Michelle Rowen - Countdown

Was that a moment of vulnerability? It was enough to unbalance me again. “I—I’m not imagining anything. I swear I’m going to figure out what your real story is.”

“Sure. Good luck with that.” His gaze returned to mine, but this time it was more guarded. “You think you can figure out what makes me tick other than the countdown in my head?”

“Don’t make fun of me.”

“But you make it so easy.” He gave me a sideways glance, a bit of humor returning to his eyes. “Do you give all the guys in your life such a hard time?”

“There are no guys in my life.”

“What about your boyfriend, Oliver?”

I made a face. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“And what the announcer said about you using your body to get whatever you want?” His gaze slid down the length of me.

I ignored the sudden heat in my cheeks. “It’s not true. And even if it was, it wouldn’t get me what I want right now.”

“Which is?”

“To get out of this game.”

“So, that’s all you want? To get out of this game?”

“Yes.”

“And then what?”

Bernard slipped behind a corner of a crumbling building ahead.

“Then I want to figure out how to get into the Colony,” I said.

He smiled thinly. “Everybody wants to get into the Colony. What’s so great about that place, anyway?”

“It’s not here. It’s a place where somebody can make a fresh start and have a chance at a better life.” I crossed my arms as I trudged along. I didn’t want to reveal too much of myself to Rogan, considering how little I knew about him. It made me uncomfortable. “What about you? If you don’t want to go to the Colony, what do you want?”

“Revenge.” He said it so quickly that it surprised me.

“Against who?”

He smiled cruelly, showing his perfect white teeth. “Against everyone who’s screwed me over. Trust me, it’s a long list.”

His cold words chilled me. “I’ll try my best to stay off it.”

“Good idea.”

“There are seven minutes left in this level of Countdown,” the disembodied voice announced.

Rogan’s shoulders tensed, and he picked up his pace.

“Wait.” Panic welled in my chest. “There has to be another way.”

He met my gaze, and I could see his was strained. “I have a theory. This guy...this Bernard Jones...he’s a plant, a paid actor. Something. Maybe he’s not as innocent as you think. Maybe he knows what’s going on, and this is just another test.”

“Why would you think that?”

He shook his head. “I’m not positive. But, the game...they don’t bring in outsiders. They don’t target civilians who have nothing to do with Countdown in the first place, it’s just not their style.”

“You keep talking about the game like you know all about it. How?”

“You’re going to have to take my word for it, Kira. Just listen to me. If they start bringing in unassuming civilians, then they run the risk of being exposed. The last thing the Subscribers want is to have their friends and family learn their dirty little secret—that they pay money to see torture and murder on live TV.”

It made sense. Even though the cops might not care what happened to criminals, they’d definitely care what happened to the regular civilian. The city might be a mess, but it wasn’t total chaos.

“So, you think all we need to do is confront him? Get him to admit who he really is?”

He nodded. “That’s my theory. I’m hoping like hell I’m right.”

Before I could say anything else, Rogan stopped walking and shouted, “Bernard Jones!”

The man halted and turned around. We were currently in the middle of a city parking lot that was totally abandoned. No cars. Nobody was even in the pay booth. Dusk had begun to creep in and the shadows grew longer in front of us.

Even from a distance I could see Bernard’s wariness as he saw the teenage boy who’d called out his name.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“Just to talk,” Rogan said.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Rogan. This is Kira. We need some help.”

He shook his head. “Not from me, you don’t.”

I looked back in the direction of the mall, but it was blocked by other buildings. This part of the city was vacant.

No witnesses.

No witnesses except for the cameras, that is. Two of them approached from behind us, parting and moving to either side of the parking lot.

Multi-view. How convenient.

“Who are you, Bernard?” Rogan asked.

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“I mean, who are you? Who sent you here? Tell me what you know.”

Bernard shook his head. “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.”

There was a sharp, discarded piece of metal on the ground, and Rogan snatched it up. He moved closer. “You have very little time. Tell us who you really are.”

“There are five minutes remaining in this level of Countdown.”

Bernard’s eyes widened, but he said nothing to give any indication that he was a game plant.

Oh, God, I thought. He is just a civilian.

“Rogan, what are you doing?” My heart was pounding painfully against my ribs.

He didn’t look at me. “I already told you. I’m doing what I have to do.”

I shook my head. “You can’t. Please. My family—”

“What happened to your family has nothing to do with this.” He glanced over his shoulder at me and met my gaze. “I’m sorry, Kira. There’s no other choice. Not if we want to live.”

His eyes held a look of despair, which quickly closed off to cold blankness. Then he tore his gaze from mine and stalked toward Bernard.

Bernard froze as Rogan approached, weapon in hand.

Why wasn’t Bernard running? We didn’t have him cornered.

“You’re Bernard Jones,” he said.

“Yes. I already said I was. I don’t know what this is about. I—I don’t want any trouble.”

“Neither did I.”

The man blinked nervously. “Listen, you can have my money. All of it. Just don’t hurt me.”

“Money doesn’t do me any good anymore.”

I’d approached on Rogan’s left side, and I touched his arm, which felt every bit as hard as that metal bar would.

“Rogan...” He was going to kill this man in cold blood. I could see the icy determination in his eyes. I felt as helpless as I had the night my family was killed, when all I could do was hide in the dark and wait for the horrible silence to finally come, the silence that meant it was all over.

“Please!” Bernard’s voice shook as he eyed the shiny weapon. “I have a family who needs me.”

“Do I look like I care?” Rogan’s voice caught on the last word.

“I recognize you,” Bernard babbled. “You...you’re Rogan Ellis. You killed people. Girls. Killed them brutally. Some while they were asleep in their beds. I remember seeing it on the news.”

A tremor went through Rogan at his words. “Do you believe everything you see on the news?”

“You’re going to kill me, too, aren’t you? Aren’t you?” He fell to his knees and shielded his face with his hands.

“Rogan, please don’t do this,” I begged. I didn’t understand why this man was giving up so easily, without a fight. Without any physical resistance at all. “Please!”

Rogan’s chest heaved in and out. Then he raised the piece of metal above his head as if he would bring it down in a death blow.

But...something stopped him. Slowly he lowered the weapon back down to his side.

He looked at me, his brows drawn tightly together over haunted eyes. “Do you believe everything you see on the news, too?”

My breath caught. “I don’t watch the news. But, no. I make my own decisions. And you...I—I don’t believe you’re a bad person—no matter what they say. I don’t. You’re better than this. I know you are.”