Countdown (8 page)

what?
” I said again, louder this time. “It is not my place to say. In fact, I’ve stayed with you too
long already. I was to check your leg and inform you that the
next level is a reward level.”
“I don’t care about any reward unless it’s a ticket to the
Colony and out of this game.” My voice had gone shrill and
harsh. “What are you keeping from me? What do you know
about Rogan?”
He shook his head. “I must leave.”
I grabbed his arm and forced my gaze to soften. “I got a
read on you, Jonathan. I know you’re a good man inside, no
matter what this Gareth guy is making you do. But if there’s
something I need to know about Rogan—” I hated to even
question it, but… “He’s…he’s not really guilty of those horrible crimes, is he?”
I was afraid that I’d been a complete idiot to start trusting
him—when I normally didn’t trust
anyone
. An idiot to trust
my
heart
. My heart had been closed up tight ever since my family had been murdered, but somehow with Rogan, it had
started to open up just a little.
“I knew Rogan,” Jonathan said. “Before any of this insanity began. His father and I were friends.”
My eyes widened. “I had a feeling you already knew each
other. I could tell when you helped him with his wound.” He nodded curtly and began pacing the length of the sterile, white room, wringing his hands. “I met Rogan two years
ago when his father brought him to me to be put into a thirtyday youth treatment program I ran for Kerometh addiction.” I inhaled sharply. Kerometh had been the drug of choice
ever since the Plague. Expensive, but easy to acquire, easy to
take. I’d never experimented with it, but I’d heard that it put
you into a state of disorientation. A deep, mindless bliss. But it
lasted only a short time—a few hours tops. After that you immediately plunged into the painful withdrawal that could last
weeks unless you got another hit. If you didn’t, then violence
and anger—they called it Kerometh-fury—took you over. “Okay, so he had an addiction,” I said. “So do a lot of people. Doesn’t mean he deserved to go to St. Augustine’s. Or
Saradone.”
Jonathan was silent for a moment. “There’s a reason you
were chosen to be Rogan’s partner, Kira. Nothing is ever coincidental here.”
“He didn’t kill those girls. He couldn’t have.” I swallowed
hard past the thick lump in my throat. “Don’t you dare tell
me he lied to me.”
Jonathan shook his head. “No…he was telling you the truth.
The murder of those nine poor girls was not his doing. He
was charged and found guilty of the crime, but any proof was inconclusive at best. But with his prior record for drug posses
sion and other minor crimes, the courts didn’t seem to care.” Relief f looded over me. “So he’s innocent of murder?” Jonathan was quiet for so long, I doubted for a moment that
he’d answer me. “I believe he’s innocent of those murders.
But he is a murderer.”
Something in his tone made me tense up again. “The robot
said that Rogan killed his roommate—that’s how he got his
scar. But it was in self-defense.”
“That’s not the murder I’m referring to.” Jonathan’s expression was bleak. “I know you’ve started to care for him. That’s
why it’s vital that I tell you this now before it’s too late.” I shook my head. I didn’t want to hear what he was going
to say next.
“You have the right to know this.” He hesitated, as if summoning something inside of himself to speak the words to
follow. “One night during his treatment program two years
ago, Rogan slipped out of the facility. He was in withdrawal,
experiencing severe Kerometh-fury. He began breaking into
homes to steal enough money to buy more drugs. Yours was
one of the homes he broke into. Rogan is the one responsible
for murdering your family.”
The silence that followed that statement was deafening. “What?” My heart pounded, a thundering sound in my ears. “He murdered your mother, father and sister. They were
not the first or last of his victims that night. Rogan doesn’t
know you were connected to this act at all. He’d never seen
you before you met at the beginning of level one. His mind
is finally clear of his former addiction after spending the last
year and half in a secured and guarded juvenile detention hall.
But it doesn’t change what he’s done.”

“What?”

I didn’t want to believe it, but…it made sense. It made such horrible sense. No coincidences on
Countdown
. Of course, that’s why they’d made us partners. Of course. They’d known all along who I was. Who
he
was.

Rogan, the boy with the beautiful ocean-colored eyes; the boy my gut told me was innocent; the boy I’d begun to believe in, heart and soul, even after such a short time.

He’d killed my family and taken everything from me. He’d stolen my life.
He should have killed me, too. I wish he had.
“I’m a very bad person,”
Rogan had told me only minutes ago.
“If you knew the truth about me, you wouldn’t be looking at me like that. You’d hate me. And you’d sure as hell not want to be this close to me.”
I rocked myself back and forth for a long time, hugging my knees against my chest. Jonathan, the man my empathic ability had revealed to be truthful and honest and filled with guilt about the job he had to do, patted my back and gently wiped my tears away.
“I’m sorry, Kira. Perhaps I shouldn’t have said anything, but I could see you growing closer to him. Too close. I cared for him once myself, I was like an uncle to him, but his addiction changed him so much—it created a monster. You don’t deserve any of this, and I’m so sorry. All I can tell you is what I told you before….”
I waited for him to continue, but he didn’t. “What?”
He cleared his throat before he spoke again, his expression stony. “Only one of you has to live to the end of
Countdown
. If Rogan dies in the next level, it won’t be held against you. You’ll still get your ticket to the Colony. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”
I just stared at him. “I think so.”
He nodded and took out a small black handheld device from his pocket. On its touch screen were a series of red and yellow buttons. “I’m very glad to hear it.”
“What is that?”
His face was set in grim lines. “Now that I’ve determined you have healed enough, I’m afraid we must continue on to the next level. Are you ready, Kira?”
I shook my head. “No, I just need a little time. Just a little—”
“I’m sorry, but it’s already begun.” He pressed one of the buttons.
Everything went black.

I WOKE BUT STILL SAW ONLY BLACK. IT TOOK ME a second to realize I was wearing a blindfold, and my hands were bound behind my back.
Damn it. I hated the darkness.
Hated
it.
While I willed myself to stay as calm as possible, I concentrated on the announcer’s voice in my head. The voice I’d come to despise, ironically now the only thing keeping me from freaking out.
“Yesterday in level three,”
he said,
“Kira received a bullet wound to her upper femur. Without proper medical intervention, she would have died from blood loss. She has now recovered enough to continue.
“She has performed to an exceptionally high level and the producers of
Countdown
are thrilled with your reaction to her and realize you are hungry for more information about our first-ever female competitor. We thank you for your patience.
“Kira Jordan is sixteen years old and will be turning seventeen in four months. It pleases her to know that you, as Subscribers, are watching her every move as part of
Countdown,
as she and her handsome but deadly partner, Rogan Ellis, fight for their lives in the anticipation of winning the game.
“On the streets since she was fourteen, Kira survived as best she could using her brain and her body to get what she needed. Desperate, destitute and friendless, six months ago, she decided to use that body to aid her survival. This is a path taken by many lost girls and it’s a story that inevitably ends in tragedy. Many prostitutes are beaten or murdered every day. At the very least, they typically succumb to Kerometh addiction.
“The client who was to be her first found Kira on her darkest day. He was a man in search of a young girl—a lawyer who was the lead partner at his firm. His wife had already left to enter the Colony, and he was to join her in the days to follow. Little did Kira know that he planned to torture and kill her—a hobby that he’d recently acquired. She would have been his fifth victim.
“However, Kira had already decided that a life of prostitution was not for her. A security camera in the man’s house caught the action to follow. As you can see on the video footage, when she asked to leave he struck her and she fell to the floor.
“The lawyer’s wife collected priceless antique china. A bowl had broken next to Kira’s prone form. As the man began to beat her, Kira curled her fingers around the bowl, and she swung it toward his head, an act that succeeded in knocking him unconscious.
“Before Kira fled the scene, she searched the man’s body for his wallet and took all of the money, which amounted to just under thirty dollars.
“While his wife suspected her husband was unfaithful, neither she—nor Kira—realized that he was actually a demented murderer. Several bodies were later found in the backyard shed, and the man was arrested and brought to justice.
“Through this experience, Kira Jordan realized that stealing would help her to live to face the next day. To fight for survival in a dying world. It has also led her here, to this very moment, to the next level of
Countdown.
”
The blindfold was ripped from my face. I blinked. Two men in white coats stood on either side of me. The skies were darkening with an approaching storm. I felt shaken at hearing one of the lowest points in my life broadcast in a chilling singsong voice. I’d had no idea until a minute ago that that bastard had wanted to do anything but rape me—as if that hadn’t been bad enough. But he had planned to torture and kill me, too?
I hoped he was rotting in Saradone right now.
My wrists burned as the men released my bindings and one of them shoved me. I staggered forward until I realized where I was and stopped moving. At the top of a skyscraper. On the very edge of the roof. If I’d taken another step I would have dropped forty stories to the street far below.
“Kira!”
It was Rogan. Stretched between the tops of two skyscrapers was a small bridge, not more than eight inches wide. It must have been fifty feet across between the two buildings. In the exact middle was Rogan, lying horizontally, with his arms stretched above his head. His wrists were bound to the platform.
I looked down at myself. I was fully dressed again, in the same clothes I’d worn before. My red shoes were still bright, still new-looking, but the cargo pants were ruined, with the bullet hole and dried blood evident on my right thigh. My tank top had definitely seen better days.
“Welcome to level four,”
the hateful voice continued.
“Kira is to rescue her partner by crossing a narrow and dangerous bridge high above the city streets, and then the two must continue on to the other side to complete this level successfully. There will be no safety gear, no ropes, no tricks. All Kira has to work with is her sense of balance and self-preservation. Should they finish, they will be rewarded for their efforts. Our competitors have ten minutes to complete this level. Enjoy!”
My mouth went dry.
I didn’t move. I stood in place and stared at Rogan. I’d always thought that my only fear was of the dark. Who knew about this nagging little fear of heights I’d managed to develop in the past two minutes?
Okay. So I had precisely ten minutes to rescue the boy who’d killed my family, all while trying not to fall dozens of stories to my death.
I scanned the area. The men who’d removed my blindfold and bindings were departing through the rooftop door. I ran over to it and tried the handle, but it had locked behind them.
I was all alone. Nobody to push me to do this. Nobody to force me.
Returning to the edge of the building, I eyed the narrow bridge.
“Nine minutes remain in this level of
Countdown.
”
I was going to die.
No,
I admonished myself.
Let’s at least try to think positively, okay?
When I drew closer to the beginning of the platform, it was even narrower than I’d originally thought. I forced myself to breath normally.
When I was ten years old, I took gymnastics. I remember balancing on the beam, trying not to fall off. I’d been pretty good at it then, even been able to do a cartwheel or two. But the f loor had been padded in case there were any tumbles.
That felt like a million years ago.
The platform seemed fairly stable. I tested it with my foot and it gave a little, but not much. Despite being healed by whatever medical magic Jonathan had done on me, my upper thigh ached. Still, it was way better than it would have been if he’d done nothing.
These
Countdown
people wanted their contestants to be in top shape before their precious Subscribers got to watch them die.
So sporting of them.
“Kira!” Rogan shouted again. He had his head up and looked at me. “Be careful!”
I ignored him. Thinking about him right now was only going to distract me. There was no time for me to be distracted. To say the least.
Don’t look down
.
The problem was, not looking down left me with very few options. The platform was so narrow that when I focused on it, I couldn’t help but see the street so very, very far below me.
My right foot shook as I placed it on the platform, and I wavered for a second, holding my arms out to either side of me as I established my balance. I let out a long breath and tried to center myself.
Just like gymnastics. I needed to pretend that I was competing at the Olympics, if they were still being held. I wanted one of those gold medals I’d seen in the history books. I needed to focus on that gold medal. And nothing else.
“Eight minutes remain in this level of
Countdown.
”
The voice seemed louder in my head than usual, which surprised me. I shook a little before managing to steady myself again. I took another tentative step.
“You’re doing great, Kira!” Even from twenty feet away I could tell Rogan’s expression was strained. He pulled at his bindings and the platform shook.
“Don’t do that!” I snapped. “Just stay still.”
“Sorry!”
“Yeah,” I muttered under my breath, and a line of sweat trickled down my forehead and onto my nose. “You’re going to be sorry, you son of a bitch.”
I couldn’t think about anything negative. Nothing. All I could focus on was putting one foot in front of the other—
“Seven minutes remain in this level of
Countdown.
”
—and doing it quickly.
Damn it. That voice was so distracting.
I took another step.
A silver digicam buzzed past my face, so close that I felt the breeze it created.
“How is Kira feeling right now?”
the announcer asked.
“Is she ready to win
Countdown
and receive her ultimate prize? Does she want all of her dreams to come true in the Colony after surviving the last two years of hardship and loneliness?”
I glared up into its lens. “Go to hell.”
It f lew away and out of my peripheral vision, but I could still see two other cameras whizzing around the air nearby.
Jonathan had told them what I wanted to win. Okay, so that made it official. I was playing for keeps. I wanted that prize more than I wanted anything else in the world.
Another step.
Balance.
Another step.
Balance.
Rogan was much closer now, his head still propped up, and he watched me as I approached. His jaw was tense. The muscles in his arms tight. As I got closer, I was shocked to see a small grin appear on his lips.
“What are you smiling at?” I growled.
“Just the fact that you’ve come to my rescue. Does that make you my knight in shining armor?”
I didn’t smile. “I haven’t rescued you yet.”
His grin faded. “Just watch your step. Don’t fall. Here comes another camera.”
It buzzed close enough that it almost touched me. “Are they trying to knock me off this thing?”
“They’re not trying to give you a helping hand, that’s for sure.”
“Why’d you let them tie you up like this?”
He pulled at the bindings. The platform shook slightly. “As if it was my idea. They took me outside the room and knocked me out again. I woke up here. Trust me, it was a big shock.”
I studied the ropes that tied him. “This is going to be tricky.”
“I don’t think the knots are too tight. It’s just awkward.”
I studied the face of the boy who’d killed my family. Bluegreen eyes framed with dark lashes. Fading scar. He also wore the same clothes as before: bloody, dirty, ripped. I’d been drawn to him, despite what I’d been told. I’d let him charm me into believing in him. Or…at least,
begin
to believe in him.
His dark brows were drawn together as he frowned up at me. “Why are you looking at me that way?”
I blinked back tears. “Just shut up. I need to concentrate.”
One lesson in gymnastics had been how to kneel down on the beam without losing my balance. It took me forever to learn that without falling off, but I had finally gotten it. However, that had been six years ago, and it was definitely not a skill that I used all the time.
I slowly crouched down far enough that I could fumble with the bindings around his ankles just above his worn, black boots.
His body took up the entire width of the platform and then some. He couldn’t move without shaking everything around, and I couldn’t get past him.
He eyed his wrists. “Now what?”
A camera whizzed past my ear, and I swatted at it, hitting cold metal.
“Five minutes remain in this level of
Countdown.
”
I met his gaze and saw there was more than a trace of fear behind it. There was concern. For me.
My heart wrenched. Why was he concerned for me? I hated that I’d convinced myself he was a good person—and even now, after everything, I still had doubts about his guilt. Was it because I wouldn’t allow myself to believe I could feel something for the boy who’d murdered my family?
“I’m thinking.”
He blinked. “What they said earlier…about what happened with you and that lawyer scumbag—”
“It was true. All of it.”
His jaw tensed. “If he wasn’t already dead I’d find him and rip his heart out.”
I willed myself to stay focused on the platform. “Nothing happened. I learned my lesson the hard way.”
“I’d still kill him.”
“Is it that easy for you? Killing?” My voice broke on the word.
His expression darkened. “I’ll do it for a good cause. For the right reason. To protect somebody I care about.”
“Are you saying that you care about me?”
“Sure.” He looked away. “And now I care that you untie me so we can get this goddamned level over with.”
“Don’t forget it’s supposed to lead to a reward.”
“I don’t care. I just want us to get through it in one piece. Now you’re going to have to climb over me and untie me so we can keep going. There’s not much time left.”
I put a hand on his jean-clad thigh and slowly eased myself lower. He spread his legs so his feet dangled off the side of the platform to give me space to maneuver. Now on my knees, I slid myself closer to him until I couldn’t go any farther. I placed my hands on his firm stomach, then one at a time on his chest, sliding up to his shoulders. I grabbed the platform above his head on either side of his arms. Our bodies were now firmly pressed against each other.
His breathing hitched. “Damn.”
“What?”
“Is it wrong that I’m enjoying this a little bit?”
“Are you?”
“Kira…” His eyes locked with mine, our faces so close I could feel his breath, hot against my lips.
I leaned in closer and whispered in his ear. “Jonathan told me that you’re the one who murdered my family.”
His eyes went wide. “What?”
“You heard me. Two years ago when you were a Kerometh addict.” A tear slipped down my cheek and fell into the empty air beneath us. “You escaped from rehab and broke into our home in the dead of night. You shot my father, mother and sister. And you would have killed me, too, if the cops hadn’t arrived.”
He shook his head. “No, Kira—”
“Shut up. Just shut up.” My voice rose, pitchy and near hysterical. “That’s why they picked me to be your partner. Because they knew what you did to me. They
knew
. Jonathan told me—”
“Jonathan’s a damn liar,” he spat out. “He’s one of them. Don’t you see? He’s lying to you. I didn’t kill your family. I swear to God I didn’t.”
“And I’d believe you? Why would I believe you?”
“You have to believe me.”
“I don’t have to do anything.” I shook my head and slid past him, going hand over hand, pulling myself clear of his body. “I can leave you here. I don’t have to save you, as long as I save myself. You can die at the end of this level and I’ll live.”