D. MacHale - The Quillan Games

“Who is Mr. Pop?” I asked.

“You’ve heard of him?” Nevva asked with surprise.

“I’ve heard his name,” I said. “Who is he? What part does he play in all this?”

“I’ve never met him myself,” Nevva answered. “But I know many who have. You need to meet those people. They will tell you more.”

“Who are they?” I asked.

Nevva answered, “I lead three lives here, Pendragon. I’m the special assistant to the trustees of Blok, that you know. I’m a Traveler. That you know as well. But I’m also a reviver. There are tens of thousands of us, all over Quillan. You look at this territory as being populated by mindless zombies. It isn’t. The revivers want to take back our lives, and our territory.

Nevva spoke with an intensity that I hadn’t seen before. She was on a mission, though not as a Traveler. She was putting her life on the line to take back her territory. It sounded as if there were others who were just as dedicated. Revivers. We stood looking at each other. I lifted my right hand and grabbed my left biceps. It was the subtle signal that I’d seen the people give to each other who had helped me escape from the security dados.

Nevva smiled and said, “You are full of surprises, Pendragon. So far you have lived up to your reputation.”

“Am I going to meet these revivers now?” I asked.

She grabbed her left biceps, returning the salute, and said, “They’re waiting.”

(CONTINUED)

W e traveled along rooftops. Sky bridges connected many of the tall buildings, making it much easier to move quickly. I was surprised more people didn’t use them. At one point we stopped on a rooftop to watch a game that was being broadcast. We were on the same level as one of the giant screens. It was like watching an IMAX movie from the first row. It was big, loud, and exciting.

The match was between the champion. Challenger Green, and Challenger Blue. I recognized Blue from hanging around the castle, and from the two parties I had attended. Of course I also recognized Green. He was the man, after all.

The contest looked like an obstacle course. The challengers had to run through the woods, climb fences, swim, tightrope walk-you know, an obstacle course. I won’t bore you with the details. I will tell you the one thing about the contest that got my interest. Challenger Green wasn’t that good. I mean, he was okay, but the course gave him trouble, and Challenger Blue made it a good race.

“Green might lose,” I said as we watched the race.

“It is only a matter of time before he is beaten,” Nevva said. “He has been lucky.”

The crowd was definitely into it. I looked down to see thousands of people choking the streets, all staring up at the screen. It was like watching one of those massive crowds at a World Cup soccer game. The only difference here was that there was a lot more at stake for the spectators. I wondered how many of them would end up on that grisly line in that old train station after this game was over. If Challenger Blue pulled off the upset, I’d guess there would be a lot. I actually found myself rooting for Challenger Green, if only because he was the favorite and most people had probably bet on him.

“Challenger Green is slow footed,” Nevva said. “He’s strong, but clumsy. His real strength comes from his attitude. He’s ruthless. He never panics. I’m sure that when he is matched up against someone as confident as he is, he’ll lose.”

“You know a lot about these games,” I commented.

“It’s part of my job,” she said. “I may not like it, but I have to keep up with the games.”

“This race doesn’t look all that dangerous,” I said.

“Compared to many, it isn’t,” Nevva answered. “Both challengers usually survive, unless they make a wrong move on the course. There are many treacherous obstacles.”

The last obstacle of the course consisted of two ropes that spanned a wide pit. The challengers had to grab a rope and make their way across. Falling would hurt. It looked to be around a thirty-foot drop, which was bad enough, but there were no cushy pads down there. The span beneath the ropes was littered by what looked like chunks of sharp metal. Challenger Blue hit the ropes first. He had a comfortable lead. Unless Green could make up the huge gap, he was done, and Blue would triumph. Challenger Blue grabbed one rope and threw his legs up, hooking it with his feet. That was his technique. He moved head first, upside down, pulling himself along with his hands. Having his legs up on the rope took some of the weight off his arms. Smart move. It looked for sure that he was going to win.

Challenger Green wasn’t giving up, though it sure seemed like it at first. When he reached the spot where he was supposed to grab the rope, he stopped. The guy looked winded. I thought he was done. The crowd went nuts. They yelled at the screen, as if he could hear them, begging him to keep moving. I could almost feel the anguish rise up from the crowd below. The favorite was about to lose. There was going to be hell to pay, literally.

Challenger Green had other plans. He took a deep breath. I thought he was going to jump up onto the rope. He didn’t. He reached down to his ankle, lifted up the bottom of his pants, and from out of his shoe he pulled a knife. It was the same kind of knife we were given during meals. It wasn’t a weapon, but it was sharp.

“What’s he doing?” I asked. “Is that allowed?”

“Everything is allowed,” Nevva answered. “The only rule is to get to the finish line before your opponent. How you do it is your choice.”

Challenger Green casually reached up and began sawing through Challenger Blue’s rope! The crowd’s anguish turned to cheers of delight. They weren’t stunned by his cruel tactic, just the opposite. They saw this as a way for him to win, and they yelled for him to hurry. I guess when your life is at stake, sportsmanship doesn’t count. Neither does murder. Challenger Blue saw what was happening and tried to speed up. I couldn’t believe it. Nevva was right. Challenger Green was ruthless. He didn’t have the skill to beat Challenger Blue, so he had to cheat. But then again, if there were no rules, he wasn’t really cheating. Many in the crowd below screamed for Blue to hurry. They didn’t care that he might get hurt; they wanted him to win. He didn’t.

Challenger Blue was still a few yards away from the end when Green sliced through the rope. The crowd screamed with joy. Challenger Blue just screamed. He dropped straight down, headed for the jagged metal below. The cameras didn’t show him hitting, so I didn’t know how badly he was hurt. All I saw was Challenger Green looking down at his victim, then casually grabbing the other rope and hoisting himself up. He used the same feet-up technique as Challenger Blue, though he moved slowly and methodically. He was in no hurry. That told me Challenger Blue wasn’t going to be climbing out of the pit. As soon as Green touched down on the far side, the screen went blank and the words winner-challenger green! flashed.

There was jubilation in the streets, though the joyous shouts were quickly drowned out by the sound of sirens as the dados arrived to collect the losers. Nevva and I watched the scene below as people scattered. Some went quietly. Others ran and were chased down by the dados.

“This territory is a nightmare,” I said.

“It is,” she agreed. “But we can change it.”

“I want to meet the revivers,” I said, gritting my teeth with anger. “Now.”

Nevva held up the black bag that had to go over my head, and shrugged. “I’m sorry,” she said. “They have survived by living in the shadows. Their trust isn’t earned easily. Even I don’t know all their secrets.”