Morgan Rice: Arena Three

“Do you want to come to my house to play?” Trixie says to me, breaking through my thoughts.

Her sweetness and innocence warms my heart. She can’t have seen any of the atrocities of the war, or have the constant terror of being kidnapped by slaverunners at the back of her mind. She’s carefree, just as a child ought to be.

“I’d love to,” I say, “but I’m on guard duty. It’s my job to protect you.”

Trixie beams up at me. “Well then maybe another day,” she says. “My mom will make you soup if you like. Dad made a Scrabble board out of wood. Do you like Scrabble? My sister’s better than me at it but it’s still my favorite game.”

The thought of hanging out with a family playing games and eating soup seems like a dream come true.

“That sounds like a lot of fun,” I reply, feeling a strange pang in my stomach as I realize that I haven’t played a game since before the war, that my childhood, and the lives of many, many others, was cut short by all the fighting. “Maybe I’ll be able to come back and see you,” I finish.

This seems to placate Trixie. She trots off back to her home, although not before stroking each one of the guard dogs.

“She’s so cute,” I say to Ryan as I watch her skip away. “I can’t believe she lives out here with her family. She seems so carefree.”

“She is,” Ryan replies. “That’s part of our job. We’re not just protecting the fort, we’re protecting everyone we can.”

A strong wave of happiness washes through me, telling me I’m exactly where I need to be.

Finally we pass through the perimeter fence and head farther into the woods. It’s colder out in the open and the ground beneath my boots is frozen, crunching underfoot. The new boots Neena gave me prevent any of the cold seeping in like my old, worn leather ones used to. The strange uniform is pretty good at keeping out the cold too.

“So, where is it that you guys are from?” Molly asks Ben and me, sounding genuinely interested.

She has a soft Canadian accent, which invites me in and tells me I can trust her. But I’m reticent to tell her about the arenas and everything we’ve been through. The thought of making a friend, a real friend, is so tempting. I don’t want to scare her off by revealing my gladiatorial past. No one wants to make friends with a killer.

“The Catskills,” I reply. “New York.”

Her eyebrows rise with interest. “New York? How did you end up in Quebec?”

Logan. That’s the real answer. He always believed in this place and urged us to come here. But I can’t tell Molly that. I can’t even let his name pass my lips.

“There was a rumor about Fort Noix, about survivors,” I say. “We thought we’d risk it.”

Ben looks at me inquisitively, silently noting my inability to utter the name of our dead companion.

This time, Molly’s eyes widen. “You’d better not tell the Commander that there are rumors about this place. He’s terrified about anyone finding out about us. I mean you guys are the first outsiders we’ve welcomed in a long, long time. He seems to think the whole fort will implode if anyone finds out about our existence.”

“He’s right to think that,” Ben says, a little too abruptly. “You’d all be in danger if the slaverunners found out about this place.”

Molly gives him curious look, one that seems to suggest that she’s seen through him, into his soul, and has glimpsed the darkness inside. But she doesn’t challenge him, and I’m grateful.

The outpost is a little ways away from Trixie’s cabin. It’s a tall metal structure that stretches far up into the canopy. The climb is at least thirty feet. Molly enthusiastically begins to scale the ladder, showing off her strength. But I falter. Because as I stand at the base of it, I get a sudden flash of memory of the horrible sand dune we had to climb in Arena 2.

“You need help climbing up?” Ryan asks.

I shake my head, dislodging the memory, then grip the rungs. I’m determined not to be weak, not to let the things I’ve been through in the past affect me now. I take a breath to steel myself and begin to climb, Ryan following right behind. My muscles protest but I push through my pain, and after a few moments I’m at the top.

The effort was worth it. Up here at the top, there’s an amazing view all around. The mountains look beautiful, with their snow-capped peaks glittering in the midday sunlight. I let the air stir the hair at the base of my neck, cooling the sweat from the effort of climbing. I completely tune out the sound of the rest of the guards clambering into the outpost, and revel in the tranquility of the moment.

Far in the distance, I can see huge craters in the earth where the bombs hit. It makes me so sad to think of all of the needless destruction, all the death and pain, and I wonder if our world really ever can recover. But then I realize that the craters are overgrown with vegetation, as though nature is trying to eradicate the disastrous effects our war has had, trying to heal the scars and gashes our bombs created. The sight gives me hope for a better future. All at once, a smile bursts across my face.

From the corner of my eye, I can see Ryan watching me intently. I squirm under his scrutiny and let my smile fade. For some reason, I don’t want him encroaching on my private moment. When he approaches I don’t look at him, keeping my gaze steadily ahead.

“I don’t think your friend is enjoying the view as much as you are,” his voice quips into my ear.

I look behind and see Ben, his gun huddled in his arms, looking overwhelmed.

“It’s the height,” I say, knowing exactly why Ben is freaking out, knowing he must have had the same horrible flash of memory as I had. “We had to climb up a mountain in one of the arenas. It was full of spikes that bludgeoned kids to death.”

I shut my mouth immediately. I don’t know what came over me, what made me blab about such a painful secret from my past to Ryan like that.

“Oh,” he says, his mocking smile immediately disappearing. He looks suddenly serious for the first time since I’ve met him. “Sorry, I didn’t realize.”

A feeling of intense awkwardness overcomes me.

“You couldn’t have known,” I reply quickly, trying to end the conversation.

On the other side of the post, Molly takes a seat beside another guard and pulls out a pack of cards. I’m shocked and a little taken aback to see her, and the other guards around her, looking so lax. No one seems to be alert at all. The Commander made it seem as though everyone at Fort Noix was as serious and militaristic as he is, but here are his guards lazing around.

“Don’t worry,” Ryan says, clocking my expression. “Nothing ever happens on guard duty. There were attacks at the beginning but these days it’s calmed down a lot.”

But it’s not enough to placate me. Everyone back at the fort is relying on these guys to do their job and here they all are sitting around like it’s a big game. Even the guard dogs are slacking off, play fighting with one another rather than looking out for intruders. So much for everyone has a job to do! Only Ben and I seem to be alert to the possibility of lurking danger.

Just as those thoughts are crossing my mind, I notice movement coming from the distance. In the area pocked with bomb craters there’s a patch of trees and shrubbery, and it seems to be rustling.

“Do people live over there?” I say, nudging Ryan.

He peers out where I’m pointing.

“In the bomb craters?” he says. “No way. The radiation levels are too high.”

Every muscle in my body tenses. “There’s someone there,” I say.

I bring up my shotgun. The motion alerts Ben. He comes to my side, poised with his rifle.