Page 19 of Down to One
They’re Coming Straight at Us
Titan
I learned early in life, right after my abduction, that it only caused misery to want. Not only did I perfect the skill of shutting down my desires, but I also learned how to not even be aware they existed.
But if I had ever allowed myself to dream of a better life, I would have dreamed of a female like Blaze. And to be honest, I would have dreamed about a night like last night.
I got up early to watch her sleep. The screens on the two drones above our head are ticking down the minutes until we can get on the move. I’ll wake her when I need to, but right now I’ll enjoy this pre-dawn moment.
Now that I look closely, I see how beautiful she is. She’s not like other species with their flashy colors or feathers. Her beauty is subtle. The brown of her eyes is deep and rich. I noticed that in the auditorium last night. Her face is a perfect oval with a pointy chin. And her lips are a soft pink. I’ve never seen her smile, but often her expression hints that she holds a secret. I wish we had enough time together for me to explore all her secrets. I imagine they’re good ones.
I trace the pad of my finger across her arched brows, then the outline of her lips. I hope it doesn’t come down to just her and me. Killing her will be the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
Her eyes pop open as I graze my knuckles down her cheek. For the briefest moment, her gaze is soft and dreamy and for the first time, I see a tiny smile grace her lips. Then she shuts everything down. I practically hear the shutters clanging into place.
She warned me. Last night she said, “Tomorrow we don’t mention this.” From the stern look on her face, she meant it.
“Weird,” she says after inspecting the drones. “Last night, the screens were scrolling the credits we’d earned. I wonder why they stopped.”
She’s standing, ready to go, when the timer counts down to zero and the AI announces, “You may continue your quest to reach the flag. At noon today, we’ll allow you to use some of your credits to purchase approved items. Remember, it all comes Down. To. One.” Somehow, they managed to make the AI’s voice more dramatic on those last three words.
“I thought we could move north for a few hours, then head east toward the flag. I’ve allotted a few minutes for us to scavenge. Maybe we can find better weapons,” I say.
“Good idea.”
“How’s your ankle?”
“Better, I think. We’ll see after a few miles.”
She cranes her head to look behind me. “Your back looks amazing. You can barely see any marks.”
“I told you, my species heals quickly.”
“Let me remove the plas-film,” she says as she peels the thin see-through protective barrier off my skin. Maybe it’s my imagination, but it seems like she’s taking pains not to touch me.
She nods, then strides off. It’s as if last night never happened.
Blaze
It’s not that I’m doing the walk of shame in front of millions of beings across the planet. I give zero fucks about what any of them think of me.
No, my torment is about Xzavic and me. One of us is going to be forced to kill the other if we want to stay alive. If he’s expecting it—if we’re miraculously down to the end and it’s just the two of us—I give myself zero percent chance of coming out alive.
If I want to live through this, it will be in my best interests to kill him before then.
Ouch. This whole thing is making my head hurt. No. Not just my head. My heart, too.
I try to remember the legend of the cyclops. He pissed off some mythical deity more powerful than him and earned a punishment. His fondest wish was to see the future, so the vengeful god granted him his wish but limited it so that all he could foresee was the moment of his death.
Yeah, the gods are tricky like that.
I always thought it was the saddest story. Poignant. I feel like the cyclops. Knowing I’m going to die today or tomorrow and that it’s probably going to be at the hands of the guy I shared intimacies with last night—it’s just plain cruel.
Instead of going outside to look for a weapon, I head up the stairs. The building doesn’t seem unstable. I think it’s safe. People probably scavenged the lower levels after whatever the initial cataclysm was, but I’m not sure anyone who survived this apocalypse had the fortitude to trudge to the top floor.
Still favoring my injured ankle, I tread lightly. My metal rod is clutched tightly in my hand. You never know, people could be living here. And we’ve been here for hours. Some viewer might have found us because they want to kill us to aid their favorite team.
I find something spectacular on the seventh floor next to a decaying body. Well, not decaying—decayed. There’s a thick bat with six-inch nails driven through it to create spikes. I’ve seen something similar in post-apocalyptic movies back home. Up close and personal, though, this weapon sends shivers up my spine.
