Arena Three

We’re still tearing along the road on the bikes, but it feels like the ground has fallen away beneath my feet. I can hardly breathe.

“I’m sorry,” Molly cries over the wind as we race across the parched earth. “They didn’t survive the crash. We have to go.”

Stephan and Zeke are dead? I can’t believe it. I don’t want to believe it.

I look back over my shoulder. They others look as depressed as me. None of us wants to accept the reality of having lost two of our group, and I can’t help but feel like their deaths are on my shoulders. I look at Ben, hoping that the only other person in the car who may have been witness to their tragic demise will be able to refute the bombshell Molly has just dropped on me.

“Ben was passed out,” Molly shouts. “He didn’t see. But I did. They’re gone, Brooke. We have to save ourselves.”

Emotions threaten to choke me. I feel like I could easily give in to the blackness, to give up the fight.

“Brooke!” Bree cries from the back of the bike. “Listen to Molly. We have to save ourselves.”

The sound of her voice grounds me, brings me back to the moment. We may have lost our friends but we haven’t lost our hope. Now isn’t the time to break down. Like my dad would always say, crying won’t keep you alive. No matter how terrible I feel, I have to do what needs to be done to survive.

I grip the handlebars of the bike hard in my fists and grit my teeth, more determined than ever.

“Let’s go!” I cry.

Without another word, we rev the bikes, driving even faster through the thick smoke. We’re searching for a road, a way out. The slavers got into the crater somehow, and we’ll be able to get out if we find it. But driving through the crater city is dangerous. There are still slavers milling around, not to mention prisoners who are desperate to be liberated. The whole time I’m on a knife edge, feeling like my world could end any second. Bree must feel it too; her clutch on me is so tight it’s painful.

Finally I see a steep incline leading out of the crater. It’s been carved like a road, winding up the crater edge. I pray our bikes can handle such a difficult climb.

“THERE!” I cry to the others.

One by one we start to race up the steep road. I’m gunning the bike, knowing the only thing that will carry me up is speed. As we burst through the cloud of smoke, I know we’re now in plain view of all the slavers below. There’s no hiding on the crater’s edge. We’re completely exposed.

It’s then that I hear someone cry out. Instantly, I recognize the voice as belonging to Ben.

I look back and see that his battered bike is struggling to get up the incline. It has clearly been damaged in all the fighting and is starting to give out. It’s getting slower and slower. Behind him, racing along on their own bikes, are a group of slavers.

“Ryan!” I shout. “You have to go back for Ben.”

Ryan grits his teeth. “No way. If I go back, the slavers will get me.”

I stare at him, horrified. “We can’t leave him!”

“We left Zeke,” he spits back. “We left Stephan.”

“They died, Ryan. You heard Molly. We have to let them go. But Ben is still alive and he needs our help!”

Behind me, clinging on with dear life, Bree starts to cry.

“Please,” she begs Ryan. “You’re the only one with a spare space. Don’t leave Ben to die.”

The motorbikes are getting so close to Ben now it’s almost too much to watch. I feel like every muscle in my body has tensed as I wait for Ryan’s decision.

Finally, he lets out a deep sigh and turns his bike around, heading for Ben. The rest of us keep gunning it along the narrow pathway, racing up and up, higher and higher. I can’t look back, terrified that I’ve sent Ryan to his death. I can’t lose them both.

“BREE!” I shout over the roaring wind and revving engine. “What’s happening?”

I can feel her cheek pressed into my back. The vibrations from the bike are making the wounds from being whipped sting.

“They’re okay,” she says. “Ryan’s got Ben.”

I let out my breath. They’ve made it. For now.

Just then, there’s an almighty explosion. I can’t look back, too scared that if I do so I’ll veer off the narrow road and plunge into the crater beneath. Bree fills me in.

 ”Ryan and Ben blew up the bike,” she cries. “The rest of the slavers are gone.”

 They did it. We’re free. We made it.

 What’s left of us, anyway.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

We travel south, following the dried up riverbed of the Mississippi, riding without stopping. I know it only takes about eight hours from Memphis to Houston, and I’m desperate not to stop. But everyone’s weary, battered, and exhausted, and eventually, after traveling for two hours, even I have to concede that we need to rest.

The devastation here is absolute. Everything has been completely flattened, reduced to a desert. The bombs that caused craters as big as towns in the north have completely flattened cities in the south. What were once bustling metropolises have been completely eradicated. All around, as far as the eye can see, there is nothing. Which means nowhere to hide, nowhere to shelter, and nowhere to hunt.