We were siphoned off inside a locker room, herded together like cattle. They liked us being terrified. Too afraid, and too unknowing, to bother fighting back.  

“Be in control of your choices, everything counts,” a dark-skinned guard warned the group, before he left, along with the others who had escorted us here.

That left just the hazel-eyed guard. He stood in the corner, silent and invisible, if not for his presence that hung heavy in the room. I could feel it when I had my back to him, almost touchable.  

The twelve of us settled around the iron benches. There were two types in the room: those that were holding it together and those that weren’t. The tattooed junkie I had noticed stood with four others. He was the leader, and they were his followers.  

The other six sat alone. The boy who had collapsed in tears was still shaking, he rocked back and forth, his eyes red and swollen. There were four girls in the group. A tall dark skinned girl who looked nervous. The brunette who I’d noticed in the line, an Asian girl who sat still with a stare of concentration, and then there was me. I sat in the far corner.  

“Nine,” the crying boy said, between sobs, “nine of us are going to be sent straight to a centre.”

The room didn’t respond.

“You really think there will be nine of us left at the end of this competition?” Someone finally replied.

I looked to my left, and watched the tattoo junkie walk forward.

The crying one tried to hold back another sob. He obviously hadn’t considered that this competition could be that brutal. He had clearly counted himself as one of the nine who would be sent away, to a future of captivity, now it seemed to have dawned on him that he may not even make it that far.

“I’d bet half of us will end up 6 feet under before the end of the week,” tattoos continued, provoking more terror in the group. I knew what he was doing though.

I tried to ignore it, I really did, but I couldn’t. On impulse I closed my eyes trying to choke back an escaping laugh. Tattoos stared towards me. His face was dark, scattered with shaded tattoos that contrasted against his sickly skin. I wasn’t scared of him though, I didn’t re-coil when he looked at me with hostile hunger.

I sighed to myself, this wasn’t part of the game plan. I wanted to blend in. I pushed off my seat, and walked to stand in front of the sobbing boy.

“I’m going to let you in on something,” I said, “You see elemental powers are far more instinctive than anyone will have you believe. Sure, using them offensively and defensively is a skill that can be honed, but the ability to power and manipulate your element is so animalistic, imprinted in our essence…that I’ve seen necessity turn hopeless elementals into soldiers.”

The boy had become mesmerised by me, his hiccupping-sobs silencing. I knew I would regret this.

“Don’t assume because you haven’t had to fight, you won’t know how when the time comes,” I cautioned, then asking, “Tell me, if you haven’t had to fight you must have been living a pretty safe life. So what have you been doing for the last ten years?”

He looked uncomfortable with the question.

“You studied?”

He swallowed, “Yes Ma’am, maths, a little science, and lots of computing. My dad use to be an engineering professor.”

I smirked, “Remember this isn’t just a competition of physicality,” my tone lightened, as I motioned back to the pack of tattooed gang boys, “and I bet my bottom dollar that not one of those hooligans even know how to read.”

Everyone was watching me.

The brunette girl still looked noticeably distraught. I figured she didn’t have any ‘desirable’ skills to fall back on. I leant against the furthest back wall as I added, “Those of us that have any sort of fighting experience, have been fighting humans. This will be the first time we’ll fight on an even playing field, where our opponents have the same bag of tricks as us. This isn’t going to be a competition of brute force, or experience, it’s going to be one of strategy – knowing how fire can fight air, water against earth.”

She met my stare. “Don’t let me talk you into competing, believe me, it’s your own choice to make. But don’t let anyone talk you out of competing, because their only doing it to eliminate you as a threat.”

I may not have been intimidated by tattoos, but everyone else clearly was, and no one wanted to acknowledge my dig at him. No one responded to me, tension netted through the air.

Tattoos came towards me, “And who are you, curious creature?”

He wasn’t having my name.

“Draven, Air,” he introduced, before he crossed his arms, building his presence, “Something tells me that we would have been good friends in another life.”

“Something tells me the last thing we would have been is friends.”

He found me amusing, smiling at my remark.

“Good luck to you,” he then said, under his breath.

An arm stretched between our bodies, “Back up Draven,” the hazel-eyed guard ordered. Draven didn’t’ back down though, not losing his menacing smile either. The guard stepped further between us, half of my body behind his back. It was a silent stance, the duellers sizing each other up. Each were relentless.

Finally, Draven, tattoos, gave us both a bow, before he re-joined his pack.

He valued enlistment more than he did causing trouble.

***

One by one we were escorted to our cells. It took me until then to realise we each were tagged with black wrist bands. The guards had pocket devices which they used to switch on the restraints. The blue rope unleashing from the band and wrapping around us.

The Asian girl was second to be escorted out. She let the guard activate the device, before he began to lead her away. In a flash of fury that had everybody in the room frozen, she began to sprint down the corridor. I learnt then that you could still run with the restraints on.

The second thing I learnt, was that she was quick. Very quick.

She was a slippery vision of black as she ran further down the steel tube. I saw the guard not move, and then I watched her steps choke, before she crumpled to the floor. Shivering with a jolt from the ropes.

The guard was holding his pocket device. The third thing I learnt then, was that the controls not only turned the ropes on and off, but that they could force a jolt at will. I needed to learn as much as possible, as quickly as possible. I planned on doing that through other’s mistakes, not my own.

When it was my turn, the hazel-eyed guard looked at me, as if he were asking if I was ready. I nodded.

The rope encapsulated my torso, my muscles contracting under its touch. The electric cloud of noise was revolting. He walked me away, through the same corridor, and into the elevator.

It was bitterly quiet.

As we paced towards my glass cage, the only light in the darkness, I swore the ropes were getting tighter. I felt a blackness filling my chest.

I had to face my future. I didn’t think I could compete for enlistment, but I didn’t know if I was strong enough to give myself over to a centre. Maybe I would compete, if only to avoid my nightmares for a while longer.

The guard escorted me to as far as my door. I stole a final glance at him, noticing the finer details. The silver detailing, emblems, on his sleeves. I wondered then if he were really just a guard. The colour falling second against the gold in his skin, and his hair. He didn’t grant me his eyes. He wouldn’t look at me, like I was dirty.

I stepped into the cage, turning back to the guard. The door was still open, as I let it slip, “Shame on you.”

His eyes shot up. Murderous. The rest of him didn’t react. The glass door slide shut, a transparent wall now between us.

“You heard me. Shame. On. You,” I taunted while staring at him, a driven anger rising.  

He switched my restraints off, before he turned his back, slowly. His patience and unaffected demeanour were both patronizing and agonizingly infuriating. A horrible pain bubbled up inside me, and I couldn’t contain it.

“THIS is Genocide,” I screamed, slamming my fists against the glass.

I was incapacitated with a consuming helplessness. No one knew where I was, there was no one coming to save me. In fact, most of the people I cared for didn’t even know who I truly was. This was it. All I had left. There was no way out, no grand escape, no knight in shining armour, no plot twist, or happily ever after. No matter what I chose, I was going to be imprisoned for the rest of my years.  

Then he was there, in an instant. The haunting stare as well. He was against the glass and then the glass was gone. He was marching towards me, I paced away from him backwards until I hit the back wall.

“Do not pretend as if we are not alike,” he spat down at me, so close I could see the stubble along his jaw, the scar under his eye, and the lines of muscle that ran down his arm.

“We are nothing alike,” I trembled.

I’d spent my life running from elementals like him. I wouldn’t do what he did, I wouldn’t become that. I wouldn’t.

“We are both survivors,” he provoked.

“You may have survived the war, but you are not alive.”

Someone could not hear the screams, and wear the blood, of so many innocents, and still have a heart that beats.

He looked at me, really looked at me. His body retreated, and his expression changed. I was the dirty girl again, and he granted me nothing more than a disappointed glare.

“The rules of survival are grey, you should know that better than anyone.”

I felt a sneer wash across my face, what did he know about me? Or my life?

I followed behind him, as he walked for the exit, “Only as grey as you let them be. There are some things I would not do for survival, and your game is one of them.”

“It’s not a game,” he corrected, insulted by the suggestion, “and I never said you would compete for survival.”

“Then why will I compete?” I asked, taking the bait.

“Freedom,” he listed, his lips curling into a grin, “because any chance of returning to your brothers will be gone, as soon as you enter a centre.”

I stepped back from the door frame. He knew more than I was comfortable with.

“Don’t be a martyr tomorrow,” he asked, “be selfish.”

I watched him leave, confused and horrified by the possibilities in front of me.

Then I was alone again. I curled onto the bed, lying awake for hours, until sleep finally drew me into its web.

The shack is so far out of town, no one really knows it’s there. It’s a mile run inland. The house has been empty for a long time, it’s a still-image from a time before the uprising. Everything frozen, as if nothing has changed.

It’s dark tonight. I’m waiting for Elek, he’s bringing Rory and we’re going to light a fire out back. Jack lets us out now, as long as we’re inside by nine he’s okay with us running amuck. I know it’s wrong though, Jack doesn’t know we come out this far.

I’m in the living room, and I hear the boys enter. Slamming doors and dropping their stuff.

I run for them.

Only it isn’t them who stand by our door.

Oozy heat runs down my spine. My skin is hot. My body tries to warn me, but I silence it. I don’t do that anymore. I’m human.

The scene scatters, my dreams shift into nonsense.

I feel their hands’. I see their bodies.

Then there burning. Fire everywhere, the sickly smell of burning flesh choking me.

Gunfire shatters the scene again.

Now I hear a girl, she is screaming. A petrified and wild scream.

Everything is black.

And then I’m running.

BTW Runner is being featured on The Purge: Anarchy movie page, in the Anarchy reading list.

Check the page out here: http://www.wattpad.com/user/ThePurgeMovie

And the reading list here: http://www.wattpad.com/list/105436957-anarchy

(or check out my profile for click-through links)