Page 480 of The Bonding Games: Part 1

Fee-Fi-Fo-Fum.

My jaw hurts from how hard I grind my teeth.

“Player 30: Eliminated.”

“Player 23: Eliminated.”

“Player 20: Eliminated.”

“Player 48: Eliminated.”

“Player 46: Eliminated.”

What the . . .

Twisting my head around, I scour the room for the cause of the massacre.

I find her not too far off.

Near the obsidian wall of the arena, Ezla Zefron streaks along the length of it, a trail of bodies left in her wake. Her arms are up as she slots her armoury sticks back over her shoulders, before they lower to reattach her hands to the inky-crimson handlebars of her Avri tribike, all while the crowd chants her name:

“. . . Ez-la! Ez-la! Ez-la! . . .”

Jesus fucking Christ!

I look around for her stalker, not finding Player 4 anywhere nearby, but I’m pretty sure he’s alive unless I missed the announcement for his elimination.

“Uh . . . guys . . .” Alby’s voice is a wheeze.

“Ah, shit.”

Following Scotty and Alby’s horrified stares, I find Ezla again.

My lungs fail.

The Bonding Games Champion is charging straight for us.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck—”

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” I join in with my bestie’s chanting, trembling voice drenched in undiluted fear.

She’s cool as fuck. But also, please don’t come within a mile’s radius of me.

Please, and thank you.

But I’m pretty sure it’s too late for that as she draws closer . . . and closer . . .

“Snap out of it!” my brother bellows. “We have to move! Come on! We can’t beat her!”

“Fuck . . . yeah,” I rasp out, limbs quivering like mad. “Alright—let’s go, Alby! Left!”

Then the three of us are pelting away from the goddess of death with everything we have.

11

SCOTTY

On the viewing box, the white-glowing countdown reads ‘30:26’.