Michelle Maddox - Countdown

"If you know what's good for you, you won't share any of what you've learned with Rogan."

He let go of me and wiped his hand on his black pants as if to remove any trace of me from his stolen skin.

And then I was half dragged, half carried out of the white room.

Another blindfold. More darkness.

You'd think I'd be used to it by now, but unfortunately phobias don't work that way. You don't simply get used to what you fear. It gets worse and worse and harder to deal with every single time. Even if you tell yourself it's irrational to be afraid.

The darkness made me hear my sister's cries and my mother's screams again, replaying like a horrific song, over and over and over.

But suddenly something made the darkness even harder to deal with.

My implant began to beep, and a sweep of pain brushed through my brain.

The rules replayed in my mind: To separate more than ninety feet from your partner will lead to immediate disqualification.

Where was Rogan?

"Rogan? Where are you?" I said aloud. There was a man at my back who had my arms pinned behind me as he pushed me ahead of him. He was big and strong, and I'd given up fighting against him several minutes ago when they led me out of the building I'd been in and into a car. I couldn't see anything, but we drove for about ten minutes before stopping again. I didn't know where I was, but I knew it had stopped raining. The wind was cool on my face.

I felt something else move past my face with a metallic whirring sound. A camera.

And so it begins again, I thought.

I felt a deep weariness then. Was Gareth right? Was I doomed to die in this game? Was my only chance to try to kill Rogan?

He'd offered me everything or nothing at all. A privileged life or certain death. That was my choice to make.

Knowing what I did now about him, it would be like selling my soul to the devil.

I was still hoping beyond hope for a third option to present itself.

Soon would be good.

I heard something heavy and metallic clang against the ground close by, then felt a shove at my back and I staggered forward, going over on my ankle as I tripped on something. My right ankle twisted and pain shot up my leg as I fell, hitting the ground hard. Instead of shouting out in pain, I yelled with anger, almost a war cry, and I forced myself to get back up on my feet.

The beeping from my implant was disorienting me, and I had to take a moment to steady myself, hands out at my sides.

I kept my weight on my left leg now and braced myself lor the next horrible thing to happen, but nothing did. It was silent then. Too silent.

"Rogan?" I said aloud. "Where are you?"

I felt for the back of the blindfold, hurriedly untied it, and let it fall to the ground. I blinked around. It was dark outside. Night. I could see a dim glimmer of the moon hidden behind the clouds and layers of pollution. Only one star could be seen, and not very well at all. The North Star.

I wished on it.

Please help me. Give me strength.

Perhaps not so much a wish as a prayer.

I looked down at what I'd tripped over. A long, thin piece of metal with a hook on the end of it. A crowbar.

Terrific. Just what I needed. So much for praying.

"Welcome to Level Five! Rogan and Kira are all rested up after their sexcapades, and raring to go on to the next level. The question is this… will Kira find Rogan before time runs out? Or will she go in the wrong direction and find nothing but death by straying outside of her ninety-foot boundary? The ties that Rogan and Kira have developed in their strange relationship - the murderer and the thief - are now more tangible as the farther apart they go, the closer to death they are. Kira has five minutes to locate her partner. The first part of Level Five commences now. Enjoy! "

The first part? I thought, my heart sinking. That wasn't fair. Now they were doing sublevels?

Cheating. Totally cheating.

Yeah, like Gareth cared about fairness. He didn't even care about the game, after all, did he? All he wanted was the subscribers using their implants as much as possible so he could feed off their brain waves.

The thought made me sick.

The sharp pain in my ankle helped me to focus.

I scanned the empty street. The darkness was oppressive, but at least I could see. The streetlights hadn't been properly maintained, and every third or fourth one along the street was dark, either broken or simply burned out.

"Four minutes remain in this level of The Countdown," the announcer said merrily.

"Is this fun for you?" I asked aloud, speaking directly to that bodiless voice that tormented me with its inane cheerfulness. "Do you enjoy your job?"

There was no reply.

Big surprise.

"Rogan!" I yelled as loud as I could, and began to limp along the street. After a few feet the beeping in my head got louder, the pain so acute that I couldn't think straight, so I stopped and changed my direction.

It was like that old children's game my sister and I played once upon a time, where we'd hide something and the other would try to find it. Warmer, warmer… colder… very cold. The warmer you were the closer you were.

Okay. Well, in this version of the game, warmer meant no beeping and I was close to Rogan; colder meant that my implant beeped and hurt; very cold meant that it was moments away from exploding.

Not as much fun as the game was in the good old days.

I tried not to think about how many ways Rogan could be hurt or injured or worse that would make him unable to respond to me. If what I'd been told about the implants was true-the ninety-foot rule-then he couldn't be very far away.

But where the hell was he?

I remembered his hands on my body. Warm hands, so gentle yet so passionate. Dammit. That shouldn't have happened. Even though it had felt so right, so perfect being in his arms, it just complicated things. This situation was complicated enough without bringing sex into it.

All contrived, too. Everything about this game was a setup-especially the reward level. I mean, I didn't know how I hadn't seen it. Food, wine, all spread out in a beautiful room with a big bed? And the huge bath just waiting for me to slide into it to relax. Put me in the mood. The whole thing had we want you to have sex with Rogan so the subscribers can watch written all over it.

And, stupidly, I'd done just what they wanted me to.

I wished I felt worse about it, but I didn't. Just the thought of him touching me, kissing me … it had been worth it. And the look on his face when he realized how much I wanted him? Just a little bit of pain and sadness had left his eyes.

My heart twisted. "Rogan! Dammit, where the hell are you?"

I'm not falling in love with him, I thought.

I'd steeled myself against that useless emotion years ago. Too dangerous. My heart was still mending from losing my family. I couldn't lose anyone else I cared about. So I wouldn't care about anyone else. It was as simple as that.

So simple.

"Three minutes remain in this level of The Countdown."

Dammit, where was he?

I slowed down and stood in the middle of the street.

Think, Kira, I told myself sternly. You've made it through four levels of this stupid game. Think.

I ran as quickly as I could, my ankle shooting with pain as I went, and pounded on every door I could. All locked. I called Rogan's name out again and again.

Nothing.

I turned around and around but there was no clue. No cars. No trees. No high wires. No platforms. All the doors were locked. I couldn't see any sign of him.

And yet my implant had stopped beeping.