Arena Three

The crowds stretch up in the bleachers as far as my eyes can see. I’m shocked to discover that none of them are biovictims. Whereas the spectators in the other cities had been deformed and mutated by radiation, their nuclear fried brains turning them into savage beasts, the people here have no such excuse. They’re humans, just like me, ordinary people who survived the war. But every single citizen of the city must be here—the elderly, the young, everyone’s turned out to watch my death. I wish I could find a way to empathize with them, to remind myself that they’re victims of a brutal society as well. But I just can’t do it. They had the same choice I was confronted with back in Arena 1: join them or fight them. They’ve chosen the path of least resistance and for that, I can never forgive them.

Any residue of shame I felt about blowing this place to smithereens dissipates. These people deserve to die. Now I just hope that I activated the GPS device, that the bombs are on their way. But it’s already been five minutes and nothing has happened yet. Whether something’s alerted them to my being in danger or not, there’s no way of knowing. All I know is that I’m still here, the arena is still standing, and there’s no sign of my dad’s army. I’m alone.

The platform finishes rising and clunks into place. But my metal cuffs keep me frozen to the spot. I look around, trying to work out what is happening and what I am supposed to do. I’m on high alert, my senses listening out for the smallest sound, my body feeling out for the smallest tremor. Anything that will tell me where my foe is coming from. I don’t know what to expect. Arena 1 was like a wrestling ring. Sumo, Shira, Malcolm—all my opponents were celebrity fighters in their own right. But Arena 2 was more like a sport or a game. All the competitors were children my age. They wanted us to die but they wanted to be creative with it. They wanted their crowds to be entertained. I wonder what Arena 3 will be like. It’s not giving away any of its secrets yet.

All the while I stand there, I look around at every crevice and cranny in the whole building, praying that somewhere I’ll see a way out, an escape hatch. Other than the disc I stand on, I cannot see a single entryway. But my competitors will have to get in here somehow. Just as soon as they do, I’ll make a beeline for it and take my chance at escape.

That’s when I see movement from opposite me. Another person is coming out of the ground, rising on their own metal disc. I expect them to be my competitor, but once the disc clicks in place and the dust settles, I realize I am facing a child. She can’t be more than twelve years old. She stares at me, terrified, her face completely white.

Suddenly, all around me, children start rising up on discs, clicking into place, until we’re in a circle. There are ten in total.

I can feel my stomach roiling at the realization that they’re expecting us to fight each other to the death.

The announcer speaks.

“There can only be one survivor. Whoever is left standing will be crowned the winner. Let the games begin.”

Suddenly there’s a loud honking noise and the metal cuffs across my feet snap open. I’m free to move. To fight.

The crowd begins to cheer. I can feel the anticipation buzzing in the air.

No one moves. None of my fellow competitors prepared to fight one another. But that’s when the ground begins to rumble. I wobble on my platform, trying to keep my footing, but the shaking is too great. We begin to stumble from our discs, landing on the desert ground.

The second we do, the desert sand suddenly sifts away through a million pinprick holes in the ground. As it disappears, it reveals a huge metal framework on the floor, like a lattice. Then, out of each gap, a red laser beam bursts out, making a crisscross pattern above my head. The arena has been transformed in a matter of seconds from a barren desert into a strange, futuristic stadium. The crowd goes wild, delighted by what is unfolding before their eyes.

I crouch down, certain that the laser beams mean danger. I know that the electricity in the laser beams won’t be strong enough to kill us because that would make the game a huge disappointment. But they’re certainly designed to hurt and I don’t want to risk touching any of them. I have no idea what they’re for when I suddenly see a bright red light coming from one end of the stadium. I look over and see that a huge doorway has been illuminated. It’s the exit. They’re trying to tempt us toward it. But I’m not about to play their game. It’s like a magician, always trying to get you to look in a certain place so they can distract you from the real trick. I won’t fall for it. That exit is probably fake anyway. They just want to see my desperation.

Two of the kids race for the exit. The second they do, the laser beams begin moving, chasing them across the desert ground. They scream in pain and collapse to the floor, writhing around as though shocked by electricity.