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The sun was setting outside, leaving a multitude of fiery colours in its wake. A few stray rays stole through the open window whenever the fluttering curtains left a gap - light and shadow dancing over Sian’s features in a complicated pattern, illuminating a sort of rough beauty in him that was so perfect in its entirety, so pure and obvious in that one moment that I could not understand how I had missed it before. This wasn't the first time I had watched him fall asleep in the dying light of the sun, but it was the first time the picture had struck me as so painfully beautiful, and I began to wonder if I was falling in love with him. I had been thinking about him differently lately, after all.
I shook myself in a vain attempt to dispel the thought. Falling prey to those kinds of emotions at a time like this would be akin to signing my own death warrant; tomorrow was our sixteenth birthday and we had work to do. I turned my back on the picturesque scene, oddly comforted by taking my eyes away although the image still hung behind them, a beautiful backdrop to the disturbed dreams that I knew would be coming for me when I finally managed to sleep. They always did.
By the time I awoke the next morning the feelings had intensified and I no longer wondered how I felt about him. I knew I would only be kidding myself. The picture-perfect image of last night remained in the forefront of my mind while I was getting breakfast and I refused to look at him, afraid he would see it in my eyes. He had always had a way with reading people.
Self-consciously, my eyes flicked around the communal table as I ate, avoiding direct eye contact with anyone lest they begin to suspect, afraid he might read it in their eyes even if he missed it in mine. But little by little my anxiety lessened as I saw how nervous everyone else was, until I had achieved equilibrium with the group. I had the distinct feeling that I wasn't the only one having nightmares last night. We had lost two at the lesser exams yesterday. That was less than the average, but we all knew that no more than six of the remaining eighteen of us would pass the major tests today. The two we lost had shared a dorm with Sian and me, and thinking of them subdued me enough that I could eat without dropping food from my shaking hands, although it sapped the taste from every bite.
Breakfast was over all too quickly and then we were trundling back to our adjoining dorm rooms, me and Sian trying to pretend the empty bunks were invisible as we passed them, backs turned to each other as we changed into our combat fatigues. We dressed in silence and beat everyone else to the elevator. Our dorm was always the first ready, though that preparation hadn't helped Mark and Dylan. My throat caught thinking of them and I mentally added them to the list - now 82 strong - a refrain of mine that ran through my head most every night before I slept, although by this point I'd be hard pressed to put faces to most of those names.
The hundred of us had been born and raised in The Centre. They were my brothers and sisters; the only family I'd ever had. Each month they grew another hundred in their test tubes and began the painstaking training process that spanned sixteen years and left them with only the six best fighters of each batch: The Elite. Today was our sixteenth birthday and I planned to be part of that Elite, with Sian by my side if at all possible. I glanced over at him and he winked at me. My heart skipped a beat and I immediately set to calming it, telling myself that he was just acting nonchalant about the test, that it was nothing to do with me personally.
He was resting apparently at ease, looking casual in every sense of the word, but I knew that behind those big blue eyes of his he was deep in thought, contemplating the challenges before him (and nothing else, I told myself very firmly, most especially not me). Of course, no-one ever knew what the final test was. They changed both the content and the location every time so that, even on the few occasions that we were allowed out of the Centre to interact with society–something we regarded as a rare treat, although in reality we never deviated from our training, these excursions being a learning exercise about the world we were being trained to protect–The Elites we encountered to ask about it weren't much help. The ones who were willing to talk about it had all given us different stories of different contests. The only constant was that we would be competing against each other rather than working as a team, this time.
Whilst I was considering all of this, the elevator filled up around us. The doors shut automatically once all eighteen of us were inside, and we drifted slowly downwards. Everyone was utterly silent for once, lost in their own thoughts. We had faced death before–the training was always dangerous–but never the certain knowledge that only a third of our number would be getting back on this lift again. Those weren't amazing odds. On average, batches facing the final test were down to about ten. Our batch was good. Conversely, this was not good for us as individuals, as it meant a lot more competition for those top spots, and the life that went with them. Competition that had proven time and time again how tough they were to beat.
The small light on the elevator that indicated floor levels dwindled down to the lowest point and then disappeared, but we carried on moving. The few of us who weren't lost in introspection glanced around at each other warily, unsure of where exactly we were. I had heard tales about The Centre, that the part of it above ground was merely the tip of the iceberg, but I had always dismissed these out of hand as wild rumours. The lift continued its descent. Just as the rest of us slowly came out of reverie and began postulating about our destination, we came to an abrupt stop. A tinny female voice floated in as the doors opened onto a long grey room, dominated by a large screen on the far wall. "Testing Area H3,” it announced.
We filed in and stood in rank facing the screen; we may not know where we were but we knew testing protocol. The screen blinked on to show a map labelled H3. According to this, our testing area was a circular room one whole mile in diameter. A far bigger area than The Centre covered above ground. The tinny voice piped up again, "Welcome batch 192-C, to your final exam. You will be given exactly one hour to memorise this map, after which you will enter your respective rooms where you will be further briefed in private." The tinny voice clicked off and we were all left staring at a map of the most overwhelmingly large room I had ever seen, and a timer that slowly ticked away our final hour together.
As soon as the timer hit zero the map vanished. The tinny voice announced, "Your hour is up. Please proceed to your delegated rooms." and fell silent again. The metal wall to the left of the screen sunk into the floor, revealing a series of small doors with digital displays on the front. The first eighteen of them showed our batch code followed by a two-digit number–odd for males, even for females–the rest stood blank and dormant. I entered the door reading 192-C-57; my official name. The names we used amongst ourselves were ones we'd chosen years ago, after our first venture outside revealed to us that most people didn't have numbers for names.
Once inside, the door closed and locked behind me with an ominous click. I found myself in a small room resembling a box, the left half of which was taken up by a table holding a personal-sized screen, the kind we used back in the dorms for our one-on-one examinations. The remaining space contained only a chair, which I squeezed into. Immediately, the screen flickered on and I was confronted by a familiar, smiling face. Commander Flannigan, Head of The Elite Training Program. Of course, I knew it was merely a digital representation of his face and voice, the person on the other end was most definitely not Commander Flannigan himself, but the illusion of that personal touch was meant to be comforting, and for some odd reason it worked.
"Private 192-C-57, welcome to your final briefing session. If you survive the next test you will be a full-fledged Elite, a member of the greatest and deadliest army this world has ever seen. The map you have just been studying is of a room located to your right. Once this briefing is over you will enter it and be given a two-hour respite period to get acquainted with your new surroundings before you begin. The room contains a near-exact replica of a portion of the great city we live in, complete with abandoned buildings and old criminal headquarters that have been left to rot. If you can find these they are great sources of weapons. During the respite period your main objective will be to search for weapons and ration packs. You will need them. When the respite is up you will hear a long siren blast. That means the game has begun. There are no rules. You may use whatever you can find within the training area, in any way you can think of, and the only dangers you face are each other. You and your comrades will be locked in once you leave this briefing room. A second siren blast will signal the end. The test ends when there are only six of you left alive. Not before. Any questions?"
I shook my head, dumbfounded and appalled but not letting myself show those weaknesses. This close to the final exam all my training had kicked in and the adrenaline was starting to flow, but...kill my comrades? My brothers, my sisters, my friends, my...Sian? A lump caught in my throat. I would just have to avoid him. That was all. There was no other way to do it. We would both come out of this alive; I swore it to myself. The smiling face on screen nodded at me, unaware of my predicament. "Then your two-hour respite period starts now." The wall to the right of me lifted into the ceiling and I stepped through it boldly and calmly.
***
Two hours later, the siren blast found me in the basement of a building that had most likely belonged to a pub. I knew, logically, that hiding away was not the best way to go about this. I felt I should be out there, hunting down the others, but every time I thought about it all I could see was that beautiful moment last night, and the thought of coming face to face with Sian now was more than I could bear. I would wait it out down here. I had found ration packs enough to last me a day or so. If it was still going on by the end of that then I could venture out and search for more. The only weapon I had been able to find was a serrated knife, staying away from the most tactical buildings as I was, but I had set traps up around the entrance to this place, mainly consisting of rope and nets that I had found in a fishing shop.
I settled down behind a box to wait, daydreaming of Sian.
The sound of footsteps above roused me from the half-dozing, half-alert state I had learned in training. I had lost count of how long I had been down here but I remembered the screams from above. Four of them that I had been close enough to hear, and none sounded like Sian, thankfully. I would know his voice anywhere. Even twisted into the drying cries I had heard above, I would know.
A hollow knock followed by a screech of rusty hinges announced the discovery of my hiding place. I held my breath in anticipation and crouched lower behind my box, ears strained for the spring of my makeshift traps–and there it was; the unmistakable rush of air and rope. Then a crash as a large crate fell from the ceiling, punctuated by a soft curse. I crept forward slowly, wanting to make sure my victim was truly caught before I showed myself. Heavy breathing in front of me bolstered my courage; it was usually a sign of injury. I stepped out from behind the row of crates, into the middle of the basement, and faced my adversary.
"Ah, Jason. I should have known that if anyone was waiting here in the dark it would be you. You always were a coward." Despite the predicament she was in, Nicola managed a sneer so convincing in its display of superiority that I almost leapt forward and slit her throat right then in rage. Almost. I knew Nicola, and goading people into anger-driven attacks was a great trick of hers. It wouldn't work with me. If she wanted me to attack her, there must be a reason. I glanced at the crate lying on top of her legs, then at the rope that had set off the trap. The crate was a lot further to the right than it should have fallen and her right arm was behind her, out of my sight, hiding.
"What are you waiting for Jase, too scared to face me even when I'm tied up in your trap with a broken leg and a useless left arm? The thought of a coward like you making it this far makes me sick. I hope someone else guts you before this is over or The Elite will be turned into a laughing stock." She grimaced in pain, rather convincingly. If nothing else I had to concede that she was a good actress. I wondered if I could be as convincing. Time to test it. I twisted my face into a mocking expression and attempted to use her own trick against her.
"I was merely enjoying the sight of you trussed up there, caught in the simplest of traps. I would be disappointed in you but to be honest, I'm not surprised. You always were a clumsy oaf." I told her.
She spat in my direction. "I'd rather be clumsy than a coward. I may have been caught but it accomplished my goal - I found you and if I die now, I'll die fighting like the Elite that I am." At this she whipped her right arm forward and let go of the small blade she had hidden in it. It was a good shot but unfortunately for her I had been expecting it and ducked to the side. She scowled at me.
I grinned and walked forward confidently, nonchalantly, doing a good job of hiding the tension in my muscles. I crouched down so my face was on a level with hers. "Nice try, bitch, but now it's my turn and I'm afraid you're unarmed." About to put my knife to her throat, I sprang upwards at the first sign of movement and watched her face as the second blade she'd had concealed in her apparently useless left hand stopped in midair, scant inches away from my stomach. My grin was real this time, as was her howl of frustration. She kicked the crate away and rolled to her feet, aware now that her ploy had been discovered and that she would have to fight me on equal terms.
We circled each other warily; my eyes fixed on her face and upper arms, watching for the telltale signs that preceded an attack; her eyes flickering everywhere, never constant, never focused. This was going to be all too easy. She darted forward on the attack, quicker than I had expected but still not fast enough. I had seen the muscles flex a split second beforehand and twisted to my left, following the movement through and ending up behind her fighting arm. My knife sliced deep into the vulnerable flesh where arm joined body before she could pull away. She cursed loudly as she pulled back and switched blades to her left hand, right arm hanging useless and bloody at her side.
I led the offensive now, knife darting constantly between us, leaving small cuts and gashes behind, threatening and cajoling her into a retreat, unwilling as she was to fight with her left hand. I forced her back up against the very pile of crates I had been hiding behind when she entered, and her eyes rolled in fear when she realised she had no room left for retreat. The grin crept back onto my face as I pressed onwards slowly, enjoying the helpless look in her eyes; confident that she was beaten. My knife found its way to her throat and her eyes widened in alarm. "Any last words?" I asked.
"Yeah bitch, look out behind you." She ducked and rolled to her right, away from my knife, and I followed just in time. Something thudded into the crate where both our heads had just been and a male voice cursed behind us. I nodded at Nicola and an unspoken message of truce passed between us. We both whirled to face the intruder.
"Thomas. How nice of you to come join us." I smiled menacingly at him.
"Didn't have much choice. You two were making so much noise you were giving me a headache. Had to come fix that." He was reloading the ancient crossbow as he spoke, watching what he was doing instead of his intended victims. I took the opportunity to slip behind some cover, knowing that there was no way I could reach him before he was done reloading. I motioned to Nicola to follow but she ignored me, preferring to face him out in the open. I shrugged and left her to it, wondering what she could possibly be planning. He finished reloading all too quickly for my liking and swung the crossbow up, aiming directly at Nicola's heart. She smiled, sincerely and yet somehow grotesquely at the same time, a strange light growing in her eyes.
"Thomas, I love you." She choked on the words and there was a distinct click in her throat as she swallowed. "I've always loved you, and I always will." She smiled wider and I saw that the strange light was actually a reflection of metal, magnified by her tears. Her hand flicked forward and the small blade she was holding dug itself deep into Thomas' temple, right between the eyes. A perfect shot. He had lowered the crossbow when she started talking, amazement and puzzlement both showing clearly on his face, but it fired as he crumpled to the ground. The shot went wild and pierced Nicola's right leg. She fell gracefully to the ground opposite him.
I grimaced at the both of them and their synchronised bloody falling; starting to feel sick; thinking of Sian. I trudged out from my hiding place and put an end to Nicola's misery with a quick swipe across her throat before she could do anything to stop me. I took quick stock of my surroundings and sighed; we had made an awful lot of noise and mess down here, the three of us, and they had both managed to bleed all over my damned rations. It was time for me to go back up into the open. Time to find a new place to hide. I paused only to clean my knife on Thomas' coat while I checked him for spare bolts–only two, I would have to use them sparingly–grabbed his crossbow, and made my way out of the pub cellar that was slowly but surely turning into both a hellhole and a tomb.
Clashing sounds assaulted my ears the moment I stepped out into the artificial light that enveloped the colossal room. I spun warily, watching anything that could potentially be used as cover for signs of movement. When my paranoia was mostly satisfied I crouched low and crept towards the source of the noise, still alert and on edge, still waiting for someone to jump out of the shadows in front of me. But when I rounded the next corner I stopped and stared, unable to take my eyes off the scene before me. All thoughts of ambushes and being followed momentarily forgotten. For there, no more than fifteen feet ahead of me, was Sian. He was engaged in bladed combat with Celine and they were both covered in cuts and bruises. I couldn't tell who was winning. Behind them, keeled over into a position that would not be possible without a good few broken bones, was a body so drenched in blood that I couldn't make out who it was, all I could see was that it was male. And oh how I wished I couldn't see that; nobody deserved that kind of treatment. I wondered which of them had done it.
Celine and Sian were so busy watching each other that neither of them had noticed my approach and I was able to take the time to load the crossbow carefully, thoughts running through my mind all the while at an incredible pace. I tried to remember how many screams I'd heard, wondering how many had died quietly; how many I didn't hear. How many were left alive? If we were down to seven already then all I had to do was take out Celine now and I could spend the rest of my life by Sian's side. But if there were more, then killing Celine would alert Sian to my presence. Then it would be a choice of kill him or be killed myself. I didn't think I could handle that decision.
The crossbow was loaded and I'd run out of ways to stall myself, but although they'd broken apart and I had a clear shot, I couldn't bring myself to shoot. If only I knew how many were dead already. I bit my lip and raised my weapon, but didn't fire. If I could hold it off for as long as possible then I would surely have a better chance. I tracked Celine with the point of it, ready and waiting. If she tried to hurt him again she was a dead woman. There seemed to be a lull in their fighting, both of them were panting heavily and bleeding freely but I could see that none of their wounds were fatal. Shame. It would have saved me a lot of worry and heartbreak if they were.
It was Sian who recovered first and started the next round, launching an attack so suddenly that Celine was caught off guard and he managed to disarm her. Grinning triumphantly, he moved in for the kill. At the last second I saw the glint of metal tucked into her hand and fired as she swung it forward. I shook my head in wonder as I did so. Goddamn, the girls in our batch were sneaky. I was half convinced that she had let him disarm her just so he would get in too close.
The bolt took her right in the throat and a startled Sian was instantly soaked in her blood. Neither the blood nor the strange gurgling noises she was making fazed him for long though. He looked around for the source of the shot and immediately saw me; I wasn't exactly hiding. He smiled when he caught sight of me, a smile so beautiful and warm that not even the blood that was covering him could ruin it. I couldn't help but smile back.
"Jason, my dear. You saved my life." The look on his face was one of wonderment and...was that joy? He definitely looked pleased to see me; all the fight had gone out of him. Tentatively, I lowered the crossbow and took a step in his direction, heart thudding wildly in my chest. His smile grew as he saw me put down the weapon, then he raced towards me and gathered me into his arms. I couldn’t believe my luck; it seemed he actually liked me back!
It wasn't until I felt the knife in my back that I remembered boys could be sneaky bastards too.
He let me fall to the ground then, an indifferent look in his eyes as he walked away; the last sight I ever saw. And as I slipped away into that eternal darkness, I heard the second siren blast. I had been so close.