and flashed red.
“The wagering is complete,” Veego announced. “The Tock match will now begin!”
The strobes and spotlights flashed faster and brighter. I looked around, trying to figure out where the other challengers were. I saw them standing in their squares, holding their lethal silver pendulums, ready to pummel me.
LaBerge shouted out: “Four . . . three . . . two . . . one . . . TOCK!”
A horn sounded. The number started clicking down from 120. I had no way of knowing how much time I had before it hit 60 and I’d start losing blood. Or body parts. I dove to the ground in the general direction of one of the pedestals. I did a somersault, bounced back to my feet, lunged at the flag . . . and got knocked into next week. One of the silver balls hit me like a speeding car. LaBerge had understated it. This didn’t hurt, this was just . . . brutal. The ball hit me so hard in the side, I fea
red it broke a rib. Or three. The shot knocked me off my feet so fast and so hard that I rolled into the steel cage, slamming it almost as violently as the ball had slammed me. It was a good thing the ball hadn’t hit me in the head.
I lay at the base of the steel cage, trying to get some air back into my lungs. I was in a spot where the steel balls couldn’t reach. That was good. But the clock was ticking down. Fast. Lying there wasn’t an option. Looking out, all three challengers had their Tock balls at the ready, waiting for me to make a move. I quickly rolled toward the closest pedestal, but a challenger expertly swung his ball out on an arc. It rounded the pedestal just as I stood up to grab the flag. I almost didn’t see it because of the flashing strobes, but at the last second I sensed a shadow sailing for my head and I hit the ground. I felt the air move as the ball whistled over my head, barely missing me. I quickly stood up, thinking I’d have a few seconds in between shots. I was wrong. A second ball swung at me from the other direction. It hit me square on the spine, snapping my head back and sending me sprawling. All I could do was log-roll back to the base of the steel cage.
I was already hurting and the match had barely started. Those challengers were absolute experts in aiming those pendulums. I didn’t stand a chance. A quick look up showed that the clock had already ticked down to 105. I knew that if I didn’t come up with some kind of plan, I’d be done.
It’s amazing how clear my thinking becomes in times of intense stress. It’s happened to me before. I don’t know if it’s adrenaline or fear or blood flow or whatever. But when the pressure is at its worst, I think the most clearly. It also helps that in situations like this there’s no time to debate options. It’s about going with instinct. That ability has saved my life many times. I looked at the challengers who were ready to bean me again. I looked at the clock. I looked at the whole arena. The answer came to me. I knew how to beat the game. At least, I knew what my only chance was. I wished I had thought of it sooner. When the blades came out spinning, my plan would be done. There wasn’t time to question it. I had to go with my gut.