many men on the field? Their ball has gone out of bounds? Wave a bloody yellow flag?
Does no one care? How could they when they specifically stated that the only rule is there are no rules? Just get to me as a whole Klan or die trying.
I’m helpless.
Even the crowd ignores it, or maybe they are too involved watching the battle below me to notice what’s happening up here.
Hell, I never thought it would be like this. Bound to a chilled pole pressed against my back, a thin gown showing off more of my body than it’s warming, while watching an alien battle as my nipples threaten to freeze off of my breasts.
The mortek are relentless fighters, pouncing on aliens left and right. A black mortek gnaws on a white bone protruding from the leg of a corpse, while an orange one slashes its talons at a dark blue Klan. An alien tries to creep up on one from behind, but the animal senses it. To my shock, its spines stand on end, and it shoots one out behind itself. The airborne spike hits its target, impaling itself right through the eye of its attacker.
“Ten Klans down. Ten Klans remaining,” the announcer shouts, excitement lacing his voice. I’d forgotten to watch the rest of the fight, completely in awe of the alien creatures. The mortek have killed well, and many bodies are strewn across the arena as they retreat back into their gate.
Pretty kitties.
Some warriors are slow to get up, aided by the help of their Klan mates, covered in a thick, brown liquid that I know is a conglomeration of blood of many colours.
So gross.
When the wind shifts, I can smell the stench of battle—salted sweat, death, and blood. It’s nauseating, something Carmen would have probably liked, while Daisy would be running to the nearest toilet to vomit.
My Harvest sisters…
Have they met the same fate as me?
I know for sure I saw Carmen’s and Shiloh’s unmoving bodies taken out of the holding area. And what was up with those hooded figures with the glimmer of gold shining beneath their cloaks?
Spooky.
I didn’t get a good vibe from them.
Just like the one I’m getting now as the Klans who are left break through the arena wall and start climbing towards me up the mountain. I lock eyes with a few, hoping to feel something for them. But all I feel is emptiness.
Every snarling face scares me, and not one look holds a speck of comfort, warmth, or empathy. Their dark eyes rove over my body, uncaring about the person inside of it.
Sadness weighs heavily on my chest as they inch closer. Every step feels like a nail in my coffin, every move towards me sealing my doom. I know now that what I imagined my life would be like with my Klan was a foolish dream.
Because this?
This is a nightmare.
Three
Harlow
The aliens are getting closer, but around halfway up, a fight erupts when some Klans get too close to each other. I watch in fear as four aliens are thrown from the side of the mountain and two other Klans are killed off. Now, there are only two Klans remaining—the brown sneaky ones and a green Klan.
Please let it be the green ones. Even though they look like walking trees, they have to be better than the horrible, shit-coloured ones.
The walking trees speed up and cut off the brown ones near the top of the mountain. They are so close now I can hear them growling, but another heated burst of air flies past me and hits one of the trees. He cries out, and one of the brown aliens sees the opening and swoops in to finish him off.
And just like that, it’s over. The Klan I’d prayed wouldn’t win has won.
“We have a winner! Klan Forcef, collect your reward!” comes the announcer’s voice. Cheers thunder from the crowd, but the trees look pissed that they didn’t win. They’re obviously not happy with the brown aliens.
The brown aliens crest over the edge of the mountain, landing about fifty feet before me in a clearing, the trees right behind them. I watch them share a look, and one of them even glances behind me and nods.
I feel something rush past me again, and the brown aliens begin to feign stabbing the two remaining trees who fall down dead. Only one tree is left now. He looks behind me as if working something out, and then with a roar, he flies at the