157. The Snake Tank
157
The Snake Tank
W illow
Of course, I’m called last.
“The little Earther from the scarlet team,” Zedd calls. “I’m sure we were all unimpressed when she needed to be carried to the flagpole the other day. She’s only alive because she managed to sneak onto the team with her two brawny teammates.” She purses her mouth and tsks as the screens show footage of me exchanging outfits with the Charthian female the first morning of The Game.
The angry gray female is standing not ten feet away and shooting daggers at me. I’m sure Gronk has been a sexist asshole since minute one. She knows she would have had an easier time of it if she’d stayed with her rightful team. She’s in the lead right now, with twelve cellots to her credit. If she wins and I’m still alive, there’s no doubt she’ll take great pleasure in casting her vote to eliminate the scarlet team.
Zedd has set me up to not get enough credits to win if I’m bitten, and to be eliminated if I’m not. I forbid myself from wishing her dead. I don’t have the time or mental energy to spare. I need to focus on the fucking adders.
You saw how the white and purple teams did poorly because the contestants panicked, Valor says. Both females were bitten many times. Let me calm you.
He doesn’t have to ask me twice. Yes!
As soon as I belly up to the aquarium, I’m hit with the rotten egg smell. I wasn’t prepared for it and it throws what little composure I have out the window. Shit. Could this get any more gross? Bile crawls up the back of my throat. The smell is heinous.
The lime green contestant who went right before me moaned and shrieked whenever one of the snakes slithered across her face. They’re riled up and writhing in there.
Before the event begins, I realize they didn’t replenish the cellots. I look at the drone closest to me and say, “Hey, there’s not enough cellots in here.” Fearing they won’t air my concerns on galaxy-wide vid, I say it again, loudly, over and over until a staffer refills the tank.
Zedd really does hate me. I’ve done nothing wrong. I think her beef is with Earthers in general.
Braveheart, I call as the bell dings to signify the start of the event. Can you crouch on all fours so I can stand on you?
I’m the shortest contestant by a foot. While it was easy for the others to stand and lean over the tank, I can’t reach.
Within seconds, I’m standing on Braveheart’s sturdy back and Valor’s calming thoughts are enveloping me. All I need now is to muster my own courage and stick my head in the tank with stinky, deadly snakes.
I close my eyes and picture the three of us cuddled in bed this morning. Their love surrounds me. Bolsters me. I can do this. I open my eyes and take the plunge.
Somehow I do it.
The fuckers are sliding all over, wiggling on my face and in my hair. Valor’s not speaking, thankfully. That would be too much. It’s just me and these snakes as I pick a target, push it to the glass, bite it and lift to spit it in the proffered bowl.
Just like the emerald green contestant, I go into robot mode, like those claw machines where you try to win a stuffed animal. Down, bite, up, spit, and down again.
I feel something sting my jaw, but don’t permit myself to feel it. I just keep biting and retrieving the fruit. Not only does my life depend on it, but my lovers’ lives, too.
I imagine that on the off chance I live through this, it will be the stuff of nightmares for years to come. I think it’s in our DNA to be repelled by slithering, hissing, scaly things. But I’ve shoved all of that to the back of my mind. I just soldier on.
When the bell dings, it takes a moment to register that the task is over. Valor is here, lifting me off Braveheart. Now I’m in both their arms. They don’t look happy. Did I not get enough fruit?
“Start the voting!” Braveheart screams. “Time is of the essence!”
Voting?
You were bitten, little Willow, Valor explains as he lifts me into his arms and hugs me to his chest.
The sting. I was too busy trying to win to pay attention. Reaching up, I press my fingers to my jawline and feel the hot, painful bump.
“As we already showed, our little Earther cheated to get on her lovers’ team. And here she is getting a free ride rather than making her way to the pole with her own two feet.” The vid shows Valor dropping Braveheart next to the pole, then it fast-forwards to him carrying me to the pole just ahead of the final yellow team member.
Zedd wants me dead. She’s stacking the deck against me.
Numbers? I ask.
I can’t see, Braveheart lies.
Fifty drones are darting around the area, each one with a screen. Even if the big screen was at a bad angle, there are dozens more he could read. I must be losing the vote.
I love you two, I tell them. Love, love, love.
Snakebites are lovely. I feel woozy and kind of high. I could think of worse ways to die.
Valor
I target the medic with my psy powers. He doesn’t need a great deal of convincing to decide to save my female. He doesn’t believe in this game, doesn’t want us to die. He’s a good male. I’m not even sure he needed my mental nudge.
As soon as I insert the thought into his head, he strides forward, hits Willow’s autozip, yanks her sleeve partially over her shoulder, and jabs her with the syringe of anti-venom he’d already drawn.
Willow was almost unconscious. As her eyes shutter closed, she cheerily says, “Thanks.”