inclining
his head quizzically at his guests.
“ Why not?” someone calls out.
“ The more the merrier!”
“ I suggest a butter knife,” a bearded
General bellows.
“ A wine glass,” the female General counters.
“ A fork!” from General Link.
“ Why not a spoon,” jeers General Day.
“ Nothing.”
Everyone turns to the Empress.
“ They fight with nothing,” she repeats
calmly.
The Emperor narrows his eyes. “N-nothing?”
“ You heard me.”
“ Whatever you say, my dear. Whatever...you...say.
Nothing it is, then.” The Emperor glares at the two Slaves in
the middle of the ring. “You will fight each other with
nothing but your bare hands. Fight—well, Slaves. If your
performance is not satisfactory, my Generals will take turns putting
bullets into every part of your body. And no, no, they will not be
aimed at your head or your heart. That will be too easy, don't you
think? That would be no fun at all. And fun is what we are here
for. Isn't that right?”
At this, there is scattered applause and a few crass,
cruel jokes.
The Emperor chortles and continues, “Their bullets
will be everywhere—but...your head and heart. Am I making
myself clear?”
There is a gasp from Bain, which is immediately followed
by a whimper and a strangled sound at the back of his throat.
Owen doesn't even blink.
“ Now, Slaves, fight.” The Emperor leans
back, and pops a grape into his mouth. “To the death.”
CHAPTER
NINE
Bain starts to back away, staring at Owen in disbelief
and despair. Owen doesn't look at him, but turns his head to meet my
horrified stare head on.
His stare is intense but unreadable. I can't tell if
those green eyes are filled with hostility, resolve or remorse. What
is he feeling? What is he going to do?
I am unable to look away even as I hear Hani's warning
in my head. Keep your eyes down. Once you catch someone's eye,
you're dead .
It's too late, I think. I can't look away.
Owen holds my gaze unflinchingly, heedless to the rising
taunts and jeers of the Generals.
His lips part slightly. Zoey , he mouths my name.
Behind him, Bain is looking around frantically. In
desperation, he looks to General Link, the one who has singled him
out for this terrible fate. General Link rises slowly from the table
and growls at Bain, “Kill him—or be killed.”
Bain starts to shake his head, his eyes darting between
General Link and Owen. The agonized, hysterical look on Bain's face
slowly contorts and hardens into a desperate resolve. It is the look
of the damned. Nothing can be more terrible than the fate that
awaits him. Nothing is more terrifying than the horror that is now
consuming his heart and soul.
Instinct overrides his senses. The instinct to survive.
The fight or flight instinct.
He has no choice.
Kill, or be killed.
Like a cornered beast, he can either wait for death, or
lash out.
Bain decides not to wait.
Owen is still staring at me, seemingly oblivious to the
danger behind him. Bain crouches and springs forward, his eyes
crazed with terror and blood lust. My eyes flick over Owen's
shoulder at the sudden movement and widen.
At the very last instant before Bain delivers a blow to
the back of his head, Owen whirls round. Owen's arm shoots up and he
catches Bain's fist in his palm. Owen's face takes on an expression
of deadly intent, as he squeezes Bain's fist viciously. Loud cracks
can be heard as Bain is forced to his knees in agony.
Owen releases Bain's hand suddenly, and Bain immediately
cradles his broken hand to his stomach. Breathing heavily, he
scrambles to his feet, backing warily away from Owen.
Threats and insults spew from General Link. Bain shakes
his head hard, like a dog out of water, and backs away. It is only
when General Link draws his gun and threatens to put a bullet through
his foot if he doesn't go forward and fight that Bain puts his head
down and barrels towards Owen resignedly and recklessly, like a
battering ram. He charges blindly, without
his head quizzically at his guests.
“ Why not?” someone calls out.
“ The more the merrier!”
“ I suggest a butter knife,” a bearded
General bellows.
“ A wine glass,” the female General counters.
“ A fork!” from General Link.
“ Why not a spoon,” jeers General Day.
“ Nothing.”
Everyone turns to the Empress.
“ They fight with nothing,” she repeats
calmly.
The Emperor narrows his eyes. “N-nothing?”
“ You heard me.”
“ Whatever you say, my dear. Whatever...you...say.
Nothing it is, then.” The Emperor glares at the two Slaves in
the middle of the ring. “You will fight each other with
nothing but your bare hands. Fight—well, Slaves. If your
performance is not satisfactory, my Generals will take turns putting
bullets into every part of your body. And no, no, they will not be
aimed at your head or your heart. That will be too easy, don't you
think? That would be no fun at all. And fun is what we are here
for. Isn't that right?”
At this, there is scattered applause and a few crass,
cruel jokes.
The Emperor chortles and continues, “Their bullets
will be everywhere—but...your head and heart. Am I making
myself clear?”
There is a gasp from Bain, which is immediately followed
by a whimper and a strangled sound at the back of his throat.
Owen doesn't even blink.
“ Now, Slaves, fight.” The Emperor leans
back, and pops a grape into his mouth. “To the death.”
CHAPTER
NINE
Bain starts to back away, staring at Owen in disbelief
and despair. Owen doesn't look at him, but turns his head to meet my
horrified stare head on.
His stare is intense but unreadable. I can't tell if
those green eyes are filled with hostility, resolve or remorse. What
is he feeling? What is he going to do?
I am unable to look away even as I hear Hani's warning
in my head. Keep your eyes down. Once you catch someone's eye,
you're dead .
It's too late, I think. I can't look away.
Owen holds my gaze unflinchingly, heedless to the rising
taunts and jeers of the Generals.
His lips part slightly. Zoey , he mouths my name.
Behind him, Bain is looking around frantically. In
desperation, he looks to General Link, the one who has singled him
out for this terrible fate. General Link rises slowly from the table
and growls at Bain, “Kill him—or be killed.”
Bain starts to shake his head, his eyes darting between
General Link and Owen. The agonized, hysterical look on Bain's face
slowly contorts and hardens into a desperate resolve. It is the look
of the damned. Nothing can be more terrible than the fate that
awaits him. Nothing is more terrifying than the horror that is now
consuming his heart and soul.
Instinct overrides his senses. The instinct to survive.
The fight or flight instinct.
He has no choice.
Kill, or be killed.
Like a cornered beast, he can either wait for death, or
lash out.
Bain decides not to wait.
Owen is still staring at me, seemingly oblivious to the
danger behind him. Bain crouches and springs forward, his eyes
crazed with terror and blood lust. My eyes flick over Owen's
shoulder at the sudden movement and widen.
At the very last instant before Bain delivers a blow to
the back of his head, Owen whirls round. Owen's arm shoots up and he
catches Bain's fist in his palm. Owen's face takes on an expression
of deadly intent, as he squeezes Bain's fist viciously. Loud cracks
can be heard as Bain is forced to his knees in agony.
Owen releases Bain's hand suddenly, and Bain immediately
cradles his broken hand to his stomach. Breathing heavily, he
scrambles to his feet, backing warily away from Owen.
Threats and insults spew from General Link. Bain shakes
his head hard, like a dog out of water, and backs away. It is only
when General Link draws his gun and threatens to put a bullet through
his foot if he doesn't go forward and fight that Bain puts his head
down and barrels towards Owen resignedly and recklessly, like a
battering ram. He charges blindly, without
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