The God Codex

4. Sentry

BOOK OF MIA: 2081

Chapter 4: Sentry

I run without looking back to see if the Mountain is giving chase. In fact, I don't want to see how many people are aiming their weapons at me. I just want to get to the corner door where the voice instructed me to go — that's what I'm calling her for now, the voice — the one next to the stage I hadn't noticed until now. Few bodies slump over the edge of the stage like Dali's Melting Clock painting, their blood streaking strokes, Monet- style. I shake my head, trying to get my mind out of art lessons for a moment and concentrate on jumping over bodies and pools of slick blood to avoid tripping and slipping. I do this because, to be honest, I don't want to hurt them more. To think I wanted to be an artist. I technically didn't even need this stupid Camp, yet here I am. Forced to come here — to get murdered — by my clueless, academic, nerdy parents.

Something inside me still hasn't gotten to grip with the surrounding sight, or why it's even happening. Why are they killing us? Better yet, why are we killing each other?

"Hey, you!" I hear a scream behind me and, out of habit, I turn to see who called me. Stupid because, next thing I know, I'm sliding down to the ground in a pool of blood that I don't even see the person who called out. I struggle to get back up again, but it's like slapping on blades on a newbie and throwing them into an ice rink. I flail. My legs are as unsteady as a newborn foal. When I get up, with care, an arrow clips my right ear.

Warm blood dribbles down my neck and licks the top of my black t-shirt. The door where someone waits for me is meters away. I am this close to being rescued. I do not want to die here. As I turn to the door, a boy jumps up like a ninja, blocking my way. The kid had hid behind an unfortunate body, and I guess he sees me as a threat, probably.

The manic look on his face confirms this. To him, I'm another psychopath in that canteen, turned murder field, trying to kill him.

He screams, a feral war cry as another arrow misses me. The boy clutches a butcher's knife high as the space between us shrinks. I can't move and I can't run the other way. Yet, I can't even hurt the boy. He looks terrified, and I know deep down, he is only trying to protect himself, unlike the Mountain behind me. In that instant, I see his knife about to plunge into me, and I see my potential saviour — I assume he is my saviour — poke his head through a 'sealed' door behind him.

Sentry 176. I know it's him because of that grandpa balaclava, and I want to scream: You're too late. Sentry 176's eyes lock on mine as he reaches for his gun.

The knife heads for me. The room goes silent, except for my heartbeats. Lub dub. Lub dub. I see my arms shield my face as if they could ever save me.

"Mia, duck!" an echo reaches me, muffled, underwater. I hear a gasp in front of me. A gunshot reverberates somewhere, and the thump of a body falling.

But it's not me.

I dare take a peek through the gap between my forearms. My terrified attacker is no longer in front of me wielding a knife. Instead, he slumps at my feet, gasping for breath as his life drains from him through a hole in his chest. I recognise him; we went to primary school together. I barely spoke to him since, but he was a good guy.

I look up at the barrel of a biometric, military-grade semi-auto pointed my way, steady as a rock in its owner's hand. Nate.

"Nate?" I whisper. The name barely makes it out of my lips. Is he about to shoot me?

He takes a step towards me, then another. His eyes fixed on a target behind me. Phew.

"Nate," I manage again as he comes closer and shields me behind his body.