Playing Games (4 page)

Just as I started to get comfortable, the man
to my left got up to let someone else in. I blinked awake, and
looked up in horror at Liam's unsmiling face.

He pointed at the empty window seat next to
me. "That's the guitar-playing asshole's seat."

I ground my teeth and said nothing. Instead,
I simply got out of the row and gestured for him to enter. He did,
and I could immediately tell that it was going to be an issue. For
one, Liam was tall. His arms and legs barely fit into the small,
squeezed seat, and he practically oozed into my middle seat.
Nostrils flaring with irritation, I ignored it. He didn't want to
sit next to me, either, after all.

I sat back down in my seat with a thump and
buckled in.

Next to me, Liam stretched, and his elbow
practically jostled me in the side. To my left, the elderly man
slid his shoes off, then proceeded to unbutton his pants. After
they were undone, he gave a sigh of pleasure and leaned back, as if
to go to sleep.

And the damn plane hadn't even taken off
yet.

It was going to be a long, long flight.

~~ * * * ~~

Once we landed in Keflavik Airport, the
airport was a mess of running, shoving people. Brightly-colored
shirts paired up as soon as they got off the plane and ran through
the terminal, heading for the charter flight that would take us to
Greenland. Brodie and I had to wait as the Rednecks and the Rockers
got on the first flight out, thanks to their footballs.

We were stuck in the back of the pack with
Myrna and Fred, the elderly couple who’d had the misfortune to get
the other high number. They were nice enough, but conversation was
kind of awkward, and Brodie wasn't his normal super-chatty self. I
knew why - he didn't see them as someone worth allying with. He
didn't think they were strong. And I wasn't the social one on our
team, so it was a long wait.

Eventually, our chartered flight arrived, and
we took the tiny airplane to Kulusuk in Greenland. As soon as we
landed, Brodie shoved my backpack in my hands and we dashed down
the stairs, pushing ahead of Myrna and Fred. I tried not to feel
bad - it was a race, after all. We'd gotten our coats out while the
flight was going, and had zipped up in anticipation of the cold
weather.

The airport was ridiculously small, the
tarmac covered with snow. The terminal itself seemed about the size
of a one-room gymnasium. Directly behind it, steep mountains rose.
From the other side, the icy water of the bay rippled.

Standing in front of the terminal was a man
in an enormous fur-lined parka, holding a flag emblazoned with The
World Races logo and standing on a
World Games
mat. Camera
crews swarmed the area, filming as we tromped down the steps of the
airplane and crossed the snowy tarmac. It was bitterly cold, the
wintry breeze biting through the layers of clothing that I
wore.

"Come on, Katy," Brodie encouraged, racing
ahead of me despite the snow and ice on the tarmac. I followed at a
slower pace, holding onto my enormous backpack. I wasn’t as big as
Brodie, and it was a hefty load for someone of my stature to carry.
Not that my brother noticed - he dashed to the race station ahead
of me and then shot me impatient looks until I caught up.

As soon as I stepped onto the mat, the man in
the coat held out a disk. "Welcome to Kulusuk," he said, his accent
thick. He smiled, his weathered face friendly, and I smiled
back.

Brodie snatched the disk from him and raced
to the side so he could study it, turning away.

I gave the man an embarrassed look, thanked
him, and then followed Brodie. We'd have to have a talk about
manners after this leg was done. There was playing a game, and then
there was just flat-out rude.

Brodie was reading the writing on the back of
the disk without me. I peered over his shoulder, but couldn’t see
anything, so I poked my brother in the side. “Hello, partner over
here?”

He glanced at me, then finished reading the
disk and handed it to me reluctantly. The front was the logo of The
World Races, a bright grid in the shape of a globe and the name of
the show. I flipped it over and read it aloud. "Go to the sled
rentals in Kulusuk—“

Brodie jogged in place, clearly ready to get
going. “Are you done? Come on. You can read it on the way
there.”

I ignored him and kept reading. “—You'll
receive a map and a dog team. From there, drive your dog sled out
to the marked location on the map. Individual challenges will
follow.” I squinted up at the snow-covered mountains nearby. “A dog
sled, huh? Should be interesting."

"Should be fun," Brodie said, with a huge
grin on his face. "Come on!"

We didn't see a taxi waiting for us, so we
hiked into town. It wasn't far from the airport, though the ground
was rocky and covered with snow. The village spread out before us
like something from a movie, and I was fascinated. This was really
damn cool.

"Come on, Katy," Brodie yelled back at me,
trotting a good distance ahead. "This is a race!"

I gritted my teeth. Okay. Brodie kind of
sucked as a partner. He acted like I was a liability instead of his
sister. I knew my brother was competitive, but this was getting
annoying. "I'm coming," I yelled back at him.

When we found the dog sled place, we didn't
see any other teams. Oh no. That was a bad sign. There were only
two sleds left, which meant Myrna and Fred were the only ones
behind us. I tried not to worry as an attendant led us to our
dogsled and began to explain how to sit on it and how to drive, and
how to control the dogs. He'd be riding with us, he explained, but
both Brodie and I would have to drive the sled for a distance.

I sat on the sled first, while Brodie
volunteered to drive us out of town.

"How far are we behind the other teams?"
Brodie asked immediately.

"Bout a half hour," the man told us. "Some of
them had trouble with their dogs."

I tried not to look excited at that. Brodie
didn't even try. "Hold on," he called out, getting in the musher's
spot on the sled as I clung to the blankets piled onto me. "We're
going to try and make up some time." He turned to face the dogs.
"MUSH!"

The sled leapt to life and I clung to my
seat, praying Brodie wouldn’t get us killed.

~~ * * * ~~

We passed two teams on the way to the next
location.

One had stopped to look at their map, and the
other was struggling with the sled itself. Brodie whooped and
hollered at the sight, drawing their attention with his loud
cheers. I cringed again at my brother's thoughtlessness. The way he
was acting was totally going to bite us in the ass if he wasn't
careful.

We switched out drivers at the halfway point,
and I clung to the sled as the dogs leapt to action. The other
teams were now behind us - following us, Brodie told me - but it
didn't matter as long as they were behind. I mushed the hell out of
the dogs, leaning in to the sled to give us as much advantage as
possible. The cold wind whipped at my face, chapping it underneath
the goggles the race had given us, but I didn't care. We were
catching up!

In the distance, I spotted a splash of color
- The World Races flag. I drove toward it, then began to apply the
brakes on my sled, slowing the dogs down. As we approached, I saw
an encampment. Ten igloos were set up in a line, and cameramen
dotted the area. I saw another flag and mat, and then two areas
that had been roped off for challenges.

We were here, and we weren’t in last place.
Things were looking up. “This must be where we’re doing the
individual challenges,” I shouted into the wind, leaning
forward.

"Brake," Brodie called, pumping his arm with
excitement. "Brake! I see the flag!"

The sled stopped, and we leapt off, handing
control over to our guide. As we struggled to put our backpacks on,
we sprinted for the check-in point. Waiting under The World Races
flag was an Inuit man dressed in traditional clothing, and he
looked a heck of a lot warmer than we were. He held our next
World Games
disk out for us.

Brodie automatically snatched it and began to
read, and I was left to try and peek around my brother’s shoulder
once more.

"Two challenges," he read aloud even as I
tugged his arm out of my way. "Both are traditional Thule tasks.
One team member must show their strength on the water, and the
other must demonstrate strength in the belly. Choose your task and
good luck."

The Inuit man moved to one side and gestured
at the sign he was standing in front of. Two arrows pointed in
opposite directions, a crossroads of sorts. One bright green arrow
said 'Thule Meal' and the other said 'Thule Craft.'

Brodie peered at the water in the distance.
"Thule Craft looks like a kayak of some kind."

I took the disk from him, studying it. "And
the other one's clearly a gross food challenge. Which one do you
want to do?"

He turned and looked behind us. "I see two
more teams on the horizon. Whatever we do, we need to do it sooner
rather than later."

"All the others ahead of us must be here," I
told him. "So they might still be doing the other challenges. We
have a chance to catch up." In the distance, I could see a long
wall of snow that had been packed high, preventing anyone from
looking around it. A cameraman hovered nearby, obviously filming
something.

“We need to decide.” Brodie said impatiently.
“Can you eat?”

"I guess so," I told him, steeling myself.
"Though if I have to eat fish guts, I'm going to kick your ass when
we get home."

He grinned and ruffled my hair. "I'll kayak,
then. This thing says to return here once we've completed both
tasks and gotten our tokens, so we'll meet back here when we're
done. Sound good?"

I nodded, tucking the disk under my arm.
"Good luck!"

Brodie dashed off towards the distant shore,
his yellow coat bright against the sea of white snow. He followed a
marked path and disappeared out of sight a moment later.

Time for me to do my challenge, too. Ugh. I
was not looking forward to chowing down on whatever horrors they
could come up with. I glanced at the sign, and followed the arrows
that said 'Thule Meal.' There was a path dug into the snow, and I
raced forward, clutching the disk in hand.

Sure enough, the marked path led behind that
thick snow wall I’d seen earlier. I could hear some odd sounds as I
approached, my cameraman dogging on my heels as I headed toward the
task. When I turned the corner at the wall, the sounds of retching
hit my ears just as a horrible, overwhelming fishy smell hit my
nose.

Oh…gross.

There was a table marked with a flag, and I
headed there. An Inuit woman nodded her head at me and handed me
another disk. I flipped it over, reading the instructions.
Choose a banquet table. You will be dining on an Inuit delicacy
that has been popular for thousands of
years, dating back to
the days when the Thule lived in Greenland - a dish called mukluk.
Mukluk is whale blubber still attached to the skin. Sometimes it is
eaten raw, sometimes cooked. You will have a chance to sample both
cooked and uncooked versions.

My stomach heaved a little at the
thought.

Select your table and begin eating. You must
clean both bowls before the judge will hand you your challenge
disk. If you need to get sick, a bucket has been provided under
your table.

Oh dear. I clutched the disk to my chest,
scanning the competition area. Sure enough, ten folding tables had
been set up in the snow, covered with a red tablecloth edged with
traditional designs. On the center of each table, two bowls had
been heaped high with…stuff.

Five of the tables had someone seated in
front of them, eating slowly. The sixth table had someone bent over
their bucket, clearly puking.

I counted heads. Six people at the challenge.
Three teams behind us. That meant…everyone was still here. Holy
shit, we'd caught up. It was probably planned that way by the race
organizers for additional drama, but I didn't care. We weren’t dead
last.

I headed for the closest open table - next to
the puker – and sat down at the folding chair there. A napkin had
been left on the table and I folded it in my lap. There was a water
bottle at my feet, in case I wanted a drink.

I pulled the first bowl close to me and took
a look at it.

It was…not good. The mukluk had been carved
into chunks, and each chunk was two different colors - dark on top,
and white on the bottom. I guessed the white was the fat, since it
was shiny and glistened. I swallowed hard. This must have been the
raw food, right? I leaned in and sniffed the bowl, while the person
next to me got sick again. I glanced over, frowning, just as the
puker sat up and leaned back in his chair.

It was Liam, the rocker.

Ha! I tried not to smile at his misery, since
I was probably going to be in the same state pretty soon, but it
was clear that Liam couldn't hold down his mukluk. Both bowls in
front of him were less than halfway gone, and he'd probably gotten
there a lot earlier than everyone else. His complexion was tinged
an unpleasant green.

He looked over at me, and must have noticed
me studying him, because he scowled darkly in my direction.

So I grinned. And popped the first piece of
mukluk into my mouth just to fuck with him.

Immediately, I regretted that choice. Mukluk
was awful. The taste was something like super fatty, slimy sushi,
and it had a texture like gristle. It was cold on my tongue, and it
smelled worse than anything. I shivered and forced myself to
swallow the piece, then reached for a piece of the cooked mukluk.
It wasn't nearly as bad, though still pretty foul.

I alternated pieces, gagging between each
one. Every few minutes, to my side, Liam would make a quiet heaving
noise and then proceed to grab his bucket, which only made my
stomach turn a bit more. I began to hum to myself to drown him out,
grabbing pieces of mukluk and eating as fast as I could.