Trevor had gathered three of the flags. I swiveled the cannon to the left, aiming it in his general direction but making sure it would miss, and then pulled the trigger. The spike struck the slide, twirled up into the air, then came down on Trevor’s foot.
“ Sweet! ” said Daniel. “I know you’re not on my team, but that was sweet! ”
I reloaded the cannon and fired another spike that became imbedded in one of the punching bags. I flinched each time a spike hit the cube wall, even though most of the hits were nowhere near me. My head was pounding.
Susan fell to the ground, a spike protruding from her side. “That was Stan!” Josie shouted. “Stan hit her! He’s outta here!”
Stan spat out his candy cane, smacked him palms against the cube wall, and stepped away from his cannon.
“Get her up!” Daniel shouted. “Foster, she’s out of my range! Put a dart in her arm! Hurry!”
Mortimer fired a dart that took a chunk out of Trevor’s lower leg. Trevor let out a silent scream and dropped his flags.
I aimed at Susan. If I hit her, I’d be disqualified and no longer have to participate in this horror.
But before I pulled the trigger, I realized that I couldn’t do that. That was selfish and cowardly. Why should my whiny moral anguish be more important than the agony the prisoners in the cube were suffering? I had to do something else. Susan and Trevor were going to die. That was for certain. I had to make their deaths as quick and painless as possible.
A spike fired by Foster grazed Susan’s arm. Sobbing, she got to her feet and staggered toward the closest flag.
I turned the cannon toward Trevor. He was in range, facing the other way. I aimed for the back of his skull and fired.
Instead, the spike sliced across the side of his neck. He clutched at the wound, trying to stop the bleeding.
“ Nice one!” shouted Mortimer. “You guys don’t stand a chance!” He fired a spike that missed Trevor and struck another punching bag.
I loaded another spike, aimed at the back of Trevor’s skull again, and fired.
Trevor turned his head, and the spike ripped off his ear.
“Oh my God!” Mortimer shouted. “Both ears gone! Blue team rules! Blue team rules!”
“Yeah?” asked Daniel. “Well, watch this.” He fired a shot at Susan that missed completely.
“Watch what?” Mortimer inquired. “I was watching, but I didn’t see anything. Andrew, what were we supposed to watch? I guess I wasn’t watching closely enough, because I just don’t recall seeing anything worth watching.”
A spike tore through Susan’s thigh, close to where the very first spike had hit her. “How about that?” asked Josie.
“That doesn’t even come close to both ears gone!” Mortimer insisted. “You guys are losers! Lo-ho-ho-sers!”
“All right, everyone, pay attention!” said Foster. “This dart is going to knock that other dart right out of her side!”
“Oh, yeah, right,” said Daniel.
“Hey, support your teammates!”
“Sorry. Go, Foster, go! Shoot that spike right out of her side! Go, go, go!”
Foster fired. The spike sailed through her throat and slammed into the wall in front of Daniel.
“Foster, you jackass!” he shouted.
Susan clutched at her throat with both hands. By now her entire body was covered with blood. She dropped to the ground and lay still.
“I told you, the aim is off!”
Josie stepped away from her cannon. “Nice going, jackass.”
“It’s the aim! Come over here and check it out!”
“Your cannon’s fine, jackass,” said Mortimer.
Foster made like he was going to walk over and hit him, but then grinned. “But that was a pretty good throat hit, huh? I’d like to see you try that.”
“No way, it’s seven to one, we still need more points to make up for Stan’s dumb move,” said Mortimer, putting another spike in his cannon.
Trevor had been staring at Susan in horror, and suddenly realized that he needed to continue gathering the flags. Mortimer’s shot missed him completely.
I blinked and felt a tear trickle down my cheek. I hurriedly wiped it off on my sleeve before anyone saw.
Another shot by Mortimer lodged in Trevor’s stomach. I had to put the poor guy out of his misery. I fired, missing his head yet again and instead striking his shoulder blade.
“Ooooh, vicious hit by Andrew!” Daniel declared. “That boy is dangerous behind the cannon!”
Mortimer fired. Trevor dropped to the floor, a spike jutting from his forehead. “Ooops.”
“Smooth move, jackass,” said Foster.
Mortimer shrugged. “We still would’ve won if it weren’t for Stan. But that’s okay. Daniel, Foster, Josie, I salute you. Very nice shooting Andrew, especially for a first-timer.”
“Absolutely,” said Daniel. “You did great. Should’ve put you on my team instead of the jackass.”
The others applauded. I stood there, doing everything I could to hide how miserable and sick I felt. I looked away from the bloody corpses and stared at the spike in my hand.
I couldn’t pocket it, not with everyone walking toward me.
I could certainly lunge at Daniel.
But no. I’d earned some respect. Maybe not a lot, but it might be enough. I had to play it smart. Now I’d just find a way to get Daniel alone. Then I’d break his neck, get his gun, and finish off the rest of them.
I tossed the spike back into the box.
“Mind if I pump a few more into ‘em?” asked Stan. “For practice?”
Daniel shrugged. “Be my guest, you sick bastard.”
“I’m up for a rematch,” said Mortimer, coming around to our side of the cube. “How about you snag a couple more prisoners?”
“No, no, no,” said Daniel. “It’s time for the really gruesome, hands-on, one-on-one stuff. And we’ve got lots of new props this year.”
Snap! Stan fired a shot, and then loaded another spike.
“Great! Who gets to go first?”
“It’s Foster’s turn this year.”
Mortimer looked over at Foster. “I hope you’re not going to take three and a half hours again. You know, there’s a point where you just have to kill them and move on.”
Snap!
“Then maybe I’ll do four hours,” Foster told him. “Maybe four and a half. Maybe, and this is only an unverified rumor, so don’t say anything, but maybe I’ll do five.”
“Jackass.”
“The jackass joke is long gone. Why don’t you go with it?”
Mortimer started to say something, but apparently decided that his comment lacked the wit of the current conversation thread and decided against it.
Snap!
“However,” Foster began, “I think Andrew should go first.”
“Oh, no,” I said. “I’d rather see how it’s done. Whatever it is.”
“It’s nothing you haven’t done before. This’ll be your chance to prove you can do it well. What do you think, Daniel?”
“If you want to trade him spots, that’s fine with me.”
“Good. Yes, I’d like Andrew to go first. It should be interesting.”
Snap!
“Don’t I get any choice in this matter?” I asked.
“Nope,” said Daniel. “New Initiates have no rights. C’mon, let’s go make a mess!”
THINGS AREN’T going well.
I’ve been trying to conserve tape space, so I haven’t been talking much, but things are getting really bad. A couple hours ago, the bald guy, Foster, came in here and took away Susan Piccinini and Trevor Wenford.
Ten minutes ago, he brought them back on a big cart. I couldn’t even tell how many stab wounds they had, not with all the blood, and they had a bunch of metal things, about the size of pencils, sticking out of them.