Runner

Chapter Eleven

We were siphoned off inside a locker room, herded together like cattle. They liked us being terrified. Too afraid, and too unknowing, to bother fighting back.  

“Be in control of your choices, everything counts,” a dark-skinned guard warned the group, before he left, along with the others who had escorted us here.

That left just the hazel-eyed guard. He stood in the corner, silent and invisible, if not for his presence that hung heavy in the room. I could feel it when I had my back to him, almost touchable.  

The twelve of us settled around the iron benches. There were two types in the room: those that were holding it together and those that weren’t. The tattooed junkie I had noticed stood with four others. He was the leader, and they were his followers.  

The other six sat alone. The boy who had collapsed in tears was still shaking, he rocked back and forth, his eyes red and swollen. There were four girls in the group. A tall dark skinned girl who looked nervous. The brunette who I’d noticed in the line, an Asian girl who sat still with a stare of concentration, and then there was me. I sat in the far corner.  

“Nine,” the crying boy said, between sobs, “nine of us are going to be sent straight to a centre.”

The room didn’t respond.

“You really think there will be nine of us left at the end of this competition?” Someone finally replied.

I looked to my left, and watched the tattoo junkie walk forward.

The crying one tried to hold back another sob. He obviously hadn’t considered that this competition could be that brutal. He had clearly counted himself as one of the nine who would be sent away, to a future of captivity, now it seemed to have dawned on him that he may not even make it that far.

“I’d bet half of us will end up 6 feet under before the end of the week,” tattoos continued, provoking more terror in the group. I knew what he was doing though.

I tried to ignore it, I really did, but I couldn’t. On impulse I closed my eyes trying to choke back an escaping laugh. Tattoos stared towards me. His face was dark, scattered with shaded tattoos that contrasted against his sickly skin. I wasn’t scared of him though, I didn’t re-coil when he looked at me with hostile hunger.

I sighed to myself, this wasn’t part of the game plan. I wanted to blend in. I pushed off my seat, and walked to stand in front of the sobbing boy.

“I’m going to let you in on something,” I said, “You see elemental powers are far more instinctive than anyone will have you believe. Sure, using them offensively and defensively is a skill that can be honed, but the ability to power and manipulate your element is so animalistic, imprinted in our essence…that I’ve seen necessity turn hopeless elementals into soldiers.”

The boy had become mesmerised by me, his hiccupping-sobs silencing. I knew I would regret this.

“Don’t assume because you haven’t had to fight, you won’t know how when the time comes,” I cautioned, then asking, “Tell me, if you haven’t had to fight you must have been living a pretty safe life. So what have you been doing for the last ten years?”

He looked uncomfortable with the question.

“You studied?”

He swallowed, “Yes Ma’am, maths, a little science, and lots of computing. My dad use to be an engineering professor.”

I smirked, “Remember this isn’t just a competition of physicality,” my tone lightened, as I motioned back to the pack of tattooed gang boys, “and I bet my bottom dollar that not one of those hooligans even know how to read.”