“Oh no. I definitely can’t take credit forthatcreation. An old AI called Father was behind that experiment.”
My heart beats faster as I realize what this means. “Your champion is a New-Human?”
“Indeed. Likely the very last one. I see you’ve heard of them.”
Heard of them?I have witnessed brave fighters, not to mention Semi-Humans, brutally killed by a single one of them. “There is no way you want me to defeat a New-Human.”
“Both you and I want that, or your existence might become useless to me.”
His threat is loud and clear. I don’t see a point in arguing about that now, but I do know that no matter how many times Hector cuts me with his tail, I will still be no match for a New-Human.
“How is the lamb feeling now?”
I shake my head. “I’m no lamb.”
“Then what are you?”
I honestly don’t know anymore, but that’s not what he wants to hear. I let the words slip out of my mouth, committing to something I’m bound to regret. “I’m your champion.”
*
It’s late when the car drops me back by the gate of House Powell. It’s quiet and peaceful so far from the city center, yet it feels like I can hear more than usual. The crickets, even the distant ones, sound close, as well as the leaves rustling in the breeze.
The guards by the gate let me in, telling me to go straight to my quarters. I walk where the road is dark, seeing just fine. When I’m about to reach my quarters, I stop at the sound oflaughter. It’s coming from a group of level two fighters. They smoke underneath one of the lamps, which they are allowed to do as long as it’s after training hours. When they notice me watching, one of them drops his cigarette and marches toward me. He’s the one who knocked me down today more times than I care to remember. It seems like he wants to have another go by the look in his eyes.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he says, stopping close enough to breathe his cigarette in my face. “Not that I mind kicking your ass, but you’re too weak to handle this.” He flashes a smile. “I’m sure there are whorehouses that would be happy to take you in. You seem like the kind of bitch who can spread wide.”
The rest of his friends come over, almost surrounding me. There are five of them, and I wonder if they were waiting for my return.
“They told us you’d be fighting with us in the next round of games,” cigarette breath says. “It will be best that you break something before you can embarrass us.”
They move closer from all directions like hunting wolves, but I’m done being the lamb. I grab cigarette breath, and with one swift movement, hurl him across the training yard. He hits the ground hard, and I catch the sound of an arm snapping.
The rest take a step back, not dumb enough to try their luck.
“See you tomorrow at training,” I say, then go catch some sleep.
Chapter 18
Finn
“Our new friends haven’t spoken all day,” Timothy says as we walk on an old concrete road in the middle of the woods.
“They’re saving their energy,” I say. “I just hope we didn’t waste our time going through all this trouble.”
“Have faith!” River calls from up ahead, not needing to be close to hear my words.
I try to have faith, but I can’t see how this substance in my backpack can help us rescue Caden. It has been four days since we left Pueblo after our chopper exploded. We’ve been keeping a steady pace toward Florence, where we’ll communicate with Dino to plan our next steps. All this walking has given me time to think and come up with a plan, but I haven’t shared it with the others yet.
We stop for the night at a clearing in the woods, about a day’s walk from Florence. River takes care of the campfire and the food, humming as he works. Buck finishes eating first and goes to scan the area, even though River and Timothy are capable of sensing any nearby danger.
As I eat my rabbit stew, the bottle with the substances begins to stir and glow. I open the cap, allowing it to slide outside. Thepuddle shifts and rises until it takes the form of a small man, no more than eight inches tall. He walks to stand by the fire, the dancing flames making him look more orange than yellow.
“Very strange and creepy,” River says. He’s sitting next to Josh, their legs stretched forward and their backs against a log. “Would you like to hear me play?”
The small man says, “We would. Music is something we remember.”
River plays his harmonica, and when he finishes, the man says, “It was beautiful. We are content.”
