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“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!”
The crowd loses its mind again. The noise is deafening and I wonder how I’ve never heard it before, even all the way across town in my loft. They quiet down instantly as the a
“You’ve placed your bets. You’ve weighed the odds. You’ve seen the Risen that will fight tonight. But you don’t know who your champion will be. Are you excited to find out?”
“Yes!!!” the crowd cries in unison.
“Did you vote for them to live?”
“Booo!!!” is the nearly unanimous reply.
The a
There are moans, more boos, curses and exclamations of outrage. Ryan steps out into the middle of the ring wearing nothing but a pair of ratty cut off shorts. His skin is everywhere, open to the air, to our eyes. To their hands. To their mouths. It makes me feel dizzy with how wrong it is. How dangerous. But the crowd is still hissing at him, some people throwing things inside the Arena in their rage. The crowd, in a word, is angry.
“What’s happening? Do they hate him?”
“No,” Trent says with a smug smile. “They usually love him. But they all bet against him not knowing who it was. They’re mad because they know he can win.”
“And they’ll all lose.”
“Exactly.”
“Do you think he can win?”
“If you don’t screw it up, yeah.”
I scowl at him. “How would I screw it up?”
He turns to me with serious eyes. “Keep silent. Don’t distract him. He knows you’re out here watching and that’s pressure enough. If he thinks you’re in trouble or upset, he’ll make a mistake. Let him keep his head in the game. Whatever you see, whatever you hear, keep silent. Don’t you dare call out or scream.”
“I never scream,” I tell him hotly, feeling insulted.
“Well, don’t start now. It’s about to get ugly.”
He’s not joking.
The low lights are dimmed further as Ryan is blindfolded with a thick, black cloth. Then a black bag is draped over his head and tied off at the neck. There’s no way he can see anything in that cage ringed with Risen. It is the dumbest thing I have ever seen anyone do in my life.
The a
“Five!”
Men rush in, grab hold of the shackles holding the Risen in place.
“Four!”
The Risen snap at the men, eager for fresh meat.
“Three!”
A Risen stumbles toward Ryan, reaching for him where he stands in the center of the ring.
“Two!”
He’s blind. Defenseless. Surrounded by death and danger.
“One!”
The shackles are released.
The crowd goes insane. They’re screaming at the tops of their lungs, banging on the boards beneath us, shaking the ground. I’m terrified by it, but not because I think we’ll fall. Not anymore. I’m scared because Ryan is not only blind, he’s deaf. No way he can hear the Risen over this chaos echoing throughout the room.
He’s going to die. And I’m going to watch.
When the countdown ends, Ryan drops to the ground. He rolls forward across the ground, past the Risen on his right and comes to a stop just shy of the edge of the Arena. People reach in, arms trying to grab him. Probably trying to hold him in place so the Risen can get to him and they can get their drugs, whores, favors or whatever it is they’ve gambled to gain. Trent says they love him but they’d rather watch him die than lose this game. Even after all these years, with every part of me I’ve shut down and everything I’ve lost, I still know what love this. And this isn’t it.
“He knows the barriers by heart,” Trent leans down to tell me.