Killing (And Other Games)

(Forty Three)

(Forty Three)

We have no time at all and only one thing to go on but hope spreads like wildfire and the prison is so close. Aster will know everything I say, I tell, I think. We can go to Aster and tell her what we've found and maybe, just maybe, things will be okay.

When we get to the prison, however, it is different. There are people outside in the barren land, roaming and talking and pointing accusatorially towards the monstrous building. We inch forward, avoiding eye contact but still managing to garner attention from a huge green skinned man.

"Stop, hold up," he calls, walking over to us in no such hurry. My whole body is aching to just run towards the prison but there are too many creatures here with too much muscle.

"No offence sir but we're on a schedule," Gray snaps, tipping his head towards the prison.

The creature's words seem to draw out forever. "They're on lockdown."

"Lockdown?" The word just reminds me of the lockdown practices we did at school and how I used to think it was awesome to hide under the desks. "So? Lockdown from what? We need to get in right now."

"So do a lot of people, but no one is allowed in and no one is allowed out. One of the prisoners has gotten out of their cells and gone crazy."

"Oh my god," I whisper. Reality comes crashing down once again. "Oh my god, please tell me you're joking."

"You should go home, both of you. Visiting time won't be for days, weeks maybe."

Gray grabs my arm and I realise I was stumbling back. Falling.

"Is there any way we can talk to one of the prisoners? It's kind of important," Gray inquires softly. He's looking at me the whole time, judging my expression, waiting for the breakdown.

"Yeah, you know, modern technology," I giggle, my voice high, fake and forced. "Phones? I don't know, a pager maybe? A fucking messenger pigeon?"

"Okay Immy," Gray warns, pulling me back. The green skinned man gives me a harsh once over and then turns away, striding back to the others.

"Gray," I say and I say it five more times before I add, "they're going to die."

"Immy..."

"They're going to bash each other to death."

"Immy."

"I'd really like to go see that can we go now?"

"Are you...Immy, come on."

I snatch my arm out of Gray's grip and storm towards the way back down to the Underworld. "Maybe we should go place some bets, yeah? How soon till it starts?" Gray just walks behind me repeating my name low and soft. It's becoming annoying. "Who do you think will win?"

"Immy, stop."

We step through the door of light to the Underworld, every step a step closer to the Hand to Hand stadium. "How long will it take Zane to kill Ryker around about?"

Gray grabs my arm and spins me around, forcing me to look him in the eyes. We stand like that for eternity, locked in this embrace which represents this friendship which represents so much more then just that. Eventually I cry. It's so hysterical, so overwhelming, so overdue that I can barely breathe; it's more like frantic gasping for air. So many centuries ago I cried about my housemates and now I cry for them. Injustice and inevitability dance around me, taunt me, and my mouth tastes like the sea. Gray just sits next to me with his face in his hands.

We are done. There is no more we can do. We know so much and yet there are no more steps and no more time. Maybe it's the clock that beat us, maybe the system, maybe the person who has done this all. All I know for certain is that four people are fighting tonight and there will be two left tomorrow. All I have left to evaluate is simple equations and basic facts. Who will win and who will die? That is all.