Morgan Rice - Arena Two

“We have no time to lose,” I say. “I’ll go last and guard our backs. Bree, you go first. Then Charlie.”

I grab Bree, pull her over, position her so she’ll go down feet first, hold her hand, and make sure she grabs firmly on the ropes.

She looks back up at me, eyes wide in fear.

“I’m scared,” she says.

“Don’t be scared,” I assure her. “You’ll be fine. Now go!”

Bree hangs there, frozen in fear. I am sweating: I don’t know what to do.

Suddenly, Charlie appears. He slides over to her and looks at her sweetly.

“It’s okay,” he says. “I’ll go with you. Just follow me. We can do it together. One rung at a time.”

Bree seems to relax as Charlie climbs down with her. They start to climb down together, and I am relieved.

Next, I prod Logan to go, then Ben.

Flo finally seems to be on board – but she stops and looks back over her shoulder. Several kids are running for us, now just twenty yards away. She reaches down, grabs a rock, and throws it at one of them. She hits him, and he goes down. But the others still charge.

“What about the rest of them?” she asks.

“Go,” I say. “Watch over them. I’ve got this.”

She looks at me with something like admiration, then, she surprises me. For the first time ever, she smiles.

“You’re not half bad,” she says.

Before I can thank her for the closest she’ll probably ever come to a compliment, she gets on the rope and begins to quickly descend.

I turn just in time: two kids are charging right at me. One of them lowers his head, and I can see he is aiming to tackle me, to drive me off the edge.

I force myself to stay disciplined, relaxed. I wait. Just like my dad taught me.

Then, at the last second, I squat all the way as far down as I can, ducking under him, and as he is about to hit me, I spring up, using his momentum to throw him over my shoulder. His momentum carries him flying over the edge. He plummets down, screaming.

I can’t react fast enough, though, for the other one. He tackles me, driving me down to the ground hard. He has me right at the edge, and before I can react, he reaches over and chokes me, holding my head backwards over the cliff. I look over and see nothing but a sharp plummet between me and the canyon below. He has all the leverage. I have none.

I’m slipping and sliding, about to go over. He grimaces down, flashing his orange teeth. I realize that he will kill me. This is how I will die.

I’m running out of air, and quickly sliding of the edge, and I have few options. I realize I have to make one last desperate move.

I reach back, over the edge, and just manage to grab, with one hand, a huge root, sticking out the side of the cliff. I wrap my legs around his waist, then slide my body backwards, over the edge of the cliff, grasping the root for dear life. I pray it holds.

I swing over the edge hard, taking him with me. I let go of my legs and he goes flying, screaming, plummeting head over heel down to his death.

The root is quickly giving way, dirt flying everywhere; I manage to swing around just in time and grab the edge of the rope ladder. As I do, the root gives way. Another second and I would’ve been dead.

I hurry down the rope ladder, and as I do, I feel something hard hit me on the shoulder. I turn and see the spectators are going crazy, hurling rocks at all of us as we climb down. Another rock hits me hard in the back, and each one hurts more than the next. I just hope and pray that Bree can hang on.

I am about halfway down the cliff when I feel the rope move. I look up and see a group of kids at the top, watching us, getting the same idea. They get onto the rope and begin to climb down, too. I was right: they didn’t cut it. They wanted out, too. I just hope the rope can hold us all.

I look down and see the others have already reached the canyon floor. I move double time, and scramble down to the bottom. There is a ten foot drop down to the ground, and I hesitate for a moment. I know this is going to hurt.

I let go. I fall through the air and hit the dirt hard. It hurts, but I am ok.

The others are down there, waiting for me. They all made it safely.

“Let’s go, move!” I yell, and we sprint across the canyon floor, running for the rope dangling down the cliff on the far side. Stones hail down on us, but we are moving fast and they mostly miss.

It is odd being down here – like being in the bowels of the earth. I look up and see the steep cliffs on either side, and I realize what a huge climb it will be to get back up. I hope and pray that this works.

I reach the other dangling rope bridge, and stop and look straight up. It hangs straight down the cliff. I yank hard on it. It’s sturdy.

“It’s risky,” Flo says, breathing hard as she comes up beside me. “They might cut it, when we’re halfway up. Or burn it. Our shower us with rocks. Or anything.”

“I don’t think they will,” I answer, facing her, catching my breath, too. “I think a part of them wants us to make it. After all, they need entertainment for tomorrow.”

She looks up, unsure, as the others catch up beside us.

“Besides,” I add, “we have no choice.”

I reach down, grab Bree, and hoist her up onto the rope. “Climb,” I say.

Flo grabs Charlie, and the two of them climb up together.

Next comes Logan, then Ben.

Flo pauses. She turns and I turn with her to see what she’s watching. A dozen kids are finishing their descent down the other rope, copying my strategy. They are charging right for us.

“Go,” I say to Flo. “Protect them. I’ve got the rear.”

Flo gives me a look of approval, then grabs the rope and scrambles up. I climb up right after her.

As I do, one of the kids below reaches up and grabs my ankle. A lanky teenager with broad shoulders, she yanks hard and pulls me down, keeping me from climbing. My hands are getting tired, palms burning into the ropes, and in a desperate effort to shake her off, I wind up with my other foot and kick her hard in the face.

It is a perfect strike, right on her nose. She lets go, and I continue to climb, as fast as I can.

I make good time, catching up to the others, and soon we are halfway up the cliff. I can hardly believe it: my plan is really working. For the first time I wonder if we just might make it.

And then come the rocks. We are all halfway up when rocks begin to hail down all around us. The spectators throw them like crazy, and now they come straight down at us, like missiles. They weren’t letting us go: they were just waiting until we got closer.

I cover my head, as the others do the same, and do my best to withstand the torrent of missiles. I look down and see several kids climbing up the rope behind me – and I watch as one of them gets hit by a particularly large rock, right in the head. She loses her grip and goes tumbling, end over end, landing flat on the ground below. She is dead.

My heart floods with panic. We can’t just stay here.

“Move!” I yell up.

We all start moving again, climbing up, despite the rocks. They come down hard, bouncing off my arms and shoulders.

I hear a cry, and look up and see Charlie lose his grip. He falls from the rope, goes tumbling through the air. Flo reaches out to grab him, but it happens so fast, she just misses his grip.

Instinctively, I reach out. As he goes flying past, somehow I am able to grab hold of his shirt. I grab hard and hold him by one hand, dangling in the air. I swing him over, bring him back to the rope, and he grabs on, behind me.

I breathe deep with relief: I have just saved him from instant death. I look up and see the visible relief on Flo’s face, too, and the gratitude.

But there is no time to think about it: we are under fire, and we all continue to climb our way straight up. Somehow, we slog our way through the stones. We are close, just feet from the top, when the crowd parts ways and a slaverunner steps forward with a machete. He raises it high, and I can see he is aiming to bring it down on the rope.