“That’s odd,” Carrie was saying.

Penny finished her morning stretches. “What?”

“Weren’t we supposed to get our gear at the break point?”

“Maybe it’s at the one after.”

“Hm… where’s Lyssa?”

“She’s going with Vortex,” Penny said. “She’s changed a bit. I really didn’t think she would last this long.”

Carrie frowned.

“Why?”

“Because she always seemed to be elsewhere, never in the present. She must have found inspiration.” Penny smiled thinly. “You’re oddly protective of her.”

“No I’m not,” Carrie said. She searched for Lyssa among the gathering crowd of students. “We’re the same age. She can take care of herself.”

Lyssa had already joined Vortex at the starting line on the edge of the hilltop. They overlooked a short but treacherous decline leading into a maze of sheer rocks, valleys, and mountains. A few familiar people stood beside her. Burnout, Ironhog, and a few other students, some who haven’t decided on a marketable name yet.

“I’m Andrew,” one introduced himself with an offered hand. He was a tall man, built lean with a pedigree with real work in his physique, rather than just the chiseled symmetry of a gym frequenter.

Lyssa took the hand, awkwardly, and said her name as well.

“Your gift seems far more interesting than mine,” Andrew said. “I’m just strong.”

“It’s more trouble than it’s worth,” Lyssa replied. “I don’t think I can name what it is.”

“Keeping secrets. That’s forward thinking. I like that.”

Lyssa wanted to insist that it was the truth, but how could she prove it? A chilling presence pulled her attention away from the man.

There was a woman named Ecto, who looked like a walking photo negative. Her clothes looked like torn rags draped over the FASE suit, trailing smoke even as she idled like a block of dry ice left in the sun. Her hair was a blinding white, her pupils a pale green islanded by a chalk-colored iris and space-black sclera. Lyssa never remembered seeing her with them. In fact the moment she looked away she was having trouble keeping the mere idea of her in her head. She had to do a double take just to make sure she was there.

“Interesting,” Ecto remarked. “Are you a psychic too?”

“N-No,” Lyssa said.

“Hm… I suppose you just have a lot of mental willpower.”

“Must be it.”

Ecto laughed. It sounded like the alpine air, and left bumps on the skin.

“Form up, guys, let’s get ready to win,” Vortex said. “And most importantly, have a good time.”

“Does it hurt to say that?” Ironhog said with a smirk.

“Yes,” Vortex said. “Ecto, you’re our scout, since the flyers and speedsters that were in our group care more about themselves than having a team.”

“Aye aye,” Ecto said whimsically.

Meanwhile, the sun had risen, and Tobias’s voice was blaring through the camp’s horn.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

“You’ve all made good progress, kids! Roughly nine hundred of you are left. Take a good look at your fellow contestants. They might not be there when you arrive at the next break point. This segment of the game makes the previous one look like an afternoon stroll. Ready? Too bad. Three, two, one. G-!”

They were already gone. Lyssa lagged just a second behind. Hundreds of students slid down the hill and began taking their own routes through the terrain. A number disappeared into caves, sneaking into the many valleys and cracks that seemed so conveniently dispersed. Pine sprouted out of the declivities as well, but a lot more sparsely than the forest. And with the speedier gifted already claiming many of the safer routes, they had to take open ground or dare falling behind.

“It’s probably smart to stay in the middle,” Andrew suggested. “Not behind nor ahead of the others.”

“What do you think they’re gonna throw at us?” Burnout thought out loud.

“I think we can expect bladed aircraft,” Vortex said.

“Doubt any ungifted soldier would be expected to play with us in a place like this,” Ironhog said, “especially just for a training exercise.”

“There are gifted in the footmen of the Army,” Vortex said. “There’s no reason to assume they wouldn’t participate.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Lyssa?”

Lyssa blinked. Vortex was looking over her shoulder at her.

“Yes,” she said.

“How are you holding up?”

Lyssa didn’t know what the question meant for a second. Her mind went through a couple convoluted theories before finally settling on the idea that there was no hidden layer to it.

“I’m fine,” she said.

“Good.” Vortex returned her attention to the front.

A white shadow rose out of the rocky ground. When it was fully emerged its details sharpened until a recognizable human form solidified. Human being a relative term.

“I’m seeing nothing for the next couple klicks,” Ecto reported. “No men in camo or vehicles lying in wait.”

“Well done,” Vortex said. “Proceed with caution.”

“I’m going to stay solid for the next little while,” Ecto said as she moved to the back. “Phasing tires me out.”

“What is your gift?” Lyssa asked.

“It’s pretty obvious,” Ecto said. “I should ask you that question.”

“Um…”

“Because when I look at you, I feel like there’s a dozen people staring back at me.”

“There’s only one of me,” Lyssa said.

“You creep me out,” Ecto remarked playfully.

“I’m the one that’s creepy?” Lyssa said incredulously, playing into the levity.

Vortex turned her head to glance at them. Her expression had been completely blank, but they instantly quieted.

They were not alone, after all. The landscape here was rich with the history of tectonic migration. Movements that made glaciers seem breakneck uplifted entire sections of rock into jagged fields. Sometimes they heard rock loosen, or footsteps stumble, and Lyssa was reminded that there were hundreds of them moving in roughly the same direction. A neighboring group often threw a glare at them, a look that communicated a sense of general competitiveness. As if to say ‘Watch your step. Or else’.

But an hour or so had gone by. It felt much longer than that. Lyssa noticed a cave entrance about a hundred steps ahead.

“Look,” she said, trying her best not to pant. “Why don’t we take a break for a minute over there?”

“…We should,” Vortex said.

Lyssa caught that pause. Her teammates weren’t really tired at all. She thought about saying ‘never mind’.

“Uh guys?” Ironhog pointed at the sky. “What’s that?”

They were silver in color, blending well into the blue sky. But the sound of them was obvious enough. There wasn’t a civilized person on Earth who didn’t know what jet engines sounded like.

“Fixed wing aircraft,” Vortex said. Then the alarm rose in her voice. “B-52s! Get to the cave! Go!”

Lyssa saw tiny dots fall from the planes. She saw them blossom into orchids of red missiles moments before hearing them. Her eyes saw something pretty. Her ears heard monsters. Those were bombs. Instead of an explosive payload they were carrying countless gallons of paint projectiles. And there were enough planes to stretch across the visible sky.

“Come on!” Vortex yelled.

Lyssa was the furthest behind. The sky was reddening like sunset. She heard the approach of heavy engines, the hollow ringing of blunt metal cutting through atmosphere. She could hear the projectiles fall like rain. She felt the droplets as though there was a man inches behind her, tapping her shoulders with blunt fingers. The cave was still several steps away.

The entrance suddenly jumped up as she sank into solid rock as if it was water. She instinctively held her breath. The feeling was uncanny, like swimming through dense pitch. Her eyes were open just a hair, but saw nothing only pure darkness. And then it was over. She surfaced on the floor of the cave beside her team, gasping for breath. Ecto rose out of the ground next to her, exhausted as well.

“Did you get hit?” Vortex asked. She checked the collar lights on Lyssa’s suit. “Looks like that wasn’t enough paint to register as a shot. Ecto might have just saved your game.”

“You’re welcome,” Ecto said between breaths.

“Thanks,” Lyssa said.

The brief storm had passed. They peered outside without leaving the confines of the cave. Red paint covered everything the eye could see. Anyone stuck outside would have lost the game ten times over.

“I hope that shit is biodegradable,” Ironhog said.