Nice Day to Die (7 page)

“I know.” I nod while I walk. Peter is starting to get on my nerves.

“It was changed due to protesters claiming the name was shocking to the
good
kids, since it had the word
kids
in it. Sending teenagers to the death games isn’t a crime, but the name is an issue. Welcome to Faya.” Peter claps his hands as if he is protesting against himself.

If I don’t find anyone sane to talk to, I won’t be able to think clearly.

The park is full of Monsters. How many are there? Two… three thousand?

I try to push my way toward the soldiers, but it is not easy.

The Zeppelins hover above us. Peter explains that these are the VIPs’ Zeppelins. Either they’ve paid for the entertainment, or they are Nines and Eights who have complimentary tickets. That means Ariadna and Faustina could be watching me. If Ariadna sees me she can help. Did Madame Delacroix wake up yet?

I am going crazy pushing the students again, getting as far as possible from Peter Glum. As I push my way toward the soldiers I notice that the Zeppelins above me aren’t that high. They have balconies to watch the games from with their expensive binoculars.

As I walk, I see Roger This instructing other teens how to play the game in the Battlefieldz. Is this guy cuckoo in the head or what?

At least he is not gloomy like Mr. Pessimistic, Peter Glum.

“Wow,” Roger This says to the teens, looking up at the Zeppelins. “I wish I had one of those ClairVos in here.”

I look up where he is looking. The rich kids in the Zeppelins watch us with their ClairVos.

ClairVos are the latest technology invented in Faya. They’re 3D glasses, except that they are not only 3D, like in the time of the Amerikaz. They’re now 10D, or as some call it, XD. The ClairVos are magical. Let’s say I am driving my car, wearing my ClairVo, and you sit in your home, eating popcorn and wearing another pair of ClairVo glasses. If so, then you can see and feel exactly what I am experiencing while driving the car. If I get scared, you get scared. If I feel the wind in my face, you feel the wind in your face.

The ClairVos are ridiculously expensive. Only Eights and Nines can afford them. Those rich kids watching us from the balconies of the Zeppelins have their friends at home watching them watching us up close, transmitting the same excitement and feelings to them.

“I wish I had one of those ClairVos down here so I can show them how scary it feels in here,” I mumble, getting Roger This’ attention.

“The games can be watched on the iAms too,” he says to me, holding that joystick in his hand. “There are the extended versions of it broadcast on iScreen or TV, where the audience can comment and discuss the events of the games, and vote for their favorite Monster. Like that boy, Woo, last year. He was the audience’s favorite Monster before Carnivore killed him.”

I don’t comment about him knowing Woo. I keep pushing through the crowd. Roger This decides to accompany me.

“Sometimes,” Roger This says, playing with his joystick while looking up at the sky again, “if the audience sympathizes with a Monster, the votes are taken into consideration. It could spare your life in a certain game level. It’s like extra bonus ammo in role-playing games.”

Who is this guy? He treats this situation as if it’s another new computer game.

“In a world without movies, this is the movie of the year,” Roger This elaborates, still playing with the joystick, looking up. What’s he looking for? “No box-office speculation, no Oscar nominees, and no editor’s picks.”

The thing he says about the movies rings a bell. Movies are prohibited in Faya. The whole movie industry is on hold. Woo taught me that the Summit is afraid of rebellious messages conveyed in movies. So the three days of the Monster Show are actually the Movie of the Year in Faya. The one and only movie. With all the side stories of the Monsters and tragic kills in the game, they can keep selling recaps and spin-offs all year long. This is a totalitarian government where even the winning movie is predetermined. The audience gets entertained, raising bets on who is the public’s favorite Monster, or who will die last, then spend the rest of the year gossiping about it.

“Here it is,” Roger This says, looking up. “My beauty.”

It turns out Roger This was summoning a small flying toy plane with his joystick. It flies feebly and buzzes over our heads. Seriously, I have to get away from him too. This is an asylum I am in. Everyone here is crazy.

As I walk away from Roger This, a soldier shoots his toy plane.

The teens in front of me are getting aggressive when I try to push through. “The other way,” they say. “They want us to go the other way.”

I look behind, trying to stand on tiptoes to see what’s the other way. I can’t see anything. I just need to sneak past a couple of students to reach for the soldiers. I call for help, but no one hears me. I stretch my hand out and grab one soldier by his sleeve.

“My name is Decca, Sir,” I shout. “Please. I don’t belong here. It is a mistake. I forged my iAm results to attend the game on purpose. I wanted to find my best friend, Woo, who I believe is still alive, hiding in the Playa. I thought if I forged my results, I could save him. I was wrong. This is a mistake.”

The soldier looks closely at me, examining my body. I am spattered with mud all over, wearing Monster-branded running shoes. I don’t know how to explain this. Do I still look like a Seven?

Suddenly, I get hit in the face with another soldier’s rifle. The last thing I hear is: “If I had a zollar for every time I’ve heard that.”

As I am rolling back with no room for me to fall because of the density of the crowd, all I want to do is cry, but no tears come out. The warm liquid I feel on my cheeks must be my own blood from my nose. I don’t know if I am strong enough to go through with this.

I surrender to unconsciousness over someone’s shoulder.

If I sleep my day away, will I wake up and find everything solved?

I start dreaming… of Woo.

Woo looks at me with his peaceful, warrior face.

“Why are you doing this, Decca?” he asks me.

“You left, Woo. I am here all alone,” I say. “You’re my only friend in this world.”

“Why do you still think I am alive?”

“Because I remember you saying that if worst comes to worst, all you have to do is not report that you’re alive in the iAm. You said you can fool them into thinking you’re dead.”

“But you saw my blood on Carnivore when he killed me on TV.”

“But they never found your body.”

“Carnivore could have only left my bones after he finished me. Also, some predators literary eat everything including the bones because bone marrow is nutritious.”

“I have a feeling you’re still alive.”

“Maybe it’s a delusion, Decca. A figment of your imagination. Something to live with since you can’t comprehend that I am dead. You know that it is impossible to survive in the Playa after the games. It stays abandoned and surrounded by soldiers all year long. There is no food, no water, and no way out of it.”

“I know. But my heart tells me I’ll find you.”

Woo smiles faintly at me. “Okay. If you’re going to do this, you’ll have to go all the way. You are no quitter,” he says in his low calm voice. “If this is the path you choose, and you trust your heart, you have to believe that there is a reason for this. You will pass through this. Remember everything I taught you.”

“This is a dream,” I say to him. “All you have taught me is just a dream. No one ever survived the Monster Show. This is a killing game. What should I do?”

“You should always believe. Never,” he grits his teeth, “never,” I can see his tense grip, “not for one moment, should you give up. This is what makes you who you are. This is what makes you human, with no need for a number. I believe in you, Tender.”

Then he fades away.

I want to tell him that he couldn’t survive the games himself. How does he expect me to?

He called me Tender. I love it when he does that. My name is Decca Tenderstone. Woo used to say he liked the Tender part in my name because he liked the Ten in Tender. He thought that I should have been a Ten.

I have to wake up and face the situation. I am not going to bail out. Let’s play the game.

When I wake up I am still on my feet, squeezed between the ones behind me and those in front of me.

Shoegirl is behind me, all smelly. She held me up so no one trampled me. I thank her.

“No time for that. Look at the screen. Prophet Xitler is announcing the games.”

I look up at the screen hung on one of the Zeppelins. I see his dirty face. Xitler.

“What a day today,” he says. “Every faction from Fives to Nines has increased tremendously from last year.” Everyone in the Zeppelins make their happy noises. “And the Monsters’ percentage has decreased from last year.”

Praise. Praise. Praise.

Down here, we, the little Monsters, are silent.

“The game that’s about to start isn’t just a game. We’re celebrating the dedication of our nation’s youngsters, to aspire to better things,
to live a good life, and to grant our children an
even better life. I salute all teens in the nation of the Faya,” he says proudly. “In the Burning Man we trust.”

I want to zip my ears with my hands.

“The games will remind the next year’s generation of how hard they can still work. It is not too late. One year can change your rank, if you work hard and follow the rules.” He drinks a sip of something from what looks like a huge grail and then clears his throat. The sound resonates in the microphones. “I know there are those unfortunates who have been Monstered because of diseases they could not do anything about. But that will remind every father and mother to do whatever it takes to bring us healthy children into the world. Bring them healthy or don’t bring them at all. Some sacrifices have to be made to reach Utopia.”

Prophet Xitler signals to the soldiers who push us aggressively as if we were hordes of sheep. I don’t know where we’re going.

Then the unthinkable starts to happen.

The ranked people from the Zeppelins throw everything they can at us, calling us bad names. One kid calls me a muggle
.
I don’t know what that means. It doesn’t sound like a bad word to me. But they are enjoying this. They are brainwashed, thinking we are the enemy, thinking that the likes of us destroyed the Amerikaz. They hit us with tomatoes, napkins, and bubblegum. I shield my head with my hands. Still, I get one tomato splashed in my face.

Tomato, blood, and mud. Surprise me! Can’t you hit me  with something white for once? Just an hour ago I was showered with flowers and presents.

“Because it’s the tenth game I have a surprise for you,” Prophet Xitler announces. “We have a guest Monster in the games. Actually, he is a volunteer who betrayed the Summit years ago. After being banned for four years outside the Burning Man, he’s come back asking for forgiveness. He was a Nine. What a shame. Now he wants to repent. You know what that means. Right?” Prophet Xitler laughs. “He will have to attend the games like any other Monster as punishment for being unappreciative. If he survives, he’ll be forgiven though. This is the first time ever that the games have been attended by a Nine.”

The audience in the Zeppelins is excited out of their brainwashed minds.

The camera pans to the boy Xitler is pointing at.

It’s Leo.