Morgan Rice: Arena Three

Down the table, across from us, I can’t help noticing a boy who looks a little older than me, feeding strips of meat to a pit bull terrier. The boy looks exactly like the type who’d own a pit bull. His head is shaved, and he has dark eyebrows, brooding eyes, and a cocky smile.

“Who’s this?” he asks Bree, nodding at the Chihuahua.

“Penelope,” she says. “And yours?”

“Jack,” the boy says, rubbing the dog’s neck playfully.

“I thought animals weren’t allowed here,” I say.

His eyes meet mine, smoldering, intense.

“He’s a guard dog,” he replies. Then he looks at Bree. “Do you reckon Penelope and Jack might want to be friends?”

Bree laughs. “Maybe.”

They both set their dogs down on the ground. Straightaway the two begin to play, chasing each other and gently pawing at each other’s face.

Then, to my surprise, Jack bounds right over to me, leaps into my lap, and plants a big, slobbery, hot lick across my face.

The others laugh, while I can’t help laughing myself.

“I think he likes Brooke more than Penelope,” Bree says with a grin.

“I think you might be right,” the boy replies, fixing his gaze on me.

I finally manage to shove Jack off me, and as I wipe his drool from my cheek with my sleeve, the boy watches on, seemingly amused. He breaks apart a piece of bread with his strong fingers, and taps one edge into the juices on his plate.

“So,” he says before taking a bite, “I’m guessing Brooke is your sister.”

“Yes,” Bree says. “And I’m Bree.”

Even though his mouth is full, he says, “Ryan,” and slides down the bench and stretches his hand out and shakes Bree’s.

Then he offers it to me. I look up. His dark eyes bore into me, making a pit swirl in my stomach. The sensation reminds me of the first time I saw Logan: not the warm, slow-building feeling I got with Ben, but an instant, heart-stopping attraction. I don’t want to touch him, worried that I’ll somehow betray my attraction.

Immediately, I feel guilty for having any kind of attraction to him at all. It’s only been a couple of hours since my dream about Logan. I still miss him.

I look at Ryan’s outstretched hand suspiciously. I have no choice. He’s not going to just put it down. I grasp it, hoping I can get the shaking over quickly. I turn my gaze back down to my meal, hoping he doesn’t notice the blush in my cheeks.

Ryan’s gaze stays on me as I eat. I can just about see his crooked smile from the corner of my eye. He’s looking at me so intensely my heart begins to flutter.

“Your sister has a healthy appetite,” he says, speaking to Bree but looking at me the whole time. “And butter on her chin.”

Bree laughs but I feel self-conscious, my blush deepening.

“I was just joking,” Ryan says. “No need to look so angry.”

“I’m not angry,” I reply sharply. “Just trying to eat in peace.”

Ryan tips his head back and laughs; I’d been trying to get him off my back, but it seems as though my words have only encouraged him. His dark eyes twinkle.

“So you’re the one from the arena,” he says.

I swallow hard. “Who told you?”

Then I notice Charlie looking guilty beside me. He must have already spilled the beans about our ordeal. So much for a fresh start.

I don’t say anything.

“I’m not judging you,” Ryan says. “Actually, I’m impressed.”

At these words, Ben looks over. He’d been in his own world this whole time, seemingly lost in his own thoughts, but now he’s suddenly alert, a flash of jealousy in his eyes as he looks over at us.

“Have you just come back from the fields like the others?” I ask Ryan, trying to steer the conversation toward safe territory.

Ryan smiles to himself, as though pleased to finally have my attention. “Actually, I’ve been on guard duty this morning.”

“Really?” I ask, genuinely interested. “How does that work?”

Ryan stretches out in his chair, making himself comfortable, as he begins his explanation.

“A group patrols the outer borders at all times, while a second group patrols inside, making sure everyone’s keeping to the rules. And to make sure no one gets too power crazy, we take it in turns, in a rotation. Everyone has to do it, even the kids. I mean, you won’t have to do it for a while since you’re recuperating, but—”

“I want to,” I say suddenly, interrupting him.

The idea of sitting around doing nothing fills me with horror. If I sit around idle, my mind might start playing tricks on me again. I’ll see Rose and Flo. I’ll see Logan. I don’t know if my heavy heart could cope with seeing him again.

“Well, you will eventually—” Ryan begins.

“Now,” I say, firmly. “Can I come on your shift with you?”

Ryan gives me a curious look, and I can see his eyes are filled with intrigue and respect.

“I’ll see if General Reece is okay with me having a tagalong.”

“Make that two,” Ben says suddenly.

I look over at Ben, and for the first time since we got here, he seems to be fully lucid.

“You sure you’re up for it?” I ask.

He nods, sternly. “If you think you’re well enough to patrol, then I definitely am.”

Ryan nods, looking equally as impressed by Ben as he did by me. But I’m not entirely convinced Ben is well enough to come. He looks haggard, his eyes rimmed with dark shadows, and I can’t help but suspect that he only wants to come along because he doesn’t want to leave me alone with Ryan.

And it’s then that I wonder: what have I just gotten myself into?

Ryan leads Ben and me across the length of Fort Noix, heading for the arsenal, and as we go, I feel satiated for the first time in months. My stomach is almost uncomfortably heavy. It feels good. It also feels good to be heading to guard duty, to have a mission, a purpose, and something to take my mind off everything. Without it, I think I might go crazy.

We pass plenty of people, all as clean and well fed as Ryan is; none have radiation scars or melted flesh from nuclear fallout. None are missing limbs or teeth or dragging a deformed leg behind them as they walk. I haven’t seen so many healthy-looking humans in one place since before the war. It’s almost disconcerting.

Ryan walks beside me but Ben lingers a few steps behind. There’s an undeniably tense atmosphere, one I attempt to ignore by focusing all my attention on Jack the pit bull, who has been tagging closely at my heels as if I’m his master rather than Ryan.

“He’s taken a shine to you,” Ryan says with a chuckle.

Ben’s head immediately snaps up. He frowns. I can’t help but wonder why Ben insisted on coming with us. I don’t want him lingering around me like a dark storm cloud, casting suspicious glances in my direction. We’re on the same team, we always have been, and I don’t like seeing him like this. It reminds me too much of the way he acted with Logan; jealous, wanting more from me than I am able to give.

At least Ryan doesn’t seem to pick up on the tension. He strolls confidently across the compound, like someone who has never seen real death or destruction. Not like Ben and me, whose very steps seem to reveal our past torments.

“Here we go,” Ryan says with an air of pride as he hauls open a huge steel door.

A cloud of dust swirls into the air, obscuring my vision. As it settles, I get my first glimpse of the treasures inside the arsenal. My mouth drops open as I step inside and take in the sight of pistols and sniper rifles, automatic crossbows and AK47s. I feel like a kid in a candy shop.

As I scan the walls, something catches my eye. A shotgun. It reminds me of the antique one Dad used to have displayed behind glass at home. I go over to it and pick it up.