Authors: Cameron Jace
Wheel of Fortune (4 page)
Dudgeon Dungeon?
Bellona and I exchange open-mouthed looks. Leo plays computer games?
“That’s easy,” Roger This says. “You just pick the berries from the forest, give’m to the Lady in Black, and she gives you the password.”
“The password?” Leo wonders. “The Dudgeon’s gate opens with a password?”
“Or you find the Rabbit Hole,” Roger This says.
“Yeah? What’s up with all that hype about the Rabbit Hole?” Leo asks.
Suddenly, we’re all blocked from the geeky talk between the most two unlikely characters to have a conversation.
“We shouldn’t talk about the Rabbit Hole.”
“I heard about this Rabbit Hole thing,” says Bellona. Does she play games too? “I mean I don’t play computer games, but is this Rabbit Hole you’re talking about what I think you’re talking about?”
Roger This nods. He seems reluctant to say anything about the Rabbit Hole.
“Why is this Rabbit Hole so important?” I ask.
“It’s rumored that there is a way out of the Dizny Battlefieldz,” the skater boy explains. “It’s called the Rabbit Hole.”
“Seriously?” I almost jump from my place. “So why aren’t we looking for it?” If this is true, and Woo survived, then he is already out of here. But if he is out, why didn’t he contact me?
“It’s never been confirmed,” says Pepper. “Someone keeps sending secret messages and codes through the online games about the Rabbit Hole in the battlefields. That’s about it. How do you not know about that? It’s like an urban legend.” Again, I seem to be the only one ignorant of this.
“Not just someone,” says Bellona. “It’s Wolf who sends the message. We trust him.”
“Who is Wolf?” I wonder.
“The leader of the Breakfast Club,” the boy says. “It’s his nickname. He encouraged teens to look for the Rabbit Hole. It’s a way out that even the Summit doesn’t know of.”
“So seriously, why aren’t we looking?” I demand.
“Because we are going to face another deadly game tomorrow,” says Bellona. “And we’ll need all the sleep we can get now. We don’t have the time to look for a myth like that. Be real.”
“Stop it, girls,” one of the skaters demands. He is heavily tattooed, and is lying on his back with his hand behind his head, chewing on some grass. I remember him. He is the one who left me behind on purpose in the Breathing Dome. Strangely, he has his name tattooed on his arm, under the Six: Orin.
“Since you have spoken, Orin…” I can’t help myself. I have to express my anger. “I want to tell you that you could have saved me today. You killed the Bully next to the Breathing Booth I was trapped inside, and I was dying. I was screaming for you, and you didn’t save me. You didn’t even look at me. I can’t imagine you didn’t hear me. You were so close.”
“I heard you,” says Orin bluntly. “It’s just I am not here to save anybody. I am not in the military anymore. This is me taking care of me.”
If Orin had said such things to me this morning, I would have protested, jumping up and down and called him all the bad names I know of. But as selfish as his statement sounds, I understand. To be fair, this is what I have been trying to program into my system all day long. I only saved Bellona because she saved me first, I tell myself.
There are two or three minutes of silence, except for the sound of flickering fire and me gulping water to clear my soul. The eleven of us are still. What Orin said needs a little comprehension. Are we going to be there for each other or is every one of us on their own? Is this going to be a fight within a fight or should we stand united?
Orin is a soldier. His mind is more tuned to the situation than most of ours. He is practical.
“Hey,” Leo interrupts the tension, talking to Roger This. “I didn’t get your name, fellow gamer.” Leo has his chin up, not smiling.
“I am Vern,” Roger This says, looking at all of us, suddenly remembering he never introduced himself — and none of us asked. “Don’t worry. I know all of your names from the Breathing Dome.”
“What’s your nickname in Zeragon 5?” Leo says. It still boggles my brains how and when Leo had time to play computer games.
“I am
RogerThis
.” Vern points proudly to his clean t-shirt with two fingers. He looks flattered when Leo asks him. “RogerThis007, actually, since Roger This was taken—”
“I get it,” says Leo, chewing on a match. “If we survive the Monster Show, I’ll nudge ya.”
La Roche
“So why did you dedicate your song to the Monsters?” Pepper asks Leo, dropping the real question no one dared to ask until now. “You know, you being a Nine, coming from an all-Nines family. It doesn’t make sense.” Pepper is just cruel. I like her.
Leo looks like he has a sudden lump in his throat. Since I met him, I haven’t seen him hesitant and embarrassed like now. “You’ll be surprised to know that I am no hero,” says Leo. “I did it because I wanted to make myself look like a rebel. I was sixteen, you know. Talking about Bad Kidz was prohibited. So I, in my rock star mode, wanted to do something outrageous, to sell more records and win the Burning Idol. But I have to admit I am glad I did. My life took such a crazy turn since then, especially when Xitler and the Summit banned me. I understood then what kind of a dictatorship we were living in. I turned against the Summit and went searching for the Breakfast Club everywhere, wanting to join them, but like Bellona, I never found them.”
“So you’re just like every one of us,” says Bellona.
“If Leo is just as hopeless as we are, what’s the point of playing the game?” Pepper says. “We are going to die.”
“Especially if none of us has a reason to form an alliance with anyone else.” It’s the first time I agree with Pepper, not that I feel like giving in, but I need to see where this is going.
“The more we try to live — and eventually die — the more the audience is entertained,” explains Pepper. “Like in a horror movie, you can’t kill all the actors in the first scene.”
“In a horror movie, the hero never dies.” I beg to differ. I don’t know what kind of horror movies Pepper watches.
“The Monster never dies,” says Vern with his knees pulled up to his chest, and his head buried between his legs. He thinks we didn’t hear him, then raises his head, surprised we’re all staring at him. “What? It’s a Stephen Zing quote.”
“King,” Leo sighs. “Stephen King, not Zing. Zing sounds as if he were a Samurai or something.”
“What’s a Samurai?” I ask.
Leo rolls his eyes. He is not going to answer me. Mr. I-come-from-outer-space.
“I am just messing with you. We killed the Bullies with Samurai swords, remember?”
“I agree with Vern,” says Bellona. “The Monster never dies. Not that I like them calling us Monsters. But since they do, let’s show them how strong-willed us Monsters can be. Let’s bond together and show them that this year, at least one of us will survive. We have to teach them that the Monster never dies.”
“How are we going to do that?” I ask. I am not here to win. I am here to find my friend.
“Military style,” answers Bellona, looking at the skaters.
“You sure you want to do it that way?” the skater boy asks.
“Yes,” Bellona says. “But no one else can know about this but us.”
“What’s going on? What does military style mean?” asks Pepper.
“First, I want your iAms turned off now.”
Pepper nods. She seems convinced, or playing along. We all nod too. How is a Monster never going to die?
“What I am going to ask of you is a technique we use in the army,” explains Bellona. “It is called La Roche: a tactic for survival in extreme situations.”
“Yes?” I prompt her.
“We will have to create an internal ranking that no one knows about but us. A ranking from one to ten. One is the one we sacrifice first, ten is the one we sacrifice last.”
“What does that mean?” Pepper asks with a furrowed brow. She only has one eyebrow; the other is missing.
“When we go back to the Battlefieldz tomorrow, the Summit will try to turn us against each other with all the psychological tricks they have. They will push us as much as they need to so we lose the games.”
“Okay?” I say.
“If we want at least one of us to win the games, here is what we will do. We will give each other numbers that will tell us who sacrifices themselves for the rest. It’s going to be our secret code.”
“This is awful.” I can’t believe my ears.
“We are likely to die anyway,” says Pepper. “And don’t worry. I’m ready to be number one. I was raised with the idea that I am going to die to save others for sixteen years. It’s going to be easier for me.”
“It is going to be our internal rank to know who is worth the risk to save, and who is the one to die for the rest of us at any given moment,” Bellona repeats.
“How are we going to choose?” Orin asks.
“We vote,” Leo answers. He likes the idea.
“No,” Vern says, raising his hand. “We toss. If we vote, I will be number two.”
“And Decca will be number three.” Orin grins. This guy hates me.
“I saved all of you in the dome today,” I yell at him.
“Hah.” He shakes his head.
“Okay. We toss,” Bellona says. “But leave Leo out of it.”
“Why?” Vern asks.
“He is the strongest and most experienced,” says Bellona. “If he dies, I don’t see how we can make it.”
“And if I don’t like my result?” Orin asks.
“Then you are not one of us. You leave and play on your own, like you did with Decca in the dome,” Leo explains firmly.
None of us asks Leo to participate. We all know that with him around, as silent and obnoxious as he is, we feel a little safer.
We all agree. Leo takes the lead and carves our names on big leaves with his sword. He collects them in his bag. We start picking our numbers.
Vern is number one, the first to be sacrificed. Pepper is two. I think she is okay with that. Orin is three. I would have wanted him to be one. Four, five, six, seven, and eight are skaters. Bellona is number nine.
I am number ten.
I wonder.
Did Leo cheat in my favor?
Choices and Priorities
"Are you saying my name is a number in some old language?” I raise an eyebrow.
“Not exactly. The number is written as Deka in Greek, pronounced as Theka, but the resemblance is very close.”
When I ask him who those Greek people really are, he says, “Interesting people with too many gods.”
“Ah,” I muse. “You mean like the Burning Man?” I am just teasing, knowing that the Burning Man isn’t a god.
I don’t suppose my parents knew about that. They weren’t that godly educated to know about Pre-Amerikaz languages.
