Arena Three

It’s enough for him to hear. He spins to face us. There is no denying it; though time has aged him considerably, the man standing before me is my dad.

“Brooke,” he gasps, staring at me like he can’t believe what he is seeing. “Bree.”

And then we’re running, both of us, full speed, finding reserves of energy from deep within our weakened bodies. Dad spreads his arms wide and we run into them. He sweeps us tightly into him. He feels so solid, so real. This is not the man in my dreams; this is my real dad, alive and strong.

I don’t want to show my weakness in front of him, but Bree is sobbing uncontrollably, and I just cannot hold back anymore. My tears begin to fall.

We’re all shaking with emotion. I clutch onto Bree and nestle my head into the crook of my dad’s neck, letting my tears drop onto his uniform one by one. It is then that I realize, for the first time in my entire life, my dad is crying too.

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

We stay like that for a long time, holding one another and weeping. It is like we never want to let go.

“You’ve both grown so much,” Dad says finally, drawing back to look at us. He looks Bree up and down. “Eleven years old,” he says, shaking his head as though in disbelief. She was seven last time he saw her. Then he looks at me. “Seventeen.”

I nod. I wish he could have seen us back when we were in Fort Noix. We were healthy then, our muscles stronger, our hair and bodies clean. He would have been able to see firsthand how well I’ve looked after Bree. Instead, she looks more like a mangy cat.

“You’ve changed too,” I say.

He laughs, sadly, and points to his gray hair. “I look older.”

It’s been four years since we last saw each other, but Dad seems to have aged so much more. The stress of war has taken its toll on him.

He reaches up to wipe a strand of hair tenderly from off my face. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again, Brooke,” he says. “But I never gave up hope. I thought of you, both of you, every single day.”

Tears blur my vision.

“How long has the camp been here?” I ask. “Is it yours? Did you build it?”

I know I sound like an eager child, but I want to know everything that has happened to him over the last four and a half years. How he came to defect from the army and create this place.

But Dad puts a finger to his lips to quiet me, and smiles. “We can talk about everything later. But first I think you should go to the hospital for health checks.”

He eyes the metal collar around my neck, which has given me sores and rashes.

Bree slides her hand into his and holds on tight. “Will you come with us?” she asks.

“Of course,” he says, kindly, smiling down at her.

While in the medical ward, I finally have the metal collar removed from around my neck. It feels like a huge weight has been lifted from my shoulders. The doctor gives me an ointment to help the wounds heal.

“Can we see our friends?” I ask the doctor as I take another gulp of the sugar and saltwater solution she’s given me.

“Please,” Bree adds.

The doctor looks at Dad for his approval. I can’t help but swell with pride, seeing the way everyone looks up to him. He is clearly well respected.

Dad nods, and the doctor leads us through the ward to where Charlie is sleeping, with Penelope sitting on the end of his bed.

“That’s Charlie,” Bree tells Dad with an air of pride. “Brooke rescued him from an arena. And this is Penelope.”

She strokes the Chihuahua behind the ear. Despite the ordeal we’ve been through, Penelope is looking well. If it weren’t for her missing eye, she would look the picture of perfect health.

“You do have pets here, don’t you?” Bree asks Dad, wide-eyed.

“Of course,” he replies.

“Phew,” she says, clearly relieved to know we won’t have to fight to keep Penelope like we did with the Commander in Fort Noix.

Charlie murmurs and opens his eyes. As soon as he sees Bree, he breaks into a huge grin. Bree hugs him tightly and Penelope snuggles in. The three of them stay like that for a long, long time.

“It was touch and go,” the doctor informs me. “His dehydration was so severe he had a seizure.”

I press my hand to my mouth, alarmed at the thought of poor, sweet Charlie fitting.

“Will he be okay?” I ask.

The doctor nods. “He’s had the same fluid solution as you and Bree. He’s on the mend.”

I’m so relieved to know Charlie will be okay. I don’t know what Bree would do without him.

In the next bed along is Ben. His usually pale skin has been badly sunburned, making him a very sore-looking red color. Parts of his skin have been bandaged to stop the blisters from becoming infected.

“Ben,” I say, taking his hand. “This is my dad, Laurence.”

My dad would never shake hands with someone. Instead, he salutes Ben.

“Ben was living on Catskills Mountain, too,” I tell Dad. “He helped me rescue Bree from the slaverunners.”

Despite his sunburn, I can see Ben blush. “Only because Brooke helped save me from Arena One,” he says shyly.