Prologue
The lights from the arena could be seen from miles. They lit up the crumbling buildings beyond the walls, New York's once famous skyscrapers nothing but tattered ruins taken over by the dead. The lights glowed, brightening the city at night, making it difficult to sleep. To an outsider, the arena might be considered beautiful; To all of us in Ephrim, it was a death sentence.
A place where the living were taken to be sacrificed by the dead.
But the government wouldn't say that; oh no. They were just trying to find a cure, hosting the fights to earn money and support from the riches. They said they wanted to keep our loved ones safe from the monsters behind the giant walls. The government would never admit to the lies.
They want control, and they had it.
The arena reminded us of this.
Chapter One
I wasn't allowed on the roof at night; It was breaking curfew, and we could be fined heavily for it. But there was a place, behind a vent where I was hidden from any prying eyes. The shadows made sure of it. I watched as the Tanqilitors drove down the streets in their army jeeps, eyes and flashlights sweeping the road.
They passed the Rideout's and Davis's apartment, moving onto the next broken down apartment. I watched them for another few minutes before they passed my house, and then my street, turning in the corner. I let out a sigh of relief. They were gone.
I waited another minute, scanning the roads, making sure that all of the tranks had actually left before swinging myself over the side of the two story building. Using the old bricks as foot holes, I climbed down swiftly, swinging my body into me and Cole's room.
I landed with a soft thud, and I glanced over to see if Cole had stirred; he hadn't. His short, messy blond hair was sticking to his forehead and his tiny body was curled up into a ball on his side. He snored quite loudly for a three year old, and I couldn't help but smile at him.
I kicked off my tattered boots and climbed onto the small mattress next to him and fell asleep.
The music began in the morning.
The Unions Nation Anthem began to play all over the city, the speakers on the outside of each apartment crackling as the old speakers blared the song. I sat up, blinking. Cole was still asleep beside me, wrapped in a tattered quilt.
The song ended, and normally the speakers would shut off, but a male voice came booming over the city. "Good Citizens of Ontarian. I regret that I must announce that Gladiator Adam Mitchel has passed. He was attacked last night at his training center. We are attempting to track his killer. Due to the homicide, we will be having a choosing ceremony tomorrow. All people, the ages 15 to 18 will be required to attend. Thank you for your time, our deepest condolences from the Empire."
The line went dead.
