Arena Two - Morgan Rice Survival Trilogy

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I see her again,” she says, her voice breaking.

      We reach all the way over, and gently place Sasha in. With a light splash, her body hits the water. If floats there for a second or two, then begins to sink. The tides of the Hudson are strong, and they quickly pull it out, towards the open water. We watch as she bobs, half-submerged, in the moonlight, drifting father and farther away. I feel my heart breaking. It reminds me how close I came to having Bree taken from me for good, to being washed away down the Hudson, just like Sasha.

* * *

      I don’t know how many hours have passed. It is now late in the night, and I lay there in the boat, curled up around Bree and Rose, thinking, unable to sleep. None of us have said a word since we set Sasha into to the water. We all just sit there in the grim silence, the boat rocking softly. A few feet from us sits Ben, also lost in his own world. He seems more dead than alive; sometimes when I look at him, I feel as if I’m looking at a walking ghost. It’s odd: we’re all sitting here together, yet we’re all worlds apart.

      Logan is about ten yards away, dutifully on guard on the pier, gun in hand as he looks around. I can imagine him as a soldier. I’m glad to have him protecting us, working the first shift. I’m tired, my bones are weary, and I’m not looking forward to taking over the next shift. I know I should be sleeping, but I can’t. Lying there, with Bree in my arms, my mind races.

      I think of what a crazy, crazy world it is out there now. I can hardly believe this is all real. It’s like one long nightmare that won’t end. Every time I think I’m safe, something happens. Thinking back, I can hardly believe how close I just came to getting killed by Rupert. It was so stupid of me to take pity on him, to let him ride with us. I still can’t quite understand why he freaked out. What had he hoped to gain? Was he that desperate that he would kill all of us, take our boat and disappear – just to have more food for himself? And where would he have taken it? Was he just evil? Psychotic? Or was he a good man, and had all those years of being alone and starving and freezing just made him snap?

      I want to believe it’s the latter, that he was, deep down, a good man just made crazy by circumstance. I hope so. But I’ll never know.

      I close my eyes and think of how close I came to getting killed, feel the cold metal of his knife against my throat. Next time, I will trust no one. Stop for no one. Believe no one. I will do whatever I can to make sure that Bree and Rose and myself and the others survive. No more chances. No more risks. If that means becoming callous, then so be it.

      Thinking back, I feel like every hour on the Hudson has been a life or death battle. I don’t fathom how we will ever possibly make it all the way to Canada. I’d be amazed if we even survive the next few days, even the next few miles on the water. I know our chances aren’t good. I hold Bree tight, knowing this may be our last night together. At least we’ll go down fighting, on our own two feet, and not as slaves and prisoners.

      “It was so scary,” Brooks says.

      Her voice startles me in the darkness. It is so soft, I wonder at first if she even spoke. She hasn’t said a word for hours, and I thought she was asleep.

      I turn and see her eyes are open, staring out with fear.

      “What was scary, Bree?”

      She shakes her head and waits several seconds before speaking. I realize she is remembering.

      “They took me. I was all alone. Then they put me on a bus, and took me on a boat. We were all chained together. It was so cold, we were all so scared. They took me inside that house, and you wouldn’t believe the things I saw. What they did to those other girls. I can still hear their screams. I can’t get them out of my head.”

      Her face crumples as she starts to cry.

      My heart breaks into a million pieces. I can’t even imagine what she’s been through. I don’t want her to think about it. I feel as if she’s scarred forever, and it’s my fault.

      I hug her tightly, and kiss her on the forehead.

      “Shhh,” I whisper. “It’s all right. That’s all behind us now. Don’t think about that anymore.”

      But still, she continues to cry.

      Bree buries her face my chest. I rock her as she cries and cries.

      “I’m so sorry honey,” I say. “I am so so sorry.”

      I wish I could take it all away from her. But I can’t. It is now a part of her. I always wanted to shelter her, to shelter her from everything. And now her heart is filled with horrors.

      As I rock her, I wish we could be anywhere but here. I wish things could be how they once were. Back in time. Back when the world was good. Back with our parents. But we can’t. We’re here.

      And I have a sinking feeling things will only get worse.

* * *

      I wake and realize it is daytime. I don’t know how it got so late in the day, or how I slept so long. I look around me on the boat, and am completely disoriented. I don’t understand what’s happening. Our boat is now floating, adrift in the Hudson, in the middle of the huge river. Bree and I are the only ones in the boat. I don’t know where everyone else is, and I can’t understand how we got here.

      We both stand at the edge of the boat, looking out at the horizon, and I see three slaverunner boats speed right for us.

      I try to burst into action, but feel my arms bound from behind. I turn to see several slaverunners on the boat, see that they have cuffed me from behind, hold me back. I struggle for all I can, but am helpless.

      A slaverunner boat stops and one of them gets out, his mask covering his face, steps onto our boat, reaches down and grabs Bree. She squirms, but is no match for him. He picks her up in one arm and begins to carry her away.

      “BREE! NO!” I scream.

      I struggle with everything in the world, but it is useless. I’m forced to stand there and watch as they drag Bree off, kicking and screaming into their boat. Their boat drifts away on the current, towards Manhattan. Soon, it is barely visible.

      As I watch my little sister get farther and farther away from me, I know that this time I lost her for good.

      I shriek, an unearthly shriek, begging, crying, for my sister to come back to me.

      I wake up sweating. I sit bolt upright, breathing hard, looking all around, trying to figure out what happened.

      It was a dream. I look over and see Bree lying beside me, everyone else asleep in the boat. It was all a dream. No one has come. No one has taken Bree.

      I try to slow my breathing, my heart still pounding. I sit up and look out at the horizon and see dawn beginning to break, a faint sliver on the horizon. I look over at the dock, and see Ben sitting guard. I think back and remember Logan waking me, remember standing guard myself. Then I woke Ben, gave him the gun, and he took my position. I must have fallen asleep after that.

      As I look over at Ben, I realize he is slumped over. I can see from here, in the faint light of dawn, that he is asleep, too. He is supposed to be standing guard. We are defenseless.

      Suddenly, I spot movement, shadows in the darkness. It looks like a group of people, or creatures, heading closer to us. I wonder if my eyes are playing tricks on me.

      But then, my heart starts pounding furiously in my chest, and my mouth goes dry, as I realize this is not a trick of the light.

      We are unprepared. And people are ambushing us.

      Five

      “BEN!” I scream, sitting up.

      But it’s too late. A second later, they charge us.

      One has overtaken Ben, tackling him, while the other two take a running jump right into our boat.

      The boat rocks violently as they man our craft.

      Logan wakes, but not in time. One of the men goes right for him, knife drawn, and is about to plunge it into his chest.

      My reflexes kick in. I reach back, grab the knife from my waist, lean forward

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