173. Who’s the Smart One?
173
Who’s the Smart One?
M aya
What does it say about me that I just keep running? I’ve been in this situation for all of fifteen minutes and I’m leaving a fellow human to be maimed or killed as I run to safety. Are my morals so weak I can throw them away in less than an hour?
I can’t keep going. Forcing myself to turn around, I’m about to toss the clothes on the floor to rescue my new friend when Emily says in what I only now notice is a southern accent, “I’ve got her. Lila’s with me. Keep runnin’.”
I turn and dash to the relative safety of our little space at the edge of the structure. Panting with exertion and fear, I see Emily has her arm around Lila’s waist and Lila has her arm across Emily’s shoulders as they reach me. Lila’s outer thigh has a bite out of it. She’s leaving a trail of blood, limping and crying, her face squeezed in pain and terror.
When my gaze darts back to the mayhem, a lanky female with ochre skin that looks like it’s been through an acid bath is watching us with a predatory gaze that screams she’d like to be eating the four of us right now. Her mouth is dripping blood. The bitch took a bite out of Lila.
My body freezes for a moment as I process the horror, then I jump into action and kneel at Lila’s feet to examine the wound. The flesh is torn and bleeding and to my untrained eye it clearly needs stitches.
After dumping the pile of clothing on the floor, I grab the top pair of coveralls and, using my teeth, manage to bite the cloth so I can tear it into strips. I triple-fold a large piece and place it against the wound. Lila presses her hand on the cloth and closes her eyes as the tears continue to pour down her face. Between the three of us working together, we manage an assembly line of making strips and tying them tightly around the blood-soaked cloth on her leg to stem the flow of blood.
Lila’s face is pale, and her fists are clenched at her sides. She’s trying not to cry or make noise when we tightly cinch the makeshift bandages, but I feel terrible for her. If this were a normal situation, we’d be calling 911 right now. Although, if this were a normal situation, Lila wouldn’t have been bitten by a freaking alien.
“The Game will start in thirty-five standard minutes. If you wish to select out, you can assemble at the roped area at the rear and be terminated before this process begins.”
“That’s the best we can do,” I say to Lila when her injury is tightly bandaged. Although it’s got maybe eight layers wrapped around it, I can see blood is already seeping through the fabric.
All four of us are frozen in place, avoiding looking at either the carnage or Lila’s leg. We’re paralyzed in fear. All I want to do is lie down, curl up, close my eyes and wake up from this very bad dream.
Looking up, I see Emily and Anna on either side of Lila, wiping tears from their faces with one hand as the other holds Lila’s hand. It’s only now I realize tears are streaking down my face, too.
When I pull my thoughts together, I use one of the cloth strips to wipe my face, then say, "I hate to be insensitive, but our tears have attracted attention. We can’t afford to show weakness. Let's get dressed."
All three of them swallow, visibly pulling themselves together, wiping their faces with their palms.
I’ve only had a few minutes to wake up and realize that although this is a nightmare, I’m not dreaming. I have to try to come to terms with my new reality.
Somehow, we’ve been yanked out of our lives and thrown into this game where there can be only one winner. Here we are at what I suspect is the South Pole, and we’ll be pitted against each other in some type of race. We need to dress in more than the clothes we arrived in.
We paw through the overalls. The baby-blue clothes are all built to accommodate these humongous alien females. We pick the ones that have the least of the avian’s pale, pink blood on them and climb in.
“Where are you from?” I ask Lila. It’s unimportant, but I need to bring her back from the terror place she seems to have retreated to. She’s simply staring, unblinking eyes wide, at the female across the huge tent-like structure who bit her.
“No. No. No,” she whispers, shaking her head. “I’m not cut out for this.”
What’s more concerning than her words is the lack of feeling when she said them, as if she’d already retreated to some deep place inside herself.
“Where are you from, Lila? What do you do for work? Stick with us. We’re going to get through this,” I lie. The announcer said only one person could live through this sadistic game, and it certainly won’t be any of us weak humans.
“The Game will start in thirty standard minutes. If you wish to select out, you can assemble at the roped area at the rear and be terminated before this process begins.”
Lila cocks her head, totally absorbed in her own thoughts. A look of preternatural calm washes over her as her facial muscles slacken. Good. She’ll listen to reason and pull on a pair of coveralls.
Instead, she stands with difficulty and looks around.
“No!” Anna says.
The tiny blond figured things out a moment before me, but it’s clear Lila is looking for the roped area to self-terminate.
“No, don’t do it!” I yell as the three of us move to stop her.
“This is a race. I’ll just slow you down,” she says as she glances at her injury. The bandage is already so saturated, blood is dripping down her leg. “I can’t do it. I don’t want to be attacked by one of those monsters again. This will be better.”
For a moment, her brain seems to come back from her trance. When her gaze flicks to the middle of the room, I follow it.
One of the gray, spiked females is engaged in a life-and-death struggle with one of the sharky females. It’s bloody and loud as they screech at each other. I’m so terrified, my mouth dries in fear.
When I tear my eyes from the spectacle, Lila says, “Maybe one of you can win without me dragging you down. It will be better this way, easier.” She turns and limps slowly toward her elective death.
I take a step toward her, but Emily says, “Maya, don’t. She’s made up her mind. Look at her, she can barely walk. She’ll never be able to run this race. Frankly, I wonder if she’s the smart one.”