140. Scarlet
140
Scarlet
W illow
Will it bother you if I talk? I ask.
No.
Here are the rules. I talk, you listen. I want you to put every bit of effort into getting us to the flagpole.
I’m in a similar piggyback position as Braveheart was, but I fit next to Valor so much better. I grab my wrists that are resting on his muscular chest. His body’s hot, hotter than usual.
I know things are awful. I know the odds aren’t good, but Valor, I have to tell you how wonderful it is to feel your skin under my hands.
Aye.
You broke the rule and talked. Naughty boy.
If things were different and we were a normal couple, we’d be having a bit of sexy banter about a fitting punishment. This is an insane thought because things aren’t different, and we are not a normal couple. We’re not even a normal throuple. The guys are aliens, for fuck’s sakes.
Not even aliens. They’re geneslaves.
But all of that aside, I really like this guy.
I hunker lower to be more aerodynamically sound and not a wind drag. This all might come down to seconds and other than this, there’s not much I can do to help.
Refusing to look at either of our drones’ screens, or even turn my head in the direction of the flag down below, I just focus all my energy on Valor. Maybe all the psychic stuff isn’t just a one-way street. Maybe I can push love and gratitude and energy his way for a change.
I hang in for a long time, sometimes counting his footsteps or counting my breaths just to keep my thoughts off the obvious. Finally, I raise my head and look out.
Three coveralled people are in a heap half a mile from the flag. It’s hard to tell what happened, but their postures are sagging as if all hope is lost. I am not proud of the glee that ricochets through my body when I notice this.
Four teams for three slots, I announce.
Aye.
He’s straining. I’ve known it for a while and pushed it out of my awareness. He carried Braveheart so far yesterday and today. Then a trip back for me, and now he’s racing toward the finish line.
His breath is coming in loud, deep pants. Every time he takes a prodigious leap, as he’s been doing all afternoon, he makes a low grunt. The four remaining teams are all pressing toward the finish. This isn’t about beating the sun to the horizon as it’s been in other episodes of the series. This is personal. We have to beat out at least one other team.
We can do it, my love, I tell him . I have every faith in you. And if we don’t make it, we all know no one could have tried as hard and no one could have gotten as far as fast as you did.
I grip him tighter and tuck my head against his back. It’s up to fate now. I can’t watch.
Valor
I don’t believe in a higher power or sorcery or magic, so I have no way to explain what just happened when little Willow gave me her pep talk.
Maybe there is magic. If so, it’s in the power of love. I feel it flowing from her. She truly will hold no hard feelings even if I fail her—fail her and the other male she loves—we both love. Knowing that, feeling that from her, somehow allows me to pour on even more speed.
I’m taking long, even strides now, feeling energized. My muscles are performing better than they have in hours.
I’m heading down the escarpment, fighting the slipping, sliding shale. I will persevere. I will make it, and I will arrive before the yellow team.
They’re the ones to beat. They’re in third place of the three remaining teams who are all powering toward the flagpole.
Braveheart is standing there, beaming at me. I love you no matter the outcome, he screams at me through our mindspeak. No one could have tried harder.
More magic! My legs can somehow run even faster.
I’m doing it. I’m going to beat the three yellow coveralls, but damn, it’s going to be close.
Open your eyes, Willow. It’s going to be tight. When I tell you, jump off and we both touch the pole. I think there will only be seconds to spare.
Willow
Dear God, this is close. I watch as all three members of the cobalt blue team arrive and touch the pole. Then two emerald greens, one after the other, then a yellow, and the final emerald.
What will it be, Valor and me, or the two yellows?
Another yellow touches the metal pole and yowls in triumph a moment before Valor says, “Now!”
I jump off and touch the pole a full five seconds before the third yellow slams his fist on the pole.
I want to yell, “We did it!” with jubilance, but I recall when Zedd cheated for or against teams in Down to One and Down to Two.
I have to admit my heart hurts that our success means the yellow team will die. I choke back that thought. It was them or us, but that doesn’t make this any easier.
Will she cheat? Tell the entire galaxy Valor and I didn’t reach the pole in time? Even on Earth they can do amazing sleight of hand to convince viewers they didn’t see what they thought they saw.
“Look at that, viewers. Was that not an exciting finish?”
Say it, say it, bitch. Tell the galaxy who won, yellow or scarlet.
“The final contestants to go on to the next competition will be cobalt blue, emerald green, and scarlet.”