Tracey Ward - Backs Against the Wall

Rex brings in a large roll that he spreads out on a table. It’s an old map of the Sound and Seattle from back when streets had names and places had purpose beyond shelter from the storm. It looks nothing like Crenshaw’s and I miss the naked mermaid happily telling me hello. This map feels cold in comparison.

“We have so many maps here. Of the entire world, what’s left of it,” Marlow muses, pouring over the paper. “Every corner mapped out, every story told. It’s a shame really. No matter how exotic a locale, it’s made almost boring. Mundane.” He looks up at me with that creepy grin again. “There are so few uncharted territories left. So few untouched lands. They’re a gem when you can find them.”

I stare at him blankly, silently. I don’t want to encourage this conversation any further. Partly because I don’t understand it, but also because I think I’m beginning to.

Ryan is led away by two of the guards, ushered out flanked on each side by them as though he were a flight risk. I watch him go, my stomach dropping out, my heart pinching in my chest. He doesn’t look back and I haven’t decided yet if that makes it better or worse.

Trent and I are given the rundown with the maps. We’re instructed on where exactly the Vashon’s island is and the best way to get there. Apparently everyone and their mother knows where this thing is but no one attacks it. No one bothers them. That’s very telling right there. Like this aquarium and the stadiums. Who are these people? What are we getting ourselves into by going to them? By going somewhere The Hive doesn’t dare to go.

I let Trent examine the maps, his crazy eyes absorbing every detail and committing it all to memory. I’m too distracted to deal with it. I keep thinking about Ryan, about where they’ve taken him, about what exactly this Blind business is. I really hope it’s not what it sounds like.

Finally, Trent and I are released. That’s it, just shoved out the door. Thanks for stopping by, get the hell out. They tell us the boat will be waiting at the end of the pier and we’re welcome to take it at any time. I’m relieved when Trent leads me through the entryway toward the shoe filled fish tank. I was worried he’d take me out of here, that Ryan told him not to let me see him fight. It would have killed me and I would have fought him tooth and nail to stay. No part of me believes that I could win in a fight with Trent, though. Even if I was fully healed and armed, he’d lay me on my ass.

He silently takes me back behind the tank, down another long, dark hallway, down a cramped flight of stairs lit with emergency red lights and straight into the freak show.

The Arena is my worst nightmares made real.

It’s a large dark room full of makeshift risers that creak and groan as people walk on them. They form a circle around a dome in the middle made of concrete with squares punched out to see inside. And what’s inside is what’s horrifying. Risen. Several Risen tethered to benches around the outside rim of the dome.

“It used to be a huge fish tank,” Trent tells me. He has to pull me gently along because my feet have frozen to the floor. I do not want to enter this room. “The part we’re in, the outside , is actually the tank. There used to be glass in those squares between the concrete so people inside the dome could look out at the fish.”

“Now we’re doing the opposite,” I mutter, staring at the Risen that shuffle and groan down on the main floor.

“No,” Trent says darkly. “Now we’re just fools dancing with Death, begging to die.”

I look up at him in surprise. I’ve never heard his feathers ruffled before, but he’s angry. He hates this. But he’s done it before.

“Why did you do it if—“

“Is it true?” Freedom asks me, coming out of nowhere and scaring the crap out of me.

“Whoa,” I say, convincing myself not to hit her when she rolls up on me, getting in close.

“Is it true?” she insists in a sharp whisper.

“Is what true?”

“About Vin. Is he alive?”

Word gets around fast in the shark tanks.

“Yeah,” I tell her, trying to back up. “Last I saw.”

She swears on a sigh. “I knew he was too evil to die.”

Before I can react to that, before I can wrap my head around the insult that sounds like a sweet compliment on her southern tongue, she’s gone. Trent pulls me to the top of the risers, though I wish he wouldn’t. I don’t trust these things. They’re shaking side to side every time someone new comes to stand on them. It’s like the overpass – I can just see it giving way, crushing us all. I can see the Risen getting loose. Attacking the crowd. The low lights reflecting the blood as it sprays over every surface. The screams echoing, pulsing with panic as people scramble over each other. The bites. The growling. The sickly slurps. My mother’s eyes.

“Joss,” Trent says impatiently, bumping me with his shoulder. “What’s the matter with you?”

“Nothing,” I snap, blinking rapidly. Asking my eyes to swallow back the moisture brimming around them. “What happens now?”

He leans in close to speak in my ear. I tense from my toes to my tonsils.

“Because there’s a volunteer for the Blind,” he murmurs low and deep, “that’ll be the main event. The only event for the night. That’s what everyone is betting on right now. They don’t know who has volunteered, it’s kept secret, but they’re betting on whether or not he’ll survive.”

“Is it barehanded?” I ask, not understanding the huge risk, aside from the obvious. I’ve seen Ryan fight off a Risen. I’ve seen him fight off a lot of Risen. He’s unstoppable. This doesn’t sound like the lost cause I worried it would be.

Trent nods his head solemnly. “And blindfolded.”

“What?!” I shriek.

He looks at me pointedly. Doesn’t say anything, just stares at me.

“Why?” I whisper.

“It makes it a challenge.”

“It’s suicide. Has he ever done this before?”

“No,” Trent says, looking away. But not fast enough. He’s worried.

And now I’m over here growing ulcers on top of my ulcers.

“If he runs into trouble,” I ask, my voice breathy and frail, “what will happen if I run in there and help him?”

“They’ll kill you both on the spot. They don’t abide cheating here.”

“They’re cheating now,” I hiss indignantly.

Trent shrugs.

“This is crap,” I grumble.

“This is The Hive.”

By the time some idiot in a sleeveless muscle T saunters into the center of the Arena, my leg is twitching like I’m having a seizure. Trent looks at me, at my leg, then back at me again. I stare at him, begging him to say something. To give me a reason. He smirks and looks away.

“Welcome to the Arena!” muscle man shouts.

He spins in a circle to address the entire crowd. They go insane. My eyes dart around nervously as people shoot to their feet, cheering and shouting. They’re a bloodthirsty bunch.

“In this Blind,” I ask Trent, leaning in to shout in his ear over the din of the crowd, “are the Risen blinded too?”

He frowns at me. “That wouldn’t be very sporting.”

“Are you freakin’ kidding me right now?”

“I rarely kid. Pay attention, Joss. Your boy is about to make his entrance.”

I’m on my feet before I even think about it. I have to stand to see over the crowd in front of me pressing in on the dome. People have climbed the cement exterior to look down inside from the top. I’m sure it’s a great view but one false move and you’re inside the Arena. I doubt they pause the games to safely remove the fallen.

“We have a treat tonight!” muscle man cries. “As you know, we have a volunteer for the Blind!”