Three more hours had passed, making six in total. Teenagers in the room were dropping like flies. Every few minutes the sound of a hard thud or a similar pained collapse broke the rhythmic hitting of plimsolls on mats, haggard breathing, and the cries and whimpers of those that were desperate for it all to be over. In the reflection of the large window in front of me I could make out Pied Piper officers picking people up off the ground and carrying them out of the room, presumably to the remote zone. One boy who had collapsed had struggled in their grip, but his Meter had turned red and the officers weren't going to let him stay. It came as a relief to me that their first option wasn't just to shoot the boy point blank while he lay helpless on the ground.

I checked my Meter again. It was still flashing orange. The cramping in my body was so bad I simply had no explanation for how I was able to keep going. The plimsolls chaffed my feet so badly every step made me want to cry out in pain. In a fit of rage I kicked them off, almost tripping over in the process. It felt better to have my bare feet pounding the ever moving treadmill mat beneath me. I glanced over at Tiffany. She, like me, was sweating profusely and had already abandoned her own plimsolls as well. I hadn't seen her do it but I could see her pair rested atop the treadmill screen in front of her. Mine were discarded to the gap between her treadmill and mine.

Tiffany was managing okay. She coughed often but somehow she maintained a consistent light jog that made it look as if she were merely looping the same jogging motion over and over again.

Several beeps to my left drew my attention to Alex Landly. He was slowing his treadmill down to a walking pace. He was hobbling, his right leg seeming to cramp up on him badly. His Meter was still flashing orange. Panting, his face bright red and clearly in agony, Alex wiped the sweat from his brow causing droplets to run down his wrist and forearm.

Bit by bit over the next few minutes Alex slowed down even more until he finally pressed the stop button on his treadmill and sat down. I didn't have the energy or moisture in me to form a coherent question in my mind let alone to ask Alex why he was stopping. Then again it was clear why he was. He was exhausted. He couldn't run anymore. One of the most promising marathon runners in the country had just called it quits…before me.

Alex's arms and legs were trembling. He kept his head bowed, facing the floor. For the first time since I had known him Alex Landly looked utterly defeated. His Meter turned red. He looked at his Meter and looked away as if he were just checking the time.

"Alex!" I said, whispering as loudly as I dared, "Get up!"

I wanted to urge him on more but I just couldn't in the state I was in. Alex looked up at me and I could see the raw terror in his eyes. It was as if he wasn't looking at me but was already contemplating what lay in his future given he couldn't continue on any longer.

Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

A Pied Piper officer came to a stop before Alex.

"Come with me," said the officer, coldly.

Alex muttered something but neither the officer or I could hear it.

"Get up," said the officer, "Now."

"I can't," said Alex, his words barely louder than a whisper.

The Pied Piper officer reached down and grabbed Alex's arm, hoisting him to his feet and keeping in there. Alex began to whimper, and then to cry. It was an awful, exhausted kind of crying, as if he were on the tail end of having an all night panic attack. Another Pied Piper officer joined the first, taking Alex's other arm. Together both Pied Piper officers escorted Alex out of the room heading out of the doors which, presumably, led to the Remote Zone.

Chook, chook, chook, chook.

I kept jogging. It was a matter of minutes before Alex's spot at the treadmill was replaced by a fresh new teenager, a heavyset black boy. He, like us, watched the short instruction video on his monitor and then started his very own treadmill nightmare.

"Bur–gess?" said Tiffany, breathlessly.

I looked at her and found her smiling, her face bright red and shiny-slick.

"You're–" she said, still jogging, still huffing away, fighting to breathe. It took her almost ten seconds to get out the next word, "--doing–", and then, again, ten seconds later she said, "-amaz-ing."

"You," I said, needing time to get the word out myself, "Too."

Chook-Chook, Chook-Chook.

A scary truth was starting to dawn on me. The evidence was mounting but I needed to continue to experience it to be sure. Two more hours passed in the room. Dozens more teenagers either collapsed or quit. More Pied Piper officers led these teenagers away. A lucky few, presumably, had their Meter's turn green and were able to leave out the way we had entered the treadmill room. I thought I spotted a handful of these but it was hard to be sure without being able to see it clearly and not just the tiny fraction of the room I could see in the tall glass window reflection.

The black boy beside me flagged hard at the end of the second hour. He quit, huffing and sweating, gladly accepting his Meter turning red a few minutes later rather than face another second on the treadmill.

The nightmare continued for me. Somehow I was still able to keep going. Never in my life had I wanted to taste just the smallest sip of water. If this continued I was sure I would soon become a mummy. Maybe if this experience killed me I would come back from the dead and haunt the place. Another teenager replaced the black boy that was escorted out. This one was a very tall boy with a shaved head and a nicked eyebrow, looking very much like someone I wouldn't want to mess with. He, like the black boy, watched the brief instruction video and started jogging.

At the same time there came the distant sound of an explosion; the room shuddered and the lights faltered for an instant, temporarily bathing everyone in darkness before the light returned. Several teenagers behind me let out fresh, horrified screams. I let out a pathetic little scream of fright myself, but barely had the lung power to reach the volume the others achieved. I hated the implication that explosion suggested: someone must have just blown up.

A dark thought entered my mind: I wonder if it was Alex Landly?