Arena Three

“I just felt the need to put him in his place. No one points a gun at my best friend’s head.”

Molly locks her green eyes on me.

“Thank you, Brooke,” she says under her breath. “And I’m really sorry about our argument.”

“It’s okay,” I say. “Already forgotten.”

Molly and I have never been into mushy displays of affection. It makes me uncomfortable to talk like this. Thankfully, we’ve reached the others and Bree runs up to me.

“Where have you been for so long?” she cries.

“We found a survivor,” I reply.

Bree frowns. “You did? Where?”

“Oh, Zeke’s just tying him up.”

Her frown deepens. But before she gets a chance to fire another question at me, I’m distracted by a noise that comes from behind her. I look over and see that Ryan is stirring. He’s waking up. Molly loosens her grip on my arm and gives me a little shove, as if to say, “Go to him.”

Quietly, I head to where Ryan is starting to bring himself up to a sitting position. He looks disorientated, and his cropped hair is still filled with soot. He manages to prop himself up against the wall, and hunches his knees to his chest.

“Brooke,” he says when he sees me approaching. “What happened?”

I crouch down beside him and put my hand gently on his shoulder. “Nothing happened. You’re safe.”

He shakes his head. “No. No. Something bad happened. I died, didn’t I?”

I falter, unsure as to how much I should really tell him. “You stopped breathing,” I explain. “But it was just for a little bit.”

“It being for a little bit doesn’t make it any better.”

I look away. My voice is quieter. “No, I suppose not.”

“Sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean…” He pauses, frowns, stares at me intently. “You brought me back to life, didn’t you?”

I can feel the emotion lodging in my throat. The fear when I’d thought I’d lost him. The panic. The utter relief when he came back to me.

I nod, slowly.

Ryan looks down at his lap, frowning as though some deep thoughts are consuming him. Then he looks up at me again, leans forward, and quickly kisses me.

I’m completely taken aback. It was the last thing I was expecting him to do. But it felt wonderful, like electricity in my body.

The pleasant sensation doesn’t last long, though, because I’m suddenly hit by a pang of guilt. Ben. Ryan. I don’t know what I want or how I feel.

“It’s okay,” he says, studying my expression. “I’m not expecting anything from you. This world is too insane for relationships or dating. I just wanted to do something a normal eighteen-year-old guy would do, you know? Just in case I die properly next time.”

I let out a small laugh and smile shyly. “Okay.”

Just then, Zeke and Ben return with Stephan. He has a huge bruise from where I punched him, and looks incredibly angry. They’re carrying a box filled with cans of food. At last, we’ll be able to eat. Molly looks at Stephan coolly, as if to warn him that she has neither forgotten nor forgiven the gun incident.

“You must be the survivor,” Bree says with a friendly smile.

Stephan gives her a moody look. “That’s me.”

“Well, thanks for letting us stay here,” she adds, brightly. “We appreciate your hospitality.”

Stephan touches his jaw and winces. “I didn’t exactly have much choice.”

“Come on,” I say, peering into the box filled with can of beans and fruit. “Let’s eat.”

We gorge ourselves on the provisions, and as we do, we look over our map again, plotting out our route. Between mouthfuls of canned peaches, I look at Stephan.

“You said you knew a good route to Texas,” I say. “So, tell us.”

“The Mississippi is by far the safest route,” Stephan explains, pointing it out on the map. “You can follow its path all the way to Baton Rouge in Louisiana.”

“We have a boat,” I explain as I pop another piece of peach into my mouth. “It’s in Toledo Harbor. It would only take a couple of hours to head back and get it. We could send a small group.”

“A boat isn’t going to do you any good,” Stephan says, his laugh closer to a scoff.

“Why?” I ask, frowning.

“Because there’s no water in the Mississippi anymore. The riverbed is completely dry.”

“What?” I snap. “Then why would we even bother going that way?”

“Because it’s still the best route,” Zeke says gently. “And at least this way we won’t have to go back for the boat.”

I chuck my empty can down on the ground, making it clatter. Everyone jumps at the sound. I don’t know why I’m so angry, it’s just that fate seems to be throwing every obstacle it can at us.

“You really need to chill out,” Stephan says.

“Chill out?” I say, getting more irritated by the second. “What about this scenario do I have to be chilled out about?”

“Well,” Stephan says, haughtily, “how about the fact that I know somewhere nearby where we can get motorcycles?”

I stare at him, my mouth agape. “Why didn’t you say so?”

He gives me a smug look. “Maybe something to do with you punching me out cold. It didn’t exactly warm me to you.”

“Brooke!” Bree chastises me. “You didn’t, did you?”

“He was pointing a gun at Molly!” I cry, defending myself.