I unhinged the stapler, ready to fire staples at the slightest provocation. I hoped I looked ridiculous, but the prisoner’s expression remained serious and wary. Did he really think they’d let him go if he killed me? Had they even promised such a thing?
He dashed at me, and I let loose with a mighty storm of staples. I tried, anyway. The stapler jammed after the first one. I dodged his attack, and then fled to the other side of the arena.
Daniel cupped his hands over his mouth. “Boooooooo!!!”
“Release the lions!” shouted Josie.
It would not have surprised me one bit if real lions suddenly rushed into the arena, but fortunately none appeared. I lifted my foot in the air and made comical kung-fu noises while I contorted my body into ridiculous fighting positions. I had to get this prisoner to relax. And I didn’t want the others to know I was terrified.
“I’m rootin’ for the prisoner,” Stan declared, flicking popcorn into the ring at me. “Gooooooo prisoner!”
“Gooooooo prisoner!” Mortimer chimed in.
“Kiiiiiiiss my ass!” I replied.
The prisoner ran at me again. I stood there, arms casually folded, and then let myself drop just as he swung the sword. It smashed into the wall, and I quickly wrapped my arms around his legs. He fell to the sand.
I began pressing the stapler against his right leg. It wasn’t working, but they probably couldn’t tell that from above. “All fear the mighty stapler!” I shouted, trying to grab for the sword with my other hand. The prisoner rolled on his side and swung the sword, slashing my shoulder.
The sting was incredible. I cringed and reflexively pushed my hand to the wound. For a split second I felt nothing but pure fury. It faded instantly, but perhaps that was something I could use.
“I’ll kill you!” I screamed, diving upon him and pummeling him with my empty fist. But I pulled my punches at the last instant, hoping it looked convincing from above. I was really hitting him, but he had to notice the effort I was making not to hurt him. The prisoner tried to swing the sword again, but I bashed his arm with the stapler, hard, sending another jolt of agony through my injured shoulder.
“You’re dead! Dead! Dead! Dead!” I grabbed for his throat and screamed in his ear. “Dead!” Then I whispered “please stop fighting,” followed by another “Dead!”
He seemed to get it. He made another halfhearted swing with the sword, which I easily blocked. I pretended to struggle much more violently than was necessary, and then wrenched it out of his grip. Then I tossed the stapler aside and began bashing on his head with both fists. I continued to pull my punches, but a couple were harder than I’d intended. We hadn’t exactly rehearsed this.
Then the prisoner stopped moving. I assumed he was faking, but I couldn’t be sure. I got up off him, then went over and picked up the sword.
“Yeah! Cut his head off!” Daniel shouted.
I lifted the sword above my head, screamed in rage, and then slammed the blade down into the sand next to him.
I stood there, panting.
“You, uh, missed,” Daniel pointed out.
I looked down at the prisoner and kicked him in the side. “Forget it. He’s no fun to kill like this.”
Stan began to boo and fling popcorn again. “Whatta rip-off! G’wan, kill him!” Mortimer and Josie began to join in.
“No,” I said, clutching my injured shoulder. “I’m not killing some unconscious guy. That’s no challenge. You guys are here for fun, right? Well, let’s chop him up when it’s fun!”
“Booooooooo!!!”
“Quiet!” snapped Daniel. “If he wants to save him for later, that’s his choice.” He gestured dramatically. “Thou hast proven thyself worthy! Thou art Initiated! Welcome!”
He began to applaud. The others joined in, half-heartedly.
“Thank you, thank you,” I said. The gate opened and Foster entered, holding a metal prod. “Long have I dreamed of joining such a fine-”
“No speeches,” said Daniel, removing his robe. “I realize it’s only about four, but it’s bedtime. We all need to get some sleep. Tomorrow is going to be one busy, exciting day.”
Foster jabbed the stick against the prisoner. His body jerked as if electrified. Foster jabbed him again. I didn’t think the prisoner was feigning unconsciousness this time.
I reached for the sword. “Leave it,” said Foster. “I’ll take care of it.”
“I can help out,” I said.
Foster took out his revolver. “Get the hell away from it. You’re lucky I don’t blow off your kneecaps anyway.”
The gate behind me opened. “Whoa, Foster! Put the piece away! Show some respect to our newest initiate!”
“Yeah, whatever,” said Foster, pocketing the gun.
Daniel patted me on the injured shoulder, none too gently. “Don’t worry, it may hurt but it’s not deep. I’ll send Foster to your room with a first-aid kit.”
As we left the arena, we stepped into a hallway that split off into three directions. “Take off your shirt,” said Daniel. “Don’t wanna drip blood all over the place.”
I took off the shirt, almost shrieking in pain. I pressed the cloth to my cut, and Daniel motioned for me to head down the hallway to the left. “Congratulations on your victory,” he said.
“Thanks.”
“Mind if I speak freely?”
“Not at all,” I told him.
“I didn’t want to make you look bad in front of everyone, but you really should have killed him. I know you may not think it’s sporting to waste an unconscious victim, but I think you cost yourself some respect from everyone else. And I think you cost me some, too, for bringing you here.”
“Sorry. That’s just not the way I work.”
We stopped at a door. Daniel swiped his card. The door opened and we stepped outside into the cold, behind the mansion. The next door was only a few feet away, and after Daniel opened it we were back in the red-carpeted hallway.
“I can understand that,” Daniel admitted. “And your act was entertaining and all, but you’ve got to realize that these people don’t know you. That karate stuff was kinda funny, a little, but there has to be a payoff. Beating the guy up doesn’t cut it. You should’ve chopped his head off. You’d be a hero. Now they all think you’re some fake.”
My stomach did a flip-flop, but I tried not to let my anxiety show. I stopped walking. “I don’t much appreciate being told who I have to kill.”
“Oh, don’t give me that, Andrew! These are games! That’s why I invited you here! I kept the details secret, but you knew what was involved! We’re supposed to be having fun! If you’re going to let some ridiculous moral code get in the way of everything, you might as well go home. I’ll have Foster fly you home tonight. How about that?”
The way he looked at me, I knew flying home was not an option, even if I’d been willing to leave Roger and the others behind. I put my hand to my shoulder. “I’m sorry. I really am. I’m not thinking right. I’m tired and my shoulder hurts like hell. I just thought it would’ve been more fun to kill him when he was awake to see what was happening, like you said at dinner tonight, but you’re right. I should’ve killed him.”
“Yes, you should have.”
“I could run back there and finish him off, if you want.”
Daniel appeared to relax. “Nah. We’ll get him later. This was nothing, anyway, just a prelude. You’ll have plenty of time to redeem yourself tomorrow.”
Chapter 11
I SAT ON the edge of the bed (having moved those phony severed heads to the closet, facing the wall) trying to look at something besides the corpse pictures. God, I missed Helen. And Theresa and Kyle. If I managed to get out of this, I was never going to leave my house again, so I couldn’t get into trouble. Well, that wasn’t true-I got into all kinds of trouble without leaving the house, or even my bed, but at least not potentially fatal trouble.