There Are Only Four (The Competition Archives Book 1) Page 12

  “Help me up.” Luka grabs my arm with a weak grip. I seize this boy I love beyond explanation and pull him to his feet. His gaze flits over my face and then angles down. His eyes widen, and I know those two boys have gained on us. I don’t bother to glance down, though. I am getting Luka to the top.

  We resume our upward movement. Another groan of changing concrete precedes yet more screams of a falling child, but I do not look down. A vicious war cry erupts from the mouths of that murderous team, yet I do not look down. I keep moving. Climbing over every block. Hauling Luka’s slowing body over each ledge. Leaping over each gap of endless air.

  And then we are at the top. I don’t know how we survived it, but suddenly, my ribs are grating over the edge, and a flat and motionless surface beckons me with welcoming arms. With a cry of burning muscles, I pull Luka beside me, and we both kneel on this newfound safety. Those boys are gaining on us. We have to move, but we made it. We are finally at the end.

  I grab Luka’s clammy hand, and we stand victorious to gaze over the crown of the tower, the completion of our bloody journey. But the view that greets us is not the one I expected. I should have guessed a final surprise awaited us. They would not be so kind to let us have this hard-won triumph so easily. My jaw drops at the sight, and I feel dizzy. My heels almost stumble backward over the edge. We have not reached the end. This is the maze. The real maze, and like rats we will have to charge through it until we are trapped in a dead end or crowned the winners of this perversion.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Which way?” Luka’s voice is as unsteady as his body. The entrance to this new labyrinth offers an option to both the left and the right, but it fails to provide its victims with any clues as to its correct path. Its walls are giants, even if they are dwarfed by the ones we abandoned far below, ensuring that none of us can scale them to discern its true nature.

  A grunt from below alerts me to the fact that our head start is coming to a fast death, and that if we don’t move, we will join it. My eyes frantically flick between both directions, but nothing about this sparks even the slightest premonition in my chest. My sixth sense has abandoned me just as the rest of the world has.

  “Come on.” Luka grabs me and pushes me forward as those murderous boys clamor ever closer. “We have a fifty/fifty shot. Left or right?”

  “Left,” I blurt as we enter the maze, my mouth uttering the word before my brain even has the chance to decide.

  Luka veers left, feet slapping the concrete in a panicked staccato, and I barrel down our chosen path hard on his heels. The walls just ahead curve to drive us right, and when we obey their commands, a vicious flood of relief batters me at the sight of open maze and not a dead end to force us to retreat into the arms of our deranged competitors.

  My reprieve snuffs out as quickly as it was ignited when we come to a split in the passage.

  “Which way?” Luka asks.

  “I don’t know.” I hear my frayed nerves playing over my vocal cords.

  Luka takes the decision in his own hands and hooks right, but the moment we round the bend, a three-way fork looms in our path with mocking cruelty. Luka skids to a stop, and I see sweat on his pale brow. He needs to slow down. We can’t slow down.

  “Straight down the middle,” I say, taking the lead. I have no clue if we are closing in on the finish line, or if we are burrowing ourselves into an oblivion we will never escape, but I push forward. This straight stretch is longer than the others, and for a moment I worry that it’ll end unceremoniously at the edge of the tower, leaving us to fall off the end of its world, but a subtle curve reveals itself to assure me of our progress.

  And progress we make as it thrust us upon another fork in the maze. I corral Luka left, but no sooner do we round the turn, we are confronted by a dead end. I curse under my breath, and Luka groans, but at least this impasse only cost us seconds. With no choice but to go down the rightmost path, we bolt back the way we came, careening down our second option. The route to the right opens wide, beckoning to be run down, and we obey the siren’s call. For a few minutes, only emptiness greets us, and then the hallway curves in on itself. We bend with it and nearly collide face first into a solid slab of concrete.

  I dig my heels in so hard I swear the soles of my boots almost give way, and my palms slap the blocked path. Luka bumps into me at the sudden stop, but he barely groans at the pain in his arm. This is bad. I’m losing him.

  “No, no, no,” I repeat like my voice is broken. I slam my fists in an angry rhythm against the wall. “We have to go back.” I turn to Luka and cup his face in my palms. “You’re gonna be okay.” I’m not sure if I’m asking or telling, but he nods listlessly and lets me lead him back over our lost ground.

  We retreat, warriors defeated in this concrete battle, and return to the three-way fork. I look left and right, desperate not to make the wrong choice again, but nothing about the identical gray walls offers any hints as to which direction holds our success’ fate in its clutches. We don’t have time to sit here and ponder our decision, though, so I nudge Luka left and beg anyone listening that this is the right passage.

  We round a curve, and I hear the slap of running feet seconds before their owners come into view. The two murderous boys round the corner at a colossal speed, and before my brain can process the horrifying image my eyes are seeing, Luka lunges into my path. His hip knocks me sideways, and I stumble into the wall with a thud. My voice lodges in my throat as I stagger to regain my balance, but even my haste is too slow to stop the terror playing before me.

  A crack rings out into the air as the larger of the two boys whips a small metal rod he must have salvaged from the maze against Luka’s good shoulder. I realize with a rush of bitter bile that the boy had been aiming for me, but Luka had accepted the punishment in my stead.

  “No!” I scream, but I barely make it a few steps before the second teenager’s fist collides with my gut. I gag, almost vomiting from the sheer pressure, but he waits not for my recovery. Within seconds, he has his bloodstained hands against my ribs and throws me with brutal force. My body slams into the wall, and my head smacks the concrete with a harsh crack. My vision blurs, and I think pain is pouring over my lips in a torrent of screams, but I’m not sure. All I know is I’m prostrate before this barbarian, sucking in breaths that do not wish to be breathed.

  The boy kicks me in the gut for good measure, and the agony is so unbearable, I almost pass out. I lay like a fish on the sand, drowning on dry land, and he seems satisfied that my fetal body will not rise to oppose him. He turns back to his teammate with the rebar and zeros in on his next victim.

  “Luka…” His name spits out of my mouth with no sound. My vocal cords cannot loose the warning I intend, and the boy with the bar brings his makeshift weapon down. Luka manages to sidestep it with unsteady clumsiness but does not escape the second boy’s fist, and I hear knuckles crack his jaw. The noise wrenches tears from my eyes, and my fingers crawl over the ground, trying to gain traction for my collapsed body.

  Luka stumbles into the wall as the second boy recoils his fist again.

  “Luka!” My voice is barely audible, but it’s as if he senses me. He rolls sideways along the concrete, and the kid’s fist slams into the unyielding solidness. A violent string of curses pour from his mouth as he cradles his bloody hand. His fingers look crooked, and I hope they are broken. Serves you right, you bastard.

  “You’re gonna pay for that!” the boy with the rod spits, and before either of us can register his movements, he aims the weapon at Luka with murder in his eyes and shoves it forward.

  Luka roars as it pierces his side. Blood spurts from his bare skin, and the sight of it colors my vision with a haze of red. It fuels my rage. It takes over my battered body, and I am on my feet with impossible strength. With silent lips, I hurl forward and slam my entire weight into our opponent’s back. He falls, nearly cracking his head on the wall at the force, but his free hand catches himself before he makes contact.


  But I wasn’t trying to pummel him into the concrete, and my fist grabs the weapon with an iron hold. His unbalanced body clutches the metal loosely, and he is unprepared for my true intentions. I rip the rebar from him with savage brutality, and before he knows it’s missing from his grasp, I bring it down hard on the back of his head.

  He stumbles, and I coil for another blow, but he is prepared this time. The teen whirls on his heels just as the air hums from the careening metal and grabs it before it can connect with his skull. He stares into my eyes with the evil of the devil incarnate, but I do not waver. I do not back down. I glare at him with all the hatred and despair this maze has shoved into my soul, and I release the bar.

  His body lurches as my momentum is suddenly absent from the rod, and as he stumbles forward, my knee slams hard into his groin. He doubles over with a screech, and I accept the offering of his easily accessible head. My elbow crashes into his temple with bruising force, and he topples to the ground. The metal clangs to the floor as his grip abandons it in favor of cradling his bruised flesh, and his teammate scrambles for it with his uninjured hand.

  “Don’t think about it,” I say with a calm menace as I snatch it up before the second boy can claim it. He freezes at my warning and looks into my eyes, but then a flicker of amusement flashes over his features as he notices something behind me. Alarm bellows for me to turn around, to flee from the prostrate contestant at my back, but my muscles fail to move as swiftly as my thoughts.

  “I’m going to gut you while your friend watches,” the larger boy growls as he grabs me from behind. His fist closes over my throat, choking the air from me. “Then after you’re dead, I’m gonna gut him too for fun.”

  “Let her go,” Luka says with a garbled tone as blood oozes down his side. Our eyes meet, but the large boy constricts my neck with a mountain of force, rendering it impossible for me to twist toward Luka. My teammate’s face is filled with terror and sorrow. The dread in his features ignites the rage in my belly, and an all-consuming fire ripples over my skin.

  “Nah,” the boy answers with a sick chuckle. “I’m gonna take my time with her now.”

  His voice cuts off with a strangled groan as I slam the metal bar into his gut. His hold falters, and I lean forward, forcing his hand from my flesh. He should have taken the weapon from me. It will be his final mistake on this earth. With the grace of a warrior trained in battle, I spin on my heels, ripping the rod from his belly, and slash it across his throat in one fluid movement. I am a dancer, a ballerina of destruction, and his weak attempts to stop me do nothing against my wrath. I cut him down in a flurry of blood and pain, and when I stand back to my feet, he is dead. No breath remains in his lungs, nor will any blood be left in his veins.

  “Get out of my sight,” I say slowly as I turn on the other boy. I aim the bloody rebar at his chin, letting it hover inches from his pale skin. “Or I will kill you too.”

  His eyes go wide, and he nods before turning and fleeing. He might be cruel, but he is not blind. He understands who stands before him. Someone crazed. Someone angry. Someone who knows how to kill, how to fight. We both recognize it simultaneously. I have done this before. Somehow, somewhere, I was molded into a killer by expert hands.

  He flees with furious steps, and from the echo of his footfalls, he is going straight down the center at the fork. It will take him a few minutes to travel what we have already learned is a dead end, and I turn to my damaged Luka with a flood of emotions.

  “Come on,” I whisper, dropping the bar to grip his arms, but he groans and withdraws from me.

  “You go and find the end. Leave me here.”

  “Luka…”

  “I’ll only slow you down.” He grips his stomach with both of his hands, but the blood pushes past his fingers in a macabre defiance of their barrier.

  “Stop talking.”

  “I won’t make it.” He looks up into my eyes, and both fear and affection shine through his glassy irises. “I’ll slow you down too much. You need to find the end and win. I want you to go. I want you to leave me.”

  “Stop.” I seize his jaw in my palms and draw him to my face. My forehead falls against his until our lips almost touch. “I’m not leaving you. I refuse to.”

  “I don’t want you to die because of me,” Luka sobs, and the sound shatters my already broken heart. I fall forward and wrap this beautiful boy in my arms.

  “I don’t want you to die without me,” I cry into his neck and start to pull him up. His weakened body yields to my demands at first, but his legs buckle, and he crashes back to the ground.

  “Just go, please,” he begs. “Leave me.”

  “No!” I tilt back and glare at him. “I am not abandoning you. I can’t do it. Don’t make me. You already promised. We finish this maze together.” I lean forward and hesitantly press my lips to his cheek, the corner of my mouth barely brushing his. “Please get up,” I beg. “Or I stay here with you.”

  “No…”

  “Get up,” I repeat. “Or I will sit down here with you until the end.”

  “I’m trying to save you.”

  “I don’t want to be saved,” I say, pulling him up once more. “Not if it means leaving you. I couldn’t help Jude or Serene, but I can save you. So if you want me to survive, then stand up.”

  Luka exhales a shaky breath but lets me support him to his feet. I slide my smaller frame under his somewhat good arm, slip one hand around his waist, and the other to his side where my fingers press his wounds as if I could shove his blood back into its veins. We begin a slow limp down the path to the one last direction at that three-way fork we have yet to try. Mother, please let this be the right choice.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Our progress is slow. Luka’s weight becomes increasingly oppressive on my shoulders, but I refuse to give up even if it means I have to drag his bulk behind me. Thankfully, though his steps falter, they do not give out.

  Sweat coats my skin where his blood does not, and together we take each turn and twist the maze presents in stride. My mind is focused, lasered in on the end, and with each choice offered, I decide without hesitation. It’s as if my sixth sense has returned to bring me good fortune, and each direction I choose at every fork in the road produces yet another path, ones I can tell are winding ever inward.

  We run into no other teams, even though their voices carry over the walls. Either they are hopelessly lost in this labyrinth, or fear of those murderous boys hold them back. Perhaps it is fear of me that keeps them far from our presence, but it is of no consequence now. I only care about finding both the end and help for Luka, if the game makers will offer us aid. I realize it is foolish to think they will, but I have to cling on to any shred of hope, no matter how tattered and threadbare it is.

  Eventually the turns come quicker, the pathways grow shorter, and I know this is the final stage. But my hollow chest feels nothing, our suffering too great to allow even a thin mist of hope to penetrate my soul. Only two from our team survived, and Luka clings to life with brittle fingers. How many other teams perished in the hellscape? How many parents watched their children get sawed into pieces for the enjoyment of vile strangers taking bets on who would see the finish line? These tests were not to prove our intelligence. Until the end, the route was not difficult to navigate since the structure told us where to go, forced us down our predestined paths. There were no options, no clues. It was a death maze. We were meant to die today.

  The walls groan with the reverberation of gears as Luka and I step into a circular path. The vibration of shifting concrete continues as we follow the suddenly very narrow and curved passage. Nothing happens despite the warning whine of machinery, but just as we complete the three hundred and sixty degree pathway, the innermost wall shudders, and a section slides back to reveal a small room. I pull Luka to its entrance, and there on a pedestal in the center is a large button. The beating heart of this infernal beast.

  We linger for a moment, staring at the seem
ingly innocent end to the worst hours of our lives, and dread descends upon us.

  “I’ll push it,” Luka finally whispers. “In case it’s a trap.”

  “No. We push it together,” I say, and I feel him nod against my hair, his exhausted will surrendering to my command. We limp forward until we stand before the button, and slowly I reach out my blood-encrusted fingers.

  “Wait.” Luka pulls me back and my arm falls helplessly to my side. Before I can question his hesitation, his arms drag me close and envelop me. His good hand weaves through my tangled hair and draws my head to him with soft urgency. I obey and collapse against his strong and battered chest. He winces at the contact, but his hold does not loosen, pulling me closer as if his body can absorb mine, rendering us forever one.

  Luka kisses my forehead, and my arms snake around his bloody torso. We stay frozen in space and time for both an eternity and for mere seconds. All our pain and emotions meld into each other as we embrace, and I can’t help the tears that drip down my face. I could live in this moment eternally with this boy who is somehow my entire world.

  All too soon, Luka pulls back, and I see he too could not keep the tears at bay. He smiles the most beautifully broken smile and then removes his hand from my head. His fingers travel through my hair to my cheeks, where he gently wipes away the wetness. He says nothing, but he doesn’t need to. He knows, as do I.

  Luka reaches down and takes one of my hands. He lifts it slowly and places it lightly on the button, careful not to apply any pressure. His eyes drift to mine, seeking approval, and with a shaky breath, I nod. Luka grips my hand even tighter, and then forces our intertwined fingers down, pushing this god-forsaken button.

  For a terrifying moment, nothing happens save the button glowing alarm red. Luka and I snatch our entwined fingers back, and as soon as we release it, the maze whirs to life. A siren erupts through the air like an army charging the battlefield, its aggression volatile and resounding. The competition is over. Luka and I won. We are the first to finish, and by the laws of this death trap, we go free.