Dead Man's Game Read online

  We had been brought to the least hospitable planet one could hope to find. Or at least we were on the worst part of it.

  Eventually, we came to a plateau below the peak and Jeffords called another halt.

  It would be easy to push him over, but where would we go then?

  Part of his reason behind this climb no doubt, was to show us there was no place to go, that we had to depend on them.

  I suddenly had difficulty breathing beyond the normal gasping for breath, like I was choking on my own phlegm. I was filled with dread as I coughed and hacked up huge wads of spit. As bad as it was for me, I had an easier time than the others. Half of them were doubled over, all of them coughed as if they were hacking up their lungs. I was trying to figure out what had caused the sudden onslaught and was wondering if one of the nearby bushes had done something to us when Jeffords saw I was not as badly affected.

  He pointed at the ground.

  “Give me fifty.”

  I hesitated, thinking about my hand, but I had no recourse. I just had to hope the block had helped enough that doing fifty push-ups was not going to be a problem.

  I had to do them without letting Jeffords know I had burned my hand; otherwise, it would become one hundred and fifty. I got down on my knees and carefully placed my hands on the ground trying not to wince as pain shot like a fireball from my palm up my arm.

  Lifting my knees off the ground, I straightened my body into a prone position. It was the first push-up I had done in years. It wouldn’t have been so bad, except the pain in my hand was now comparable to what I had felt the first day when I had sunburns all over my body.

  Why does this place always leave me with blistered and scaly skin?

  By number five, I knew it would be only luck or grit alone that would get me to fifty. But I continue to persevere, letting the pain cut through my arm, as if it was a natural part of me, something to be expected. My breathing was not any more tolerable and I found myself coughing at the top and bottom of each pushup while the sense of dread began to grow. By the time I hit fifteen I feared it was not in me to do fifty, but I kept going. At one point I looked up and saw Jeffords glaring down at me. Anger coursed through me, helping me continue. I did not take my eyes off Jeffords. My fury burned like fire, giving me what I needed to keep moving. I crossed thirty and then passed forty. Forty-one did not come easy and Jeffords smiled as if he expected me to fail. I gritted my teeth and went on.

  When I was at forty-eight, it felt as if my arms were going to break, preformed muscles or no. My back could stand it no longer, every affected muscle screamed. I went down and when I came back up, I felt something on the top of my back. I’d taken my eyes off Jeffords because of the pain and hadn’t realized he had come closer.

  He had placed his foot on me. He now leaned forward, putting as much weight on as he could.

  If I had been in a better state I might have tried something sudden to knock him off balance. I did forty-nine and then fifty, feeling as if he had most his weight on my back.

  When I was about to stand, his foot was still there, keeping me down.

  “Ten more. You are not tired enough.” I could still hear the others coughing, but they had gathered round to watch the spectacle.

  I hesitated, my arms shaking as I coughed. It had taken everything to get to fifty and now he wanted more?

  Was he going to sit on my back for the rest?

  The dread was subsiding, perhaps driven out by my exercise.

  If he noticed my tiring arms, he did not comment. The sun seemed to rise higher while I wondered if I could do ten more or should just give up.

  He wants me to know I am his slave.

  Just as I was about to let my arms buckle, thinking of trying to knock him over, the faces of my wife and son came and I knew I had to go down for ten more.

  I had to learn the truth of this place.

  But what about the alley? Who wanted you dead?

  Ignoring the questions I could never answer, I focused on the task at hand.

  It was difficult to describe the feelings that came over me as I continued this last unwanted stretch of punishment, but somehow, I managed to make my way through. When I got to the last one I expected him to tell me to do ten more. If he did, I would think of my family and go until I could go no further.

  But he did not.

  His foot came off. For a brief moment I almost let myself fall but refused to let it happen. I would not show any more weakness than my body absolutely required.

  I knelt, taking a deep breath as I did and coughing all the while. As I stood, I made eye contact with Jeffords. The man frowned as if he wished he had told me to do more.

  For a moment he hesitated and I feared he would.

  I kept the hatred in my heart from showing on my face.

  Jeffords pointed to the peak. “In three weeks you will scale the top of that mountain unaided.” He paused for emphasis. “No rope.” We all focused on the top. At first it looked like the sandy red rock, but after closer examination was more solid, reminding me more of granite than the sandstone we’d been treading.

  “Those who can’t will die.”

  He let it sink in, our thoughts punctuated by our coughing. My eyes watered. Sweat covered every inch of my body. I hacked up bloody phlegm.

  Jeffords was fine, of course.

  “You started out thinking today was going to be a walk in the park. I hope to have disabused you of this notion. You may feel what I’ve done is unfair. What I’ve really done is set your expectations. You must have low expectations of what others offer. You must have high expectations for yourself. Regardless, you should expect to always have the unexpected thrown at you. Your body is hurt. You are on your last breath. Things are at their darkest. And that’s when you are tempted most to give up. Our job is to push you past that point to prove you can be made of the stuff that gets back up again and keeps going. Your bodies are not built for the type of treatment I gave them today. That was a flat out lie. You all came through just fine, even those who did not think you could.

  “Humans are among the most resilient beings in the universe. This is why we have been recruited for the war. As I’ve hinted at already, there is much at stake, the fate of mankind’s place in the universe hangs in the balance.”

  Recruited?

  Frowning, I balled my hands into fists as I thought of the vital information I had missed during the orientation.

  I looked at Jeffords and wanted to see irrationality, even though I knew that was not true. There was logic to his words. There was a rationale for his actions.

  Even if I did not agree with them.

  “Aldreda is the harshest world you’ve ever known, but there are worse. We picked something middle-of-the-road for your training. There is a satisfaction that will come as you learn to not only survive but thrive in this world.

  “Your first lesson today is you cannot trust anybody. This is not to say you do not follow orders. This is not to say your superiors don’t know better than you, they often will. What I’m saying is you can only trust yourself to get through. I don’t care if you do or not. We have more recruits waiting on ice than I care to think about.

  “It is only through your efforts that you are going to survive the next three months. It is only through your efforts that you will learn the skills necessary to scale that peak. It is only your internal decisions that will enable everything that comes after today. Are you man enough for this? Are you capable of this?

  “A high percentage of our recruits die. There has been talk that training is too harsh, that we’re washing out too many. Given what I know about what is coming down at you guys I cannot in good conscience do any less.”

  He looked at each of us, making a point of establishing eye contact with one before moving on to the next.

  His eyes stayed the longest on me and I got the feeling he was going to do everything he could to ensure I met my doom.

  “Follow me back to the mess tent for dinn
er. Tonight will be your last night of rest and make no mistake, I mean tonight. As soon as morning hits you should expect to be out doing drills, being pushed to the absolute limit of your capabilities.”

  18

  I was still behind Jeffords when we arrived at the mess hall. I was tempted to go to the front of the food line but stepped aside to let others go first. I could feel their resentment. I had hoped some might have felt empathy after the pushups during our coughing attack, but I didn’t see a shred as they passed me. The least I could do was give them a chance to eat first. It might just mean the beating they would surely give me wouldn’t kill me.

  I wanted to avoid more laps and knew Jeffords was just looking for an excuse.

  As they passed, an elbow jostled me in the side. It was the man I had approached earlier, thinking to make an ally. He apparently wanted to go out of his way to show we weren’t friends. I knew my analysis was correct when I saw how he looked at the others.

  That was a man to remember.

  I waited for them to get ahead before moving towards the stack of trays myself. I was surprised to learn my tray was made from metal. It was a dull brown, so I had a assumed it was plastic, like what I might find at a fast food restaurant back on earth. It had some weight and would do damage should I hit somebody, maybe even crack open a skull.

  With Jeffords staring at me, it was difficult to not learn firsthand what it could do.

  I set the tray down on the serving table to remove temptation. The woman on the other side scooped out weird looking vegetables, but it was nothing I recognized. She had brown hair and was not hard like General Roth.

  The next two were men and judging by their haircuts were soldiers, so I assumed the woman was too. She gave me a thin joyless smile after dumping the slop of vegetables on my tray. It was the first bit of kindness I’d seen outside of Dolores’ begrudging help.

  Next up was a piece of foul-smelling meat. The last man dropped a scoop of something like mashed potatoes, but the texture was off.

  There were several self-serve items, but only the rolls looked appetizing. I grabbed two, thinking I might be able to eat both.

  At the end were large metal mugs and utensils. The mugs where the size of a quart. I first picked out a fork, knife, and spoon before reaching for the mug. When I put my cup underneath a faucet red liquid automatically came out, filling it to the brim.

  A group which included the man who had jostled me sat at one table. There were a couple of empty spots next to them. The rest had spread out through the mess tent, apparently preferring to eat alone.

  I made eye contact with one of the loners and he looked away. If I were to take the initiative and sit beside somebody, they might shuffle away. I shrugged and made as if to sit at an empty table but sat by the group, catching them off guard.

  They went silent.

  The man who I had approached glared at me with cold eyes. I met his stare without hesitation. These men had seen me best them today. They had seen Jeffords put the screws to me. If they thought they were going to mess around with me they had another thing coming.

  My tray could hurt if we got into it.

  There was a part of me that had chosen to sit by these men, not only to egg them on but to show I was not afraid, that I would not be cowed by them.

  “You can’t sit there,” the unfriendly man said.

  That’s the last time I try to make friends.

  I shrugged. “Make me move.” I shoveled in a bite of the mashed-potato-like-substance and was pleasantly surprised to find it was mashed potatoes. Or at least close enough, I mused when I noticed a strange aftertaste.

  “I will.”

  I leaned back in my chair and grabbed my tray while meeting the man’s glare.

  “Come on Logan,” said another, scrawny man who was a head shorter than the others, “leave the guy alone. We are all just trying to get by, aren’t we? None of us signed up for this, none of us want to be here. Why do their jobs for them by making this more difficult than it has to be?”

  The man next to the one who had spoken, elbowed him.

  “Anders did something wrong, otherwise why are they treating him like they are?” Logan spoke with his mouth full, spraying bits of potato. “Even if he didn’t, as long as they’re picking on him they aren’t focused on us, right?”

  “We are victims,” the short man said. “We must stick together.” He was the height I had been back on earth. Any one of the others could probably take him down, training or no.

  I liked the guy, not only because he stood with me, but also because he spoke his mind. I always did better with men like that. Perhaps it was just the lawyer in me, but I preferred dealing with straightforward people.

  I looked at the last man who had not yet said or done anything, trying to judge what he thought. Right now was his opportunity to do the right thing. He noticed my gaze and looked away.

  He cleared his throat and opened his mouth as if he were going to say something, but clapped it shut and refused to make eye contact with the short man or me.

  I shook my head, taking mental note of his cowardice.

  “You might gain a momentary advantage by piling on,” I said, “but in the end, we are all captives.”

  “Leave,” Logan said. “I’m not going to consort with the likes of you. We don’t need your taint.” He looked at the scrawny fellow. “You too, Winston, if you don’t shut up.”

  “You’re making a mistake,” I said, wondering if I would have been so bold if I hadn’t been larger than these guys. I was more than double Winston’s size.

  With one hand on the sturdy metal tray, I tightened my grip around my fork that was still loaded with mashed potatoes.

  “It would be a real shame,” I said, “after everything that has happened if we get punished for fighting.”

  “I don’t like the tone either of you is taking right now,” Winston said. “I think it best if you both take a deep breath. Think this through. You barely know each other. You’re taking out your frustration with the situation on one another.”

  “What were you, a psychologist?” Logan snapped.

  I stood.

  “We must cooperate,” I said.

  Back on earth, I had never backed down from a fight in my life. Of course, the last time I’d been in one that involved fists had been as a teenager.

  It was difficult to say what had come over me. I couldn’t fully explain why I’d sat down nor why I was leaving.

  Ironic, I thought, now that I have the size to win.

  Something sticky hit the back of my head.

  Mashed potatoes.

  “Are we in high school?”

  I didn’t look back as I wiped off the food and smeared it on my tray, figuring I’d just draw Jeffords’ wrath if I tossed it on the floor.

  I positioned myself to see their table. While I was not close enough to hear their conversation, I watched Logan’s mannerisms and behavior. He was in a body that placed him in his mid-thirties, but he acted like a prepubescent child. Certainly, the mashed potatoes he had thrown supported that conclusion.

  And why couldn’t that be the case?

  If they intercepted us at death, putting us all in bodies of the same age, wasn’t it likely some were younger and others were older?

  I had been pushing forty-five when I had been gunned down. Shaking my head, I snorted.

  I almost threw down with a kid.

  I wasn’t going to waste more time on Logan whose behavior was that of immature juvenile, thinking he could elbow me to impress his peers. I would ignore him unless doing so put me in danger.

  I finished my meal in silence, eating as quick as I dared after almost draining the red liquid. I’d expected juice or punch, but it was flavorless, leaving the barest hint of a lemon-lime aftertaste, making me wonder if a cleaning solution had contaminated the water.

  In the movies, recruits were not given much time to eat. Contrary to what I expected, after we’d eaten, it was still anothe
r half hour before Jeffords appeared in the mess tent. By that time, everybody had long since finished.

  A look of mock surprise crossed his face. “What are you still doing here? You have the night off. The next phase won’t start till tomorrow.”

  Perhaps the others had been shown where their quarters were or knew where to go next, but I had no idea. I waited for them to make the first move. Judging by the way they looked nervously at one another, none of them knew.

  I didn’t want to run any more laps, so I sat in silence with the others.

  When nobody spoke, Jeffords frowned and took several steps down the aisle, looking at me as he did.

  I was the only one in the room as far as he was concerned.

  “I am disappointed by your lack of initiative. Why am I not surprised you don’t want to know the location of your barracks?” He shook his head. “Here we are, trying to give you a break and you sit here insolent, as if you don’t have a brain in your head, like the true fried-maggot-gut-sandwiches you are.”

  He stopped a step away and looked at me with taunting eyes. He wanted me to ask.

  I refrained from frowning. I knew what was coming. More laps. I wasn’t going to provoke him. Everybody already hated me enough as it was, there was nothing I could do to fix that, but I didn’t need to make it any worse.

  Especially if some are just kids.

  The room was quiet. Nobody dared move.

  Jeffords did not take his gaze from me.

  If one of the other recruits said something, would he hear them?

  I stood.

  I could take pressure off the others, though I wouldn’t receive much gratitude.

  “How many laps should I run, sir?”

  Jeffords had not expected this.

  He sneered. “Better make it twenty. Your insolent attitude is going to get you killed. The only thing I can do is make sure you know how to run away from danger.”

  “Yes, sir.”