Eddie Riddle had pushed his luck too far, and now found himself in the unenviable position of being curled the fuck up in a ball of pain, as electricity raced through his body. He had gotten one kill, just a few seconds ago, and now he paid for his stupidity.

The other player had lurched out from behind a rusted bucket of a car and Eddie, wanting at least one kill before the endgame of the final ten began, had paused to take a shot. He’d located a shotgun loaded with shells, as well as a Beretta 9mm, and finally had the opportunity to fire one of the guns. He’d blown the surprised guy into the car. But the other player had been wearing some kind of body armor, so Eddie had had to fire again, this time hitting the other player in the head, and basically disintegrating the top of his skull. Brains, blood, and shards of bone had splattered the car as the other player, eyes bulging before completely inverting, had dropped like a rock.

Eddie’s watch had pulsed one more time, and then the shock had arrived.

As soon as he stopped twitching he pitched his body forward. He came to his hands and knee, and shuffled across the ground until he was on his feet.

“Idiot,” he muttered.

Eddie should have stuck to the plan and simply made it to the safe zone before taking on one of the few remaining players. He had played it so safe, so by the book, and he had messed up in the final hour. He had hid out, moved when it was safe, and found other places to use as a base. Beyond one parachute that had landed far behind him, he hadn’t seen another player during the game until the one he had just killed.

The red arrow pulsed as it pointed out which direction he needed to move.

That’s when he spotted the motorcycle.

The driver had stopped, and even though Eddie still needed to get back in the clear zone, he couldn’t pass up this target. Still running, he lifted the Beretta, aimed down the sights, and fired. The other player hit the ground, rolled over, and dove into the woods.

Eddie set off in pursuit, intent on getting his second kill, and making it into the safe zone.

But his harness went off again, and this time the zap made his hairs stand up on end.

“The hell with this,” Eddie growled as he once again picked himself up. “Into the zone, then it’s hunting time again.”

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Back on his feet, he lunged toward the safe zone as the warning triggered once again.

As he staggered back to his feet once again, a car careened around a dirt road. By Eddie’s guess, the car skirted the safe zone, and wove into it whenever the alarm sounded. So why in the hell wasn’t the driver staying there?

His answer arrived in a few heartbeats, and Eddie, for all of his safe planning and cautious gameplay, simply stood there like a deer in the headlights. The car spun up the little rise, skirted the fallen motorcycle, and then as it closed on Eddie, the driver had kicked open the door at the last second. It struck Eddie in the chest and sent him flying with a horrendous crunching sound. Not of hitting the dirt, which hurt like hell, but of having his rib cage crushed.

All of a sudden he couldn’t breathe. His chest felt as if an elephant sat there while nails were driven into his lungs.

The car came to a stop and a kindly-looking older man leaned out.

“Oh. Hello there,” the man said, extended a semiautomatic handgun, and shot Eddie in the face.

#

Kathryn’s furious flight away from the farmhouse left her out in the open and exposed as the little bike carried her up a hill and down through a city cluttered with rusted cars, trucks, and a city bus. She raced past a gas station where a body lay near the pumps. She would have loved to stop and loot, but she was almost out of time.

Her watch buzzed insistently as it clicked away the seconds until she was going to be flying off the bike at high speed. But she was close to the zone, so she cranked the gas handle around until the little bike hit seventy miles an hour.

With the playing field being so small, it was a relief when she crossed into the clear zone. She slowed the bike, and then came to a halt at the edge of a copse of woods that bordered a long field. To the south sat a huge water tower. She might not be an expert, but if someone had a rifle like hers, that’s where they would be.

She had managed to get here without another shock, and she had a pair of weapons. Kathryn didn’t know how to properly utilize the sniper rifle, so she would try to use some guesswork.

A gunshot sounded, and a round plinked off the motorcycle. She pushed it over as she fell to the side. Then she hustled around so she could use it as cover. Another shot. This one almost took off her damn head.

She grabbed her handgun and tried to find a target.

Kathryn slid to her left so she could keep most of her body bunched up behind the motorcycle. It was shitty cover, but it was all she had.

After the next blast she realized what was happening.

With so much foliage it would be easy for someone to have full cover with little effort. But she had passed a number of vehicles, including the bus, and that was where the glint of a weapon caught her eye. The shooter had a number of options, because he or she was on a long tube with windows, and any of those could be used to fire from since they didn’t have glass.

Another glint, and she ducked her head down.

Kathryn was pinned down, but if her guess was correct, the shooter was firing, then changing positions.

She launched herself to her feet, and ran. She crashed into a line of foliage and fought branches as they whipped at her face. Kathryn’s rifle caught on something but she shrugged it off her shoulder and carried it close to her chest.

Then something punched her in the back and she went sprawling.