Tommy, Fiona and I ran out the back door.
Behind us the thrill of shouts and metal clanging against metal made my heart hammer into an uneven rhythm. I squeezed my eyes, not wanting to cry, my feet were eager to turn back. I refused, running forward.
We jumped over fences, scaled backyards and dipped under windows, forcing ourselves to get as far away as possible.
My heart hammered in my chest, and I whined through the pain of it. I had never been so frightened.
“Come on!” Fiona pushed me. “We have to get out of here.”
I had not realised I had stopped. I hurled into the grass, my forehead pushing into the stems. I dug my fingers into my chest, trying to claw out the damn organ that was about to explode.
“Delphine!” Fiona urged me up, but I could not stand. “What’s wrong with you?”
“I’m having a bloody heart attack.” Tears dribbled from my eyes. My breathing chopped.
This was a very inconvenient time to be lying in the grass. My heart was punishing me for running. I needed to go back to Dig.
Fiona assisted me to standing but as she heaved me forward, I stepped back. It felt as if there were a string tied around my heart, the end of it leading from my chest and tethering back to where we had come.
I looked to the house smothered in other homes, my forehead lining.
I had never felt this before… this lovely mapping from my soul. In all my years I had listened to my heart, pressing my hand over it, counting the beats like a song. It had never sung the song I had wanted, and in that moment, the chorus of it sparked in my ears.
“Delphine!” Fiona jerked my arm to move. “We have to go.”
“You run.” I smiled and pushed her away. “I have to go this way.”
She ran to Tommy. I ran back.
My feet pounded into the earth, my heart thumped viciously, my breath was close to choking me as I blew and heaved through the ache in my chest.
Overhead the drones buzzed, singing their alarms over the arena. The countdown was on until the end of the Battle.
Ten.
I took my last steps on my near endless journey.
Nine.
One foot in front of another, again and again. I clasped my heart, swimming in the chaotic thumping, the exquisite pain.
Eight.
I walked with a smile, across the Execution Battle, past severed limbs and decapitated heads and pink plastic flamingo lawn ornaments and children’s swing sets.
Seven.
I walked and walked into the maw of serial killers and mass murderers as they slashed and sliced and kicked and punched the one man they had all come to kill. I had once thought he was a monster. When was a monster no longer a monster? When you love it, I think.
Six.
The drone junkies danced.
Five. Four.
Blood sprayed in the air.
Three.
