Dead Man's Game Page 7

  Even when I’d been a junior associate at my firm I’d been proud that I was more competent than my superiors. They’d resented me but I’d excelled anyway, carefully making decisions that led to partnership, despite the obstacles my overlords had thrown in my way.

  This is the same, only with roid-rage.

  After the lap around camp Jeffords turned to see who was with him.

  I put my hands behind my back, spreading my legs as if at parade rest. I did not have experience with the army but I’d seen movies. I wanted him to think I was entirely on board, that I was fully invested.

  That I was playing his game.

  Jeffords frowned. “You not struggling, soldier? You seem to be having an easier time than the others. Aren’t you the one who ran from that grenling, who ended up fried and had to be put in a cocoon? Are you flaunting your good health in front of the others? Wanting to make them feel bad about themselves? About their situation?”

  I didn’t understand why he pretended to not know who I was but I let it slide.

  “My legs work fine, sir.” I figured it was safest to acknowledge what I had done rather than explain myself. If he was going to hand out more difficult tasks because of it, so be it.

  “You think highly of yourself, don’t you? You think you’re better than everybody ‘cause you ran away from a grenling and lived to tell the tale? Well how about this, since you like running, how about you run laps around camp until the last man has made it to this point.”

  It took considerable effort but I kept my surprise from showing. I might be okay walking, but I didn’t know if I was up for running. I hadn’t been given water and was already covered in sweat. The sun wasn’t even all the way up and I suspected it was going to get much hotter. My throat was parched. I’d probably been connected to an IV while unconscious, but that wasn’t the same as drinking water.

  “That was an order, soldier. I suggest you get going.”

  I was tempted to remind him that training wasn’t supposed to start until after lunch but I shut my mouth and ran.

  Rather than look behind to see where the others were, I did a lap around camp to see what I was up against because I didn’t want Jeffords thinking he was getting to me. I was sure he would notice the slightest hesitation; it was bad enough I hadn’t immediately obeyed. The others would finish their lap, it couldn’t take them too long, could it?

  As I made my way around, my heart sunk when I realized that almost to a man, they were only a quarter of the way. The two soldiers walked behind as if expecting them to keel over from exhaustion.

  As I passed I was tempted to slow my gait because I had started out faster than I should have, but as I came up on Jeffords, I was not able to do it.

  My pride would not allow it.

  He wore a thin smile as I passed, making me think he took perverse pleasure in seeing me run.

  He probably could not have run from a grenling when he first woke up.

  My next lap went just as fast, but after that I was forced to slow down. Pride or no, my body was only going to handle so much. It wasn’t used to running, much less the harsh heat. I already had a sweat ring down to my belly, something I’d never experienced back on earth.

  At this rate I was going to be wiped before lunch, before the actual start of training.

  It took six more laps before the last man finished.

  Jeffords gave me a wicked grin when I finally pulled to a stop behind the others. I did not care, I was too busy trying to breathe the retched air.

  What was that smell? It was everywhere without an apparent source.

  Each breath was painful, not nearly as bad as when I’d run from the grenling, but still unpleasant.

  At least my skin wasn’t chafing with third-degree burns.

  My eyes were dry but better than expected. My shades didn’t fog up as I ran. I wasn’t sure if it was because of the dry heat or some antifogging mechanism. Even with the shades I was starting to develop a headache from the glare. The brim of my hat helped but not by much. Perhaps it was something I would get used to over time.

  How had I survived my run from the grenling without suffering eye damage?

  Maybe that was something they fixed in the cocoon.

  I grabbed my knees while taking deep, hacking breaths, one right after the other so fast that I was on the verge of hyperventilating. It felt like I was about to lose my balance, that I was about to topple into the two men in front of me. Luckily, I regained it without suffering further humiliation.

  “Now that each of you,” Jeffords looked at me in particular, “have a little taste for how bad this environment can be and the exact condition of your body, it is time for an early lunch.”

  As we followed Jeffords there was no small amount of grumbling as the others talked about sore legs and backs. Chief among their complaints was their difficulty breathing and the smell.

  I didn’t hear anybody complain about being conscripted. Perhaps they were too distracted by pain, but maybe that was just because there was nothing they could do about it. It could also have been fear. Jeffords had made it clear what happened to those who did not measure up.

  When he saw me lagging, each step more painful than the last, a wicked grin split his face.

  We were just approaching the mess hall when one of the men in front of me vomited.

  I was surprised he had something to throw up. Rather than green bile, he tossed up purple goo. I was the only recruit who noticed because the others didn’t turn back at the noise.

  I carefully navigated the unnatural mess.

  When we arrived at the mess tent—a large tent in the middle of camp—the sick man murmured to himself.

  “How can they expect me to eat?”

  The words were difficult to understand as if he were still learning to use his voice, something I could sympathize with.

  “Your voice comes back quick,” I said, seizing on his discomfort to forge an alliance.

  “Move away from me, Anders,” he said quietly so only he and I could hear.

  Doing my best to cover my shock I didn’t answer as I stepped past him. We had not had even been awake for more than two hours and already politics was rearing its ugly head. Nothing made me more disgusted than dealing with that.

  I had held my own at my law firm, but it was more of a distraction than it should have been.

  Others glared at me as I walked away. Yes, it was clear they had an issue with me as well. Apparently, I wasn’t popular.

  It didn’t bother me. I’d never been one to seek the approval of others. It didn’t suit me.

  If I’m going to be a lightning rod I might as well make the most of it.

  I pushed ahead, being no gentler than necessary, and went into the mess tent right after Jeffords. In a few weeks, I would be rougher about it, but I was afraid I’d knock somebody over. In their weakened state they’d break an arm or a leg or something else Jeffords could lay at my feet.

  Jeffords pointed to a stack of trays in front of a serving station. “Get some food.”

  I was lightheaded and feeling dehydrated. I was going to need more than the one quart of liquid Jeffords had promised. I moved toward the trays, but Jeffords grabbed my arm. “You can wait until the others have gone.”

  “Yes, sir.” I saw no point in fighting though my lips were dry and my throat was parched. I didn’t want food.

  I just wanted water.

  As the others passed they were not too tired to snicker. The man who had told me to get away held his head high.

  None of us were at our best, it would be weeks before any of us would approach something like normality. Perhaps I might make another attempt to make allies, but it wouldn’t be soon.

  My watch beeped as I stepped up to the serving counter after they had gone. The watches of the others did as well. I pulled out the tube, and slathered block all over my exposed skin.

  The others didn’t respond. They appeared too tired to care or had forgotten what they were sup
posed to do. They shuffled down the line without stopping.

  As I slipped the tube into my pocket and pressed the button on my watch to reactivate the timer, Jeffords cleared his throat.

  “You flesh-eating-maggots forget something? Seems none of you remembered to put on block.”

  I looked at him. He stared right back at me, wanting me to challenge his words. I bit my tongue and kept from saying more, it was becoming obvious he was not going to let up.

  “All who completed one lap can put on block. Anybody who exceeded that number must do another five laps before they can eat.”

  The blood boiled in my chest. My hands curled into fists. He had not ordered me to put on block. If there had been any doubt he’d see me put it on, it was now gone.

  “Who falls into that category?”

  I stepped forward. “That would be me.” My words came through gritted teeth.

  “You better get going, soldier. Five laps.”

  As I started towards the exit, he growled. “Did I say anything about walking? Run.”

  I was furious. I was tempted to mow the man right over as I sped up. He might kill me, but I had a decent shot at doing some damage, especially since the two soldiers were no longer with him. I shifted to just miss him and he didn’t budge an inch.

  His smirk burned into my memory.

  The sun hit me like a blast of wind, new perspiration immediately coming from my pores. I was surprised I had anything left to sweat out. As I made my way to the outer edge of camp, I wanted to imagine all the things I would do to Jeffords if I had the chance but did not have the energy. I was dead on my feet and afraid I might die before I finished the laps. He was well on his way if his goal was to make me as weak as the others.

  The attack came on my third lap.

  I was barely able to think of anything other than water when I heard falling rock in the ravine.

  It dawned on me that I’d been hearing it for several seconds and that it was getting louder. I stopped, knowing if Jeffords saw me—regardless of the reason—I was going to be in trouble. A few more steps and the noise would be at my back. It did not seem wise to ignore it until I knew what it was.

  I shuffled toward the ravine. It was ten feet away and I became more hesitant with each step, but something propelled me on.

  It was fear more than anything else. I had taken to heart the warning that most everything on this planet could kill me.

  Is it another grenling?

  The thought stopped me cold but only for a moment. I had to keep running and I wasn’t going to do that until I knew it was safe.

  I was three steps from the edge when a single, rational thought pierced the fog of emotion wrapping my brain.

  Nobody was around. I could take a shortcut past the unmanned guard station.

  The thought hit me like a bullet.

  Where are the guards?

  I backed away from the edge, wanting to run, but also wanting sufficient distance from the fissure before making any sudden movements.

  Something sprung up, a flapping sound filling the air is it did. It made a vertical leap of over thirty feet before descending towards me like a glider that was made of teeth and claws.

  It was on me before I could react, claws digging into my chest as its jaws tried to close around my neck. With one hand I pushed on its head, with the other I pushed on its body. Despite its sudden appearance and quick attack, it weighed far less than me.

  As I kept its head away from my face its claws dug further into my jumpsuit. I was forced to grab one of its arms by releasing my hold on its body. The other dug into me even further.

  At this point I was no longer able to maintain my balance, and we toppled over with the creature landing on top. I still pushed its head with my hand, but I could not hold it much longer.

  The creature seemed unaffected.

  With the head in one hand and the winged arm in the other, I pushed the arm back at what I hoped was an awkward angle, intending to cause the creature discomfort.

  If it cried any louder I couldn’t tell. It did not appear to be bothered by my effort to cause it pain. Knowing it was a risk, I slid my hand down the creature’s head to its neck and began to squeeze.

  It was like trying to strangle a tree. The neck was too thick and sturdy to be bothered by my weak attempt to cut off its air supply. I kept trying, but accomplished nothing. This creature did not have the same vulnerabilities one might expect from almost any animal back on earth. The creature’s jaws were now closer to my face. I thrust my hand out farther to keep it from biting me, but its sharp teeth were inches from my nose.

  I focused on my other hand, unintentionally yanking its head towards me as I pushed its arm in the other direction, even as the claws dug into my side. The pain wrenched through me as they dug deeper. When I yanked its arm I experienced a small respite as the claws slid out from my side.

  I wrenched harder, thinking the moment had come to free myself and for a second it seemed like I had.

  I was about to hurl away the creature, when its claws slammed into my side, cutting a new wound that felt deeper than the one before.

  I screamed as I twisted the arm and pulled the neck. For the first time since the encounter had begun, the creature squawked in a way that seemed like an indication of pain. I did it again and again. I shifted my leg and was able to maneuver until I flipped on top of the creature.

  I slowly crept my hand back up its neck towards its head, almost getting my cheek bit off in the process. When my hand was under its jaw, I felt the flesh give. I increased my pressure, pushing harder while continuing to twist its arm.

  Its free claw flailed about, scoring hits along my side, and upper thigh. None of these were deep. I had finally found a weak point. I pushed on the neck repeatedly. It let out a scream so loud my ears hurt. I did not stop as I formed my hand under its jaw into a fist and started to work my way into the flesh.

  Its movements became more frantic as I applied more pressure into the weak spot. Its head was firmly planted against the ground and its free claw still thrashed, but it was becoming erratic and its claw was not making nearly as much purchase as it had a moment ago.

  Leaning forward, I put my weight against my fist, crushing what I hoped was its windpipe. Judging by its thrashing and muted squawks, I was doing some damage. I pushed down harder, putting all my weight into it and after it a final flailing attempt to get free something snapped.

  Its head sagged while its body thrashed.

  I kept my fist where it was, not trusting it was dead, and finally got a good look at the creature.

  Its eyes were atop its head, like a frog, and while I had assumed this was some sort of lizard—in my mind’s eye I had fought a pterodactyl—there were little tiny green feathers all over its body that I had mistaken for scaly skin. Its snout was more than half a foot and its teeth were two inches long. Its claws were a little thicker than the teeth and while maybe not as sharp, were more than three inches.

  It had hand-like appendages that were attached to the end of arms that had flaps of skin like a flying squirrel. Its legs had flaps as well. None of the folds had feathers and its talons were like those of a chicken.

  I had no idea how long I waited to make sure the creature was no longer moving, but I eventually stood while still holding my fist to its jaw. Once I had my feet underneath me, I released my hold, expecting it would start moving at any moment. I jumped back and waited.

  Once I was sure it was dead I started jogging again or at least tried to. Blood dripped down my side, making it difficult to take more than a couple of steps at such a pace.

  As I passed the empty guardhouse I couldn’t help but wonder if the attack had been orchestrated. It was a stretch to think Jeffords had planted this creature, hoping it would attack me, wasn’t it?

  I slowed to a stumbling walk and rather than continue to do a lap, I cut through and headed towards the mess tent. Lucky for me, it was recognizable in the middle of camp because of its s
ize. I’d only seen one building made from concrete, everything else was canvas.

  As I made my way I hoped to run into somebody who might help. I’d seen soldiers during my previous laps.

  Where are they now?

  The temperature was hotter than it had been when we first left our tent, but the sun was not yet at its zenith, so I figured the hottest part of the day was still to come. By the time I reached the mess tent, my leg was covered in blood and was wet with sweat.

  I didn’t know if block was water resistant, but I hoped its function would survive all the sweat.

  As I entered the mess hall I was met by Jeffords.

  “What are you doing back? You could not possibly have completed five laps.” He looked at me as he spoke, his face not betraying any emotion or thought as he took in my bloody side and the other wounds I had received from the creature.

  I stared with a slack jaw, wanting to punch the man and smash his face, crushing his jugular in the way I’d done to the creature.

  Could he not see I was covered with blood, that I was at death’s door unless I got immediate medical attention?

  Instead, he chose to interrogate me about whether I finished my laps.

  My hands balled into fists. I struggled for words.

  General Roth walked into the tent just as I was about to open my mouth to let him have it. She took one look at me, brought up her watch and called for medical help.

  Before the team arrived, my legs gave out and I fell to the rough, sandpaper-like floor.

  Jeffords didn’t move.

  Roth didn’t move.

  Nobody came to my aid.

  They watched me squirm as I disappeared into unconsciousness. The last thing I remembered was looking at Jeffords’ face and seeing him smile. I hadn’t been here more than a few days and I already had a mortal enemy.

  Something about Jeffords made a mental connection to something from my past, but it disappeared as my vision went black.

  15

  I groaned when I opened my eyes and saw the familiar green canvas tent. Was there no escape? I had hoped it had all been a bad dream—though I did not remember anything from the moment I blacked out until this—but it was looking less likely.