Arena Three

I understand the need for secrecy, but I’m intrigued and want to know more.

“So what’s their plan?” I ask. “What do they propose to do? Bring survivors back to Fort Noix?”

Ryan shrugs.

“I don’t know. They’re not rebelling or anything like that. They’re just trying to build their numbers in order to persuade the Commander that it’s what people want. If there’s enough, he might listen.”

“Do you think that will work?” I add. “Is he the sort of man who can be persuaded?”

He shrugs.

“It hasn’t worked so far,” Ryan replies.

I think about my meeting with the Commander earlier in the day. He’d been hard-line about us not joining Fort Noix, but I’d managed to convince him to change his mind. About Penelope too. There’s leeway in him, definitely.

“I’d like to meet them,” I say, “the others who want to search for survivors.”

Ryan nods. “I’ll take you to a meeting,” he says. “If it’s a way to get you to stay.” He suddenly shoves his hands into his pockets and looks shy.

“Thanks,” I reply, grateful for the darkness that is hiding my blush.

“Brooke,” he says hurriedly, “I know it’s early but…I wanted to ask you if maybe one day you’d want to go on a date with me? I mean, I know ‘date’ isn’t really the right word for it anymore, but I just mean, well…you know what I mean.”

His voice drops as he speaks and his gaze falls to my lips. I realize he’s thinking about kissing me.

I want to say yes to a date, want to consent to a kiss, but something inside is holding me back. It’s the shadow of Logan in my mind. It’s the echo of Ben’s kiss on my lips. And it’s the horror of everything I’ve been through.

Ryan must sense my hesitation because he starts to rub his neck awkwardly. “Sorry, bad timing on my part, right? I mean we almost all died today and here I am asking you on a date.”

“I’d love to,” I interrupt him with a hurried whisper. “But I can’t. Not now. Not yet.”

“Because of what you went through in the arenas?” he asks.

I glance away, feeling suddenly uncomfortable and embarrassed.

“I have to figure out how to live in this new world first,” I say. “I’ve spent so long fighting, I don’t know who I am anymore. Do you understand?”

He looks a little hurt, but nods all the same.

Just then, I feel something cold land on my nose. It feels like rain, but softer. I look up and see that it’s starting to snow.

“Winter comes early in Quebec,” Ryan explains.

I keep gazing up, watching the snowflakes fall. I feel happy and content, grateful to be alive and well fed. But I also feel like staying at Fort Noix forever just won’t be possible.

Out of the corner of my eye I can see Ryan watching me, studying me, trying to work me out.

“Will you at least stay for the winter?” Ryan says. “After everything you’ve been through, you deserve that much, don’t you? It’s not selfish to want to recuperate and rest. And you can help far more people in the spring. You don’t know what our winters are like here.”

I don’t answer, but keep looking up at the falling snow, reflecting the twinkling starlight. I don’t want to promise Ryan anything I won’t be able to give.

“If you won’t stay for me,” he adds, quietly, “stay for Ben.”

Finally, my head snaps over to look at Ryan. “What do you mean?” I challenge him.

“I’ve seen guys like that before,” Ryan says. “I’m worried he might have PTSD.”

I nod. I’d been thinking the same thing.

“You know everyone has to work here, right?” he adds. “The Commander isn’t particularly kind when it comes to things like that.”

“What do you mean?” I whisper.

“I mean the Commander wouldn’t keep a useless soldier around. He doesn’t have the resources or the motivation to rehabilitate damaged people.”

My insides turn to ice at the thought of Ben being turfed out of Fort Noix and left to fend for himself when at his most vulnerable. If I’d had any concerns about leaving my friends and sister before, they’re now magnified by ten times. If the Commander finds out about Ben’s PTSD, he’ll be kicked out for sure.

Which means for now, I have no choice but to stay and look after him.

I’ll stay, I realize.

At least for now, I’ll stay.

SIX MONTHS LATER

CHAPTER SIX

 “Brooke! Brooke! Brooke!”

The crowd is cheering my name. My heartbeat races. My palms are sweaty. I start to tremble as I raise my bow. I poise, holding my stance, whispering a silent prayer under my breath. Then I let my arrow fly.

Bull’s-eye.

I hit my target dead center. Flooded with relief, I turn to face the audience and squint against the spring sunshine. As my eyes orient to my surroundings, I remember where I am. Not in an arena, but on the firing range in Fort Noix: a big grassy field, beautiful and tranquil, peppered with the first flowering buds of spring. I’m not fighting to the death, but taking part in Fort Noix’s annual shooting competition.

Beside me, Molly takes her own shot, hitting the bull’s-eye too.

“Molly, Molly, Molly!” the crowd chants.