The Hollow Game.

Chapter Eleven

Her back hurt. The chains wrapped securely around her only emphasized that and the damp ground added to the misery. Sure, she knew that when she had accepted the invite she would be put to the test, but this was even a bit much for her.

Beside her, mumbling under his breath, was that kid, Manny something. He hadn’t seemed too bad off when she had gotten a look at him earlier. Some shallow scratches and possibly a sprained ankle. Nothing major or life threatening; if he could still run then he could still compete which gave him a leg up over some of the others. One girl looked like she had broken both legs and another was cradling her arm. A man had deep gashes on one leg, a teenager also seemed to have hurt his back, and one woman moaned every time she breathed. When the lights had flickered out, that was when she had struggled to sit up. Her back screamed, muscles pulled tightly, and she swore that all the blood in her body had frozen and was now thawing slowly as numbness and tingling assisted her. Staying down wasn’t an option.

After some uncomfortable squirming and more panting than she would admit too, she managed to place her back against the wall between the chains.

Next to her, the kid started giggling. High pitched, breathless laughter that ended in a wheeze before starting all over again only with a touch more bitterness each time. “Look Kid,” she winced at her voice before clearing her throat and continuing. “We’ll get out of this. I mean, it’s not much of a challenge and these guys love a challenge.”

A pause then an equally raspy voice made a sound of agreement. “I guess you’re right.” He chuckled again, filling the cave until she could practically see the awkward tension, even in the dark. “Hey!” He yelled, startling several people as chains rattled loudly against each other. “You gonna let us out anytime soon?” No answer, not that she was expecting one. “Cowards!”

Yeah, because calling a bunch of homicidal people ‘cowards’ is a great idea.

The bubble of laughter rising in her chest was from the thought, not from the heavy, crushing, sickly heat. So long as they get out everything would be fine.

“You shouldn’t make them angry,” a man huffed out. “Make them angry? We’re already at their mercy.”

“If this is mercy than I would rather not be given any,” a woman muttered quietly. She took a deep breath, wincing at the pressure but staring determinedly ahead. The voices mingled and mixed together until they were a single, soundless noise. Something that could easily be put into the back of your mind. “Everyone, shut up!” This was met with bated breath and then low grumbling until the cave was filled with tense silence. She strained her ears, clenching her eyes shut as she focused. There,

the clickety clack of heels on stone could just barely be heard.

It grew louder and louder and then abruptly stopped. She wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or disappointed. Neither, she decided. I’ll be ready for the next one but I won’t get my hopes up.

Even if it killed her, she wouldn’t let someone else get the best of her. And then the lights turned back on and she felt a small pinch on her arm. The last thing she saw before her vision swam and darkened was a woman with startling white hair leaning over her. Her tan eyes looking out sympathetically from behind a blue mask.

Well damn, she thought, feeling her body slump forward. Maybe I should have been a bit more concerned about those shoes. At least she’s cute.

Cheering. Clapping. Bright lights flooded her vision and she slowly raised her head from the ground, grimacing at the dirt in her mouth. She was in a large room reminiscent of the coliseum, Those masked spectators watched idly from dark marble and glass seats. Their eyes hidden from view but the steady stream of chatter, mostly incomprehensible, showed their enthusiasm for whatever was happening. On a whim her eyes scanned through the crowd, hoping to spot a glimpse of white in the colorful see of people. Disappointed but not surprised when she didn’t see her.

All around her was dirt and dark marble with swirls of silver. The fancy, expensive kind, as her mother would say.

The other contestants, including the maniacal kid and the one who still looked so out of it, were spaced around her. None of them seemed to be awake yet she could dismiss the possibility. If she could pretend to go back to sleep then she would dream for all this to end. “Ladies and gentleman,” the white coated man from earlier stepped forward. “These twelve contestants survived the tunneling, puzzling, labyrinth maze and are now onto the second task.” He paused, seeming to listen intently for a moment before smiling charming at the audience. She scowled, slimey tendrils racing down her back as she looked at him. “One by one, inches of blood, sweat and gears. Please enjoy an old, old sport favored by a civilisation known as the Romans!”

Romans? What?

The slimey tendrils turned cold and grasping, tightening around her like fingers holding onto a favored toy. This couldn’t possibly be a good thing going by how loud the crowd was cheering. Not a good thing at all.