The Change: Episode one (3 page)

The wide passage was decorated in red and
black and covered with photos. Each of them showcased a bloody and
battered female with a wild, victorious face. I tried not to linger
on the one who was familiar. So far, no one knew me for anything
more than rounding up New American garbage. They’d forgotten the
other Pruett woman who came to these games two decades ago and left
with a legal mate. When I won, I'd have my pick of this lot, and
one of them...

I shoved the pain away and took in my
surroundings with the observant eye I was known for. Powered by
massive generators fed by the violent ocean, the annoying hum was a
constant sound that kept this complex bathed in flickering yellow
light, whereas most of the surrounding areas made do with homemade
candles. It was a noise I loathed for what it represented. In
contrast, the halls I now walked were neat and free of debris, one
of the few places to be so clean. Even New Network City still had
entire blocks crumbling into centuries-old decay. In those dark
alleys and shadowy graveyards, the motions of rebellion also
lurked.

Acutely aware of not seeing
a single window yet, I used the middle of the aisle to force my
competition to move aside and continued my study. This was the
first time I’d been inside, and I wanted to remember every
detail.
The Network complex was completely
covered with a clear dome and the center complex now stood as a
gleaming light in the distance meant to entrap survivors. Its
streets further out were lightless paths through hell for those
forced to live there, but the Network was apathetic at best about
the condition of its subjects. In here, they were protected from
the misery they’d caused.

The rustic city outside consisted of
lavishly constructed brick apartments around the complex, and
debris-covered relics of a time gone by rippled out from there. The
Network had demolished the entire center of the city and rebuilt
their hub, providing narrow flats for important employees and
visiting persons of value. They knew how to pamper those they
needed, but as for their citizens…

There were lines at the Network stores that
often stretched out of sight, and the two churches allowed to
operate inside the city limits, had front lawns covered in the
tents of the homeless. Cats, along with rats, were nonexistent in
this hungry city. The people were thin, jumpy from being under
complete control of the street cameras and public executions.
Anyone suspected of being in league with the rebels was shown no
mercy. I had passed these signs on my way in with no change in
expression, but my heart had hardened.

The hall ended abruptly into another, this
one lined with more photos set deeply around the frames of tall
doors. I went to the one with the brightly striped candy cane on
it, sure my cousin had taped it there. Angelica was the only one
brave enough to call me Candy, and even she was careful about it.
She was a Changeling, too, and she understood the mostly endless
urge that took over to spill blood. It made us dangerous, changed
us into people our families didn’t know.

Due to the lack of males
births, the female body craved a mate, was driven to continue the
species. There was no other way to stop the rages, or the awful
hatred of those who’d caused future generations to be so cursed. It
came with puberty and left with death. The years between were an
agony.
To be called by the name you’d used
before the change was to be reminded of relief, of wonderful times
when there was no burning under the skin and no blood behind your
eyes. It hurt, and Changelings often lashed out violently at the
sound of it.
It had the same effect on me
as the rest, but I also had a stronger reason I loathed the
nickname. It never failed to remind me of what had been
stolen.

I pulled the candy cane down with a tolerant
sigh. If Angelica’s parents weren't more careful than to let her
keep running with me, she'd have them here in a year or two as
well. She had a fire, an edge burning, that even I didn’t and I
doubted she’d rent a male when she blew her top. She’d come here
and win her own.

Before opening the door to my room, I did
another solid sweep of the halls I could see, the doors and
cameras, the people moving by. I marked the exits, guarded and not,
and the sense that I was being watched - from multiple angles. Most
of the contestants for Network games were driven by the Change. The
need to have a mate outweighed the need to live. There wasn’t
anything these women wouldn’t face to get a man, and I was in
danger every second I played, in the cage or not.

For me, the drive, the agony, was just as
potent, but it wasn’t why I’d come. I had hoped that would give me
an advantage, along with my profession as a bounty hunter, of
course. As I stored more information, like no windows here either,
only walls and guards, I realized it didn’t matter anymore. On the
solitary trip I’d insisted on to get to New Network City, I’d
worried about being good enough, about surviving even if I lost…
but I didn’t want that after seeing his unresponsive eyes. If I
couldn’t go home with my prize, I’d rather be dead.

4

My parents both jumped as I entered the
room.

My guard, after first
sweeping the three people waiting for me, leaned against the
outside of the door. I closed it and turned to face my
family.
Those who had come,
I amended. The rest were too far away, too
worried, or too embarrassed to be here.

My parents wore their best cloaks and boots,
nothing else showing, and I admired their aloofness as they waited
for me to speak. The traditional braids, one for each year of
marriage, hung in shiny black waves around my mother’s scared face,
giving her a halo-like glow. The gouges on her cheeks, by
comparison, should have been on a demon’s face, not hers… and I’d
put them there.

"Hey, Candy." Angelica
grinned at me from the couch in front of the big view screen.
Telling me nothing had changed for her despite my harshness, and I
appreciated it.
Angelica’s parents and
older sister were on a call in the Borderlands, or they would have
been here, but we weren’t worried. That side of the Pruett family
was even harder than this one.

"Angel."

My cousin frowned, but only
clenched her fingers into tight fists, that, with her short black
spikes, made her appear capable of more than just human concerns…
as did I. All families resembled each other now. Genetics were
limited, and males with blond or red hair were worth more… were
often prizes in these games.
Like
Daniel.

I winced; I hated breaking my own rules, but
forced myself to finish the thought now that I’d allowed it to
form. I was here for Daniel, my childhood friend and mate, and only
death would stop me.

"That went really well. They liked you."

I raised a brow. "You think?"

Angelica was only a bit shorter than me, but
she was a lot lighter, and I promised myself I’d try to strengthen
her body over the next years. If she really meant to enter the
Games, she would need more weight to throw around.

Angelica ignored my sarcasm. "Sure. It
didn't hurt that you have a great butt."

That made me laugh, but my Father turned a
harsh glare on the teenager. He was ignored.

"I was nervous before, but you've got a
solid chance. Those other girls weren't all so bad."

My Father's face was
growing purple from wanting to silence her, but he held it in,
knowing it would make me unhappy. I liked it when Angelica
expressed herself openly. No one else would. Even my parents,
during our row about my signing up, had been very careful. Because
I'd
Changed
.

"Mom. Dad."

I'd known they would come, but they hadn't
been sure of my welcome, I could tell. My Mother had obviously seen
my performance on the wall screen. She hovered in the kitchen area,
leery. Her blue cloak trembled delicately as she watched my every
move.

My Father was braver,
forcing himself to give the customary hug, and I stood still,
allowing it so that my Mother would know it was okay to be so
close. When she finally worked up the courage to touch me, light,
trembling fingers on my wrist, I remembered then, that I did
love
her...

I smiled, patted her hand with my own
softly.

She gave me a hesitant
smile in return, and I finished the thought.
Sometimes
. I was always furious
anyway, but to see her daily, this sparkless vision of my future,
was something I denied vehemently.

"It's not too late to..."

She broke off as my body
tensed, and I turned away before my sudden rage could frighten her
more. I'd only lost control once, but she'd never recovered.
It wasn’t true anyway,
I
thought. When the complex doors sealed shut, turning back had
ceased to be an option. She knew that better than most, since she’d
been here too.

I loathed my Mother’s
weakness, partly because I envied the happiness, the peace.
She was still the short-haired, muscular parent
I’d been in awe of until the age of ten, and those were still her
black eyes
,
but the
rest of those features - the smile, the kindness in her eyes –
belonged to a stranger. She’d still been burning while I grew up
and it had been ugly. Now that I had my own fire, I could have
forgiven her, but I’d expected her to help me, to save my Daniel,
and she hadn’t. That was the real source of our problems… my
hatred.

"What's next?" Angelica broke the
tension.

I waved at the silent screen, where one of
my competitors, wearing a traditional Korean uniform, was being
interviewed. "Half an hour live with questions and Luck of the
Draw."

"Then the… cage."

My Mother's voice shrank into itself on the
last word. It was as though all the fear and anxiety I should have
been feeling was her burden to carry. She’d been a wonder hacking
into the computers, but once again, she was spineless. I sighed,
not calm, but far from her panic. "You should go to your rooms
now."

She nodded at once, lips quivering from
biting back more words that would only anger me. I turned to my
Father’s naturally pale face. "You'll have to be on guard. There
may be attacks."

"I know firsthand what you've sentenced us
to!" he spat.

His harsh tone and words were shocking, but
before I could consider a reply, his voice lowered, became urgent
with worry.

"Be careful!"

He was gone a second later, leaving me a bit
stunned at his display of emotions, but not so much that I didn't
see the calculating looks following their unguarded shoulders up
the hall. The sharks were already circling, and my family wouldn't
have any protection, not here or at home, until I made it to the
next round.

The doorway across from mine was dark,
ominous. I could feel sharp eyes on both me and the teenager
lingering by my side. Mostly on Angelica though, and I did what any
loving Pruett family member would have. I motioned her out and
firmly closed the door.

Angelica was a lot more lethal than she
appeared. She should be. We'd been training together for a long
time, before she'd even been sturdy enough to hold a rail against
me. My little cousin would follow in my footsteps, I was sure. The
Network also had something she wanted more than her life.

5

My room was just that.

A single room with a couch, wall screen, and
kitchen set-up, all of it was an ugly green. 10’ x 10’, it held
shadows and rats, and I pushed it aside with my usual attitude of
‘whatever it takes’. I’d spent the night in worse on bounty runs,
and this den would stay stocked with whatever I needed as long as I
survived.

I pushed the volume button as I headed for
the tiny washroom, wincing at the loud reporter’s irritating voice
as it blared from the Network equipment.

“
The Blonde Bombshell
legally changed her name from Cassandra Rowe after winning her
first Game as a teen. So far, she has survived five of the sixteen
shows the Network offers, and is rumored to be shooting for the job
of Head Defender. Ironically enough, the former owner of that title
is one of the contestants the Bombshell will face in this
episode.”

After a quick stop and wash, I hit the
couch, only vaguely aware of the Network reporter still talking. It
had taken me three straight days on the Mopar to get here, and I
was beat.

"Now, a look at last week's highlights. Roll
it, Phyllis."

The picture changed to the huge bridge I'd
crossed upon arriving at the Games Complex. On stilts to avoid the
usual flooding, the bridge had swayed and shuddered as I rolled
over. Much like it was doing on the screen.

I leaned back against the buggy couch and
covered up with my thick cloak as I studied the competition. The
two women were battling the rocking bridge as much as each other,
and I recognized the muscle-bound blonde right away. The Bombshell
was the reigning champion from last week, the first contestant in
more than two hundred years to claim her mate, and then sign on to
defend her crown. I’d heard another rumor that she was doing it as
a bounty for the Network, who wanted their former Defender out of
the way. She was one of the nine I would face.

I snorted.
Eight
. So easily
forgotten, my quick execution tonight had been a little too easy. I
suspected the other battles wouldn't be the same.

The champion on the screen used her elbow to
land a vicious hit to the taller female's face, and her opponent
went careening off the bridge to vanish in the icy sludge below. I
watched the Bombshell scream in triumph. She wasn't very
intimidating at all, just those emotionless eyes… and that worried
me. It was like staring in a mirror. No, the official fights
wouldn’t be the same at all.