Arena Three

We all agree it’s too risky to venture into the burrow, even if it does eventually lead out of the crater. If there is something sleeping inside, it’s probably best to let it rest.

“I think I see something,” Ben says, peering into the distance.

Sure enough, there’s another path leading up the crater, made by the same prints as the one we took down. The animals that made these tracks have shown us down into the crater and are now offering us a way back out. They’re like guardian angels.

We go back to get the bikes and head toward the path. But as we go, a new noise joins the thrumming of our engines.

Jack and Penelope are suddenly alert, their ears pricking up, their teeth bared.

“What’s that noise?” I call out to the others.

We draw to a halt and cut off the engines. As soon as we do, the noise becomes perceptible. There’s no mistaking it. It’s the howling of wolves. And it’s close. Too close for comfort.

Penelope and Jack immediately join in with the howling. Bree tries to quiet Penelope down but it’s no use. The tiny Chihuahua is trying to make herself look fierce.

“Quick,” I say. “We have to go.”

But it’s too late. All at once, we’re surrounded by the most disgusting creatures I’ve ever seen. They look like wild dogs, but the radiation they’ve absorbed from having lived in the crater has made their bodies mangled. Their spines are curved upward, making them look more like hyenas than dogs. Their fur is balding in places, sticking up coarsely in others. Tumors grow out of their skin. Saliva drips from their jaws in thick strings, and their teeth, like their claws, are enormous.

I gun the engine of my bike, hoping that the noise will scare them off, and start whizzing around and around in circles, trying to tire the creatures out so that they’re slow enough to take a hit. The others do the same. The wolves chase our bikes, their eager jaws snapping, treating it like a game, as though they’re nothing but puppies. It reminds me of Sasha, our old pet dog, and the way she would lumber around play fighting with me. I’m almost relieved that she was killed by slaverunners; they saved her from this fate, of being turned into a grotesque, cancerous, murderous creature.

We’re burning through our remaining gas fast, and the dogs are showing no signs of slowing. If only there was somewhere to ride the bikes up and out of the crater, but it’s too steep.

Suddenly, I hear a scream. I look back and see Molly’s bike careening away as she and Charlie tumble to the ground.

“Charlie!” Bree screams.

The wolf-dogs pounce on them straightaway. I turn my bike around and race straight at them. Thankfully, they’re scared off and run away.

I leap off the bike and run over to where Molly and Charlie are sprawled on the ground, Molly cowering over him, protecting him with her whole body. I grab her by the shoulders and roll her back. There’s a huge pool of blood there.

Charlie wriggles out and flies right into Bree’s arms. Molly lies there panting, gritting her teeth in agony.

The dogs have torn a hole in her calf so deep I can see the bone. The sight turns my stomach. Ryan removes his shirt and bandages her up, but it soaks up with blood within a matter of moments. He looks back at me gravely.

“We can’t stay here,” I say. “There could be more packs waiting to get us. Can you walk, Molly?”

She tries to stand on her bitten leg but the second she puts weight on it she cries out in pain. I look up at the sheer face of the crater. Not only are we going to have to climb, but we’re going to have to carry Molly. There’s no way we’ll be able to push the bikes up while carrying her at the same time. We’re going to have to abandon them. From here on out, we’re going by foot.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

My feet are blistered and swollen. My mouth is parched. I have no idea how long we’ve been walking. It feels like days. In fact, I think it has been days. The sun has set and risen several times.

With one hand, I cling onto Bree. She’s so weak it reminds me of the time back in the mountain cabin when she had a fever. If she had been well enough to travel with me to the cabin I’d found, where would we be now? Would we still be safe in the mountains, hiding from the slaverunners? Would I have avoided fighting in the arenas and being forced to become a murderer? Or would we have perished in the mountains? There would always have been something waiting to finish us off. Death seems to lurk around every corner.

I don’t even know if we’re heading in the right direction, but I pretend that we are to the others. I don’t want them to lose hope.

The metal collar around my neck is causing me sores. It weighs down heavily on my shoulders, making every step more painful than it needs to be.