D. MacHale - The Quillan Games

“They will try to stop you, of course,” LaBerge explained. “They will swing the Tock rocks to try and knock you off balance. I should warn you, they’re heavy. Getting hit… hurts.”

Big surprise.

“Of course, the other challengers aren’t allowed to step outside their squares,” LaBerge said. “That wouldn’t be fair.

“Wouldn’t want to be unfair,” I said sarcastically.

As I looked at the setup, I had a feeling of dГ©jГ vu. This game looked somehow familiar, but I couldn’t remember why. There was no way I had seen anything like this on Second Earth, but still, I felt as if I’d seen it before. I didn’t spend much time wondering about it. I had other things to sweat about. Getting hit with a swinging ball didn’t seem like that big of a deal though. Even if I got knocked down a few times, the worst that would happen is I’d be black and blue. It would be like playing dodgeball at home, only the balls would be a little harder and I had to be better at dodging. How bad could it be?

LaBerge explained exactly how bad it could be.

“Oh, one other teensy little thing,” he said. “It would be in your best interest to gather the flags quickly. For after sixty clicks…” He made a gesture to nobody in particular. All three challengers let go of the silver balls and let them swing free. Good thing because a moment later I heard a sharp sound, like a knife being sharpened. Or three knives. My stomach dropped when I saw that the silver balls had changed. A ring appeared around each one that made it look like the planet Saturn. The ring stood out from its orb by about six inches all the way around. “Razor sharp,” LaBerge explained. I then heard a steady hummm sound. The circular blades began to spin. The Tock rocks had transformed into buzz saws. “Quite effective for cutting off limbs… and other body parts.”

Gulp.

LaBerge continued, “Once the blades appear, the challengers use those metal rods to control the Tock rocks. Wouldn’t want them to lose an arm. This game isn’t about them; it’s about you.”

“You’re a sick guy, you know that?” I said to LaBerge.

He chuckled. “The blades make for an interesting contest.”

Interesting contest? I could think of a few other words to describe it. LaBerge made another gesture. The blades stopped spinning and retracted into the silver balls. The three challengers each retrieved one and they went back to their positions. I wondered who was controlling all this apparatus. Probably some behind-the-scenes dados.

“So what happens if I duck these things for the full time and don’t get all the flags?” I asked.

Veego walked up next to me and said, “You’ll start over, only the second time around, the blades will be out from the start. You’ll keep playing until you get all the flags… or bleed to death.”

I hated Quillan.

Glancing back, I saw Nevva Winter standing in the entrance to this gym-from-hell. She gave me a slight helpless shrug. It looked as if she genuinely felt sorry for me. Not that it did me a lot of good.

“Let’s begin!” Veego announced.

She cleared her throat and strode to the center of the ring. LaBerge quickly returned the flag to its pedestal and joined her. With a wave of her hand, the lights went out. We were in pitch darkness. Music blasted from unseen speakers. It was the same kind of upbeat thumping music I’d heard before they played the Tato match. The show had begun. A moment later multicolored strobe lights swept the arena. The other challengers didn’t move. They kept looking straight ahead. Sixty ticks. That’s when the blades would come out. I needed to get those flags in sixty clicks of that clock. How long was a click? A second? Two seconds? A half second? Whatever it was, after sixty of them I’d be deli meat.

A spotlight hit Veego and LaBerge.

“Click click click…,” LaBerge sang. “It’s time to make your pick. Eyes on the clock, watch for the rock, it’s time to play some Tock!”

His rhymes were getting old.

“Good evening to the citizens here in Rune and across all of Quillan,” Veego announced like a circus ringmaster. “Tonight we present you with a unique event. A new challenger has joined us, and has requested that he be given the chance to compete in the games immediately.” Liar.

“LaBerge and I are only too happy to accommodate him, and bring the contest to you in this special presentation! We have high hopes for this challenger, though as of yet he is untested. Will he survive the dangers of Tock? Or is he simply another pretender who will fall to the blades?”

Man, she really knew how to sell it. Or sell me.

“Of course, wagering on an unknown is a risk, but if the new challenger succeeds in gathering all the flags, a full wager will provide you with enough nutrition to feed you and another citizen of your choice for the unheard-of time span of four quads!”

What? These people were gambling for food? How long was a quad? A day? A week? A year? The time frame didn’t matter as much as the payoff. How bad were things on Quillan if people had to gamble for food?

“Of course,” LaBerge added, “you don’t have to make a full wager. Perhaps you think the challenger will retrieve only one flag. Or two. Or run out of time and need to try a second time. Or perhaps you feel he will lose an arm! There are so many ways to wager, but you must hurry because the match will soon begin.”

This was just wrong.

“Introducing,” Veego said, “for the first time in the city of Rune, or anywhere else on Quillan, our new competitor. Will he last? Will he fail? Will he move on to become a force to be cheered? Or die here before his career begins?”

Good questions.

“It is my pleasure,” Veego said, raising her voice, “to present to you, the new… Challenger Red!”

The music pumped hotter as I was hit had all I could do not to shield my eyes from the light. That would have made me look like an idiot. Not that I should have cared. It was an odd feeling. I didn’t see the cameras, but I assumed that our images were being transmitted all over Quillan, just like the match that killed the Traveler from Quillan. But here in this lonely gym there were no crowds. There was no cheering. There was music, but that was about it. I wondered if Saint Dane was watching.

I walked slowly into the ring, toward Veego and LaBerge. The numbers on the overhead scoreboard started flashing. It looked like a computer screen, with numbers rising and falling quickly. I had no idea how the betting was going. Did people get a look at me and think I had a chance? Or did they think I was pitiful and would soon be swimming in my own blood? Truth be told, I didn’t care what anybody thought. I wasn’t fighting for food, I was fighting for survival. Veego and LaBerge glanced up at the flashing numbers. They frowned and gave each other knowing looks.

“What?” I asked.

“You’re not inspiring confidence,” Veego answered. “The betting is running twenty to one against you.”

Great. Everybody thought I would soon be hamburger.

“Good luck,” Veego said, and strode off.

“Have fun with it,” LaBerge said, and clapped me on the shoulder.

Fun? You say that to somebody before a basketball game, not a date with three swinging guillotines. LaBerge hopped out of the ring. I was left alone. The strobe lights kept flashing and the spotlights swept the floor. It was unnerving. Every time I got hit with a light, I was momentarily blinded.

“When do the lights stop?” I asked.

“They don’t!” LaBerge called back. “It’s all part of the fun.”

Right. More fun.

Above me the numbers on the board continued to move. I didn’t know how long they were going to wait until closing the betting. I took the time to look around and formulate a strategy. An idea hit me that seemed too good to be true. I looked up and judged how far those killer pendulum balls would swing outside the circle, and guesstimated that it wouldn’t be all that far. Nobody told me I couldn’t leave the circle. I figured that all I had to do was run outside beyond the swing of those balls, then duck back inside to grab each flag. Could it be that easy?