48. Lazarus
LAZARUS
Lazarus was, somehow, able to make it to the ‘loser’s exit’ with no problems.
And now comes the easy part: the losing.
He chose the taser because he figured the most believable way for someone to knock themselves out would be to misfire their weapon, and he would rather misfire with a taser than a gun.
It wasn’t until halfway through his walk over that he realized how embarrassing it would be to shock himself with his own taser. Before Apollonia learns of his defection, she’ll just think he’s incredibly incompetent.
He sighs. Here he stands, so close to escape and, true to form, too anxious to pull the trigger. The smooth edges of his weapon are threatening in their innocence. The agate ring in his pocket is a million times heavier than it has any right to be.
He can’t delay any longer. He turns the taser on himself, playing it up for the broadcast, looking at it as if he can’t figure out how it works. But right before he pretends to fall, he sees movement just to his left.
He spins around and it only takes him an instant to realize he’s made a mistake.
Theokleia stands in the mouth of the corridor, so close to him that he can’t believe he didn’t notice her sooner.
Her jaw is set, her fist closed so the metal on her knuckles shows.
“Theokleia,” he says, backing up.
He knows what she’s here for.
“I’m sorry, Lazarus. I really am.”
He could run, but that would take him away from where he needs to be. What if the Priestesses take too long to retrieve him if he’s far from the exit?
He takes another tiny step. “We’re in the same cohort. I thought the plan was to make it to the end together, then fight for the top spot.”
“Not anymore,” she says. “That was before the advantage was announced. I’ve already seen two cohort members go down.”
Once again, he is stunned by his own naiveté. He really thought that honor would bring them through. Does a win even count without it?
Apparently the answer is: yes, it does.
“You’re a good leader. But I’m better,” she says. “I cannot surrender the victory to you just because you won the vote years ago in a room full of men.”
Now he remembers. Theokleia campaigned for the Cohort Leader position right along with him. He hadn’t even considered her a threat.
He considers her one now.
He opens his mouth to say something—anything—but what comes out is not what he expects it to be.
It’s the truth.
“Look, you don’t have to do this. Just come here, take my taser, and pretend to shock me so they think I’m out.
” He nods subtly toward a camera, silently thanking the Forms that the final Trial is voiced over by commentators and no one is listening in.
“I wasn’t planning to win anyway. I just need to be taken to the Priestesses’ room while still conscious. ”
Theokleia’s face hardens. “You think I’m dumb enough to buy that?”
“I’m not lying, I promise.” He stretches out his hand with the taser. “Take it.”
Theokleia contemplates the taser for a moment, then knocks it to the floor.
“Kleia, please listen to me.”
She does not. Instead, she throws a punch. Lazarus just manages to dodge, all of his extra training and reflex drills before bed finally paying off.
She swings again and again, but he ducks or shoves her aside. He doesn’t throw anything back—it probably wouldn’t land, fast as she is.
But eventually—as always—Lazarus fails.
A pebble. He is undone by a pebble.
When he falls to the floor, Theokleia follows him down, pinning his legs and holding tight to his shirt. He struggles and kicks, but it’s no use.
She’s going to knock him out. And what happens then? What if it takes him hours to wake, leaving Arete stranded and the others desperate to know what happened to them both? What if she just pummels him until he’s dead?
“If you knock me out, I’ll never be able to leave.”
She hesitates with her fist cocked, ready to strike. “Leave?” she asks. “Leave where?”
“This place is killing me,” he whispers. “And I’m not strong like you. I can’t stand it. So, I’m leaving. I’m not a threat. You will be on the Council, I’m sure of it. Just don’t hit me hard enough to knock me out, I’ll play dead, the Priestesses will come get me, and I’ll be gone forever.”
She glares down at him like she’s considering it, but then she shakes her head. “I’m sorry, but that’s a risk I can’t take.”
She draws back her fist, and Lazarus can’t tell if he’s dissociating, but something in her face doesn’t match the knuckles she’s bringing down.