L Sellers - The Arranger

“There’s not much I could do to train for it. I can only hope that thirteen years in law enforcement and seven as a paramedic prepared me somewhat.” The second phase of the competition tested the participants’ ability to quickly analyze a situation and solve a problem. It guaranteed that physical strength alone was not enough to win the overall competition. Most states gave their applicants an IQ test before letting them enter the finals.

“The analysts put your chance of winning at fifty to one. What do you say to that?” Jessie looked a little smug.

“I know the odds are against me, but sometimes the underdog will surprise you.” Lara recalled the time she’d chased down a plane on a runway to stop a murderer, but she kept it to herself. She was uncomfortable with the interview and wanted it to be over.

“Which competitor are you hoping to be paired with in the Challenge?”

Lara had given this some thought, but she couldn’t share her reasons. “At this level of physical fitness, it doesn’t matter. Every contestant will be equally hard to beat.”

“Jason Copeland of Illinois said he wanted to compete against you in the first round. He says at forty-two, you’re the weakest link.”

Lara gave a bright smile. “He must not be very confident.” The two-faced prick.

Jessie leaned forward and her voice softened. “Some pundits say you might draw sympathy from older viewers and survive the Challenge only because of that. How do you feel about the sympathy vote?”

Lara bit her tongue to keep from saying bullshit. “That’s nonsense. Viewer demographics are skewed young and are definitely not in my favor.”

Jessie spotted the Adonis-like competitor from Texas and clicked off the mic. “Thanks for your time.” She signaled her cameraman and rushed after her next sound bite.

Lara took long slow breaths to center herself. She couldn’t let anything personal or emotional distract her from competing at her best. She wished she knew what was in store for her beyond the elevated maze. The competition was different every year to keep states from copying the Gauntlet for their regional tryouts. The organizers wanted each phase to be a surprise for the participants and the viewers. That element kept the pay-per-view money coming.

At ten o’clock, the employment commissioner strode onto the stage. Sizable and handsome in a charcoal suit, he seemed like a different man from the one she’d found on the floor two days ago, clad in black leather and bleeding from his shoulder. Lara couldn’t detect any sign he was favoring a gunshot wound. He must have injected a numbing agent around the wound before making the public appearance.

The commissioner leaned into the mic. “Welcome, everyone, to the Gauntlet, now in its third year. Congratulations to each of you for being the best in your state. The grant-money prize is bigger than ever this year, thanks to our co-sponsor, AmGo, which plans to build a distribution center in the winner’s hometown.”

The crowd interrupted with applause. Thaddeus Morton smiled for the viewers, showing perfect white teeth, and waited for the noise to settle down. “We’ve designed a whole new set of scenarios that we think will be both challenging and fun.”

Lara suppressed a grunt. Fun for the viewers. For the contestants, the rounds were carefully planned versions of hell.

The commissioner continued. “In the new spirit of national unity, we’ve added a teamwork component to the first section of the Challenge. To enter the main arena where you will compete against each other, you and your opponent must first work together. You’ll be given only five minutes to realize your challenge and work as a team to unlock the door. If you fail to enter the arena in the time given, neither contestant will earn any points for the Challenge, but the person who completes the courses first will proceed in the competition.”

Groans filled the auditorium. Lara tried to visualize what they had in mind by teamwork and who she would be paired with. She hoped it was a woman, thinking a female might be more cooperative, but quickly realized it didn’t matter. Everyone in the room would do whatever it took to earn points. For each of the five phases, the viewers could award up to 25 popularity points in addition to the 50 given automatically to the winner of the phase. In the end, the points determined which contestant went home with the grand prize.

“You won’t know your time slot or competitor until a half hour before your turn at the Challenge. The pairings will be announced every hour and a half.” Morton pointed to a four-foot digital screen hanging near the main entrance. “The start times and pairings will be posted throughout the arena. If you go back to your hotel room, please check your iComs regularly.” In a less friendly tone, he added, “As you already know, anyone caught watching the streaming feed of the contest will be immediately disqualified.”

People from around the world would watch the daily coverage of the Gauntlet, but Lara wouldn’t see any of the events until it was over. Blocking the competitors from viewing was a level of fairness that kept the last contestants in each round from having an advantage by knowing what to expect. The rounds were timed and each contestant went into the arena with the same knowledge.

Lara shifted in her chair, feeling impatient. Waiting to compete was how most of her time here would be spent. She planned to read nonfiction on her Dock and watch breaking news. She would interact with the other contestants just enough to keep the viewers happy.

The commissioner went over a few new rules and outlined specifics of how the grant money would be awarded. Near the end, he said, “The Challenge begins this afternoon at one, Eastern Standard Time, with Kirsten Dornberg of Florida and Lara Evans of Oregon.”

Lara’s heart missed a beat at the sound of her name. She and her roommate were scheduled first and it wasn’t likely a coincidence. Was the director trying to flush them out early or capitalize on their little squabble in the hotel room? Lara decided it didn’t matter. She was excited to compete early. Waiting was not her strong suit. She was also pleased to be paired with Kirsten. She’d asked the commissioner to set her up with someone tall because shorter contestants performed better when balance was required. Had he followed through or had Minda made the decision after reprimanding her and Kirsten? Either way, Lara planned to beat the Amazon woman fairly.

Pulsing with energy from not working out yet, Lara was eager to get going. She glanced toward the exit, wondering if she could leave, even though Morton was still speaking. A blond, medium-sized man stood near the door, intently watching the commissioner. Was that Bremmer, the overheated boyfriend who’d shot at her? It sure looked like him. What was he doing here? Was he keeping an eye on his lover… or had he followed her and asked about her at the hotel?

Lara jumped from her seat and strode toward the man, thinking she would drag him out of the room and confront him. He saw her coming and a look of recognition flashed on his face. The man bolted as Lara heard her named called again and had to turn back.

Six and a half months earlier: Tues, Nov. 15

Paul woke from a heart-pounding dream, realized today was the money drop, and broke into a sweat. He’d never experienced this kind of anxiety before. His sedate, predictable life had disappeared.

Determined to calm his escalating pulse, Paul emptied his mind and began his morning routine. While he brewed a pot of jasmine green tea, he took Lilly out for her morning pee. When he got back, he carried his mug and his Dock to the chair by the big window and read selective sections of the Wall Street Journal. Usually he would search the internet for a new charity, but today he felt impatient, so he went to the Transitions website and quickly donated ten dollars. He’d begun the daily routine of contributing when he landed his federal job. He knew he was lucky, and starting his day by sharing with those less fortunate kept him from feeling guilty when he read the news.