The Games: Part IV

Someone slams the door shut. I'm the only one who notices that a snake came through with us and it lunges before I can say anything. Street Kid, the one closes to the closed door, slashes out with a knife but not fast enough as its fangs sink deep into his arm.

The severed body falls limply to the floor and Zen Master blasts it with a final burst of flame. Horrified, Street Kid peels the head of the snake from his arm, fangs still long and sharp, dripping with salvia and venom. He drops it to the ground with the most depressing look of acceptance on his face as his fingers hover above the knives at his side. I wonder if he'll end it himself or wait to see how far he can make it before the venom wins.

I stare back at the others with their weapons, wondering where we will go from here when the spiked baseball bat lodges into the side of Zen Masters head, splattering blood as he falls to the ground, head hitting the floor just in front of my feet.

Razor Tooth brings the spiked baseball bat down again and again, flinging blood and brain matter every time she yanks the it back. My stomach turns in on itself and I gag, a mixture of stomach acid and water from the first challenge burn their way through my throat.

With a heaving chest, she turns to me. She's covered in a smattering of little red droplets. One heavy sigh and she drops the soiled weapon to the ground and glares at me. "He won't be able to save you anymore." She rubs her cheek, only smearing the blood across her face. "That $20,000 just got that much closer." She breathes in deeply. "Can you smell it?" She flashes me her razor tooth sharp grin.

I clutch the black notebook to my chest like it might actually protect me for when she decides to pick the baseball bat back up. But her thirst for blood seems satiated for now.

Quickly, I scramble to my feet, flinching at the pain of my burned foot, before putting as much distance between me and the others as possible, but there isn't far too go. This room is much smaller than the other two that we had been in. Each wall light grey concrete, can't be more than a ten by ten room and there are notched lines into the walls every two feet and approximately one foot apart on the floor. I don't see a way out other than the way we came in. The space is too small to be kept in here with these killers.

The overhead lights click off and the screen comes on once more.

Congratulations.

Click.

Challenge Three-Reach for the Sky

Click.

There is only one rule: Survive.

The screen flickers off and the lights remain off. Street Kid is panting, most likely from the snake bite. The venom must be moving it's way quickly through his system. I can't see or hear the other two and that is more terrifying than the darkness and what it might bring.

A loud scrap rings my ears as a sliver of light appears in the ceiling before it grows larger into a square just big enough for someone to climb through. The light coming down is hot and white and as I blink into it I realize it's the sun. It's a way outside.

But once again, the ceiling is too far away to reach unless we were to create a human ladder and I don't see any of the remaining contestant willing to help the other.

Dumbfounded, I gaze around the dark corners of the room looking for some other resource, but the room is empty other than us.

I flip open the notebook, curious to see why if there is anything else in it that might be helpful. Because why else would they leave a whole notebook if they only intended to use one page?

There are several blank pages then a list of words: Echo, India, November, Romeo, Whiskey.

I read them over and over, trying to put them to memory when a jarring screech pierces the air, the room shaking. Just as quickly as it began it comes to an abrupt stop. Startled, I turn to face the others to see them with the same questioning looks on their faces when the ground beneath my feet begins to tremble. The scraping and screeching starts up again as the floor raises. The sudden motion sends me stumbling and I bump into Razor Tooth who quickly pushes me off of her and I hit the wall behind me. A wall that was definitely not that close just minutes ago.

The floor settles and I study the room. There were five notches going up the walls when we first entered. Now there are only four. I count the notches on the floor. Where there were ten, eight remain.

I suck in a sharp breath and then another and another rapidly as my heart hammers away in my chest, trying to break free from my rib cage. The walls are closing in on us. Literally.

The grating echoes around us as the walls move in to the next notch.

I brace myself as the floor shakes and raises.

The room is almost half the size it was. The four of us are now close enough that if I sway in either direction I'll bump into either Buff Guy or Street Kid.

Street Kid isn't looking too good. His skin is clammy and speckled with droplets of sweat. There is near no color left in his face and his breathing is labored. I'm not sure how much longer he'll make it.

As the walls move in again, forcing us still closer together, a squelching accompanies it as Zen Master's bleeding body is pushed along the concrete, blood pools and bubbles up under the wall. His crumpled body folds around my feet and I shudder, averting my eyes and looking up to the ceiling. We're close enough that upon the next movement any one of us can reach the opening and pull ourselves out.

Buff Guy reaches up and his hand easily goes through the opening and he begins to pull himself up. He's halfway through the opening when Razor Tooth comes at him with the spiked baseball bat. The thud as it collides with his body is audible, even over the collapsing room and so is his blood curdling scream as the spikes lodge in his lower back. I'll never forget that sound, like nails on a chalk board.

His legs go limp first, feet dangling in our faces before his body slips down and he's falling the short distance to the floor. I take an arm to the face since there is no where to move too. Street Kid gets trapped beneath Buff Guy's legs. Razor Tooth is the only one who makes it out unscathed.

With a splat, Buff Guy lands on top of the remains of Zen Master's body and the spiked bat juts up and out through his stomach like an unholy caesarian. Intestines hang and drip from the protruding spikes. A gurgling moan trembles from Buff Guy's glistening red lips. He coughs, a spray of crimson mist filling the air, covering them all.

The floor rises again and Razor Tooth doesn't hesitate in making her move. Without a care, she steps on Buff Guys chest and pulls herself up through the opening with the cracking of his chest.

I'm crouching now, knees to my chest as my head and back press against the walls and ceiling. I climb over the bodies, silently apologizing and choking on a scream when brain matter and leaking organs ooze between my fingers. Not having much time to compose myself, I crawl through the opening and out into the open. Razor Tooth stands a couple feet away with open arms and her eyes closed, head tilted back as she breathes in the fresh air. We're in a vast open field with tall grass and an endless blue sky. Tears stream down my face despite myself. I never thought I'd see the sky again.

I look back into the pit to see if the others are following. Buff Guy's screams reach a crescendo as the walls compress his body, yanking the spiked baseball bat further down this abdomen.

I pull myself away from the view. Dry heaves rip through my body and I clench fistfuls of grass in my hands.

"Devin!"

I freeze at the sound of my name.

"Devin, please!"

Hesitantly, I lean back toward the pit and peer inside.

Street Kid is still trapped beneath the weight of Buff Guy in the confined space beneath. He's reaching up, reaching out to me.

And all I can think is that he knows. He's known this whole time who I am and he didn't kill me.

"Devin!" His eyes plead, the only vibrant thing left about him. I know he won't make it much longer with the snake venom in him, but I wrap my sweaty hand around his and pull.

He barely budges. I use both hands and put my back into it. My screams of exertion mixing with theirs of pain.

With one last ditch effort I pull as hard as my weak body will allow me and I collapse back into the grass, with his hand tightly concealed in mine.

Relief floods me and I let out a small laugh before looking down at him.

But there is no him. There is only his hand and a torn and bloody forearm.

To be continued...