Arena Three

Since there’s no one else on the freeway, we can use as much of the road as we want. It feels freeing, like we’re breaking all the rules of our old civilization.

It’s a cool spring morning. By the color of the sky and the position of the sun, I would guess it’s only slightly after 6 a.m. We all managed to get a decent night’s sleep last night and, along with filling our stomachs with Stephan’s canned food, we’ve all woken up feeling rejuvenated.

It takes four hours of solid driving to reach our stop-off point in the woods south of Chicago. To my great relief, the drive is uneventful. After about two hours of cruising, the engines whining in my ears, my friends at my sides, I finally stopped bracing myself for catastrophe.

I slow my bike to a stop beneath a patch of trees. The others draw up beside me and kill their engines. Silence descends. By the time we turn off the main road, fatigue and hunger have set in.

After a moment, birds start singing in the trees.

“Dinner,” I say, dismounting my bike.

I look over at Ryan. The two of us spent months hunting in the forests of Fort Noix, and I’ve been missing those quiet, peaceful moments. I’m expecting him to jump at the opportunity to come hunting with me, but he doesn’t look like he wants to go anywhere at all.

“I’ll come with you,” Ben says quickly.

I look from one to the other as it dawns on me what is happening. The jealousy between them is growing, causing a rift. Before, Ben was the weak one, the distant one, and Ryan was right by my side supporting me. But now, after his near-death experience, Ryan’s the one who’s becoming withdrawn, and Ben isn’t hesitating for a second to step into his shoes.

“You know, there’s a lake a little farther north,” Zeke says. “Maybe we should send someone to fish as well.”

“I’ll go,” Stephan says. “I know how to fish.”

I look at him skeptically. I still don’t trust him, even after he led us to the motorbikes and let us eat his food.

“I’ll go with him,” Zeke says.

“I don’t need a chaperone,” Stephan replies.

“You don’t get a choice,” I say to Stephan. Then to Zeke, I add in a hushed tone, “Don’t let him out of your sight.”

Ben and I collect the bows and arrows and head into the forest. The thick canopy of trees above us provides a nice, cool shade.

We walk quietly through the forests, making sure not to startle any birds. The silence between Ben and me has never been awkward. Our friendship has never needed many words spoken. Ben feels like my companion, like an extension of myself. He’s been there since the beginning, since everything changed for me and Bree. He helped me through some terrible times. He’s seen me at my absolute worst and he’s always been by my side. If he wasn’t there, I wouldn’t feel right.

I pause and gesture for Ben to do the same. He freezes and we both listen to the twittering coming from the trees above us. I recognize it as the call of grouse.

Slowly, imperceptibly, we both move into position with our arrows poised and ready to fire. The second the grouse take flight, we let the arrows go. They sail through the air, side by side, and each one hits its target.

Elated, I swirl on the spot and embrace Ben. His arms encircle me, holding me close. It feels so good to be reunited with him. Being in his arms feels so right.

I hear a twig snap and leap away from Ben, suddenly filled with guilt. I look up and see Stephan standing there, his eyebrow raised, a row of fish hanging from his line. Zeke’s a few steps behind.

“Don’t let me interrupt,” Stephan says, amused.

“You’re not interrupting anything,” I mumble, feeling uncomfortable and awkward, putting some extra space between me and Ben. I don’t meet anyone’s eye as I add, “Let’s get the food back to the others.”

Ben and I grab the grouse from where they fell, then the four of us head back, not saying a word as we go.

We make it back to the place at the edge of the forest where we pulled over to find that Ryan and Molly have made a sort of camp. Charlie, Bree, and the dogs are all sleeping curled up around each other beside a fire pit lined with hot rocks.

“Grouse,” I say to them, holding up the two dead birds. “The others caught fish.”

They all look thrilled.

It takes a few hours to cook the fish and birds on the hot rocks. The smell while we’re waiting makes us salivate. But the results are better than I expected and everyone sits around munching on the tender meat, relieved to finally be resting and filling their stomachs.

Soon, the light begins to fade.

“Should we set up camp for the night?” Molly asks.

“No,” Ryan says. “We should get a move on.”