Morgan Rice - Arena Three

I thrash against the struggling current, lungs bursting, desperate for air. I try to propel myself to the surface, kicking furiously, treading for sunlight. I dont know where I am or how I got herebut I know I cant breathe, and I cant last much longer.

With one last kick I finally manage to break the surface. I gasp, gulping the air, never having felt so deadand so alive.

As I bob in a fast-moving river, I catch a glimpse of someone standing on the bank, looking down at me. Before a wave crashes over my head, I realize: my dad. Hes alive.

And hes watching me.

His face is hard, though, too hard. No warmth is therenot that he was ever warm to begin with.

I push up to the surface again, fighting the power of the current.

Dad! I shout, fighting against the raging current. Dad, help me!

Im overwhelmed with joy to see him, but theres no emotion on his face at all. Finally, he locks his jaw.

You can do better than that, soldier, he barks. I want to see you fight!

My heart constricts. I look around me, disoriented, and its then that I see them: rows of spectators behind him. Biovictims with melted, tumorous faces. They are braying for blood.

I recoil in horror as the crowd begins to chant.

Fight! Fight! Fight!

I suddenly realize: Im in another arena, its floor made up of water. Its as if Im in a giant fish bowl, with all the spectators high up on bleachers, all chanting for my death.

My fighting instinct kicks in and I tread with all I have, trying to stay above the surface. I scream soundlessly, no noise coming from my mouth at all.

I suddenly feel an icy hand on my ankle beneath the surface, trying to drag me down.

I look down and am stunned to see, beneath the clear waters, a face Id never thought Id see again.

Logan.

Hes alive. How can it be?

He holds onto my ankle with a viselike grip. His eyes are locked onto mine, boring into me as he pulls me deeper into the water, down into the depths.

Fight! my dad screams.

The crowd joins in, and as I am dragged down, I can hear their chants beneath the water, like a tribal drum pounding in my skull.

Panicking, I kick and writhe, trying to get away from the nightmare that is unfolding before my eyes. The water makes everything seem to move in slow motion, and I look down at Logan, his hand latched to my ankle and his sorrowful gaze still fixed on me. He looks at me forlornly, as though realizing that to hold onto me would be to kill me.

I love you, he says, his voice etched with pain.

Then he lets go, drifting away, and quickly disappears into the black depths.

I scream so loud it wakes me up. I sit bolt upright, my heart thudding so fast in my chest it feels like it could burst. Im trembling all over. I touch my body all over as though checking that its real. My skin is clammy to the touch, and Im drenched in a cold sweat.

Reeling from the horror of the dream, I wait a long while for my heartbeat to slow. Its only then that I realize I have no idea where I am. I listen, immediately on guard, trying desperately to remember, and hear a soft beeping noise in the background. I smell the stench of antiseptic in the air.

I look around me and discover that Im in some kind of hospital. Dawn is breaking, casting a pale red light on the clean walls, and as I look around I see I am lying in a bed, a blanket over me and a pillow beneath my head. I feel a tug on my arm and look down to see an IV, while a machine to my left beeps in time to my heartbeat.

The entire scene seems unbelievable, a place so quiet, so clean, so civilized. I feel as if Ive gone back in time to the world before the war. I cant help but think Im having another dream, and half expect it to turn into another soul-crushing nightmare.

Cautiously, I get out of bed, surprised to find my legs sturdy beneath me. I rub the puncture wound on my leg, from the snake bite I got in Arena 1, now mostly healed. So this is real.

The IV is attached to a metal stand with wheels. I hold on to it and pull it toward the window with me. I open the blinds, and as they inch up, I take in the sight and gasp.

There, sprawled out before me, lies a perfectly preserved town. It looks impossibly pristine, untouched by the war. All the buildings are intact, their clean windows shining. There are no bombed out buildings, no rusting, abandoned hulls of cars.

Then my heart quickens as I see that there are people milling about, leaving buildings that look like homes, heading down paved streets toward fields and farmyards. They look carefree, clean, well fed, well dressed. I even see one smile.

I blink several times, wondering if I am dreaming.

I am not.

A rush of hope hits me as I think of the rumored town in Canada, the one Charlie and Logan both believed existed. Have we made it here?

Its then that I think of the others. I realize I am completely alone in this hospital room. I spin around and of course see no sign of Charlie or Ben, no sign of Bree.

Fear takes hold of me. I rush to the door and find it locked. Panicking, I wonder if Im a prisoner. Whoever put me here decided to lock me in, which doesnt bode well.

Just as Im rattling the handle and pounding frantically against the door, it swings open, and I stagger back as a small group of people enter.

They wear strange uniforms, and theres something militaristic about the way they move as they swarm into my room with a brutal sort of efficiency.

General Reece, a woman says, introducing herself as she raises her hand up in a salute. I notice her Canadian accent. And you are? she demands.

Brooke, I say. Brooke Moore. My voice sounds startled and breathless, weaker than I would have liked.

Brooke, she repeats, nodding.

I stand there, stunned, not knowing what is going on.

Where am I? I say.

Fort Noix, she replies. Quebec.

I can hardly breathe. Its true. We really made it.

How? I stammer. How do you exist?

General Reece looks at me expressionlessly.

We are defectors from the American and Canadian armies. We left before the war, because none of us wanted to be a part of it.

I cant help but think bitterly of my dad, of the way he volunteered to join the war before he was even called. Maybe if hed been idealistic like General Reece and the other soldiers here wed never have gone through everything we did. Maybe wed all still be a family.

Weve created a safe society here, she continued. We have farms to grow food, reservoirs for water.

I cant believe it. I sit back on my bed, overwhelmed, feeling relief wash over me. Id given up all hope of ever being safe, of ever living a life again where I wouldnt need to fight.

But she isnt about to give me time to bask in the moment.

We have some questions for you, Brooke, she says. Its important that we know where you heard about us and how you found us. Staying out of sight is paramount to our survival. Do you understand?

I take a deep breath. Where do I even begin?

I recount my story for the General and her troops, beginning with the Catskills, the house Bree and I shared on the mountains, before going into the trauma of the slaverunners. I tell her about escaping Arena 1, about rescuing the girls whod been taken to become sex slaves. She watches me with a grim expression as my story unfolds, our capture and ordeal in Arena 2. The only thing I leave out is Logan. Its too painful to even say his name.

Where are my friends? I demand when Im finished. My sister? Are they okay?

She nods.

Theyre all fine. All recovering. We had to speak to each of you in turn, separately. I hope you understand why.

I nod. I do. They had to make sure our stories corroborated, that were genuine and not slaverunner spies. Suspicion is the only thing that keeps you alive.