Rage (28 page)

At first the assistant said nothing, but then: “The outfits give you an extra layer. That could be helpful. Good way to think about it.”

Raine went over and picked up a blue jacket with the words S
UPPER
S
TIM!
on the back. He put it on.

I feel like a race car with ads plastered on its side.

He zipped it up. Not much protection. But the guy was right. A few millimeters extra padding.

“And the puzzle?”

“Oh, Mr. Stiles will announce that when you enter the arena.” The guy put a hand to his earpiece.

“Yeah, right. Okay, we go live to air in three minutes. When that door pops open, out you go.”

Raine waited for a “good luck” that didn’t come. He guessed the guy had seen enough people walk out that door only to disappear.

And I guess “break a leg” would have a very different meaning today—if people even remembered it.

Raine turned to the door, pike and club in hand. He started taking steady breaths.

Must be how the gladiators felt.

A light above the door glowed red.

Then, suddenly, it turned green and the door popped open.

•  •  •

And with the open door, cheers erupted from the studio audience filling the hundreds of seats that ringed the arena. Raine walked out, watching how the aerial cameras moved to follow him. His hands clenched tightly, holding the weapons up a bit and ready.

“And welcome, for our first Mutant Bash, the winner of the White Rabbit …”

That was met with boos.

“… Raine!”

He listened to Stiles, but also took in the layout of the arena, no longer the empty space shown in the model. But it was also different from what he saw in the video.

The arena held oversized statues … more like bizarre, giant dolls:

A clownlike figure holding a bottle of stim up to its oversized lips.

A beautiful woman holding a bag of money.

A bandit figure with a ball of fire.

A flying creature, wings outstretched—a dragon with a massive head, open mouth lined with teeth, one claw foot holding a gun.

Four figures, each near fifteen feet tall.

“Your challenge, Raine, is to show us the answer to this … our world needs order. What is the order … here?”
The audience groaned, quickly stumped by the riddle.

Me, too, Raine thought.

What the fuck is he talking about?

“Show us the answer!”
Stiles’s voice boomed in the arena.

Raine started walking. The door behind him slammed shut. He kept looking at the figures, turning from one to the other,
when the base of the woman figure opened and a pair of mutants ran out.

“
A
clue
to get you started
,” Stiles screamed.

Raine raised his weapon.

The two mutants came out of the woman first.

That might mean something. He didn’t wait for them to charge to him, but he ran up, swinging his club with the biggest arc possible. One mutant reared back. The other kept coming.

Raine then shoved his pike into the still-charging mutant, skewering it.

He immediately discovered a downside to the weapon. Once thrust in, it didn’t come out too easily.

But the thing writhed on the end of the pike, dead.

The other mutant now came at him, and, one-handed, Raine swung his club at it, the bash he delivered living up to its name.

Cameras catching it all.

Raine tried to think about the riddle.
Order.
With these statues.

What could it mean?

Distracted for a moment, the mutant smacked at his knee, making that leg buckle.

But Raine discovered as he reared back that the pike slid out of the dead mutie like a pin out of cushion, dripping with mutant blood.

Good for a close-up.

Focus!

Then, quickly spinning, he thrust it at the other mutant. The length of the pike worked well, giving him that extra few inches.

It went in, and Raine heard the audience cheer.

•  •  •

Standing there, thinking about the riddle, he heard a loud click, and another pair of mutants came out of the bottom of the clown holding the bottle of stim. They raced toward him.

This time he stood his ground. He had to figure out what he was supposed to do or Stiles would just keep sending damn mutants at him.

Order.

He looked at the figures, each paired with something.

Bandit. Fire.

Woman. Money.

Clown. Stim.

Dragon. Gun.

Mismatched?

Could be that was the puzzle.

But no … there seemed no logic to that. And the puzzle couldn’t be so hard that the viewers would be totally stumped.

That is, unless they just gave the viewers the answer.

Raine was frustrated.
What the hell do I know about game shows?

Especially this game show, which had the added difficulty of mutants constantly attacking.

He crouched and let one impale itself on the pike.

But the other didn’t even use its club. Instead it leapt on him, knocking him flat, his own club rendered useless. He smelled the thing in his face; had to be the worst smell in the foul-smelling world.

The thing was trying to get at his neck.

Getting this on camera, boys?

The jagged teeth and the snapping, open maw of the thing so close.

Raine just hoped Stiles didn’t open another figure and let out even more mutants.

He couldn’t use his club. His pike was feet away, still buried in the other mutant.

With no weapon, he had no choice.

Classic hand-to-hand technique. Use what you had. In this case, one free hand.

He took his fingers, formed them into a claw, and jammed them into the eye sockets of the mutant.

And though the thing was more animal than human, that degree of blinding pain made it leap away from him.

It stood up, dropped its club, and raised its hands to its head.

Raine ran over to the pike and pulled it out of the thing he had skewered, and though the blind mutant was now no threat, he gave it a quick in and out with the pike where he guessed its heart should be.

It fell to the ground.

Good guess.

They were dead.

“Ladies and gentlemen, a round of applause for Raine! Can he solve the Bash, now that things are about to get …”

The audience answered, a show mantra apparently.

“… even … harder!”

With no mutants attacking, Raine had a few moments to once again look at the giant figures. The odd mix of what they held, jumbled up.

The one clue … about “order.”

He heard a clicking sound, and another large statue began disgorging its mutants.

But he kept looking at the figures, waiting for something to occur to him.

The bandit. The clown. The dragon.

Fire. Gun. Money.

And then—something came.

Could be too simple. But as he started running toward the bandit figure, he remembered thinking that the riddle had to be something that viewers at home could get.

Close now to the towering bandit holding a wooden gun.

He
smashed
the bandit figure.

Lights exploded from the ceiling, a siren went off.

He was either very right or very wrong.

Now he bolted for the eerie clown grinning down at him, the smile locked on its face as it held the bottle of SuperStim.

He knew that he had two mutants chasing him just behind.

I got time, he thought. I can get to it … before they get to me.

Another smash with his club, and now more flashing lights from the ceiling, the siren sound again.

He turned around. The noise and light show had the advantage of disorienting the two mutants.

But only for a second.

That’s when he noticed they had him backed up against one of the sides of the arena.

“Okay. Come on. What the hell you waiting for?”

He was surprised to hear his voice echoing through the arena studio.

Got mics picking up everything I say. All part of the show.

One of the mutants snarled back. Raine raised his pike like a javelin. The other mutant took a step closer.

Then the sick clicking noise as another one of the figures opened, meaning more mutants.

Four against one.

The time for waiting was over. Raine threw the pike and it cut right into one of the mutants, but didn’t kill it. Instead, it dropped its club to grab the pike sticking out of it.

Leaving Raine without his best weapon.

Have to get it back. Especially now that more are coming.

He moved toward the other mutant, who raised its club over its head and began waving it around, gathering momentum.

When the mutant brought it down, Raine blocked the blow with his club, the loud sound of the clubs smashing together picked up by the mics.

He saw—out of the corners of his eyes—two more mutants hurrying into the fray.

Shit …

Raine brought his club down, a move that seemed to confuse the mutant, then brought it quickly up again, like a knockout punch from a fighter.

It had the desired effect, kicking the mutant back on its heels.

He went over to the mutant still struggling with his pike and slid it out.

The audience cheered.

Giving them a damn good show.

But how many more mutants could they send, wave after wave … until he made a mistake?

One thing was certain—the riddle was more important than defeating the mutants. He had hit the clown. So now he ran to the dragon, just feet ahead of the mutants. Another smash, more lights, and this time he knew how to take advantage of the distraction.

The two mutants fell to their knees as he smashed them, using the flashing to cover his moves.

He was splattered with their blood. Its dark blue color matched the sick smell.

He might be able to hit the rest of the figures now. He smashed the fire held by the bandit and then, ignoring the mayhem from the roof of the arena, went to the dragon’s gun.

Following the only order that seemed clear enough here.

The letters of the damn alphabet …

He went on to the bag of money, hit that, and then moved to
the stim held by the clown. He was trying to keep the letters straight and worrying about whatever surprises Stiles might have in store. He moved to the final pairing, the woman.

Which had been the first figure to open.

One last smash.

The sirens went off again, just as, at the other end of the arena, a bunch of new mutants raced toward him.

But now the door would be open at the other end.

“Home,” Stiles called it.

He started running.

But as he ran he looked up, and now, so close, he noticed something. In the arena. All around the arena. Standing.

Enforcers.

Waiting. Watching.

And worse than any mutants. Raine wondered if they were here for him, or just here for security?

He got to the door that led out of the back of the arena.

He grabbed the latch.

Did I solve the Bash?
he wondered. This would tell the story, with mutants only seconds behind him.

He pulled down the latch …

It
opened
, and he vanished into the dark space, the corridor that circled the arena and led back to the studio.

He pulled the door shut behind him.

And then—in the darkness, with only a scattering of pale yellow bulbs lighting the way back to where he had started—he felt someone grab him hard.

R
aine spun to face whoever had grabbed him.

Cheers and sirens still boomed from the arena, Stiles milking his unlikely success.

The figure was barely visible, but it was definitely a woman—her eyes catching the scant light. She had a rifle slung over her shoulder and two handguns at either side.

Armed and ready to play.

“What are—”

“
Stop.
You can’t go back there.”

“Got an interview to do. And who are—”

“Did you see the Enforcers all over? They have a hovercraft outside ready to take you away. You’re
dead
if you go back there.”

“How do you know?”

“Look, I’m Dr. Elizabeth Cadence. I’m with the Resistance.
We have people in places and we got word that you were here. I came to pick you up right after the Bash.”

The cheering outside had subsided. Stiles would be wondering where his new star was.

“You are dead if you stay. I can get you out of here if you come now.
Right now.
”

“Why should I trust you?”

She took a step closer, her eyes locked on his. “Because I’m an Ark survivor as well, Lieutenant. Sally said this was what you wanted.”

“You know Sally?”

“She’s a brave woman—she gave me your stuff.” Elizabeth looked around, eyes nervous. “Can we go now?”

Raine looked at this woman. From his own time. From an Ark.

Suddenly—he didn’t feel so alone.

He took a breath. “Lead on.”

Instead of heading back to the other end of the arena, the woman took him in the opposite direction. Before he could ask, she whispered, “They have other exits down here.”

“No guards?”

“Not when I came in. Here—”

Elizabeth stopped by a light and Raine could make out a door labeled
SERVICE AREA 19
. A recessed handle was the only other adornment.

She used a knife on the latch and the door opened up. He followed her in and she shut it behind them. Then they ran down a corridor with pipes and wires overhead, the innards of the TV complex.

Elizabeth led the way to another door, unlocked this time, and to stairs.

“We have to go down,” she said as she raced ahead of him. “All these old cities have tunnels, passageways. Mostly abandoned except for the stray packs of mutants who hole up in them.”