THE PROVING GROUNDS of ARMAGEDDON) Copyright © 2010 by (TWIN FORKS PUBLISHING)

The Proving Grounds

Armageddon

Mark Childs

ISBN (XXXXXXXXXXXXX)

Also by Mark Childs

The Devilution Series Devilution Rebelution Soulution

Jaloopa – Home of the Poobah Baloo The Jaloopa Jalopy and the Funny Farm

Forthcoming The Gate The Jaloopiter The Power of the Love of Power

DEDICATION

As I near the halfway point of my life, I find myself reflecting on past events with greater frequency, especially those from the early years of my youth. Amongst my fondest memories are those of my grandmother, Pearl Furtah. She was, without a doubt, the best grandmother in the world, and for that reason, I dedicate this book to her. I doubt she would have approved of some of the content, but I’m certain she would have understood the message.

Humans are the only creatures on the face of the earth that allow emotions to override its sense of self- preservation. Deforestation is depleting our planets ability to protect itself, yet the process continues unabated. Smoking is a prescription for lung cancer yet millions continue to smoke. The governments of the world could stop the production of tobacco products but enormous tax revenues provide them with the justification they need to sit idly by. Obesity is no longer a problem, it is an epidemic, yet fast food chains continue to thrive. We, as a race, are accelerating toward the finish line of a race that began thousands of years ago. The results of that race are final and forever.

Book One

Chapter I The Arrival Chapter II Trials and Tribulations Chapter III The Proving Grounds Chapter IV The Trial of the First Tower Chapter V Homecoming Chapter VI First Wish Chapter VII The Trial of the Second Tower Chapter VIII The Return Chapter IX The Trial of the Third Tower Chapter X Pestilence Chapter XI Black Mist Forest (4th Tower) Chapter XII A Cursed Blessing Chapter XIII The Spires of Blood (5th Tower) Chapter XIV The Path to Salvation Chapter XV Gideon’s Cavern (6th Tower) Chapter XVI The Winds of Change Chapter XVII Battlegrounds of Anadais (7th Tower) Chapter XVIII In God We Trust Chapter XIX The Land of the Ancients (8th Tower) Chapter XX Redemption Chapter XXI Coliseum (9th Tower) Chapter XXII The Final Trial (10th Tower) Chapter XXIII As Above, So Below

Chapter One The Arrival

Earth, once a sphere of positive energy, had deteriorated into a cesspool of negativity, disrupting the sensitive harmony of the universe. This could not be allowed to continue. The Proving Grounds would correct the problem. The humans of the planet earth, considered to be among the bottom dwellers of the universe, would be forced to fight for their right to exist.

Doomsday supporters will claim the Mayans have accurately predicted the end of the world in 2012. Others support the Nostradamus predictions of a third world war sometime early in the new millennium. The Book of Revelations tells yet another story. Psychics across the globe have forewarned us impending doom for years, yet no one foresaw what was to come. Hell did not rain down on earth. Crazed dictators did not invoke a nuclear war. Global warming did not flood the earth.

No, Armageddon came in the form of a white-robed figure with a long flowing beard and piercing blue eyes. He held a gnarled black staff in his right hand as he walked down East 42 Street on that fateful day. A crystal the size and colour of an overripe tomato was fixed to the top of the staff, emitting a halo of hazy crimson. The robed figure‘s destination was the United Nations General Assembly building.

What had begun as a dozen followers blossomed into several thousand. They stayed back at a distance of respect, but they followed the stranger‘s every move. No one spoke. They were in awe.

7 The Security Council of the United Nations was in session when the bearded figure arrived at the visitor‘s gate. He offered his name. It was Zemith. His appearance and demeanour brought a chuckle from the guard, a young man by the name of Scott Birchfield.

―I‘m sorry sir, but visitors are not allowed during an assembly of the Security Council.‖

―But that is why I have come,‖ replied Zemith. ―They will wish to speak with me.‖

―With all due respect, I have orders to admit no one,‖ said Birchfield firmly, removing his pistol from its holster with one hand, pushing his radio with the other.

Zemith was unfazed. With a polite smile and a slight nod, Zemith disappeared. As he vanished, the zombie-like crowd snapped out of their trance. Many had no idea how they had arrived at their current location. Most could not remember the last several hours of their lives. The crowd was comprised of varying ages, ethnic backgrounds and stature in society. They did however share one commonality; they were filled with joy. Little did they know, their joy would be short-lived.

Zemith was fully aware of the workings of the Security Council. Members of the Security Council were seldom far from the United Nations building. One of the many purposes of the Council was to act quickly in a crisis, something the United Nations Assembly was unable to do.

Zemith materialized from thin air in front of an alarmed Security Council. The room was spacious, designed to house a crowd upwards of two hundred or more people. A beautiful tapestry depicting characters from various ages of history filled the north wall. The fifteen members of the Security Council were gathered at a large boardroom table in the middle of the room. Zemith approached them from the south.

8 A raised platform that formed a nearly complete semicircle separated the Security Council from Assembly members. Members of the Assembly were permitted to participate in Security Council discussions but they held no sway. There were currently only eight assembly seats occupied. No matter. Zemith‘s words would be to the Security Council. Any response from the Assembly meant little to Zemith.

Zalmay Khali, serving his fourth monthly term as president of the Security Council jumped to his feet, demanded an answer for the intrusion.

―Security,‖ shouted Zalmay. ―How did you get in here,‖ he demanded.

―An insignificant question as I am here. Perhaps you should ask me why I am here,‖ suggested Zemith.

―Security will be asking the questions,‖ countered Zalmay growing braver knowing his security team would be arriving any second.

―Perhaps,‖ shrugged Zemith, ―But I would think not.‖ The stranger had an eerie calm about him, and an air of absolute confidence. Zalmay decided to humour the stranger until his men arrived.

―Alright then, why are you here?‖

―To deliver a message,‖ answered Zemith.

―Deliver a message to whom,‖ asked Zalmay. ―To us?‖

―To mankind,‖ replied Zemith. Zalmay was beginning to perspire. Something was wrong with security. They should have entered the room within ten seconds of any breach. There were cameras everywhere, some hidden, some obvious. Motion detectors were installed at every entrance, activated once the council was in session.

―You realize you will be arrested for this stunt,‖ said Zalmay.

―This is not a stunt. I am here to give the world what the United Nations fails to give; peace.‖ Before Zalmay could respond, security charged into the room, weapons locked on the stranger.

―Take him,‖ Zalmay ordered. As they advanced, Zemith waved his staff in their direction. ―Sleep,‖ he whispered, dropping them to the ground in an instant.

―Do not test me again,‖ said Zemith nonchalantly. With a nod of his head, a monitor in the corner came to life, displaying the top of the Empire State Building.

―Please note, if you will, the top of the building,‖ said Zemith as the monitor zoomed in on the antenna spire. With a wave of his hand, Zalmay vanished, reappearing midway up the spire, his jacket flapping dangerously in the wind. The members of the Security Council jumped to their feet, mouths agape.

Zhang Yesui, the representative from China moved cautiously toward Zemith.

―Please, there is no need to harm Zalmay. Tell me what is that you wish and we will comply if we can.‖

―I will return in three hours. Zalmay has failed miserably with his attempt at diplomacy. He is to remain where I have placed him. Arrange it so there is worldwide coverage for an announcement from your president. Do not waste my time with your emergency alert system. That relic should have been abandoned years ago. The network called CNN has the ability to do what I ask. This is within the scope of your power. When I return, if all has been arranged, I will release him,‖ said Zemith calmly, pointing toward the monitor.

10 ―Failure to comply will not bode well with my people.‖ With a smile and a wink, Zemith vanished.

Carla Rozzala was enjoying her third day as technical supervisor when the memo was brought to her by her assistant, John Bilmont. The memo was red, indicating priority one. She instructed John to fill her in as they walked toward production. The memo was from the United Nations requesting an urgent world -wide feed. The time frame given was less than three hours. It was within her power to do so but she needed to know why first.

Ashley Shrewsbury had been loading her groceries into the trunk of her cherry-red Mustang convertible when she vanished, leaving a half-filled cart and a small crowd of terrified onlookers. . .

Ashley‘s friends loved to remind her that a red sports car was a sure tale sign of a midlife crisis. Her recent weight loss and new health regiment provided additional reasons for her friends to torment her, playfully, of course. She had been running daily for almost a year now. She had shed forty pounds and honed her body into a shape that rivalled her teenage, gymnastics days. Her bright auburn hair was a stark contrast to the pallor of her skin. Ashley avoided the sun like the plague. Her fair skin burned easily and there was a history of melanoma in her family. With high cheek bones, and beautiful green eyes, Ashley was pretty but not beautiful, and she was okay with that. Beauty was not a priority with her, it was an annoyance. Her fortieth birthday was approaching, a number that held little fear. Her body and mind were running at an optimum level and she was determined to defy the aging process.

11 Ashley had been born and raised in Wallaceburg, a small town on the banks of the muddy Sydenham River. It was a picturesque little town and the Sydenham ran smack through the middle of it, forming a fork at the downtown basin. Years earlier, before the municipality had imposed its‘ ridiculous speed limit on the river, Ashley and her friends had enjoyed hours of waterskiing and knee boarding behind her dad`s boat, a 16` red, bow-rider with a 115 Mercury motor called the ski machine.

After the speed limit had been posted, the boat traffic had begun to slowly dwindle. That, combined with surges in the price of fuel had all but killed the local boating scene. Aside from WAMBO, an annual event that featured antique boats and cars the first weekend in August, the river was lucky to see a few dozen boats on any given weekend.

Ashley had left town at the age of nineteen to pursue her masters in marine biology and was thrilled to have been assigned to a research team performing a two year study of the muddy Sydenham. To the surprise of many, including the research team, they had discovered several species of mussels found nowhere else in Canada. The research project was midway through the second year and Ashley had already received an offer to join a research team in Montreal once her current project had ended.

Ashley poured her heart into her work. At the age of twenty-five, she had poured her heart into a relationship with a fellow student, Mick McBride. McBride was charming, funny, and as she found out, very cruel. In public, he doted after her, convincing her friends that he was indeed, Mr. Wonderful. Behind closed doors however, he was a monster. . .

Ashley awoke to find herself in the middle of a forest. She was fully clothed, and after a self-examination, appeared to not have been sexually assaulted. The last thing she remembered was loading groceries into her trunk. A sudden chill went up her spine, sending her into a spin. A bearded man in a robe, stood before her. She backed away in fear.

―You have nothing to fear from me,‖ he said calmly.

―How did I get here?‖ she asked. Her heart was racing, thumping violently against the wall of her chest.

―I apologize for any inconvenience but you have been summoned.‖

―By whom?‖ she shouted.

―A question I unfortunately cannot answer at this time. Be patient. Your answers, and your fate, are closer than you think. I suggest you remain here. You will not wait long.‖ With a wave of his hand, he was gone.

Ashley reached into her pocket and removed her cell phone. She would call her mother and then she would call the police. No, she would just the call the police. Her mother would be frantic. Since the death of her father, two years earlier, her mother‘s nerves were frail at best and she relied heavily on her daughter. She dialled 911, receiving a ―out of service area‖ message.

―Screw you,‖ she whispered and began looking for a way out of the woods.

Brock Donahue rocked himself into a light doze in the antique chair he had inherited from his Grandma Pearl. The chair was one of the few things left that Brock cherished in life. His wife, Tabitha had left him after eleven years of marriage, disappearing to Europe with her new mate, a successful entrepreneur from England. She had won the custody battle.

13 ‗Battle‘ was a bad choice of words. It had been more of a mercy killing. Brock was thirty-seven years old, unemployed and unemployable. Once considered an ‗up-and-coming‘ on Wall Street, his ego had led him down a path to his demise. A high level associate had convinced him to invest in a dilapidated restaurant in Harlem. Unbeknownst to Brock, there were major sewage problems with the property. These problems remained hidden until two weeks before opening when the Health Unit performed their mandatory inspection. Brock pulled in several favours and managed to secure the funding but the opening was delayed by a month, pushing the project to the brink of failure before the grand opening. Eventually the restaurant, named ―The Pearl‖ in honour of his grandmother, opened. Andre Mack, a well known chef from the market district had been hired to operate the restaurant. For a month it appeared as though Brock was out of the woods. The restaurant was flourishing. A review in the New York Times raved of the food quality and the ambience. Midway through the second month, it was near impossible to acquire a table. Brock was the talk of the town. His wife was the happiest he had ever seen her and his two children, Emily and Kramer were two of the most popular students at school. Fate has a funny way of intervening, and it was the fate of Andre Mack that was the starting point of Brock Donahue‘s downward spiral. As Andre traveled to work one morning, the third week of May, his taxi had been struck by a garbage truck that had run a red light. The taxi had been torn in half by the impact. Andre had been hurled from the taxi, landing on the windshield of Nancy Cornell‘s Ford Focus with a deadly thud. Try as he might, Brock quickly lost the foothold he had gained. Andre‘s head chef, Marcus Asgrove lacked the skills to 14 manage such a large facility and within two weeks, Brock terminated his employment. Based on the recommendations of a local head hunter group, Brock hired Stephen Varnove. Varnove did not approve of Andre‘s menu, requesting he be allowed to create his own. Brock, under pressure from his financial people, reluctantly agreed. The results were devastating. It wasn‘t that Varnove lacked cooking skills. He simply lacked the ability to provide what the masses were looking for. The Pearl went from trendy to terrible in three months. Brock had become so focused on his troubled restaurant that he had neglected two of his larger Wall Street accounts, both of which had filed complaints to Brock‘s superiors. This had led to Brock‘s termination. Two weeks later, the bank forced him into Chapter 11 bankruptcy protection. Three weeks later, Brock had an emotional and mental breakdown. Gone, was his family. His children had joined their mother in Europe. Gone was his membership at the prestigious New York Health and Racquet Club. Gone were his friends and associates. Wall Street shuns failure. You were either in the game or out. There was no in between. That had been six months ago. Since that time, Brock had called the New York State Psychiatric Institute - more specifically, the Washington Heights Community Services - home. He kept to himself, speaking to no one unless spoken to. His only conversations of any degree were with his favourite nurse, Sarah Lawrence, a brown-eyed, brown haired beauty that was his angel. She was single, bubbly and very kind. Every day was the same. He awoke, showered, ate breakfast, took his meds and headed downstairs to the fitness room. It was a poor example of a fitness club, especially when compared to his former club but it was better than nothing. The doctors had been weaning him off of his meds for the last three 15 months. His doctor, a young East Indian woman named Dayita Mudiraj, was firm but fair. She had made it clear from the beginning that a lack of co-operation would result in his expulsion from the trial program that had allowed him access to the facility in the first place. His life had seemed hopeless six months ago; today he was full of hope. He had received his first letter from his children only a week ago and it had lifted his spirits. News from his accountant three days ago had been much more favourable than he had anticipated. His enormous brownstone had been sold, as had the restaurant, both fetching reasonable prices. After paying his creditors, his wife, his lawyer and his accountant, Brock had managed to retain $293,000.00 of his small fortune. Brock had received bankruptcy counselling during his stay; part of his bankruptcy discharge requirements. He was due for release a week from Thursday, ten days from now but he would not wait that long. The stranger that had visited his dreams had told him to be prepared. He was to be summoned. His life was about to change.

President Charles Abernathy sat with the Secretary of State, Vincent Farley and the Vice President, Richard St. Clair. The conference call from CNN came as a shock. The president had chuckled, asking Carla Rozzala who was behind this farce. It wasn‘t until a call was made to the United Nations Security Council, verifying CNN‘s statement that the president gave the story any credence. If there had been any doubt left, footage of Zalmay Khali appeared on national television moments later.

The president considered preparing Air Force One for departure but the time frame wouldn‘t allow it. He would have 16 to do what he could from the oval office. His first thought was to order DEFCON 3, an order last issued on September 11, 2001, the day of the attack on the twin towers. Uncertain as to the intent of this character, who could disappear at will, drop an entire security team with a wave of his hand, and place the president of the Security Council on top of the Empire State Building without breaking a sweat, the president agreed to take no chances. He ordered DEFCON 2 for the first time since the Cuban Missile Crisis. If an act of force was to be required, the United States of America would be ready.

Clarence Delray was born a carnie, raised a carnie, and destined to die a carnie, or so he had thought. Born and raised in Union Springs, Alabama, Clarence spent most of his summers as a child working the midway at the Chunnenuggee Fair. For his twelfth birthday, Clarence‘s parents – Ginger and Rolf – presented him with his first clown outfit, announcing that they had purchased their very own midway production company.

Although Clarence‘s primary role had been that of children‘s amusement, he had spent countless hours working in all areas of the family business. He was well liked by all the employees and there was no job that he considered beneath him, which added to his natural charm. Over the years, Clarence was taught the tricks of the trade: How to set the pins so they were difficult to knock over, and how to keep a paper target damp so they would not tear as easily from the pellets. He also learned to juggle, how to throw knives with amazing accuracy and how to fight. Bruno Stanzivic, a member of the staff had been a golden gloves champion in his teens and had been considered an up and coming before ending what could have been an illustrious career, with a badly broken hand.

Bruno sparred with Clarence three times a week, and spent another three days a week with conditioning. Clarence had loved his time with Bruno. The day Bruno died was one of the saddest days of Clarence‘s life. The final lesson Bruno taught

17 Clarence was that the best fists in the world are no match for a handgun. Clarence had walked into a bar one night for a cold beer. It was the last stop of the fall carnival tour. A drunken biker was slapping around his biker girlfriend and Bruno couldn‘t stand by and let that happen. He had his way with the biker, knocking him out cold with a single punch but he failed to see the biker‘s buddy drawing his pistol from his waistband and pumping three shots into his back. Bruno had turned and charged the man, taking a fourth shot in the shoulder before he reaching the shooter, crushing his windpipe before succumbing to his wounds.

For the first fourteen years of his life, Clarence entertained children from one small southern town to the next from March to November. The fair folk took the month of December off, using January and February to work on updating and repairing the midway rides. The business was lucrative enough, if you didn‘t mind living the life of a gypsy. The carnival carried a full time tutor for all the children of the employees. The education of his people was of paramount importance to Rolf who had little patience for outsiders who pegged carnies as simple folks.

Clarence went on his first date at age twenty. It had taken two weeks to build up the courage to ask Danielle Podosky to join him for an evening of dining and theatre. Danielle worked for the carnival with her father, Stanley. The two operated the Ferris wheel and the Tilt o Whirl.

Three beers and two hours into the date, Clarence became relaxed enough to be himself, which was all it took to win Danielle over. They soon fell in love and were married on Halloween night in a full costume wedding, enjoyed by the entire carnival community.

Over the next few years, Rolf and Ginger began to step back from the day to day operations, happy to turn the managerial duties over to their son and his wife. They were

18 happy times. A year later, Danielle gave birth to a beautiful baby girl with the darkest brown eyes Clarence had ever seen. They named their daughter, Sophia Angelica Delray. Life was good, until the robed man appeared that afternoon. Clarence was enjoying a late lunch with his entire family when the robed figure appeared directly behind Clarence. He spoke in a quiet, hollow voice announcing that he was taking Clarence with him. He had a task to complete that would affect the world. He laid his hand on Clarence‘s shoulder and they were gone.

Zemith continued to harvest candidates from around the world for the remainder of his allotted time. He had begun harvesting a day earlier, his goal, one, pre-selected candidate from each country, and five candidates selected completely at random. He was required to provide two hundred candidates for the Proving Ground. An hour remained before his meeting with the Security Council and only three subjects remained, one in Iceland, a second in New Zealand, and a third in England; plenty of time.

Zemith removed a crystal from the inner pocket of his robe. He activated the crystal by rubbing it between his forefinger and thumb. The response was instant.

―This is Onoch,‖ spoke the raspy voice of the Overlord of the Proving Grounds.

―This is Zemith.‖

―What is your status?‖

―All but three candidates secured. The announcement will be made in less than an hour earth time. No deviation from instructions. All is as is should be.‖

―All is as it shall be,‖ came the reply, then silence.

Dagur Gudmumsson was born in the small fishing village of Dalvik, Iceland. He accompanied his father on his first fishing trip at age three. ‗Born to the sea‘, as his father always said, Dagur worked his way up to captain of his own vessel, one of four owned by his father Ylfa and his Uncle Bjorn.

Now, at age twenty-two, Dagur was growing restless. His desire to fish grew less and less with each trip out. His latest passion was Alpine skiing with his friends, a passion his father could not understand. Dagur bore the weathered skin of a sea traveller but with his sandy blonde hair, blue eyes and high cheek bones, he was popular with the ski bunnies that frequented the Böggvisstaðafjall, the local ski area, famous for producing several memorable Olympians.

Dagur would never be an Olympian but his abilities on the slopes were definitely above average. He had finished fifth in the Icelandic Alpine Amateur point race last season and was currently tied for third in the current standings. Dagur‘s mother longed to watch him race but Ylfa denied her, claiming his son raced only for the pretty women, wasting valuable time that he could be fishing.

Dagur and his father were arguing this very point when Zemith appeared before them.

―May Thor strike me down with his mighty hammer,‖ Ylfa muttered in Scandanavian.

―That won‘t be necessary,‖ returned Zemith in fluent Scandanavian, ―But I am taking your son with me.‖ Before Ylfa could raise a hand, his son and the stranger were gone.

Tamihana Apihai, a descendent of the aboriginal Māori people lived on the west coast of the South Island of New

20 Zealand. She loved to swim in the Tasman Sea which sat less than ninety feet from her home. Her home was a rugged, three room cabin which housed herself, her boyfriend, when he was in the area, and her pet goat, dubbed Baaaad Boyyyy.

Tamihana was a beautiful woman in every way possible. Her body was lean and curvy, her breasts full, yet firm. Her bronzed skin glistened as though oiled and her emerald eyes shone with brilliance that many found hypnotic. Dressed in a blue and yellow bikini, Tamihana was in the middle of her daily run up the beach. Her breasts bounced with each powerful stride as she ran a sprint, careful to dodge the surf as it broke just to her right.

Up the dune, just over a slight rise to her left was her home. Her boyfriend, an American photo journalist named Doug Streets had promised her a breakfast of fruit, granola and yogurt upon her return.

As Tamihana began to slow her pace, she turned her gaze to the Tasman Sea, fascinated with its colour and calm. She was enjoying the warmth of the sun on her face and the cool breeze on her body as she readied herself for one last sprint, unaware of the stranger who blocked her path. Totally unprepared for a collision, Tamihana was knocked from her feet from the impact. Her head was buzzing from the blow. She tried to sit up but felt nauseous. Blood was oozing from both her nostrils.

―What the hell,‖ she shouted. Her boyfriend, who had witnessed the collision burst through the front door of the cabin, yelling at the strange fellow who towered over his Tamihana.

―What the hell is the matter with you,‖ shouted Doug as he approached from the top of the dune.

―She is not yours,‖ shouted Zemith up to Doug.

―What?‖ was all he could manage.

―I said she is not yours,‖ repeated Zemith.

―I never said she was mine,‖ stated Doug as he checked to ensure Tamihana was uninjured.

―You believe you have claim on this woman, that she is your property to do with as you wish,‖ said Zemith. ―Is she aware of the other women?‖ Doug went from crimson to ashen. He was speechless.

―You bastard,‖ shouted Tamihana. ―I suspected but until now, I was never sure. Your face told me everything I need to know. Get your things and get out of my house.‖

―Who are you,‖ screamed Doug, ―And why are you in my business?‖

―I am Zemith. I am not in your business but I will tell you this. You will die a painful death in less than forty-eight hours.‖

―See Tamihana, this man is a lunatic. He lied about the other women. Come back to the house with me, please,‖ pleaded Doug.

―She has a more urgent matter to deal with,‖ stated Zemith, taking Tamihana by the hand, the two faded into the afternoon sun.

Anton Popov stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his midsection. His latest victim, a nineteen year old university student, lay dead in her bedroom, her panties hanging loosely around her bruised throat. She had been amazing, fighting with a fiery passion unlike any of his other

22 victims. She had been the first to draw blood. It had inspired him to prolong her death. He had choked her into unconsciousness seven times before failing to revive her.

Anton dressed quickly, pausing only once to punch his victim in the face. It was his calling card. It was always a well aimed punch between the eyes. He had punched all but one of his eighteen victims in the face before leaving them for the police. His eleventh victim, a young teacher from the town of Pskov had been married, a fact that Anton had been unaware of. The husband, a civil servant, had returned as Anton was dressing, leaving barely enough time for escape, let alone time to mark his victim.

Anton had been raised by his grandmother, Olga, near the hostel district of St. Petersburg. Olga‘s daughter and son-in- law had drowned in a bizarre ferry accident just north of the Bay of Finland two days before Anton‘s thirteenth birthday. He was not an ugly child. His dark black hair was a stark contrast to his chalky white complexion. What little shine he had in his emerald green eyes, was clouded by the ever-present dark circles beneath his eyes.

Olga took Anton in, and despite her best efforts, the boy soon fell in with a group of local thugs. In less than a year‘s time, Anton disappeared from Olga‘s life forever, choosing the life of a criminal.

Over a four year span, Anton was a partner in twenty- seven very profitable burglaries up and down the western seaboard. Anton used his earning to buy his way into the Bratva, better known as the Russian mafia. He started on the street, selling heroin to the junkies and ecstasy to the students before moving up to enforcer, a job he relished. The town of Pskov and the surrounding area had been offered to Anton. He declined. He liked flying under the radar. Controlling your own district put you in the spotlight. If things went bad in a district, the controller was held accountable.

23 Anton enjoyed a simple life. He frequented dozens of bars up and down the coast. He spent his money on vodka, women and hostels. The inner evil that he carried with him was well veiled behind a wall of silky smooth charm and dazzling blue eyes. Men enjoyed his company; women fawned over him making it easy to find his victims. He had always been cautious to avoid patterns that could lead to his capture, but he found it increasingly difficult to focus once the yearning began. It was after his fourth kill that the yearning grew exponentially. He felt like a junkie seconds before the needle released the heroin into their system. He wanted it. He wanted it bad. Try as he might, he could not get the thought of it out of his head until he killed again. The thrill of the kill intensified with each kill, brought on by his feverish desire to end another life. Words could not describe the feeling of bliss that coursed through his veins as he choked the life out of one of his victims.

Anton was pulling his jacket on when the stranger appeared before him. Startled, Anton bolted for door, only to be swept from his feet by a blast of air that landed him atop the university student‘s coffee table. Rolling to his feet, Anton turned toward his assailant; arms outstretch to deal with anything this old man had to offer. The old man simply smiled, stretching out an arm that held a wooden staff. With an upward motion of the staff, Zemith lifted Anton from his feet. Anton grew afraid for the first time in his life.

―You are an evil man, Anton Popov. You will serve us well.‖

Wilson Collins studied the face in the mirror. The face before him was lean and chiselled, clean-shaven and deeply tanned. There were no remnants of the sagging jowls or the baggy flesh beneath his eyes. His examination continued down his body. The shoulders were broad and powerful, the chest firm

24 and thick. The waist was tapered and solid, his six pack rippling across his abdomen. His biceps had doubled in size and his forearms made him think of a Popeye. He walked to the sitting room of his loft apartment and sat in his black leather recliner. The television was on, tuned to CNN. The United Nations story would soon be on every channel. Wilson knew what was to come. He would need to prepare. . .

The stranger had come to him at his flat in London England three months earlier, dressed in a black robe with crimson trim. The hood of the robe was pulled over his head, concealing the stranger‘s face. He extended a hand to Wilson who reluctantly took it. The hand was withered and littered with age spots. The fingernails were long, yellow and gnarled.

The stranger announced himself as Abigor. Wilson suggested he leave but Abigor was persistent, asking for a cup of tea and fifteen minutes of Wilson‘s time with promise of grandeur if Wilson would be a gracious host. Wilson thought certain it was a waste of time but the man looked like he could use a good cup of tea.

Three fascinating hours later, Wilson found himself wanting to believe the outlandish tales of adventure that Abigor swore to be true. Abigor claimed to know the future and he further claimed that Wilson was to be a big part of it. Abigor waved off any of Wilson‘s doubts.

―Proof will come to you three times,‖ whispered Abigor. ―First, money will find its way to you, freeing you of your work obligation. Secondly, the pain in your right leg and left arm will vanish. The memories of the accident that killed your wife and son will fade to a point of tolerance but they will not disappear completely. I would not think you would want that.‖

―Heavens no,‖ managed Wilson who felt his chest tighten at the thought of his loved ones.

25 ―The third and final proof will be the change in your body. You have become soft and I will not have time to fully train you as I would hope. The third proof will improve your operating system to nearly one hundred percent efficiency. Not only will your physical abilities improve, a portion of your brain not normally accessible to humans will begin to open to you.‖

―Why me?‖ asked Wilson.

―It doesn‘t matter,‖ replied Abigor.

―It does to me,‖ countered Wilson.

A month passed and Wilson never did receive an answer as to why, but he received the three proofs he had been promised, after which he underwent a metamorphosis he could not begin to understand. The stranger had returned, requesting Wilson‘s help. Wilson agreed to do what he could. Abigor had placed his index finger on Wilson‘s chin, sending a strange chill through his body. Moments later everything had gone black. He had awoken two weeks later in a luxury condominium complex that overlooked the ocean just south of Stanley Park, in Vancouver, British Columbia. Since that time, Wilson had travelled to many strange places, learning new and wonderful things.

He was still Wilson Collins of 1313 Churchill Gardens Road in London, England, yet he wasn‘t. His reflexes were amazingly fast. His brain felt accelerated and enhanced. He knew answers to questions before the question was fully presented to him. Gone were the painful memories, replaced with knowledge of things he didn‘t yet completely understand. He was told he would understand them when it was time.

He had no reason to doubt the stranger. He had given him what he had promised and more. The why quickly faded into the back of Wilson‘s mind, replaced by snippets of adventure and excitement to come. Abigor had not lied to Wilson, no he had done far worse; he had committed Wilson to a

26 fight that he could not possibly win. Several days before Zemith was to arrive in New York, Wilson responded to an overwhelming urge to return home. Waiting was Abigor, who stood outside the 1313 Churchill Gardens Road address with a large black umbrella to fend off the heavy rain. Wilson ushered him inside.

Abigor instructed Wilson to remove his shirt and jacket. It was time to leave Wilson to his fate, but before that could happen, Abigor scratched a series of symbols onto Wilson‘s back, spilling a significant amount of blood. Abigor had explained that it was a sigil, a complex series of magic symbols that would possibly save his life. Once complete, Abigor waved his cold hand over the sigil and it vanished. Moments later, it was Abigor that vanished. Abigor had been tempted to do more but his instructions had been crystal. He was to set Wilson on the path. He was not to accompany him on his journey.

Wilson had awoken in his London flat the day Zemith was to address the world. He could not believe he had slept for two full days. Abigor‘s last instructions had been to sleep a deep sleep. Upon waking, he was to eat an unusually large breakfast, dress in his workout attire, and await the summons that was certain to follow. From that point forward, he would be on his own.

27 Chapter Two Trials and Tribulations

Carla Rozzala‘s instructions had been simple. Do whatever was necessary to pull this off. This was huge. Regardless of the outcome, this was an exclusive unlike any other. Sure, the other networks would piggyback on this story and leech out what they could but the primary story belonged to CNN.

Carla had been issued the larger of the two mobile production trucks at her disposal. She stood in the center of the multi-chambered unit which was stationed just outside the visitor entrance to the United Nations. The interior of the truck was a technical marvel; equipped with twenty-four high definition cameras, state of the art recording and playback equipment, and the best audio equipment money could buy.

From her position in the center of the box, she could control every aspect of the broadcast. She had recruited the best and the brightest for this broadcast and they would not fail her. Leonard Sawyer would be her eyes and ears on the inside. Justin Berkley was her lead should an interview or questions be allowed. The men had logged over forty years of broadcast time between them. The pressure of the situation would not affect them. They had grown numb to pressure years ago.

―Cue up one and two,‖ Carla barked to Ned Turnbull who operated the main control board for her. Cameras one and two would pick up Zemith as he approached, assuming he would follow a path similar to his first visit. Carla ran through her audio-visual testing protocol ensuring everything was in order when a warm hand squeezed her shoulder. She turned toward the hand, shocked to find, who could only be Zemith standing next to her, staff in hand, comforting smile neatly in place. She unconsciously moved away from the stranger, her hand pressed firmly against her rapidly beating heart. 28

―How did you-‖ she began.

―You creatures are fascinated with how something happened, yet blinded to the fact that it doesn‘t matter because it has already happened. How I got here is not important. Why I am here, now that is important. What I am about to say to the citizens of earth is of the utmost importance my dear lady. Are you prepared to cover this event?‖

―I believe so, yes,‖ Carla managed.

―You believe so? That implies doubt. Doubt may lead to failure and that is simply unacceptable. I will ask you again Carla Rozzala, wife of Marty, mother of Alexis and Summer, are you prepared to cover this event?‖

―Yes, I- we, are ready.‖

With a nod, a wink, and a smile, Zemith vanished, only to reappear almost instantly on her monitor. She jumped into action.

―Okay Leonard, he blindsided us, but this is no different than any other broadcast. Cue up eighteen through twenty-two. Justin, stand by. I‘m not sure what his plan is so we‘re going to improvise. Do you copy that?‖

―Copy that, boss,‖ replied Justin. Carla depressed a green button on the console in front of her. It opened a channel to her entire crew.

―Do not be intimidated by this man. This is just another story and we handle it like any other story. No matter how shocking this becomes, stay on your game. We will deal with any aftershocks as directed by the big boys. Go silent and follow your direction as given. Thank you everyone.‖ Carla pushed the button a second time, deactivating the open channel. It was show time.

Zemith appeared in the room, just as he had on his first visit. Zhang Yesui had paled somewhat since his last visit. Zhang approached Zemith cautiously.

―We have done as you have requested. Would you please return the president of the security council to us?‖ Silence filled the room as Zemith scanned his surroundings. Cameras were in place as requested and Zemith was certain the feed would be worldwide. Ignoring Zhang‘s question, he issued an order instead.

―The president is watching. I wish to speak to him directly.‖

―But you promised to relea-‖ started Zhang before his voice failed him. Try as he might, no words would come forth.

―You are an annoying creature,‖ said Zemith calmly. ―Where is your president?‖ he asked firmly, his voice resonating through the chamber.

―I am here,‖ spoke the voice of President Charles Abernathy from a large monitor to Zemith‘s right. If the president was nervous, he did not show it. The camera had been brought in tight to reveal nothing of the president‘s location.

―May I ask your intentions,‖ asked the president who was still in midsentence when he tumbled forward to the carpet. Before the president regained his footing, Zalmay Khali materialized in a heap to the president‘s left, shivering from the cold. Moving forward passed the two men, Zemith walked to the podium at the far end of the Security Council chamber. Once there, he began to address his audience.

―Citizens of earth, my people are known as the Jarn and you have no reason to fear us. This is a joyous day; a day where I will lead you to the Promised Land similar to that prophesized to you by your ancient scriptures. This Promised Land is called

30 The Proving Ground of Armageddon. It is an area where creatures from every corner of the universe gather to compete. To the victors of this proving ground, wishes will be granted by my people. To those less fortunate, death will be their trophy.‖

Zemith paused, letting his words sink home, as he had done thousands of times before.

―The Jarn are the guardians of the universe. We are its judge; its jury. We are its salvation and we are also its executioner. The universe is vast, yet it remains fragile. The fabrics of time and space are easily torn, and not so easily repaired. Planets that are new to the universe emit a beautiful, pure energy. This energy provides stability and harmony to the host galaxy which, will in turn, spread this harmony throughout the universe. As life begins to form on a planet, a minute amount of the purity is robbed from the planet. As life evolves, the planet deteriorates at a proportionate level. As we have found over the ages, when a civilization divides and the first war is fought, the beginning of the end is near. What is happening on your planet has happened repeatedly since the beginning of time. It is unfortunately inevitable. The problem must be corrected, and you will be given a chance to correct this problem. Complete and utter failure will result in global genocide.‖

The entire world bore witness to this stranger‘s words. In isolated areas where there were no televisions, Zemith‘s words were carried with the wind. He could have easily projected his image onto the clouds if he had wished but he wanted mankind to participate at some level at least. Time Square was one of many gathering areas where thousands had come together to hear the broadcast. Thousands more were continuing to pour into the area surrounding the United Nations building. People were terrified.

―I am a collector,‖ said Zemith. ―I have been sent by my people to gather your representatives. One citizen from each of your one hundred and ninety five countries has been selected, completely at random. An additional five will be selected, again

31 at random to bring the total to two hundred, the number required.‖ This brought shouts of outrage, muffled noises that Zemith could hear from within the council chamber. Covering the crystal atop his staff with his right hand, Zemith placed his forehead against his hand and muttered some words in a language no one understood. Anyone within range of his broadcasted voice became silent; at peace.

―It may not seem fair to select citizens from your planet at random but it is the way of the Jarn. Random selection provides an honest and balanced harvest of your people. Some would have us choose the strongest and the fastest from their planet. The strongest and the fastest are not a true representation of your planet‘s people. They are in fact, a very small minority. Those selected will be whisked away at dawn tomorrow to the Proving Grounds. Once there, my task will have ended. Onoch is the master of the Proving Grounds. He will explain what is to come. Onoch is far less tolerant than I so I would not test him. As is customary, on the eve of Armageddon, I will provide answers to questions for one hour. When the hour has concluded, the Feast of Armageddon will commence.‖

Zemith looked toward the President Abernathy.

―I will allow questions from President Abernathy and Justin Berkley. You may begin.‖ Justin charged forward, eager to ask the first question. If he had planned his first question, he had planned it very poorly.

―Why earth?‖ he asked.

―Certainly not the most intelligent of your people,‖ answered Zemith. ―I believe I have already answered that. Next question.‖ The president moved slowly toward Zemith. His question was one of concern for the candidates.

―Will you reveal the candidate‘s names so they may make the necessary preparations; so they may say goodbye to their families?‖

―No,‖ responded Zemith. ―As is customary, all will partake in the festival of Armageddon. It is a purging festival. When dawn arrives in the city of New York, those selected will be bathed in a bright light to cleanse them before they are taken to the Proving Grounds. The light will leave a mark where they last stand on Earth. The mark will last for years as a tribute to those selected.‖

―What events will the citizens of earth compete in?‖ asked Justin, hopeful that his first question would quickly be forgotten.

―The citizens of earth will face challenges that they have faced throughout your brief history. They will have to fight for their lives. They will face fear. They will be forced to think, to use strategy. They will use every survival skill available to them. They will be tested to the very limit of human endurance.‖

The president took his turn. ―You mentioned wishes, what kind of wishes?‖

―There are two kinds of wishes: Minor and major. Early in the competition, only minor wishes are granted. As the competition intensifies, major wishes such as a cure for cancer, repairing your ozone layer, returning your forests to their former glory, and so on may be granted.‖

Following up on the president‘s lead, Justin jumped in, ―What will happen should our people fail?‖

―Again, I believe I have answered that. Failure will lead to global genocide.‖ Justin pushed the issue.

―Complete failure yes, but what if we are moderately successful?‖

33 ―Onoch will explain the specifics of the Proving Grounds but know this. For any failure, there will be consequences. For any success, there will be rewards.‖

―How will we know what happens on the Proving Grounds?‖ asked Abernathy.

―Citizens of earth will bear witness to the events of the Proving Ground in their entirety. It is mandatory.‖

―How will this be possible?‖ interjected Justin.

―With the Jarn, everything is possible.‖ With a wave of his hand, the broadcast was suddenly visible in the sky. With a second wave of his hand, it was gone. ―What is impossible to you; is child‘s play to the Jarn.‖

―If that is so, then why don‘t you correct the problems on Earth with a wave of your hand,‖ fired back the president.

―The people of Earth have created this situation. It is their obligation to correct it; to pay for their sins if you will.‖

―Where does God fit into all this?‖ asked Justin who was certain he had just asked the perfect question.

―God does not fit into this,‖ replied Zemith. Justin was dumbfounded.

―Our God does not fit into this? How is that possible? Are you God?‖

―God is a creature beyond your understanding, and is much more than the creature portrayed in your bible or the Qur‘an, and no, I am certainly not God.‖

―How did you travel here?‖ asked the president.

34 ―The Jarn are not bound to time and space. We will it, and we are there. The creatures selected will be given the ability to travel as the Jarn do until they perish or the Proving Grounds close, whichever comes first.‖

―Is there any way we can request a reprieve, to gather world leaders and discuss possible solutions?‖

―Mr. President, you of all people should know the time for reprieves has come and went. It was clear at the beginning of the new millennium that Earth was in trouble. Many discussions were held but little was done to correct the problem.‖

―I would like to offer my services to cover the events of the Proving Grounds,‖ suggested Justin. Carla cringed in the booth. Justin was not his usual crisp self; his professionalism all but gone. With a wave of his hand, Justin vanished and Carla appeared in his place.

―I found that creature annoying. As his supervisor, can you perform better than he?‖

―I‘m not sure,‖ managed Carla. She was in unfamiliar territory. ―I am normally behind the scenes.‖

―I sense a higher intelligence from you. Ask a question.‖

―First of all, I would like to know what you have done with Justin?‖

―His body is vapour. His soul journeys to the Beyond.‖

―You killed him?‖

―He has been transformed. The Justin you know will not return.‖ Carla was mortified.

35 ―So, if you are not pleased with my questions, will you transform me as well?‖

―Perhaps. Transformation is a part of life. It is not painful.‖

The president stepped toward Carla and placed his hand on her shoulder. ―I am sorry.‖ She nodded, brushing back her tears as she fought to maintain her composure.

―Zemith, do you answer to God?‖

―We all must answer to God.‖

―Would God approve of what you have done to Justin?‖

―God neither approves nor disapproves of such miniscule actions. Picture a planet the size of your earth filled with one hundred trillion ants. Even God would have a difficult time monitoring the activities of so many creatures. In the universe, there are far more creatures to monitor. God, I am sure, could monitor every creature in the universe if it was necessary, but I believe maintaining balance is a much higher priority.‖

―You speak to God?‖ This question from the president.

―God is not a creature that one speaks to. God is a creature that cannot be described in terms you would understand as I have already mentioned. We have spoken enough of God.‖ Carla was far from satisfied with Zemith‘s answer.

―According to your customs, we have one hour to ask questions. Now, you impose restrictions on the questions we ask. For an advanced creature you are childish.‖ With a wave of his hand Carla could not speak. He looked at the President to see if he wished the same fate. The president pushed forward with another question, hoping to diffuse the situation. The president

36 felt bad for Carla but had no desire to become silent or vaporized.

―Where are the Proving Grounds located?‖

―Several million light years beyond a galaxy your people have named Hoag‘s Object which itself is over six hundred million light years from Earth.‖

―You travel this distance in an instant. If our people are successful, can they wish for this ability?‖

―As a major wish perhaps. All wishes face the scrutiny of the ruling body of the Jarn. Most major wishes are limited to the planet of the wisher‘s origin, but I cannot speak for the Witnesses who govern the activities of the Proving Grounds.‖

―May I humbly request that you release Carla from her silence,‖ asked the President. Zemith nodded, waved his hand, and Carla‘s voice returned.

―Th . . . th . . . thank you,‖ she managed.

―You are most welcome, my dear. You will need your voice for you will be travelling to the Proving Grounds along with our good friend the president. Details will be forthcoming but for now, let us finish our questions.‖

For the next forty-five minutes Zemith answered questions provided by the President and Carla. Zemith declined to offer any further information about the Proving Grounds, claiming it would be up to Onoch to provide such information. Zemith‘s answers remained vague, shedding little light on the future of mankind. At the conclusion of the time period, Zemith grasped the crystal with his left hand, placing his forehead against the back of his hand, whispering strange words. Zemith looked up, staring directly into the closest camera.

37 ―To the world, I give you freedom. More importantly I give you the Feast of Armageddon. In the center of every village, town and city on the face of this planet, a feast awaits you. There is food, the likes of which you may never see again. Fountains of rare and exotic drink flow beside the mountains of food. Those at a distance need not worry. You will be whisked to the closest village or town. In less than a moments‘ time, everyone will succumb to power of the Feast. Those of ill intent will not be permitted to join the feast. This will include rapists, murderers, pedophiles, and the likes. They will sleep during the feast; only to awake with the mark of the Jarn. No longer will the evils of earth remained hidden. Each violator will carry a mark of their sin on their foreheads, visible to all. All factories, hospitals, energy plants and other mandatory operations will be monitored by the Jarn. Tonight, all will partake in the Feast of Armageddon; all will lose any sense of inhibition. You will be absolved of any sins committed during the feast. It is the way of the Jarn.‖

With a clap of Zemith‘s hands, the air became a thick fuzzy haze. As the haze began to clear the feast began. With a simple nod of his head, the president found himself outside the Lincoln Memorial. Carla found herself standing next to Ned in the middle of Time‘s Square.

―Come on Ned, I‘m buying,‖ she joked, grabbing Ned by the arm. For the first time in a long time, she wanted to cut loose. Forgotten was Justin, the interview, Zemith and the Proving Grounds. Foremost on her mind was having some fun.

Chapter Three The Proving Grounds

As the first rays of early morning sun began to claw their way forward across the eastern sky, the revellers of Times Square were given a sobering reminder of what this day was about. Gone was the endless buffet of delectable delights. The fountains that had provided wave after wave of exotic drinks had vanished. Left behind were headaches and quickly fading memories of lewd behaviour, and in many cases unforgivable acts of sexual deviance.

A blast of lightning lit up the dim sky of dawn. It was followed by an image of Zemith. He was everywhere. He was on billboards, television screens, sides of buildings, even on the street. Zemith spoke to the people of earth from every possible location on the planet.

―The Feast of Armageddon has ended,‖ boomed the voice of Zemith. ―The chosen shall be swept up and taken to the Proving Grounds. Those marked by the Jarn will forever have their lives turned upside down. Those who have experienced the Feast should feel no remorse. The Feast unleashes repressed desires. Penance is not required for the Feast. Prepare for the days to come. ―

―Onoch will speak to you before the sun sets on this day. Heed his advice.‖ The image of Zemith faded into the shadows.

President Charles Abernathy awoke near the Lincoln Memorial, completely naked, his arms and legs wrapped around an equally naked, middle aged house-wife named Molly Kirstable. Both awoke with a shriek and quickly disengaged themselves from the other. 39

―Mr. President,‖ she sobbed. ―I am so sorry.‖ Charles could think of nothing to say. He found his clothes a few feet away and quickly dressed. He suggested she did the same. He apologized, blaming the Feast and took off at a run. He had to get to the Whitehouse. Charles felt sick to his stomach. He had committed adultery without as much as a second thought to the consequences, until now. He quickened his pace as he ran toward the Whitehouse. As he ran, he noticed hundreds of other naked bodies. It didn‘t make him feel any better.

As Charles ran, his wife, Ellen was frantically attempting to scale the fence that led to their backyard. She had awoken in the bed of their neighbour, Steve Ardelle, a freelance journalist who worked for the Washington Post. She didn‘t feel bad about sleeping with Steve; the two had been having an affair for months but getting caught was not an option.

Pulling herself atop the wall, she swung her hips and launched herself onto the lush lawn below. As she ran toward the rear of the house she caught a glimpse of her daughter Jamie in the window. Standing next to her was Kevin Davis, one of the two secret service agents assigned to the First Family. Ellen slowed to a walk, skirted around the in-ground pool as she adjusted her blouse, heading up the stairs to the rear entrance of the house.

―Where were you mom?‖ inquired twenty-two year old Jamie.

―Enjoying the feast like everyone else,‖ replied Ellen.

―Then why climb the fence to sneak back home?‖ Her daughter had past suspicions, obviously heightened at this point.

―I was feeling energetic,‖ Ellen answered dismissively. ―How did you enjoy the feast?‖

40 ―Oh, it was fun until my mom disappeared with the neighbour.‖

―Don‘t be silly, honey. A group of people left the town square and headed to Steve‘s. There are a dozen or so over there having breakfast if you want to join them.‖ She hating lying to her daughter but she knew her daughter well enough to know she would not pursue the issue. Jamie was not about to pursue the issue but she was in no mood for the First Mom.

―It doesn‘t matter, mom. Kevin and I had a little fun of our own and I am the least of your problems, but you will find that out soon enough.‖ Jamie kissed Kevin on the cheek, turned on her heel and marched upstairs to her bedroom. Kevin‘s face went scarlet. Kevin, at age twenty-four was one of the youngest agents every assigned to the first family.

―An interesting evening all around, Kevin. Perhaps you can find my husband for me?‖ Ellen headed down the hall to the master bedroom. It would be a good time for a shower, followed by a long chat with her daughter, but first she would have a look in the mirror. A nasty itch over her left eye was beginning to annoy her. As she reached the mirror, her chest tightened; she felt as though she could not breathe. In small block letters, just above her left eye was the word ADULTERER. Frantically, she grabbed a cloth, scrubbing her skin until it was raw. The word was made of letters from her raised skin. She had been marked. Ellen reflected on Zemith‘s words that evil would no longer be hidden.

―My God,‖ she whispered. ―What have I done?‖

Carla Rozalla had been receiving a passionate, tongue- probing kiss from Ned Turnbull when Zemith‘s voice broke the spell between them. Her panties were draped over her ankles

41 and Ned‘s right hand was planted firmly between her thighs. She reflexively shoved Ned backward against a plate glass window of the Hardrock Cafe in Time Square.

―What the hell,‖ began Ned before clarity began to settle into his own mind. ―Oh, God, Carla, I am so sorry.‖ Carla tugged her panties into place and smoothed out her dress. She looked around. Others were in similar situations by the looks of it. No one seemed too concerned about Ned and Carla‘s situation.

―Nothing happened, Ned. Nothing! Do you understand me?‖ He nodded in agreement.

―We need to speak to our bosses. I want to know what our direction will be on the Proving Ground story.‖

―Your direction is simple,‖ came the calm voice of Zemith from behind Carla, ―You will be the voice of Earth. You and a crew of three others you find trustworthy will accompany me to the Proving Grounds. You will receive further instructions once we arrive. We leave within the hour.‖

With a wave of his hand, Carla‘s outfit changed to a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. Her hair was neatly pulled pack off her face, tied in a loose ponytail and she felt refreshed.

―Not exactly the shower and change you were looking for, Carla, but it will have to do. The clock is ticking. With a second wave of his hand, Carla found herself at CNN headquarters in Atlanta in the main boardroom surrounded by the top executives of CNN. Feeling very awkward, she waved and bid everyone a good morning.

―Relax, Carla,‖ said Tim Warring, the current CEO for Time Warner. He answered directly to Ted Turner.

42 ―We have all been summoned in a similar fashion this morning. I was told you would explain why.‖ Acting on Tim‘s cue, Carla switched into business mode.

―We have less than an hour to select three broadcasters to accompany me to the Proving Grounds.‖

―May I ask why you?‖ asked Gordon Fobeur, president of CNN‘s marketing division.

―Zemith requested me.‖

―Funny he would do that after shutting you up during the broadcast yesterday,‖ he snipped. Carla was used to the boy‘s club tactics. At one time, she had been intimidated by the bullying tactics of male supervisors. That had been a long time ago. She had grown much thicker skin since then.

―I prefer shut up to vaporized, Gordy,‖ referring to Justin‘s demise. ―We don‘t have much time so I suggest we focus on the task at hand.‖

Onoch watched from the raised platform high above the coliseum floor as the participants began to arrive. Many of the participants stood in stunned silence; others had to be sedated; a select few appeared thrilled to be there. Onoch had seen it all before, a million times or more.

Onoch stood at nearly seven feet. He had created himself in the personae of a warrior, outfitted in the leather armour of the B‘dhun of the planet Hu. Onoch was lean and muscular, his skin leathery and taut. His face was thin, yet rounded; somewhat reptilian although there was a definite human look to it. He held a staff similar to Zemith‘s in his right

43 hand. A dull, black crystal was mounted at the top of Onoch‘s staff, a single eye imbedded into its center. That eye was currently watching the gathering below.

The entire coliseum had taken Onoch less than an hour to create. It was not so much built as it was carved. The white marble of the Proving Ground had been a marvel to work with. Rows of bench-style seats filled the lower level, designed to seat the fifty thousand dignitaries who had already begun to arrive. The upper level would house each dignitary‘s staff, which would include cooks, housekeepers, and numerous personal servants. Reporters, storytellers, verifiers, and coroners from each of the participating planets filled the balance of the seats in the upper level. An additional number of seats were provided for world leaders from each planet. They were limited to six seats regardless of the size of the planet. Even the coliseum had its limits. No medical staff was to be found on the Proving Grounds. They were not needed. Those lucky enough to survive the trial of the first tower were healed by the Jarn.

From a distance, the coliseum appeared to be nothing more than a collection of towers, ten in total. The towers represented the ten steps of spiritual growth required for absolute spiritual fulfillment. Creatures from planets still in their infancy, planets such as Earth, were rarely advanced beyond the first step in a journey that could take an eternity.

The coliseum was the main structure of the Proving Grounds. It served as the central gathering location for the opening and closing of the Proving Grounds. It would also serve as the host site to five of the ten trials. Onoch had received praise for the construction of such an amazing structure. He had said nothing, for the praise belonged to the ancient architects of Rome. His coliseum was actually their coliseum but he had been so impressed with the function ability of the structure that he claimed it for his own. His only contribution had been the ten towers.

44 Each of the dignitaries would be granted use of a mansion, custom tailored to fit their lifestyles. The mansions were located on the far side of the Proving Grounds in the Paradise Region. The Paradise Region was divided into two hundred districts, offering a wide range of terrain, from ocean side to mountain top.

The fifty thousand dignitaries were selected from a handful of older planets that met the strict criteria of the Jarn. The older planets were home to the most advanced civilizations, places where war, pollution and hatred had been long forgotten. Whenever the time came, a lottery was held to select those who would witness the events of the Proving Grounds. For some, it was a thrill of a lifetime; to others it was a disturbing adventure best forgotten as quickly as possible. To the masses, it was a reminder of what they had been, and more importantly, to what they had become. Regardless of the viewpoint, the entertainment of the Proving Grounds was barbaric at best.

Onoch scanned the horizon. Ten enormous stone bowls, one atop each tower, stood ready, each filled with wood from the edge of the Black Mist Forest. When the time came, workers would light the fires to signal the opening of the Proving Grounds. The Proving Grounds filled an area of two thousand square miles. There were six venues in all, each providing a specific challenge to the contestants: The Coliseum, Black Mist Forest, Deep Scar Mountains, Gideon‘s Cavern, The Battle Grounds of Anadais , and The Realm of Ancients. The initial trials would be held at the Coliseum. Those lucky enough to survive the Coliseum would begin the quest to reach the Realm of the Ancients.

To Onoch‘s left and his right, fire burned brightly from dozens of torches along the rim of the coliseum. Only Onoch, the twelve Witnesses, and Alana the scribe were allowed at this level. Alana would record every detail of the events; the panel of Witnesses would serve as the Proving Grounds‘ governing body. They would resolve disputes, put to death those that

45 required it, endorse or decline wishes, and initiate the genocide of a race should it be required. The Witnesses were all Jarn; much younger and less powerful than either Zemith or Onoch, but powerful enough to fulfill their obligations. The Witnesses were veiled from the crowd so they could remain in their natural form. For Jarn as young as the witnesses, it required a great deal of effort to maintain a physical form.

Onoch surveyed the lower level. It was quickly reaching capacity. The battle floor of the coliseum was over half full as the contestants continued to arrive. The eye of the staff surveyed the lower level as well. Its sole purpose was to watch for The One. He was not there, at least not yet. The eye would be diligent. His master could not afford a confrontation during the events.

The Jarn Elders were also looking for The One. They had ordered his execution. The One was attempting to unravel the fabric of time and space. The One had argued with the Elders, ages earlier, that the universe must be left alone, as it was meant to be. Evolution and destruction were part of the natural order. He had made a formal request that the Jarn no longer interfere with the workings of the universe. The One, whose name was long forgotten, was mocked and ridiculed. He vanished, reappearing from time to time through the ages, to mettle in the affairs of the Jarn, only to disappear again.

The Jarn believed it to be their purpose in life to control the universe. Anarchy and chaos would reign supreme if the Jarn chose to do nothing. According to their beliefs, the universe, left to its own, would collapse into itself, smothering all life. The Jarn believed The One to be a serious threat to their way of life. The Jarn Elders had issued a death warrant on The One over fifteen million years earlier, a warrant they had failed to fulfill. As powerful as the Jarn were; as far-reaching as they might be, they could not find The One.

From the dark confines of outer space, the spiritual signatures of the two hundred souls taken from Earth created a beautiful light show. Regardless of the outcome on the Proving Grounds, the identities of the two hundred were permanently etched into the Earth, assuming the earth would survive what was to come.

The two hundred participants from Earth were gathered in the far corner of the coliseum. Over half did not speak English, making conversation difficult at best. A dozen or so were completely irrational. Several were crying; two others were in shock. One, a man from the Congo held everyone at bay with a machete. He had clearly gone insane. Clarence Delray was one of the few who were taking the whole Proving Grounds situation calmly. After a lifetime in the carnival business, he had seen his fair share of unusual. At this point in his life, it took a lot to rattle him.

Clarence found Brock Donahue speaking with Ashley Shrewsbury and Wilson Collins. All three were happy to have another English-speaking team mate. Moments later Tamihana Apihai and Dagur Gudmumsson joined the group, bringing their numbers to six. Dagur‘s thick Scandavian accent made it difficult to understand certain words but for the most part, he spoke English quite well. Aside from the typical New Zealander twang to her voice, Tamihana spoke perfect English. She was relieved to make friends. Anton Popov stood nearby, his knitted cap pulled closed to his eyes to hide the murderer label that had been carved into his skin. He chose not to interact with this group but he was interested in what they had to say. The yearning had not yet begun but the one called Tamihana would make a lovely addition to his collection.

―Pretty fucking wierd; that‘s all I can say about it,‖ said Clarence, referring to how they arrived at the Proving Ground.

47 ―You can say that again,‖ said Brock. ―We travelled millions of light years in a heartbeat. I was talking to my nurse one second and the next second I‘m here.‖

―A nurse?‖ asked Tamihana. ―Are you not well?‖

―I‘m fine. Just a bug,‖ he lied. This was not the time or the place for sharing secrets.

―Did anyone else have dreams about this Zemith guy?‖ asked Brock.

―Dreams,‖ stated Ashley, ―I didn‘t have to dream about him. He snatched me from a parking lot and dropped me into a stretch of woods. I tried to find a way out. Before I knew it I was here.‖

―Much the same way with me,‖ added Dagur. ―I was arguing with my father when this man appeared and took me away. I found myself in a snow-covered woodland. I too, tried to find my way out but could not. Next thing I know, I am here as well.‖

―He took me from a dinner with my family,‖ said Clarence. ―He did not drop me in a forest though. I found myself on a lake in a boat with no motor, paddles or oars. I laughed at first because it reminded me of my grandpa when he would say some day you will be up the creek without a paddle.‖ This drew a chuckle from everyone.

―I dozed off and on in the boat and before I knew it, I am here.‖ It was Tamihana‘s turn to share her brief story.

―I was out for a run on the beach when this bearded, old man stops me. My boyfriend seen it from the window of my kitchen and came running to help me but the old man said, ‗she is not yours‘ and we vanished into the blinding sun. When I opened my eyes, I was alone on a vast stretch of beach. I walked for miles and miles. One step and I was on the beach, the next

48 step I was here.‖ Tamihana skipped the part about her cheating boyfriend.

―What about you Wilson?‖ asked Brock. ―Am I the only one that wasn‘t taken in advance?‖

―I unfortunately cannot remember. I was paid a visit by someone but I don‘t believe it was a bearded old man. I was told to eat a large breakfast and to be prepared. After I ate, I slept. When I awoke, I was here.‖

―All I know is I would prefer it if we stick together if that is okay with you guys,‖ suggested Brock. Everyone agreed that was a great idea.

―In case you try to walk over to speak to any of our unusual looking friends to either side of us, don‘t,‖ said Wilson. ―There is an invisible wall or something keeping us from them. We can see them and they can see us, but that‘s where it ends. I tried shouting at them but they can‘t even hear us. Very odd if you ask me.‖

―Has anyone deduced why we are here?‖ asked Ashley. Clarence laughed.

―I was having a Nancy Drew flashback,‖ said Clarence. ―Sorry.‖

―Okay then, for the sake of our friend the Joker, does anyone know why we are here?‖

―Yes,‖ said Brock. ―I heard the whole thing from my room.‖ Brock quickly brought everyone up to speed, spending more time answering questions then telling the story. His information session was brought to a quick end by the sudden arrival of Carla Rozzala, Ned Turnbull, Gordon Fobeur, and Tim Warring. All but Tim managed to maintain their footing. Tim slipped to the ground but managed to plant a hand and spare himself a lump on the head.

―Greetings earthlings,‖ said Clarence, doing his best alien imitation. Brock offered a more formal greeting.

―Mr. Fobeur. Mr. Warring. On behalf of this ragtag group, welcome to the Proving Grounds.‖ Fobeur and Warring were surprised Brock knew who they were.

―You are here to cover the story?‖ Brock guessed.

―More or less,‖ answered Carla. ―We weren‘t given much choice, just as the presidents of Russia, the United States and France weren‘t given any choice. They are joined somewhere in the upper level by the heads of United Kingdom, China, Israel, India, Brazil, Canada, and Mexico.‖

―Why only those countries?‖ asked Wilson.

―Each planet may only have ten representatives,‖ said Carla. ―We are not sure how they selected these ten but we were told that the number ten holds a special significance to the Jarn. That‘s about all we know. We were scrambling to be ready ourselves. We are still not aware just how we are supposed to cover this event.‖

The booming voice of Onoch reverberated from the walls of the coliseum.

―Light the fires,‖ he commanded. Servants dressed in robes of black with crimson trim tended to the fires which were soon roaring skyward with flames of orange and yellow, signifying the official opening of the Proving Ground.

―Zemith, the Collector has gathered you here on behalf of the Jarn, the governing body of the universe. I am Onoch, the Master of the Proving Grounds. You will notice as I speak that my voice is somewhat distorted. This is because I am speaking a multitude of languages simultaneous. You will adjust to this in time should you be here long enough.‖

―Each of you is from a planet that has violated the laws of universal harmony. The violations vary from planet to planet but the punishment is the same. You and the creatures you see around you are the representatives of your planet. You may not be the bravest, the smartest, the fastest or the strongest but you do represent a cross section of your planet‘s people. You will, over the next few weeks, participate in a series of events here on the Proving Grounds. Many of you will die. That is just the way of it.‖

―There will be ten trials, and each of these trials is designed to test a different aspect of yourselves. You will be pushed beyond your limits. Only those able to overcome their weaknesses will prevail. Before each round in the first trial, you will be given information about your opponent. This information may include strengths and weaknesses. Study it and use it to defeat your enemy or enemies.‖

―You may ask yourself, who is my enemy? The answer is simple. Anyone outside the compound you are currently held in. Although distinctly different, every creature brought here to compete is of a humanoid origin. Many of your planets have toyed with the idea of alien life. You have conjured up images of shape shifters, reptilian beasts, and the likes. This is not true. There are, however, other creatures in the universe. Creatures such as the Jarn for example, but these creatures are far beyond your evolutionary level. The one common denominator amongst all those gathered here is that you are the bottom feeders of the universe.‖

―To those brought here to cover this event, you will use the handheld devices that you will find in your hands.‖ Carla jumped as a cold metal device materialized onto her palm.

―The devices are recorders. Aim it, it will do the rest. Anything you see, it sees. It will automatically send data back to your planets. You are expected to cover everything. The reporting shall be continuous until the event concludes. You,

51 much like the participants will be graded on your performance. Those groups that score high will be left alone. Those who fail to provide adequate coverage of the days to follow will face harsh consequences, even death. We take the events of the Proving Grounds very seriously. We suggest you do the same. Your job is easy. Record the events here and on your home planet. Multiple recordings will be shown on split screens when necessary. You needn‘t worry about the technical end of this. The Jarn will see to the details. Provide interesting coverage. We shall do the rest. The recording is to start when the first event begins.‖

―Alana, the Jarn Scribe will record the entire event for the Hall of Records. The Witnesses are the governing body of these events. Their word is final. If they order your death, then you will die. The instructions before each event are brief. Questions are not allowed. If you advance to the next trial, you will be granted a minor wish. If you advance to the third trial, you will again, receive another minor wish. Minor wishes have a limited area of influence. You may wish for your parents to be rich or you may wish for your parents and your siblings to be rich. In either case, the wealth remains the same. Remember this methodology when you begin the wishing process. Be careful what you wish for; there may be consequences. To make a wish, simple state out loud what it is you wish for. The wish will occur immediately unless the Witnesses forbid it. If this is the case, you will be instructed to wish again. If you make three unacceptable wishes in a row, your wish privilege for that trial will be revoked.‖

―Beyond the second trial, those advancing will receive major wishes. A major wish can be almost anything within the boundaries of your planet, but the Witnesses may still override a wish should it be beyond what is considered reasonable. Wishes to leave this place or wishes that would in any way change the outcome of these events are forbidden. Major wishes outside the sphere of influence of your home planet are allowed but there are many restrictions. A final note on wishes: Twenty minor wishes equals one major wish, should twenty participants choose

52 to make a wish together. To make a major wish, twenty people must form a circle and designate a spokesperson or wish maker for the group. The group must be connected in a circle, with the wish-maker stating what the wish is. Much like the minor wishes, the action is immediate unless the Witnesses decline your wish. You will have three chances to make a successful major wish. Now, I will move on to more important items.‖

―Each participant is fighting for his or her own survival but you are also fighting for your planet. When the first trial has concluded, points will be awarded for each victorious group. Additional points will be awarded for kills so even in a losing match; a planet will gain points if they have managed any kills. Any creature that is injured, but still alive at the conclusion of a battle will be healed.‖

―It is important to compete to the best of your ability. Those planets that finish in the bottom ten will face global punishment. Your accumulative scores will carry over into each new level. As you will see, few teams survive the first round without heavy casualties. As is customary at the Proving Grounds, each team is granted two hundred participants. Those planets with less than two hundred countries, domains or provinces, have had the balance added to your team, completely at random. The Ungolans, who have eight hundred regions, have had their team reduced to two hundred.‖

―Each trial will be followed by two days of rest. You will be granted the ability to travel as the Jarn, but do not abuse this gift. Simply concentrate on your location, state the name of your location out loud, and you will go there. During your time back on your planet, wishes will be granted and punishments will be doled out. After the two days, you will return to the Proving Grounds to begin anew. You will complete four trials of competition at this venue, after which you will travel to the Black Mist Forest to begin a five part quest. Those lucky enough to survive the quest will be returned to the coliseum for the final event. Be forewarned that the citizens of your planet will be watching you. Life as you remember it will be altered

53 during the events. Everyone will be allowed to watch; after all it is their lives that are at stake. The first contest will begin shortly. Prepare yourselves.‖

Carla wasted no time, pointing the recording device at the group of human contestants. ―I will apologize to all of you now, but I‘m taking what he said pretty seriously.‖

―No problem, Carla,‖ said Clarence, waving at the camera. ―I love you guys,‖ he shouted at his family. He was certain they would be watching.

―See you soon. My first wish will be to never have to work again.‖ Clarence laughed as he walked away from the camera.

―He said to be ready,‖ started Brock, ―But we don‘t have any idea what we are supposed to be ready for.‖

―Moma, moma,‖ shrieked little Sophia, ―It‘s daddy on the T.V.‖ Danielle, Clarence‘s wife, came running into the room as he told them he loved them.

―Oh baby, I love you too,‖ she whispered. She called out to her in-laws who began to spread the word. Clarence was on television.

Tabitha, Emily and Krammer Donahue were gathered in the great room of her boyfriend‘s home in England watching the late evening news when the picture changed.

54 ―What the hell!‖ shouted Kingsley Beckinsford - Tabitha‘s boyfriend - as he returned from the kitchen with a pint of Guinness.

―They were about to show the cricket highlights.‖ He paused for a moment, focusing on the screen with his beady eyes.

―Is that your bloody husband,‖ he slurred. The Guinness was his ninth and he was well on his way to a snooze on the couch; a common occurrence after a long day on the trading floor.

Tabitha was stunned. It was her husband. He looked a tad dishevelled but overall he looked really good. Her daughter and son raced to the big screen television to have a better look. Kingsley had better ideas. He grabbed the remote control and clicked the television off. Before he could say another word, the television came back on. He clicked it off again, only to have it come back on a second time. Growing angry, Kingsley went to the plug and yanked it from the wall.

―There, daddy‘s gone.‖ The words were no sooner out of his mouth when the television came back on. From the television, a disembodied voice spoke explaining the rules of Armageddon as they had been explained to the participants. When the voice was finished, it concluded by reminded the citizens of earth that until the contests of Armageddon were complete, the earth was under the control of the Jarns. No one was required to report to work. The stock markets were closed. Energy plants, hospitals and other mandatory operations were also under the control of the Jarn. Earth, as they knew it, was on hold. Babies would still be born, and those ready, would still die, but the citizens of earth were to bear witness to the events of the Proving Grounds.

―Rubbish,‖ shouted Kingsley who staggered up the stairs, cursing Brock‘s name most of the way up.

55 ―Mom, why does he drink?‖

―Because all the money in the world can‘t buy him a nice brain,‖ her mother said. She regretted it almost instantly.

―Is his brain wrong like daddy‘s?‖ asked Emily, who, at age eleven had taken her mom and dad‘s divorce the hardest.

―Daddy is all better now, honey. Just look at him. He looks fine doesn‘t he?‖

―Do you still love him mom?‖ This question came from her nine year old son, Krammer.

―I will always love your father but I am not in love with him. There is a big difference.‖

―So you have said repeatedly,‖ snarled Krammer. ―When are you going to realize that Kingsley is an asshole?‖ Krammer stormed off toward the kitchen. Emily sat next to her mom and gave her a big hug.

―I love you mommy but Kingsley is an asshole.‖ Coming from her daughter, the word asshole brought a smile to her face.

―At times, my dear, he can certainly be a handful.‖ She slid out of her daughter‘s grasp and went to retrieve Krammer. They would watch this spectacle in its entirety.

Doug Streets sat in the living room of Tamihana‘s house, sipping a glass of chilled merlot. Drinking chilled red wine wasn‘t for everyone but Doug found it refreshing. It was Doug‘s fifth glass. He was on the verge of a meltdown. Since

56 Tamihana‘s disappearance, Doug had gone through three stages of emotion. At first he had been scared; after all, Tamihana had disappeared right before his eyes. The second stage was anger. That old bastard had taken her and he wanted to kick the old guy‘s ass. The third stage was rage. That bitch had left him. Who was she to leave him? That‘s not the way it worked. He would slap some sense into her and then he would leave. That‘s when the television came on, causing Doug to jump, spilling a third of his wine on his crotch.

A message explaining some stupid event was broadcasting. Doug was only half listening. His attention was riveted on Tamihana. There she was, on television, talking to another woman and several guys.

―You fucking bitch!‖ screamed Doug. ―I hate you! I am going to fucking kill you!‖ He hurled his glass at the wall, picked up the glass coffee table, tossing it into a wooden rocking chair before he picked up a fire poker and started whacking the hell out her ceramic countertop.

―You are so dead,‖ he shouted as he began to tire. ―You are so dead.‖

Martha Shrewsbury, her husband Tim, Tim‘s brother Bob, his wife and their three kids, Gil, Frank, and Kevin were enjoying a few beers, some wings and one helluva football game at the Cookhouse Pub when the picture changed. They all jokingly booed as a message began to broadcast. They had been watching the Washington Redskins, battle their way into a 24-14

57 lead late in the fourth quarter against the Denver Broncos. Washington had just taken over on downs. ―Oh my gawd,‖ said Martha, almost choking on her wings. ―That‘s Ashley.‖ Sure enough, gathered in a small circle with several others, was their daughter, Ashley. Tim put his arm around his wife‘s shoulder.

―Well at least we know why she hasn‘t returned our calls,‖ offered Tim. Martha pushed her food away insisting they leave immediately. Tim agreed. Their daughter was at the center of this Armageddon thing and Tim needed to get his wife home to some medication quickly. His wife was fragile on a good day. This would put her over the top.

One hundred and ninety five countries had representation at the Proving Grounds, totalling two hundred participants. Of those two hundred, everyone had friends or family that recognized them; everyone that was but Wilson Collins. No one claimed to be his family, his friend or his neighbour. He was alone in the world, except for his team mates.

CNN was no longer the broadcaster of world news, even though it was CNN employees that were providing the footage. The Jarn controlled the air waves, just as the Jarn controlled the operations of all things Earth. Families and friends gathered at homes, in squares, on buses and trains. They all watched. They all waited.

Chapter Four Trial of the First Tower

The voice of Onoch boomed through the coliseum.

―The first trial of the Proving Ground shall begin. The competition is simple. It is a series of death matches. Ten fighters from each planet shall be placed on the battle floor, in a containment unit housing only their group and one other. Once each group is placed in the fighting module, they will be given five minutes to study their opponent. When five minutes have elapsed, the wall separating the two groups will vanish. The first

59 group to eliminate their opponents will win. It is that simple. It is that deadly. Let the game begin.‖

Before the echo of Onoch‘s voice had time to fade, ten people from Earth vanished from the compound and reappeared on the battle floor, amongst them the crazy man from the Congo, minus the machete. The machete lay on the floor of the compound. The Jarn had provided each planet with a large monitor inside their compound to view the battle. Carla and her crew had decided the best approach was to split up. Two would record the action. One would provide a steady feed of data from the monitor and a fourth would continually sweep the compound for actions and reactions to the events and to life inside the compound. Carla zoomed in on the humans as they were trying to study an information screen in their battle chamber. Their voices were as clear as they would be if Carla was standing right next to them.

Ashley watched in horror as the data came onto their monitor.

Race: Ungolan Planet: Golaxis Five Average Height: 6‘2 Average Weight: 230 lbs Strength: 9/10 Agility: 7/10 Speed: 5/10 Intelligence: 4/10 Natural Body Armour: Thick hide – 7/10 Natural Weapons: Talons, powerful jaws and forearms Weakness: Throat is vulnerable to a thrust attack. Creature slow to adapt.

60 ―They don‘t stand a chance,‖ said Wilson. Everyone crowded around the monitor. There was nothing they could do but watch, what was going to undoubtedly be a bloodbath. A horn blasted, signalling the end of the five minutes. The humans, eight men and two women formed a tight circle with the women at the rear. With only a handful of English speaking people in the Earth group, communication was going to pose a huge problem.

The Ungolans wasted little time. They rushed the Earthlings, hacking and slashing them into a corner. Only one Earthling, a heavy, Mexican man by the name of Orillio Hernandez stood his ground, driving one of the Ungolans off his feet onto its backside. Leaping onto the creature, the Mexican punched the creature in the throat not once but twice, collapsing its airway. As the creature gurgled on its own blood, Orillio climbed to his feet yelling instructions to the others. As Orillio turned, an Ungolan had broken off from the main attack and moved toward Orillio, swiping at his chest with its talons. Orillio pulled away as the talon swept by, thrusting himself and his fist forward, connecting with the second creature‘s throat. A sound like a branch snapping indicated a clean kill as the creature slumped to the ground, its talon covered hands at its own throat.

Orillio was pumped. They could beat these creatures. He turned to his comrades. He would help them defeat these beasts. Four Ungolans moved to circle Orillio. Four others were feeding on the remains of his team; even the large man from the Congo had fallen to the Ungolans. Watching the creatures tear pieces of flesh from the bodies of his teammates made Orillio queasy and terrified. He made a sign of the cross. Tears filled his eyes. Death was inevitable but he would not embarrass his family by dying like a coward. He rushed the closest one, flailing blindly at its face and throat. A second Ungolan moved in from behind and twisted Orillio‘s neck until it snapped. The creature set the plump Mexican onto the floor and began to feed.

61 Ashley vomited not once but twice. A large number of those watching from Earth had vomited; some were still vomitting. Nothing could have prepared them for the barbaric display they just witnessed. Ashley had been foolish enough to watch a beheading video once when she was younger. The video had shown a hooded rebel using a large knife to cut a man‘s head off. The man screamed as his head was cleaved from his neck. The screaming turned to an inhuman screech as the vocal chords were severed. Ashley was sure she would never again see anything so awful in her lifetime. That was a mercy killing compared to what she had just witnessed.

It was chaos in the compound. Some were screaming hysterically, others had become catatonic. The peace-loving creatures from Earth were not cut out for this. Compared to many of the creatures here, Earthlings were a scrawny lot with no natural weapons of any kind, and the representatives that had been selected were far from Earth‘s cream of the crop.

Wilson found it strange that the Ungolans appeared to be identical while not one pair of participants from Earth were identical in any way. Perhaps the entrie Ungolan race was the same. Wilson gathered Ashley, Brock, Clarence, Tamihana, and Dagur. Ashley was shaky and pale. She was struggling to get it together but assured the others she would be alright.

―Clear the floor,‖ came Onoch‘s monotone voice. ―The results of the first round will appear on your monitor. The next round will begin shortly.‖

The monitor flashed, broadcasting the data as well as an audio feed. A soft, feminine voice spoke in English.

―Ten points are awarded for each kill. A winning team will be awarded ten points for the victory. Additional points are added for time. The swifter the battle concludes, the higher the number of points awarded. Any member of a winning team who has suffered a fatal wound will be healed if that person is still alive at the conclusion of the battle. Planet Earth will receive

62 one point for a kill. The second Ungolan was still alive at the conclusion of the battle and was healed by the Jarn. Time to the next battle: 30 seconds. Please stand by.‖

―If you are chosen,‖ began Wilson, ―Stay close to your teammates. Try to pair up with someone and double team one of the enemy. If nothing else, we will expand our number of kills, even if it is in a losing effort. If we achieve enough kills, we may at least save lives on Earth.‖ Onoch‘s voice bellowed the beginning of round two. Wilson and Ashley disappeared, to reappear in the battle unit. Ashley was shaking so bad, her teeth were chattering. Wilson took hold of her arm, squeezed it and mumbled something incoherently under his breath. He released her arm, gave her a wink and told her to stay close to him, no matter what.

―What did you do to me? I feel different.‖

―No time to explain now. Stay with me and you might live to see another day.‖ Wilson looked at the monitor.

Race: Ig Planet: Koltov Minor Average Height: 5‘7 Average Weight: 160 lbs Strength: 6/10 Agility: 7/10 Speed: 8/10 Intelligence: 7/10 Natural Body Armour: Skin – no advantage Natural Weapons: None Weakness: Thin skull, susceptible to blunt force trauma

Wilson quickly assessed the situation and took charge.

―I do not want to die today. Do as I say and we might win. Does everyone understand me?‖ Four women and four men nodded their heads. That was key. Wilson grabbed the largest man and brought him forward. The three other men, he moved forward to form a front line. Wilson moved to the front, addressing everyone like a military commander.

―You and me,‖ he said, pointing at the broad-chested fellow. ―When they are close, we must each grab an Ig and pull them toward us. We will kill them quickly and rejoin the front line. We will do this a second time. Assuming we are all still alive, we will charge them and finish this. Their heads are soft. That is where you attack. They may take a defensive position which will make our job easier. Protect your vulnerable areas such as your throats and eyes. Stay alive and we will take care of the rest.‖

They regrouped near the dividing wall, unable to see their opponents until the wall opened. The Ig were childlike creatures. They cowered in the corner, squealing in horror.

―Move forward,‖ Wilson commanded. They advanced, Wilson and the large man taking the lead. As they reached the Ig, the creatures went berserk, leaping toward the humans, arms and legs flailing. They weren‘t going down without a fight. Wilson felt his back grow warm. The warmth flooded his entire body filling him with a power he had never felt before. He grabbed the closest Ig, spun it around and deftly snapped its neck. Discarding the corpse, Wilson stepped forward launching a right hook to a second Ig‘s forehead, crushing the frontal lobe to shreds. Warm fluid gushed from the gaping hole in the Ig‘s forehead. Wilson grabbed a third by the throat as a fourth jumped on his back. The Ig were smart enough to realize this creature was their primary threat. The other men were fighting as best they could and they appeared to be winning.

Throwing the creature in his right hand backward, Wilson threw himself backward into the wall, dislodging the Ig from his back. Ashley was at his side, placing a well timed kick to the creature‘s nose, obliterating most its delicate face in the process. She gagged as Wilson snapped its neck with the heel of his boot. The large man was handling himself well. He had killed two and was working on a third as Wilson ran to remove an Ig from a frail young woman in the corner. She was bleeding heavily from her mouth and nose as the Ig continued to pummel

64 her. Wilson grabbed the creature by its loose fitting shirt and flung it head first into the adjacent wall. It wasn‘t dead but it was badly injured.

―Finish it,‖ shouted Wilson at the young woman it had been attacking. He turned his attention to the battle. It was all but over. The others had joined Ashley and the big man. They had the two remaining Igs cornered. Wilson could not be sure but they appeared to be crying.

―End it now,‖ he shouted. Led by the big man, they surged forward. It was over in less than a minute, yet Wilson‘s celebration was short lived. The young woman behind him hadn‘t moved as he had commanded her to, and the creature, as badly wounded as it was, had its boney fingers lodged in her throat. Blood was seeping between the Ig‘s fingers as it squeezed the life out of her. He leaped toward them, striking the creature in the right side of its face as he landed. The force drove the creature‘s head into the floor, killing it instantly. The young lady‘s eyes began to close as she fought to draw a breath. In an instant they found themselves back in the compound. The young lady had been lucky. She had survived by the thinnest of margins. Most of the Earth compound let out a resounding cheer. Ashley gave Wilson a hug. They had all made it back.

―Thank you. You saved our lives.‖

―You are most welcome. We did alright in there, didn‘t we?‖ She nodded her agreement as the others moved toward them.

―Wilson, before the others join us, I need to know what you did to me in there when you touched me. I feel at peace now.‖

―I‘m not sure what you are talking about, Ashley.‖ Truth of the matter was, he had no idea he had done anything.

65 Clarence clapped Wilson on the back. ―Well that went much better than the first battle. I hope we are as lucky.‖

―Just remember to focus. If you let fear control you, it puts you at a great disadvantage. If the others in the first round would have fought like our friend from Mexico, the outcome may have been different, but they chose to cower in fear. That is not a way for any of us to die.‖

―I can‘t imagine what you feel when you are in the battle unit,‖ said Brock. ―My heart was firing at full capacity just watching you guys. It is truly heart wrenching.‖

―Trust me,‖ began Ashley, ―It isn‘t any easier when you fight a weaker prey. Those Igs were like children. It was kill or be killed but to hear their shrieks as they died; I will hear their voices in my dreams until the day I die.‖

―I cannot kill something,‖ whispered Tamihana. ―I just can‘t.‖

―You will,‖ argued Ashley. The monitor flashed to life, indicating the points from round two. It now displayed the accumulative point totals. The Ungolans were in first place after two rounds. The humans were in one hundred and seventy fifth place out of two hundred; only fifteen away from a global punishment, and that with a decisive victory under their belt.

―Round Three to begin in thirty seconds.‖

―Am I the only one who finds Onoch‘s voice annoying?‖ asked Clarence who began to remove his shirt.

―What are you doing,‖ asked Ashley.

―My Shirt is not much protection. No sense giving them something to grab on to.‖ Wilson patted Clarence on the shoulder for luck. Clarence felt a warm, tingling sensation but it quickly faded so he ignored it.

―Good thinking,‖ added Wilson. The words were barely out his mouth when Clarence disappeared.

Clarence eyed the monitor. They would be fighting the Imperials.

Race: Imperials Planet: A713977 Average Height: 5‘9 Average Weight: 180 lbs Strength: 6/10 Agility: 6/10 Speed: 6/10 Intelligence: 9/10 Natural Body Armour: Self repairing translucent skin Natural Weapons: Charm and powerful jaws. Weakness: Will die easily if unable to repair tissue damage.

Clarence looked toward the compound and the cameras. ―If I die, I want my family to know that I love them very much.‖ Turning back to the monitor, he had a plan.

―Please tell me some of you speak English.‖ All but one spoke English.

―They are not strong so avoid their teeth and we might be okay. I‘m not sure of the charm but if you find yourself liking them and not wanting to attack them, shake your head and kill the bastards. I believe that we will need to wound each creature in multiple areas. That way, it can‘t repair the damage fast enough and it will die.‖ Clarence looked at his group. He had two men plus himself and seven women. One of the women was old and feeble. The word bait flashed in his mind. Clarence smiled, quickly apologized to God and gave final instructions to his team. He wasn‘t sure when it became his team but he was becoming confident that he was not going to die today.

―I want the women to avoid their jaws and keep them busy. Run from them and keep them away from us. We will attempt to kill them one at a time.‖

67 They had barely formed an awkward line when the dividing wall dropped, revealing the ghost-like Imperials. Their translucent skin revealed bones, arteries, veins and the inner workings of their organs. Their faces were the only part of their body, not covered in translucent skin. Two, saucer-shaped eyes, black in colour were in stark contrast to the white of their faces. Square, protruding jaws filled with two rows of pointed teeth snapped open and shut repeatedly, as though they were unable to stop it. Clarence thought perhaps it was their way of communicating.

For a moment, neither side moved; each content to wait the other out. Clarence took a quick step forward, lunging as though he were going to attack. The Imperials quickly retreated. They were afraid. That would help.

―Move to the left with me,‖ he told the two men. ―Take the one furthest to the left. Claw at its skin, tear off a limb. Do whatever we can to make it bleed from multiple injuries. Be quick about it and be wary of those things attacking us from behind. Move now!‖ The three surged forward, isolating the smallest of the ten against the wall. The third man, a middle aged, East-Indian man held the creature‘s right arm while keeping a second creature at bay by kicking out at it.

Clarence punched the creature in the face twice before tearing at its eyes with his fingers. The short, squatty Korean man who stood beside Clarence suddenly stopped attacking. He just stood there, slack jawed in stunned silence. Clarence slapped him in the face, yelling for him to keep attacking. The man shook his head and joined back in the attack. The Imperials moved around the men and headed for the women who ran for their lives. Clarence punched the creature they held with all his might in the abdomen. The skin gave way and fluid began to pour from the wound. Clarence tore at the flaps of skin, tearing a huge hole in the creature as it slid down into death‘s grip. Both men had stopped attacking but as the creature‘s life left its body, they returned to their senses.

68 ―What the hell is the matter with you two? Help me attack the others.‖ They turned to find five of the seven women in serious trouble. Two of the women had scrambled to the farthest reach of the unit. Nine of the Imperials had surrounded the five women who were making no attempt to fight back. Three of the five were bleeding from gaping wounds to their necks. Clarence grabbed an Imperial from behind and snapped its neck. The remaining eight Imperials ignored him, eager to finish the women. Clarence grabbed another, dragging him from one of the women, flinging him violently against the wall. Running at it, Clarence leaped into the air, striking the creature firmly on the face, driving it into the wall, killing it instantly. Three down, seven to go. Clarence was having trouble dislodging his shoe from the creature‘s jagged teeth. He looked for help from the men who had reached the women but had stopped again.

―What the fuck is the matter?‖ he shouted as he pried he shoe loose. He slapped them both in the head and shouted at them angrily to stay focused. The East Indian man turned, blood pouring freely down his face where a creature had bitten him. The man didn‘t even seem to notice. Clarence grabbed the nearest creature and shoved him into three others, knocking them off balance. He reached down and pulled another off a woman who appeared dead, slamming the creature‘s back down onto his knee, breaking it cleanly. He tossed the creature into the corner, reaching for yet another creature.

Clarence was beginning to tire. He fought to maintain his balance on the blood-soaked floor. Clarence slammed the creature in his hands against the floor, stunning it.

―Finish it with your feet,‖ shouted Clarence. ―Don‘t touch it.‖ They both seemed to have their senses back as they began to kick away at the creature‘s head. There was five Imperials left and three of them were attacking the women in the corner. The remaining two were finishing the last two girls. Clarence grabbed one of the creatures by the feet and swung in a circle, once, twice, releasing it into a crunch of bone and flesh as

69 it struck the wall. The other Imperial sprung to its feet, launching itself toward Clarence, clicking its jaw together in anger. Clarence slowed its forward progress by grabbing its shoulders. The creature lowered its jaw, quickly severing Clarence‘s forefinger on his left hand. Filled with rage, exhaustion forgotten, Clarence drove the fingers of his right hand into the creature‘s throat and tore out its windpipe. Tossing the carcass aside, Clarence rushed toward the two remaining threats. The two women were kicking feverishly at the Imperials, trying to keep them at bay. Clarence slammed their two heads together, temporarily stunning them. He threw one to the ground next to the women. The heavier of the two women leaped onto the creature, pinning him to the ground. The second women, a young Portuguese teenager, removed her stilettos and starting pummelling the creature in the face and neck. It snapped at the women, tearing the one shoe from her hand but she managed to lodge the second shoe deeply in the creature‘s left eye, ending the struggle.

Clarence looked back. The East Indian man was lying in a pool of his own blood. The Korean man continued to kick at the creature‘s face even though it was evident it was dead. The creature with the broken back had healed itself and was clinging to the Korean‘s back as it tore the man‘s neck open. The man just kept kicking away at the lifeless Imperial at his feet, unaware he was being killed. Clarence punched the Imperial in front of him repeatedly in the face until it lost consciousness.

―Finish him,‖ he ordered the women as he strode to finish off the last of the Imperials. As Clarence approached, the creature shoved the Korean forward, using him as a shield. Feigning right, the creature came left, leaping onto Clarence, sinking its teeth into his shoulder. Luckily for Clarence, the creature missed his jugular by mere inches. Try as he might, Clarence could not dislodge the creature from his shoulder. Holding it so it could advance its attack further up his neck, Clarence ran full speed into a wall, lowering his shoulder just before impact. The crushing blow winded Clarence but severely injured the creature who released its hold. Clarence kicked the

70 creature a dozen times before he was satisfied it was dead. Turning back toward the two remaining women, Clarence was happy to see they were still alive. Before he could take two steps, Clarence found himself back in the compound with the two ladies and the Korean. He had survived.

Holding his hands up in front of him, Clarence was thrilled to see his finger had returned. He accepted congratulations from Ashley, Brock, Tamihana, Wilson, and Dagur while accepting thanks from the Korean and the two ladies.

―What the hell happened in there?‖ he asked the Korean. ―You kept stopping, like you were stunned or something.‖

―There were voices in my head, lulling me to sleep, asking me not to hurt such beautiful creatures.‖

―Charm,‖ answered Wilson. ―It is a skill of theirs. The bigger question is why weren‘t you affected?‖

―I don‘t know,‖ replied Clarence. ―I truly don‘t know.‖

The monitor lit up, revealing the scores from the previous round. Despite their victory, they had only moved up eight spots, to one hundred and sixty-seventh, still too close to the bottom ten for Wilson‘s liking.

―Round forty in thirty seconds,‖ announced Onoch.

Brock moved closer to Tamihana and Dagur. ―You guys ready?‖

―Yes,‖ answered Dagur. ―No,‖ said Tamihana.

―You must be ready,‖ insisted Dagur, ―Or you will become like the ladies that just died.‖ Ten humans vanished from the compound, nine of them men. The screen changed, showing the current matchup.

Race: The Exiles Planet: Tiberon Three Average Height: 7‘ Average Weight: 250 lbs Strength: 10/10 Agility: 4/10 Speed: 3/10 Intelligence: 3/10 Natural Body Armour: Thick, matted fur. Natural Weapons: Extremely strong. Weakness: Slow and clumsy.

The battle was over before it began. The Exiles moved slowly forward, herding the humans into a corner. One human, a short, thin man from the Philippines managed to avoid capture by diving through the legs of the Exile in front of him. The others were crushed to death by the powerful forearms of the Exiles. The Philippine man didn‘t manage to elude the creatures a second time. Infuriated by having to chase him down, two of the creatures pulled his arms off before stomping him to death. Moments later, the monitor displayed the standings. Earth hadn‘t slipped even further in the standings; in fact they had gained. Maybe the little Philippine man had bought Earth some precious time.

Rounds five through eight proved to be devastating; with Earth losing all four rounds, managing a total of seven kills, dropping them in the rankings to one hundred and ninety fifth. With two rounds to go, Earth found themselves in the center of the global punishment range. Dagur, Tamihana and Brock had yet to be called. The three hoped to be called together.

At this point in the death match, the Ungolans were in first place. They had lost thirty-seven of their two hundred, the lowest loss amongst the competitors. The Imperials were second with a loss of fifty-three. The humans were amongst the worst hit with one hundred and sixty-six fatalities. With two rounds remaining and only fourteen survivors, the second round could be the end of humanity. Of the twenty remaining contestants, fourteen were men, six were women.

―Round nine to begin in 30 seconds.‖ Wilson placed a hand on Dagur‘s shoulder. ―When fighting an opponent with a rapid attack, it is best to embrace them.‖ Before Dagur could reply to the strange comment, Dagur, seven men and two women disappeared.

The monitor came to life in the battle unit.

Race: D‘han Planet: 3A27 Average Height: 5‘7 Average Weight: 140 lbs Strength: 6/10 Agility: 7/10 Speed: 6/10 Intelligence: 6/10 Natural Body Armour: None Natural Weapons: Equally adept with feet or hands Weakness: Easily damaged

No one spoke English except Dagur so any chance at communicating was confusing at best. Dagur assumed they fought with some form of mixed martial arts skill. When the dividing wall dropped, Dagur was shocked to find himself facing ten beautiful women. A couple of the men were actually smiling. One of these men was Anton Popov.

―Fools,‖ shouted Dagur. ―They are here to kill us.‖ One of the men rushed forward, his right hand arcing toward the face of one of the D‘han. She ducked his attack easily, drawing a knee up into his crotch, dropping him to the floor with a howl of pain. The D‘Han advanced quickly, feet and fists reaching their targets. Dagur waited until his opponent made her move, side stepping to the left, taking her firmly in his arms. He managed to get an arm around her throat, dropping her to the ground with a choke hold. He continued to apply pressure as she flailed about, trying to rake at his eyes and tear off his testicles. As she expired into his arms, he went to a second D‘han, heavily engaged with a bearded Spaniard to his right. She was planting a well placed kick to the Spaniard‘s face when he grasped her

73 firmly around the throat, squeezing the life out of her as he had the first.

―Take a blow and get in close. Choke the life out of them!‖ Dagur wasn‘t sure if any of them understood a word he said. The two human women had moved to join the men in battle. The Russian had managed to dispatch one of the women, bringing the total killed to three. One of the men had fallen, a skinny Ethiopian man with a shaved head and two teeth. A large, Saudi man with a trimmed beard and a thin growth of hair had a firm grip on one of the D‘han. He ran toward the wall, throwing his weight into her as she slammed into the wall. Her spine snapped, killing her instantly. He had understood Dagur and surged forward for another victim.

Dagur charged a third, taking a foot to the head for his trouble. The speed of these D‘han was amazing. She struck him in the solar plexus with a force that drove the wind from his lungs. He threw himself at her, clinging to her out of desperation. The Russian came to his rescue, hitting the women with a hammer fist, knocking her unconscious. As she slipped to the floor, Dagur released her, allowing the Russian to finish her. The Russian seemed content to take his time.

Dagur‘s thoughts began to clear as another D‘han ran for him. He backpedalled out of her reach, placing her between him and the Saudi. She paused, not sure which man to attack. That provided the two men with a slight edge. They charged forward, pinning her to the ground. She fought like a creature possessed but in the end she succumbed to their pummelling. As they gained their feet, they were relieved to see that only one remained. The humans had lost two men and one of the women, a small price to pay for victory. Such was the arrogance of mankind. Before the battle ended, the D‘han whose name was Sika Ktu killed two more men, including the Spaniard before Dagur managed to rally the humans to a smothering strike that ended her life.

74 Dagur found himself back in the compound, his wounds healed, his bruising gone. Ten had left, five had returned. The last one had surprised them. She had been a highly skilled fighter. He thanked the survivors as best he could. The Russian waved him off nonchalantly. It was then that Dagur noticed the mark on his head. The Russian‘s cap must have been pulled off during the battle, revealing the word murderer. Before Dagur could comment, the large screen beeped to life, gaining his attention. With one round remaining, the humans had moved into one hundred and ninetieth place. If they would win the last round, they stood a chance at avoiding any form of global punishment.

―Thirty seconds to the final round,‖ said the voice of Onoch.

Wilson took Tamihana and Brock aside, placing a hand on each of their shoulders. ―What I am about to say to you will seem strange but spit into the eye of your opponent and thou shall prove victorious.‖

―You want me to spit our enemy to death, Wilson? It is an odd for you to say. Am I a cobra all of a sudden?‖

―No, Brock, but I suggest you heed my advice.‖ Before Brock could reply, he, Tamihana and the remaining eight were gone. As with every battle, the screen in the battle unit came to life, displaying their opponent.

Race: Seleneze Planet: Aqueanis Average Height: 6‘ Average Weight: 170 lbs Strength: 7/10 Agility: 6/10 Speed: 4/10 Intelligence: 6/10 Natural Body Armour: None Natural Weapons: Powerful hands. Weakness: Skin is vulnerable.

75 ―Stay with me, Tamihana. I will do what I can to keep us alive.‖

―There skin is vulnerable. Do you think spit will do something?‖

―I‘m not sure but it can‘t hurt to try I guess.‖ Brock explained the situation. Everyone spoke enough English to get the gist of what Brock was saying.

―Advance on the enemy as quickly as we can. Time is against us for even if we win, we may not move up the standings, which could affect our family and friends at home. I have two children I would like to protect as I am sure all of you do.‖ That said, the dividing wall opened, revealing a group of grey, slime-covered creatures with long arms and oversized hands.

―Stay out of reach of their hands if you can,‖ shouted Brock as the moved forward. Brock was less than a foot from one of the creatures when he launched a ball of spit. It struck the creature in the face, sizzling the skin where it made contact. The creature howled in agony but continued its advance. Brock spit a second time, following it with a well timed punch to the creature‘s head. The impact from the punch made a splashing noise but he could tell he had hurt the creature. Spitting a third time, Brock kicked the creature as hard as he could in the knee, dropping it to the ground. He continued to spit and kick, slowly killing the creature. He risked a look around. Tamihana had joined him on his left side, avoiding the creatures as best she could.

―At least spit, damn it‖ shouted Brock. She spit on the top of the creature‘s skull causing it an excessive amount of pain. It either died or became unconscious; Brock didn‘t care which at this point. His people were holding their own against the Selenese. Only one woman was struggling. She was backing up, trying to spit but nothing was coming out. Her mouth was too dry. He motioned for Tamihana to follow him. He charged

76 toward the lady, taking the Selenese from behind. Holding the creature in a choke hold proved to be difficult. The creature was slimy and nearly impossible to hold. The creature‘s powerful hands kept pulling Brock‘s hands clear of its throat. Brock found it difficult to produce any spit so he licked the creature‘s slimy head. The creature roared with anger, flinging itself into a wall as it attempted to dislodge Brock from its back. Brock hung on for dear life, licking faster and faster in the same spot. His tongue was beginning to tingle, but he was carving a grove into the back of the creature‘s head. A fifth lick, drew blood; lots of blood. Brock could not bring himself to lick the creature a sixth time so he just held on as the creature began to bleed out. It lost consciousness quickly, falling to the ground in a heap.

Brock had dispatched two of the creatures but the other eight remained. Luckily, Brock‘s teammates were all still alive but neither side could get an upper hand in the battle.

―Lick them if you can,‖ shouted Brock. ―It causes serious damage.‖ One of the men, currently locked up with one of the creatures, dropped his head down to lick the beast‘s hand. It hurt the beast but the Selenese responded by punching the man in the face with his good hand, knocking the man to his knees. The Selenese brought down a powerful hammer fist onto the top of the man‘s head, cracking his skull opening, ending his life.

―You ladies with me,‖ he ordered. ―That bugger is ours. You ladies go to the front and draw him in. I‘ll come up from behind.‖ He dashed around behind the creature as the ladies drew its attention. The Selenese moved forward, hands extended, much like the mummies of an old Boris Karlof movie would do. Brock wrapped himself around the creature, and took a long lick of the back of its head. It howled in rage as it tried to throw Brock from its back. The ladies were spitting, causing it minor damage as Brock continued to lick. His tongue had lost all feeling and by the fourth lick, it appeared as though he was having no affect. The creature managed to pry one of Brock‘s thumbs lose, easily snapping it in two. Brock refused to let go. He tried to spit but his mouth was as dry as the dessert. The girls

77 were running out of spit. He looked for help but none was coming. All but one of his men were winning their battles. A middle aged man or Russian origin had moved in too close and had been caught with a right hook that knocked him into the wall. He was running for his life with a Selenese in close pursuit.

Brock was about to lose his grip on his other hand. He had a sudden urge to urinate; prompting him to consider a new weapon. Brock wriggled his hand loose and repositioned it, focusing on urinating. It was easier said than done, but in the end, it saved his life. As the urine spread through his clothes and onto the Selenese, it screamed in agony, thrashing around, swinging at anything within reach. Brock was glad he had a full bladder or it may not have killed the beast. Blood began to ooze from the creature‘s back. The blood flow quickly changed from a gentle ooze to fast flowing gusher. The creature fell to the ground losing consciousness. Seconds later, it was dead.

As he gained his feet, Brock was happy to see the men surrounding the last Selenese, making quick work of it. It had been disgusting, perhaps even demeaning, but they had only lost two team mates; it could have been worse. Only twenty-seven remained of Earth‘s two hundred; fourteen were men and thirteen were women.

The monitor displayed the final tallies from the first round. Earth, by the grace of God, had narrowly managed to avoid a global punishment by three places, finishing one hundred and eighty-seventh. Less than twenty percent of Earth‘s participants remained; a dismal result at best. The Ungolan were at the other end of the scale, finishing first, with one hundred and forty-seven of their participants still alive. Wilson, who was slowly assuming the role of leader, gathered everyone around.

―Does everyone understand English?‖ Everyone responded with a yes.

78 ―I would suggest we gather at the United Nations building to discuss our strategy with world officials, perhaps we could even request some fighting lessons from the military.‖

―I intend to spend time with my family, Wilson,‖ said Clarence. ―Sorry, but the way this is going, I‘m not sure we are going to have another visit in our future. As for fighting training, how do you train to lick an alien or to urinate on it? We are in over our heads here.‖

―I agree we need time with our families,‖ added Ashley, ―But I agree with Wilson also. Let us spend one day with family and one day with whoever can help us.‖

―I can live with that,‖ offered Brock. ―My family is no longer with me but I think it is time to visit my children.‖

―One day for each is a good idea,‖ said Dagur. ―I just wish enough time to tell my father I‘m sorry. We were arguing when I was taken.‖

Tamihana jumped in. ―I will visit my grandfather and grandmother. They are all I have left,‖ she lied. ―After I have spoken with them, I will go to the United Nations building. There, I will wait for you. I will not make my wish until we have spoken. I think we need to share our wishes so they are not wasted. It may be the only wishes we receive.‖ The rest of the group shared their travel plans, agreeing to meet at the United Nations building in twenty-four hours time.

―If I can offer some last advice, get some sleep, if you can,‖ said Wilson.

Onoch spoke one last time. ―The first round of the Death Battle event has concluded. We will gather in forty-eight of your hours to begin round two. The dignitaries from each planet will be returned to their place of power. You will be summoned one hour before the second round of the Death Battle begins.‖

79 ―The ten teams at the bottom of the standings will receive global punishment. Their fate will be left in the hands of the Witnesses. Fortunately, no team was eliminated in the first round. Any team eliminated from the competition would face global genocide.‖

Onoch let the last part of his speech linger for a moment, and then said, ―The competitors are free to go. Those recording the Proving Grounds will continue to report from your home planet. You, like the competitors will be allowed to travel freely but you shall receive no reprieve from your mission. Return to your planet and continue to report. Everything you record will be broadcasted nearly everywhere on your planet. Fatigue will be a factor so I suggest you put a plan together quickly. That is all.‖

Brock was the first to go. Closing his eyes, he could only focus on his children, never having been to their new home. He called out their names and threw in the word England. He was gone. Everyone began to disappear. Tamihana was the last. She had no grandparents to go to. They were dead. The last member of her family, an Aunt from the eastern half of the island had been killed in a car accident earlier in the year. She wanted to see her friends but she knew Doug would be nearby. She would risk it. Old age, a family and a dozen other dreams appeared to be part of a pipe dream now.

Chapter Five Homecoming

Carla Rozzala, Ned Turnbull, Gordon Fobeur, and Tim Warring sat around the board room discussing their next move. Tim was recording their meeting to meet with the rigorous guidelines they had to follow. He was exhausted and this was only the beginning.

Carla suggested they sleep in shifts. Everyone was in agreement. Carla took some initiative with their situation. Turning to face the camera, she offered up her suggestion, ―Mr. President, I think we should speak with you in person but I don‘t want us to show up unexpectedly so if you would be so kind as to call my cell phone at 212-784-9000, we can make the necessary arrangements.‖ They all sat in awkward silence for a moment before the president called. Carla found her palms sweaty as she answered the phone.

―Mrs. Rozzala, I would like the four of you to come to the oval office in one hour. Can you do that?‖ 81

―Yes, Mr. President,‖ she managed. Carla felt like a foolish school girl as she hung up the phone.

―Happy birthday, Mr. President,‖ laughed Ned, attempting his best Marilyn Munroe imitation as the camera continued rolling. They all had a much needed chuckle. The four of them had spent most of their lives in broadcast journalism but collectively they didn‘t have ten hours on this side of the camera. They were live in front of the largest television audience in the history of mankind with no script and no idea of what was to come. This gave new meaning to the term, ―winging it‖. With any luck, the president would provide them with guidance because at the moment they were dying in front of the camera, at least from a rating standpoint.

Brock found himself standing in front of a fireplace in an oversized living room. A television to the left was broadcasting a jittery image of the recorders from the Proving Ground. As he turned, his children, his ex-wife and her boyfriend were sitting on the couch in stunned silence. The silence did not last long.

―Dad,‖ his children shouted in unison, leaping off the couch and into their father‘s outstretched arms.

―Dad, I love you,‖ began his son, ―But you reek like a dirty monkey.‖ Brock wasn‘t sure how his son knew what a dirty monkey smelled like but it brought a smile to his face.

―Sorry. The place where I was smells as bad as it looks.‖

82 ―We know Dad,‖ chirped in Emily. ―We were watching.‖ Ignoring the family reunion, Kingsley slammed back the rest of his beer, belched and pulled himself to his feet.

―What are you doing in my house?‖ he demanded.

―Paying MY children a long overdue visit,‖ Brock fired back. He eyed up this man who his wife was saddled up to. He might be wealthy but Brock was certain he could kick his ass if push came to shove.

―Kingsley, under the circumstance, can we be civil, please?‖

Kingsley absently stroked a bandaid over his left eye. He had explained to Tabitha, it was to cover a puss-filled pimple. Sooner or later, she would have to know the truth.

―Why?‖ asked Kingsley, ―Because he was lucky enough to be selected and lucky enough to win his first contest? That changes nothing. Once a loser, always a loser.‖

―Kingsley, I realize this is your little palace but know three things, I will visit my kids, I will gladly kick your ass, and you should remember that I have a wish. Maybe I should wish that you and I trade places. What do you think tough guy?‖

The rage was evident in Kingsley‘s eyes yet he said nothing. He turned and marched upstairs, slamming the door to his room.

―Charming fellow, isn‘t he?‖ chuckled Brock who squeezed his kids for the third and fourth time.

―I sure missed you guys. I am so sorry for what happened. Everything went pretty bad, pretty fast but I‘m okay now and after this is over, I am going to rebuild my life and I want you guys to be a part of it.‖

83 ―Brock, don‘t do this, please,‖ asked Tabitha.

―Tabby, these are my children too. I don‘t even care anymore that you left me when I needed you the most. I don‘t care about your man and his riches. That is the life YOU chose but I will not be denied my time with my children. Once this is done, Tabby, we will sit down without a lawyer and work out something fair, okay?‖ His last comment was as much suggestion as it was question.

―Do you really think there will be an after?‖ asked Tabitha.

―I sure hope so.‖

―Some of those creatures are enormous. How can you possibly defeat them? I mean, be realistic, Brock. There are only a handful of you left.‖

―As optimistic as ever, eh Tabby?‖ Their discussion was interrupted by Emily.

―Stop fighting, okay. You two make me want to scream. Maybe you should ask Krammer and me what we think. Oh wait a minute, why don‘t I just tell you. I think Kingsley is an egotistical moron with a serious drinking problem which makes him an even bigger moron. Mom, you left Dad at a bad time but you would have left him anyway. You two have fought for as long as I can remember. I love you both but together you two are hell on earth.‖ Brock and Tabitha were speechless. Krammer was so nervous he started to laugh, breaking the tension for everyone else. They were all soon laughing, despite the situation.

―Well said honey,‖ said Brock, ―But when I hear you talk like that I expect to see an eighteen year old standing where my eleven year old is standing.‖

―I‘m just telling you how I feel Dad.‖

―Yeah I get that. How about some breakfast? I‘m starved, and I hate to bring it up, but I don‘t have much time so let‘s enjoy ourselves.‖ Krammer seconded the motion and the four moved toward the well stocked kitchen.

Clarence arrived home to a hero‘s welcome. His wife Danielle had baked him a cake with, ―Clarence, Our Hero‖ written in strawberry icing on the top. Rolf and Ginger were fawning over their son as they stood gathered in the makeshift dining hall. The entire staff of the carnival sang, ―For He Is a Jolly Good Fellow‖ twelve times before everyone settled into some cake and homemade vanilla bean ice cream. Clarence swooped up Sophia, placing her on his knee so they could share some cake.

Everyone had questions and Clarence did his best to answer them. The mood was light. Everyone was overjoyed that Clarence had come back to them.

―We watched every minute,‖ bragged Ginger, his mother. ―You did very well.‖

―We are proud of our boy,‖ boasted Rolf. ―Bruno would have been proud of you as well.‖

―What of the next trial, Clarence? Your numbers are greatly diminished.‖

―I don‘t know Papa. If each trial is different, perhaps the future events will favour us humans.‖

―You have a wish to make, Clarence. What will you wish for?‖

85 ―I truly do not know. Part of me wants to wish for five million dollars for my family and friends so no matter what, they will be okay but it seems selfish to do so.‖

Danielle came to him, kissing him fully on the lips, prompting a squeal of laughter from their daughter.

―No one will question you, regardless what you wish for, Clarence. It is your wish. No one can begrudge you your choice.‖ She couldn‘t have been further from the truth.

Ashley had to be pried from her mother‘s arms. Martha was sobbing uncontrollably. Witnessing the events unfold from the Proving Grounds had unhinged Martha. Tim had been forced to sedate her, which had calmed her somewhat until Ashley materialized out of thin air in their living room. Tim managed to get Martha to the couch, where he forced a second pill into her mouth, coxing her gently to swallow it, which she did. Five minutes later, holding her daughter‘s hand, she slipped into a sleep.

―Sorry, honey,‖ Tim offered to Ashley, ―She‘s not taking this very well; none of us are actually. Words can‘t describe how proud I am of you Ash. You stood your ground against those things. I‘ve never been more proud of you in my life. I don‘t know that I could have done what you did.‖ He extended his arms to her, drawing her next to him, content just to hold his daughter for a moment.

―Something happened to me,‖ whispered Ashley, prompting her father to release his grip on her.

―What do you mean?‖ he asked.

―I was shaking uncontrollably before we went into the battle unit. Wilson touched me and I became very calm. I asked him what he did and his reply was nothing, yet I saw him touch

86 the others. There is something about him, but I can‘t put my finger on it. He knew that saliva would injure the Selenese. How could he know that?‖

―Lucky guess?‖ said Bob.

―Perhaps, Uncle Bob, but I don‘t think so. I want you to watch the monitors closely when we return there. Record the broadcast and we will review it when I return. There is much more to Wilson than meets the eye.‖

―Ashley,‖ began her father, tears brimming from his eyes. ―I pray that you will come back to us, but if something happens, it is important for you to know how much your mom and I love you.‖ She had never seen her father cry, not even the day they buried her grandfather, but today the tears poured freely down the sides of his face.

―I‘ll come back, Dad,‖ she said, wiping tears from her own eyes. ―How else am I going to change the world if I don‘t live long enough to make a few wishes?‖ The whole family, except Martha came together in a group hug.

Linda Sedeko leaped back screaming, clutching at air as she fell over the ottoman in her living room. Her husband Ted came running out from the bedroom, certain a robber had broken into their house, after all, it was the middle of the night. Standing in their living room was their close friend, Tamihana Apihai.

―Oh my god, Linda, it‘s Tam,‖ whispered Ted as he lifted Linda to her feet. Linda sprinted the three steps to her friend and threw her arms around her.

87 ―I haven‘t smoked any weed all day,‖ lied Linda. ―This is so fucked up, I can‘t even think about getting wasted. Aliens, the end of the world, wishes, and you in the middle of it. It‘s like Lord of the Rings meets Star Wars with Jesus as a guest star.‖

―Linda, breathe,‖ laughed Tamihana. ―She been like this all day?‖ asked Tamihana.

―From the moment she saw you on television. She twisted one up and she‘s been smoking dope every hour on the hour ever since.‖ Tamihana politely nudged her friend to the couch, lowering her gently to the cushions.

―As much as I would like to partake in some sweet smoke, I can‘t. Has Doug been here?‖

―Twice,‖ answered Ted, ―And he‘s pissed. What happened with you guys?‖

―Doug is not the nice guy I thought he was; in fact I think Doug has some deep-seeded issues so if he shows up, you haven‘t seen me, okay?‖

Linda covered her eyes with one hand, one ear with the other and closed her mouth. Tamihana could only guess she was trying to say, ―See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil,‖ or something like that. Linda was a little ―out there‖ and with good reason. Foster homes, chemical dependency and a rape at age fifteen had taken its toll on Linda. If it had not been for Ted, Linda would have punched out a long time ago. It was Ted that put her into a treatment program that broke her chemical dependency. It was Ted that paid for her schooling that landed her a job as a legal secretary for a local firm. It was Ted that gave her the love she had needed her whole life. Her only vice that remained was her love of marijuana, a love that Ted shared. Ted insisted that she never smoke before work, that she never smoke if she was in a foul mood and that she never smoke if his parents were in the area on a visit. Linda had done well

88 following the rules of the house until now. Ted would not give her any flack. He had a good mind to join her. This was extremely messed up.

―No worries, Tam. I never really liked Doug anyway. We heard rumours about him but nobody could ever prove anything.‖

―That‘s because there was nothing to prove,‖ came Doug voice from the archway in the kitchen. Tamihana turned. Doug looked like hell. His shirt was half tucked in. Two buttons were missing. In his left hand was a bottle of whiskey. In his right hand was a pistol.

―Never liked me, Ted? What a surprise. It appears as though we were both pretending. I mean what‘s not to like. Two former meth heads with half their brain cells functioning, making you think you are much smarter than you really are.‖

―Stop it, Doug,‖ shouted Tamihana. ―This is between you and me.‖

―It stopped being between you and me a long time ago, you filthy bitch,‖ screamed Doug. ―By coming here, you have brought them into it, so their blood is on you!‖

Tamihana had felt anger before; serious anger. Even in the battle cage with the aliens, she had never felt a rage like she did right at this moment.

―You cheat on me, yet you blame me; then you come here threatening my friends. You disgust me, Doug.‖

Doug pointed the gun at Ted, smiling all the while at Tamihana. Taking a final sip of whiskey, Ted tossed the bottle against the wall as he advanced slowly forward.

―I‘m going to kill Ted first, then Linda, and then you. I‘ll take my time with you, Tam. I think I‘ll enjoy myself a

89 while first.‖ Tamihana felt disembodied as she spoke, saying words that would haunt her for the rest of her life.

―Doug, I wish you were dead!‖

Ylfa Gudmumsson refused to speak to his son. He blamed his son‘s lifestyle for the predicament he had put his family in. Dagur was the talk of the island. Half of Iceland had travelled to Dalvik to catch a glimpse of the brave Icelandic warrior. Ulla, Dagur‘s mother, consoled her son.

―Do not blame your father, Dagur,‖ she said in their Scandinavian tongue. ―He is a good father who wants what is best for his son.‖

―Mother, people come from all over Iceland to see me. If they can be happy for me, why can‘t my own father?‖

―Your father believes you are being punished for the sinful way you live your life. You don‘t agree with your father, nor do I, but that doesn‘t change the fact that he believes it to be true.‖ As they spoke in quiet tones, Ylfa came in from the porch where he had been smoking his pipe.

―Papa, I must leave soon. I do not want to leave things like this. You must talk to me.‖

―Alright,‖ said Ylfa sharply as he slammed his pipe on the table. ―We will talk. Tell me Dugar, what is it that you will wish for? Fame? Fortune? A life away from Iceland and your family perhaps?‖ Dagur paused briefly before replying.

―I am not sure what I will wish for. We agreed to wait until we could gather together to determine our wishes.‖

90 ―You take council with strangers over the council of your family and your people. That says much of you, Dagur.‖ Dagur kept silent. He had been down this road with his father dozens of times before. There was no winning. He rose from his chair and kissed his mother on the forehead.

―I love you both very much. I will do the best I can and that is all I can do.‖ He visualized an image of a young lady he was very fond of. Her name was Adine, a young woman with a voracious sexual appetite. If he was to die soon, he was going to have the night of his life first. He called out her name and he was gone.

Wilson had willed himself to his apartment in London. There was nowhere he needed to be, no one he needed to see. He grabbed a hoody from his dresser, slid into it and pulled up the hood. He felt like a run yet he didn‘t feel like dealing with crowds. He opened the door to his flat and was flabbergasted to see the throng of people. There were hundreds, if not thousands of people. He went back inside immediately shutting and locking the door.

―You have fans,‖ whispered Abigor from the kitchen archway. Wilson flinched, more annoyed than scared.

―How did you get in here?‖ demanded Wilson.

―A bit testy don‘t you think?‖ asked Abigor.

―I could have easily been killed today. What kind of game are we playing here?‖

―You would not have died. The training you have received would have enabled you to protect yourself. As for the

91 game we are playing, I believe it is the game of life. Your role in this game was your choosing. No one forced you to participate. You were more than willing, so deal with it.‖

―How is it possible that I was selected when all the contestants are selected randomly?‖

―My associates are well connected. The training was step one. Manipulating the circumstances so you were chosen was step two. Leading the human race to victory is step three. You will know step four when it is time, if, in fact, you make it past step three.‖

―The Jarn are highly advanced creatures; how do you stay hidden from them?‖

―The Proving Ground require a great deal of energy to operate. On top of this, the Jarn must monitor and control every planet involved. If that weren‘t enough, the Jarn continue to monitor the entire universe. Even the Jarn have limitations. I simply fly beneath the Jarn radar. I have provided you with protection, which stops them from sensing any irregularities. Unfortunately this same protection also blocks out what I have placed deep in your mind. The time will come when it will all be clear to you. It will be a rebirth of sorts.‖ Wilson had been listening so intently, he had not noticed Abigor‘s movement. Stretching his withered right hand, Abigor scratched Wilson‘s forehead with a yellow, twisted nail. Wilson‘s skin grew cold where he had been touched. The ground came crashing up to meet him. He was unconscious before he hit the floor.

Anton had willed himself outside a bar known as the Vulture‘s Talon in south St. Petersburg. It was a dark, usually empty tavern that served many of St. Petersburg‘s seediest creatures. He pulled his cap down close to his eyes, sauntering

92 nonchalantly toward the far end of the bar. He ordered a double vodka on the rocks from the barkeep; an older man with an equal proportion of muscles and scars. He wanted to clear his head but killing the aliens had ignited a yearning unlike anything he had experienced up until now. He tugged his chair closer to the bar, afraid someone would see his member fully erect. He was so hard, his testicles were beginning to ache.

Anton was on his third glass of vodka when a young, female dock worker entered the tavern. As fate would have it, she chose the seat next to his. As his grandmother always used to preach to him, ―If it‘s meant to be, it‘s meant to be.‖

President Charles Abernathy looked on as the staff from CNN left the Oval Office. The meeting had gone as well as could be expected. When it was all said and done, there was little, if anything, the people of Earth could do. The Jarn held all the cards. Earth would comply and they would comply with dignity. The president had demanded they not record the meeting. Instead they were sent down to the press room with their recorders and asked to wait for him there.

The dignitaries who had joined the president at the Proving Grounds were due to arrive in the Oval Office any moment. They would hold a private meeting before making an announcement to the world.

―You look like hell, Charlie,‖ offered Vincent Farley, the Secretary of State.

―You don‘t look so good yourself, Vince.‖

―Seriously, Mr. President, you need to get some rest,‖ said Vice President, Richard St. Clair. ―This ordeal is far from over. We find ourselves in an incomprehensible situation that

93 could escalate into a global catastrophe in the next forty-eight hours.‖

―Then I suggest we remain thankful that the Jarn have control of our population. They may be many things, but as of yet, they have not lied to us.‖

―I would still suggest you get s-‖ The president cut him off.

―I appreciate your concern, Dick, but we have work to do.‖ The president was not a Richard St. Clair fan. He had named him as his running mate for votes alone. Richard was an egotistical nightmare who loved to bask in the limelight. As charismatic as Richard St. Clair was, the Whitehouse staff had to continually perform smoke and mirror magic to cover his intellectual shortcomings.

The Prime Minister of Canada was the first to arrive. The Mexican president followed seconds later and within a five minute time frame, all had arrived. The last to arrive was the President of Russia, an intolerable man with deteriorating health, who was insistent on making his mark before he left his planet; quite realistically a third world war. Charles knew what he would wish for if given the chance.

An hour later, the delegation arrived at the press room. The CNN crew had taken advantage of their down time. All four were sprawled on the floor, taking a nap.

―Rise and shine,‖ shouted the president as he took his place at the center of the long table the staff had arranged. Carla pushed herself to her feet, pulled her hair from her face, straightened her clothes a bit and pointed her recording device at the table.

―Whenever you are ready, gentlemen,‖ she suggested. Gordon, Ned, and Tim joined her. Gord surprised them all by announcing he was heading back to the Proving Grounds.

94 Before they could object, he was gone. Carla waited a moment for Gord‘s signal to appear on the monitor in the corner of the room but it remained blank. Carla turned on her camera at the president‘s cue. Gord was quickly forgotten.

―On behalf of the delegates selected to represent Earth, I would like to welcome everyone in the world to this broadcast. I have been selected as spokesperson for this delegation, yet this delegation wishes to be forthright in stating that, even though we have been chosen, we are fully aware that we do not officially represent the nation of Earth. Therefore, should a situation arise where a decision must be made, we will call upon the UN Security Council to act on behalf of the world. I ask that all members of the UN Security Council report to the United Nations building by 0800 hours tomorrow morning. We would also ask that the surviving members of Team Earth arrive at the United Nations by 0900 hours. We would ask that all members of Team Earth refrain from using their wishes until we have met and discussed the ramifications, importance and possible misuse of these wishes.‖ Carla zoomed out as the president paused to sip a drink of water. This was gold. The president pulled the microphone close and continued.

―The Jarn have allowed us a time of peace during the events of the Proving Grounds. For that, I give them thanks. We find ourselves in a perilous situation, yet we are hopeful that the Earth will become a better place because of it. Our world is, as the Jarn have told us, a source of universal pollution. Pollution is not limited to chemicals in our waters and dangerous smoke in our air. The pollution I refer to is the pollution of our society, our lives, and our souls. Take a moment to look at humanity through the eyes of the Jarn.‖

―Fossil fuels are nearing complete depletion, yet we continue to harvest them, even though workable alternatives have been presented to us. Millions starve to death while we harvest food resources to create bio-fuels. In the United States, casinos, once isolated to Nevada and a small portion of the Atlantic seaboard, are now found in almost every state,

95 destroying countless lives while building unnecessary fortunes for greedy investors. Health care is compromised for a war effort that may never end.‖

―Church congregations have shrunken over the past ten years while web sites promoting terrorism, pornography and violence have grown exponentially. The dangers of tobacco have been well documented for decades yet our governments choose to do nothing. We preach democracy but it is the fight for democracy that is destroying us.‖

―Many of you watching this broadcast will have an opinion of the fate of mankind. I would ask that you remain optimistic. If our people can rally together, and survive two or more events, they will be armed with enough wishes to give our people a fresh start. We could theoretically rid our planet of cancer and AIDS, repair the ozone layer, purify our water and air, and eliminate weapons of mass destruction. We will broadcast the Security Council meeting in its entirety tomorrow. Until then, the group of delegates before you will be travelling to the United Nations in New York aboard Air Force One. I would ask those of faith to pray for the safe return of our people in the days and weeks to come. This concludes this broadcast.‖

The president turned from the recorder and whispered to Harold Riggors, the chief of staff, ―Send a car for my wife and daughter. Have the crew prepare Air Force One. I‘m not sure of our numbers. Our friends have staff with them. They will need to be accommodated. We will lift off as soon as possible.‖

―LaGuardia, sir?‖

―Yes, LaGuardia. Oh, one other thing, Harry. Give my wife a head‘s up. You know how she gets with surprises.‖

Carla had shut off her recorder at the conclusion of the speech, as did the others. There was still no signal from the Proving Grounds. Carla‘s mind was beginning to race. What were they supposed to do for filler until tomorrow morning?

96 CNN was the king of the fillers so this should come easy, and eventually it did. They would work shifts, interviewing people at random from around the world until six in the morning, Eastern Standard Time, after which they would take an hour to gather their thoughts before the Security Council meeting. She presented her idea to Ned and Tim, who were unenthusiastic toward it but realized their options at this point were limited. Carla agreed to take the first shift which would go until eleven. Ned would cover from 11:00 until 3:00 am leaving Tim with the shortest shift from 3:00 am until 6:00 am.

Carla suggested they speak to the delegation before they proceed. Tim agreed to do it, returning several minutes later. ―They think your idea is good, Carla. They would like us to use our ability to travel to cover as much of the globe as possible. Covering the entire world is nearly impossible but they suggest we do the best we can.‖

―It‘s already late on the other side of the planet so I‘ll start there. When this is all over, I hope we can keep our, ‗think it and we‘re there‘ skills.‖ She was still smiling as she vanished.

At seven am the following morning, President Abernathy was sliding his tie into place as he watched his wife sleeping peacefully on her side, cocooned in a wad of blankets. She was still beautiful; unfaithful but beautiful. His thoughts drifted briefly to the woman he had enjoyed the night of the feast. He found it hard to hate his wife with his own fidelity in question. Try as he might, he could not bring himself to feel guilty. That woman, whoever she was, had rocked his world. Perhaps he would try to find this stranger when, and if the world returned to normal.

His wife had been unfaithful, something she had confessed to in their private chamber on Air Force One; something he was already well aware of. She had cried for an hour. Charles was certain the tears were more for her

97 ADULTERER tattoo that from any guilt. One thing remained a puzzle. She was marked, yet he was not. Charles tried to remember Zemith‘s words. He felt certain something had been said about not being punished for the feast. Regardless, he would continue to pretend he was married. His daughter, on the other hand, was a far greater concern.

Kissing his wife on the cheek, he slipped out of their bedroom quietly, closing the door behind him. Charles nodded at the two secret service agents, one of which was Kevin Smith, Jamie‘s secret lover. One of the few luxuries of the presidency was the access to information resources. If the president wanted to know everything about someone, he would.

Charles motioned for Kevin to come forward. He joined the president in the hallway.

―Come with me, Kevin,‖ he ordered.

―Yes sir,‖ replied Kevin who followed the president down the hall to his daughter‘s room. Charles knocked lightly, waited and entered. He knew his daughter would be up. She was a light sleeper and an early riser just like her father. Her mother, on the other hand, could sleep an entire day away given the opportunity.

―Morning, honey,‖ he smiled as he entered the room.

―Hi Daddy,‖ she began before seeing Kevin behind her father. ―What‘s Kevin doing in my room?‖

Charles laughed out loud. ―Like that‘s never happened before. Starting today, I have arranged for Kevin to take a leave of absence from the service.‖

―But Daddy, you can‘t do that,‖ Jamie squealed.

98 ―Listen to me, Jamie,‖ her dad said firmly. ―This is important. I know about you and Kevin. He is a good man; a little unethical but a good man. He cannot protect you and be with you under these circumstances. He could see jail time for violating service protocol. I have arranged to hire Kevin as a personal bodyguard out of my pocket. That makes him my employee, not an employee of the service. This way, he can spend time with you and look out for you.‖

―Oh Daddy,‖ she giggled, throwing her arms around his neck and giving him a big hug. He hugged her back, holding her tight. As she released her grip on her father, Charles reached into his pocket, producing a debit card. He handed it to her.

―I‘m not sure what will happen over the next two weeks, Jamie, but I will be able to focus better on my job if I know my daughter is safe. There is a limo on the way. It will take you north into the Catskills where our cabin is. Everything you need is there. Watch the events unfold from there. The Jarn are somehow providing food to everyone, everywhere, so food is not an issue. Unfortunately, I need you take your mother with you.‖

―After what she has done? Do I have to?‖

―I won‘t force you to, but I would like you to,‖ her dad replied. ―I won‘t make excuses for your mom, Jamie. Maybe she will try to be a better person now.‖

―What about the mark?‖

―They are more common than you think. Three Whitehouse staff members carry the mark of ADULTERER. Police in Washington picked up a homeless man with MURDERER on his forehead. They are currently investigating. I‘m certain the marks are in the thousands. ‖

―Not a good time to be a pedophile,‖ Jamie suggested.

99 ―It‘s never a good time to be a pedophile,‖ Charles reminded her.

―Do I have any say in what‘s going on?‖ asked Kevin.

―No,‖ Jamie and Charles replied simultaneously. The three had a brief laugh.

―I just need confirmation on what I think I already know, Kevin. Do you love my daughter?‖

―Yes sir, I do.‖

―Good. Then it‘s settled. I have to get over to the United Nations. Pack up and try to get out of the city before midday. That will put you at the cabin by supper time. Agents will be in your area watching you. They will use standard procedure Kevin so keep your eyes open for anything out of the ordinary.‖ Charles gave his daughter a final hug, patting Kevin on the shoulder as he headed for the door.

Turning briefly before going through the doorway, Charles said, ―You are the one truly good thing that came from our marriage, Jamie. Always remember how much I love you.‖ With that he left, leaving Jamie in tears. She had an uncanny feeling she was never going to see her dad again.

Chapter Six First Wish

100 Carla felt surprisingly fresh with only four hours sleep. A shower and a change of clothes helped. Ned looked like he had slept outside, face up in a windstorm. He still wore yesterday‘s clothes and he certainly hadn‘t showered. Tim arrived moments later in a University of Michigan sweatshirt and a pair of jeans, which were totally out of character for Tim. He was normally a crisply pressed shirt and tie kind of a guy. With the Security Council ready to begin, Gord was nowhere to be found. Throughout the night, Gord had sent no footage. Carla was beginning to worry.

Carla ordered Ned home for a quick shower, shave and change of clothes. She suggested that a toothbrush might be a good idea. Ned reluctantly did as he was told, appearing moments later still damp but refreshed.

The special delegates were seated in the eastern gallery normally designated for the members of United Nations. Most of the United Nations members had managed to make it on time, half of which were seated behind the delegates.

The Security Council was gathered around an immense boardroom table in the center of the room. Absent was Michele LeBlanc, the representative for France. Repeated attempts to contact him had gone unanswered. A unit of secret service agents were sent to the Roosevelt Hotel to search his room for clues as to his whereabouts. He was nowhere to be found but a computer forensics expert pulled some deleted data from the hard drive. Searches for tattoos, tattoo removal, deadly sins, and plastic surgery led the members of the council to conclude he had been marked.

The two front rows of the western gallery were currently empty, reserved for the surviving members of Team Earth, assuming they would all show up.

Zalmay Khalilzad, current president of the Security Council, was unaccustomed to having a session of the council broadcasted live. His nerves were still frayed from his time

101 spent atop the Empire State Building. This did not help. He faced the camera held by Carla and began.

―Broadcasting a session of the Security Council goes against protocol but given the circumstance we face, it has been deemed necessary. The members of the council were here until the early hours of the morning with the exception of Michele LeBlanc. We are currently investigating his absence.‖

―We, the Security Council of the United Nations have discussed our options as a planet and have come to the following conclusions: i) We have no choice but to let the events of the Proving Grounds of Armageddon run their course. We are in no position to challenge the Jarn. ii) Although we lack the knowledge to pass judgement on the Jarn we as a planet and a global race feel their presence to be a violation to our way of life. If a race equal, or superior to, the Jarn exists, we formally request your aid in this matter. iii) We order the complete and unequivocal co-operation of every country in rebuilding our planet at the conclusion of the events of the Proving Grounds should it be required. iv) We hereby issue a proclamation ordering the confiscation of any and all wishes. It has been deemed by the council that the power of the wishes, even those that are minor, is far too powerful for any one individual to wield. v) It shall be the duty of this council to determine the most beneficial use of each wish and to determine if minor wishes shall be combined to create a major wish. vi) Failure for a candidate to comply will result in the individual or individuals facing charges of treason.‖

Zalmay grew more confident as he spoke. His experience at the Empire State Building was fading into a distant memory. He was enjoying this new position of power. He was, without

102 question, the most powerful man in the world and he intended to make the most of it. Soon, the survivors of the Proving Grounds would arrive. He would take their wishes. He would use their wishes to create a worldwide Eden. His Eden would have peace and they would have Zalmay to thank for it. He teetered on the edge of a monumental shift in power and he needed to convince humanity that the Security Council was the best hope for a better human race. He would push forward, using the minor wishes and possibly, major wishes to help the world, furthering his cause. The world would not demand a vote. There would be no coup. He would be their leader. Telling the world what it needed to hear would buy him time until the third round ended. Once the power of several major wishes came into the council‘s power, he would wish himself and the council into a permanent position of ultimate power. It was perfect.

Brock was the first of Team Earth to arrive. Others began to arrive shortly thereafter. Anton Laurent, the competitor from France was the last to arrive. Zalmay was quick to question him as to the whereabouts of the French President. It was obvious that Laurent knew something but he was not forthcoming. Ned was quick to focus his recorder on Team Earth. Tim focused on the dignitaries, which included the President of the United States.

Wilson took a seat next to Tamihana at the end of the front row. She was pale; her eyes puffy. It appeared as though she‘d had a very rough night.

―You okay?‖ he whispered.

―I‘m fine,‖ she responded curtly.

The other men and women of Team Earth took their places in the west gallery. The female members were: Maria Carvalho of Brazil, Anh Nguyen of Vietnam, Roberta Jenkins of South Africa, Paja Johansen of Denmark, Charlotte Gustavsson of Sweden,Beatrix Faria of Portugal, Emma Smit of the Netherlands,Tamihana Apihai of New Zealand, Ashley

103 Shrewsbury of Canada, Rosa De Silva of Sri Lanka, Ivy Hsu of Singapore, Akila Abaza of Egypt, and Chloe Taylor of Australia.

The male contestant‘s homelands were as widespread as their female counterparts. There was: Dagur Gudmumsson of Iceland, Brock Donahue and Clarence Delray, both of the United States, Wilson Collins of England, Dag Halvorson of Norway, Varun Singh of India, Shen Wu of China, Jung Hwa of South Korea, Anton Popov of Russia, Krystof Jovanović of Serbia, Levi Cohen of Israel, Abebe Menelik of Ethiopia, Kedar Heddad Saudi Arabia, and Anton Laurent of France.

Zalmay welcomed the survivors of the Proving Grounds, praising them for their courage. He also praised those lost in the first round, offering his condolences to their friends and families. He next reminded everyone of the importance of solidarity.

―Throughout our history, we have been plagued by war. Rarely, has there been a time on Earth when there has been complete and utter peace on our planet. The Proving Grounds allows us a time of peace, albeit brief, proof that peace is achievable if we choose to embrace it. The power of the Proving Grounds, offered to us in the form of wishes, will provide us with an opportunity to create a new, wonderful world.‖

―It is essential that the remainder of the United Nations members assemble as soon as possible. The Security Council is prepared to pass a motion enabling all countries to share in this momentous occasion. Temporary voting status will be given to all nations until this situation concludes. We will determine the fate of humanity together, as a single, united entity known as the human race.‖

Zalmay‘s stirring speech earned him a thunderous round of applause from those gathered. Wilson stood and began to speak, his booming voice, quickly silencing the room.

―I cannot speak for the other twenty six men and women who have risked their lives for the sake of humanity, but I, for

104 one, have risked my life to earn this wish. What gives you the right to steal it?‖

Zalmay had expected some resistance but he did not anticipate Wilson‘s hostility. ―The Security Council is the center of the United Nations, which represents the majority of the countries on our planet. Who better to administer to this situation, young man?‖

―Almost anyone I would think,‖ snarled Wilson. ―The United Nations has been powerless to stop worldwide corruption, war, famine, and poverty. It has failed miserably to fulfill its obligations stated in the United Nations Charter. It was created by honourable men and women, only to be destroyed by greedy, self serving bastards such as yourself.‖

―THAT IS ENOUGH,‖ bellowed Zalmay. ―I understand better than anyone the sensitive nature of this situation, and you are entitled to your opinion, Mr. Collins, but unwarranted, disrespectful displays of hostility will see you removed from this chamber.‖ Wilson was like a bulldog, refusing to budge even an inch, yet he felt out of sorts. He knew Zalmay was an evil person, but he didn‘t know how he knew. He took a deep breath, pausing to gather his thoughts. He had to be careful here; the stakes were high.

―As it is, we hold the power of the wishes. Any threats against us would be wasted. The Jarn would not be happy if we were harmed in any way.‖

―Mr. Collins,‖ he began, his toned more subdued, ―I assure you the Security Council has the best interests of this planet and its people at heart. We are not, nor do we intend to, threaten any of you. We are charged with protecting the people of this earth. You may see our organization as a failure but given time, I would prove our worth to you.‖

Ignoring Zalmay, Wilson continued, ―It was explained that the wishes bestowed upon us were minor, thus limiting the

105 realm of their influence, yet should we pool twenty of our wishes together, we could create a major wish. The question is; what would the world wish for? I mean we could repair the ozone layer, cleanse our atmosphere, or we could wake up tomorrow to thousands of acres of full grown trees; or perhaps we should neglect Mother Earth and tackle our health issues. Where to start? Should we cure the blind, enable the disabled to walk, eliminate one or more forms of cancer; create a cure for autism? This list could be endless.‖

―What is it that you are suggesting, Mr. Collins?‖

―I am asking that the council allow us one hour to discuss the situation in private among ourselves. That means no recorders, no observers. At the end of an hour, we will make a proposal to the United Nations.‖

Zalmay thought it best to concede this round. The fight was far from over and Zalmay thought it best to save the heavy artillery for a later time. After all, it may not hurt to hear their opinion.

―Does he speak for all of you?‖ asked Zalmay of the twenty-six others.

―I‘m not sure if he does or he doesn‘t quite yet,‖ said Brock, ―But I like his attitude and I agree that we need to talk in private.‖ Others jumped in, voicing their opinions, agreeing with Wilson, all but Anton. He was not happy with the situation, yet he chose to remain silent.

―Very well, unless there is an objection from a member of the Security Council, I will have you escorted to a private room.‖ No one objected. The situation could grow ugly; everyone knew it. Futures were at stake with the entire world watching.

Team Earth was relocated to a large board room down the hall from the Security Council chamber. The room was

106 small in comparison to the Security Council chamber but it was designed to seat forty or more around the large table that filled the center of the room. Comfortable, high-back chairs surrounded the table. Refreshments and an assortment of breakfast pastries were laid out on a table in the corner of the room. Everyone migrated in that direction first. Wilson waited patiently until everyone was seated but it was Brock who spoke first.

―What‘s the plan, boss?‖

Wilson smiled at that. ―That‘s what we are here to discuss. This is our lives and it should be our decision. We need to deter. . .‖ Wilson was cut off midsentence by the arrival of Carla.

―We made it clear that no recorder be allowed in here,‖ snarled Wilson.

―You speak of rights, Mr. Collins,‖ snapped Carla, recorder pointed directly at Wilson, ―Then explain to the world why they should not be allowed to watch you determine their fate.‖

―Mrs. Rozzala, if we did not require privacy, we would have stayed in the Security Council chamber. These men and women need to be able to speak their mind freely. Having the council members or the world watching will interfere with that process. Now, I will politely ask you to leave.‖

―And if I refuse?‖

―Then we will sit here in silence. No discussion will be held. No wishes will be made, and we will owe it all to you.‖

―I see twenty-seven people in this room, yet I only hear the voice of one. Are you prepared to let this man direct your actions?‖

107 ―He was explaining how we all need to be a part of this decision,‖ said Brock, ―Until you interrupted him. Now, if you would be so kind as to get the hell out of here, I for one would appreciate it.‖

Clarence chimed in, ―If you want a story so bad, go find the missing French President. No offence Anton, but I‘m thinking your man got caught with his dipstick in someone‘s oil pan, if you get my meaning.‖ Clarence ended his sentence with an exaggerated wink. Carla had taken her shot. It was time to leave. She would focus on the dignitaries in the other room. With a nod of acceptance, she vanished.

―You were saying, boss,‖ said Brock.

―Let‘s make this simple. We have confirmed that we all speak English so I will ask that everyone write down their wish in English. I will collect them and present them in random order. Once they have been presented, we can discuss them as a group.‖ Wilson couldn‘t help but notice how shaky Tamihana was.

―I follow no one,‖ said Anton nonchalantly. He was in a good place. The woman he had killed early this morning had taken the edge off his yearning, yet he could already feel it starting again. The beautiful women from the Proving Grounds had sparked something new and delightful in his twisted mind. He wanted to kill dozens of them. Perhaps he would wish himself to their planet.

―That is your right,‖ replied Wilson and should you choose not to side with us, there is little any of us can do, but at least go through the motions with us.‖

―As you wish, boss,‖ he said mockingly.

―Take a moment to think about your wish. I cannot guide you on this matter. It is your wish. You must determine if it will be a minor wish, a major wish, a wish that will help

108 someone you love or a wish that will help save the Earth. This is a starting point. Jot something down. If you change your mind later, so be it. It is still your wish.‖

―I have already used my wish,‖ shouted Tamihana, cutting through the quiet of the room. She began to cry at once. She tried to explain herself, but she was sobbing so heavily, her words had become garbled. Ashley went to her side, holding her gently, pulling her hair off her face.

―Whatever it is that you have done, I can fix,‖ offered Ashley.

―Huh?‖ asked a dumfounded Tamihana.

―We all have wishes, and God-willing, we will have more wishes. Whatever wish you made that has you so devastated, I can correct with my wish.‖

―You would do that for me?‖ Tamihana could not believe her ears. Wilson stood next to Tamihana and gently laid his hand on her shoulder. A warmth spread down her arm, across her back and into her chest. It was soothing. She just wanted to curl up and have a nap.

―Before we can do anything, we need you to explain what happened,‖ said Wilson. ―Can you do that?‖

―Yes,‖ replied Tamihana. She felt herself again. ―What did you do to me?‖

―It is a healing practise I was taught quite some time ago,‖ answered Wilson. ―I offered you my energy. It spreads through your body, regulating and slowing the stress of your body. It is a very old method of healing, used primarily by the Chinese.‖ Wilson spoke the words and knew them to be true, but it felt odd, as though someone else had spoken the words through him.

109 Shen Wu spoke for the first time, surprising everyone, ―It is called Chi energy. We all have this energy within us, some more than others. It remains a mystery to most of the world, yet it is a way of life to the Chinese. I will be silent now. Please share your story.‖

Tamihana smiled at the middle-aged Wu. He was of average build with a shaved head and eyes of brilliant green. A goatee, braided down both sides of his chin, was the only hair on his face. He was what women would consider to be, ruggedly handsome. She thanked Wu before she began her story. As she finished her story, she looked to the others for answers. The answers she got were not what she would have expected.

―You are a murderer,‖ shouted Charlotte Gustavsson of Sweden. ―There is no other way to look at it.‖ Charlotte was your typical Swede; blond hair, blue eyes, and fair skin, and perhaps in her youth, she was a beautiful flower of sorts. Now, at age fifty-five, it was evident she had traded flower for flour. She had become a big woman who appeared to have swallowed her young.

Rosa De Silva of Sri Lanka, the only other large woman at the table, agreed with Charlotte. ―She cannot justify her actions. She willed the man to die.‖ Anton laughed, pulling his cap from his head.

―Now, I am not alone,‖ he shouted, pointing at Tamihana. ―Perhaps I shall kill you next.‖

―Enough,‖ shouted Wilson. Anton leaped from his chair, pulling a short blade from a sheath attached to his waistband. Before anyone could react, Anton was on Wilson, blade to his throat. As a smile crept on to his face, Wilson moved, disarming Anton in a heartbeat, driving his face into the table. Pulling Anton up by his tweed jacket, he hissed in his ear that he should return to his seat.

110 ―Attack me or any member of this team again, Anton, and I will put you in a body bag.‖ Anton spit blood onto the floor, wiping the rest from his face with his shirt sleeve.

―I am not a judge,‖ said Wilson, returning to the subject of Tamihana, ―And in time, she may have to face a judge. That is not for us to decide. Tomorrow, we return to the Proving Grounds. Based on our first visit, most of us will be fortunate to return home again. If we fail, the earth will have much more to worry about than one man‘s death.‖

―I thought the Jarn were supposed to monitor all the planets to prevent mayhem and murder,‖ offered Ashley.

―Perhaps, even the Jarn have their limitations,‖ suggested Clarence. ―It would be easy for them to observe a large scale uprising; much more difficult to watch an isolated event.‖

―Tamihana is not the only one who wasted her wish,‖ confessed Dagur who explained that he accidentally wished for his father to love him. He further explained that he had been with a woman, had drank far more than he should have and was not thinking straight at the time.

―At least you didn‘t wish someone to die,‖ interjected Charlotte.

―Enough, Charlotte,‖ scolded Wilson. ―We have to return to the Proving Grounds together. We cannot afford to bicker amongst ourselves. Nothing has changed. We have no less than twenty-five wishes to discuss. I suggest we get started.‖

111

Abigor entered the chamber unannounced. There was no need. The One knew.

―You risk much by this visit, Abigor,‖ spoke the raspy voice of The One.

―It is imperative,‖ replied Abigor. ―The Jarn have doubled their effort to locate you.‖

―A futile effort as you well know. Speak of the true reason you have come.‖

―I fear I am in danger,‖ answered Abigor.

―Thousands of worlds are in danger, Abigor. The universe itself is in danger. All that is bound by the fabric of time and space is in jeopardy, yet you fear only for yourself?‖ The One rose from his vast stone chair, rising to the height of a giant. Thick brown hair fell to his shoulders. Eyes plucked from the brightest sky stared down at Abigor. He wore the garb of the ancient Roman Emperors, a traditional toga, belted at the waist by a thick golden rope. In his right hand was a spear. Throughout the ages of his existence, Abigor had never once, seen The One without his spear in hand. The spear had not been used as a weapon for eons. The Jarn claimed to have evolved beyond physical confrontation but The One knew different. The Jarn, like every creature in God‘s universe, were created from the primal dust of existence. Once primal, always primal. No matter how hard the Jarn try, no matter how evolved the Jarn may have become; the animal inside cannot be eliminated; nor can one‘s true identity.

The Jarn had labelled him ‗The One‘. It had been done to discredit him, emphasising his ambition to become, God or godlike. The name given to him in his beginning was Jakuta, a name long forgotten by most of the Jarn and the rest of the universe.

112 ―I have explained myself poorly,‖ began Abigor. ―I fear that the plan you have so carefully orchestrated may fail. I fear that the Jarn way of life will continue. I fear that the universe will continue to deteriorate at an escalating rate, leading to the undoing of all that exists.‖

Jakuta smiled as he stared at the beautiful, living tapestry that adorned most of the stone wall behind Abigor. It depicted life as it was in the early ages that followed the birth of the universe. Shown were the Kabul, the Jarn, and a dozen other of the early creatures to emerge from the Sea of Life. The Kabul had battled themselves into extinction long before planets such as Earth could sustain even microscopic life. The tapestry which ran for nearly one hundred feet ended with an animated painting of the Proving Grounds. The painting was one of perpetual motion. The creatures contained within the boundaries of this particular section of the tapestry were trapped for all eternity, sentenced to fight for their lives over and over again.

Jakuta was fond of the tapestry. It had been a gift for his wife, Gelda. They had made union more than 1,000,000 years ago, yet he remembered it as though it were yesterday. At times, he would catch a hint of her favourite fragrance, a rare blend of vanilla and lilac. She had worn it often, to the delight of his senses.

As they aged together, he had proven himself to be an anomaly of sorts, wishing to rebel against the way of the Jarn. At first, he had limited his protests to the smaller courts, not wanting to draw attention to himself. As the years passed, his passion for justice grew. He fought larger fights, no longer able to keep himself out of the limelight. He was brought before the council in irons, long before the Jarn evolved into the creatures they are today. Back then, the Jarn were barbaric and unrefined, bound to the physical limitations of their bodies.

Jakuta was reprimanded by the council. His behaviour could no longer be tolerated. He was creating unrest among the masses and his propaganda had to stop. He was intelligent but at

113 that young age, he certainly wasn‘t wise. He went against the wishes of the council, continuing to undermine their authority. A warrant was issued for his arrest. Word of his pending arrest reached him before the authorities did and he went into hiding. He was smart enough to elude the hunters but he had overlooked what they would do to his wife.

Gelda was brought to the public square for display. In the middle of the square, on a raised platform used for addressing crowds, she was chained. Word was sent in every direction, warning Jakuta that for each day that passed, Gelda would be humiliated, tortured or worse until Jakuta surrendered.

Three days had passed before Jakuta received word. He had travelled to the outer reaches of the Bordilian Plains to the Cave District. A friend by the name of Oche had managed to find Jakuta, supplying him with the swiftest horse available for the three day journey back. He arrived at the edge of town on the afternoon of the sixth day. His father, Kip, stood waiting, shouting a warning for him to turn and run. Jakuta ignored his father‘s warning, kicking his horse to charge instead. People ran from the path of the horse as it raced down the narrow dirt street toward the square. As he entered the square, Jakuta was unsure of what he saw. What appeared to be a body hung from the platform in the middle of the square but it couldn‘t be his Gelda. It didn‘t even look human.

For six days, they had tried to break her. The first day, they stripped her naked, allowing townsfolk to pummel her with soft vegetables. Her chains offered her some freedom, providing entertainment for the crowd as she cowered, and often ran to dodge the projectiles.

The second day, the council ordered she be covered in honey, after which a jar of fire ants would be released; not enough to kill her, only enough to cause her pain. On the third day she was flogged repeatedly at hourly intervals. She did not cry, and to the chagrin of the Administrator, she refused to cry out. The Administrator was a sadistically patient man who loved

114 his craft. He had the look and demeanour of a twelfth century executioner.

On the fourth day, she was placed in a large burlap sack with four starved ferrets, and suspended four feet from the platform. Bloodcurdling screams burst forth from the sack as blood began to pool at the bottom. The sack twitched and jumped as it swung to and fro. Animal squeals, hisses and growls were heard between screams. Eventually the sack was still. The crowd was certain she was dead. As they removed the sack, they were shocked to find four dead ferrets and one badly wounded young woman. Cries for mercy rose up from the crowd. The council dared not veer from this path for fear it would signal a sign of weakness. Instead, the council ordered the healers to tend to her.

On the fifth day, the council offered mercy if Jakuta would show himself. He did not. Gelda was strapped to a thick wooden table in the center of the platform. Her head was pinned in a vice so it could not be moved. Using a device that resembled a deep spoon, the Administrator removed her eyes. She screamed until her voice left her. Again, the crowd chanted for mercy. Again, the council refused.

On the morning of the sixth day, Gelda was taken from the platform, only to return an hour later, dressed in a beautiful, multi-layered gown. It had been her wedding gown. They had cleaned her, dressed her wounds, and had sewn her eyes shut. Her hair had been brushed and makeup applied. She walked with an air of defiance as she was led to the center of the platform. Once there, she was asked by the Administrator to summon her husband.

―I will not do your bidding,‖ she managed, her voice nothing more than a whisper.

The Administrator called out to the crowd. ―Six days and she remains unbroken. That would be admirable if it were not for the circumstance. Jakuta is a traitor to his people. Gelda,

115 his wife of numerous years, knows our laws. She could have avoided the brutality of the council by co-operating, yet she refused. For this, she will be sentenced to removal.‖

The crowd chanted mercy, louder than previously. She had won many of their hearts with her strength and bravery.

―Prepare her,‖ shouted the Administrator.

She did not struggle as they carried her to the center of the platform, laying her body onto a table that was much different than the table they had used when removing her eyes. This table was comprised of a rectangular center piece where her body rested. Jutting out at forty-five degree angles were four extensions, two for her arms and two for her legs. Four devices similar to guillotines were clamped into place, one over each wrist and one over each ankle.

The Administrator addressed the crowd. The entire town had gathered, as was required by law. ―The ancient scriptures teach us to follow the Ten. Failure to do so will lead to our undoing. To maintain the Jarn way of life, justice must be upheld. If there is one among us who would speak on behalf of Gelda, do so now.‖

No one spoke. No one ever did. Speaking out would imply that you supported the guilty party. No good would come of it. Silence was the administrator‘s answer to his request. As was custom, Gelda‘s family was required to step forward. Her mother had to be dragged up the steps by the town‘s guards. The family was escorted to the rear of the platform. They would serve as primary witnesses to the execution.

The administrator took his place at Gelda‘s head, clamping down the fifth of the guillotine devices. With a nod from the Administrator, four of his assistants took their places at the four corners of the platform. Thin ropes had been draped across the top of the platform and tied off at the four corners. On the command from the Administrator, each assistant would pull

116 the rope, releasing the blade. A merciful end would have had everyone pull their ropes simultaneously but at that point in the Jarn evolution, it was deemed unnecessary. At a nod from the Administrator, the assistant in the front right corner pulled his rope, dropping the blade, severing Gelda‘s right foot. The assistant moved quickly to her, pouring a brown liquid onto the foot, igniting it with a torch. There was a brilliant flash as the liquid flared. It quickly burned itself out. The bleeding had stopped. Gelda‘s whole body was in spasms as she fought the incredible pain. She tried to scream but her vocal chords were too damaged.

And so it continued around the circle; next her left foot, followed by her left hand, and then her right hand. She lost consciousness twice, only to be revived by a pail of icy water from the Blue Mountain River. The Administrator leaned over and whispered into Gelda‘s ear.

―A final chance to ask for forgiveness, child,‖ he offered. She tried to speak but could not. The Administrator cupped his hand, drawing water from the pail. He trickled it into her mouth to moisten her throat. He wanted to hear her beg for forgiveness.

―Jakuta will come. The Jarn will never forget this day.‖ That was all she could manage. Her body was quickly slipping in to shock. Peace would come to her soon. The Administrator looked out to the crowd, disappointed in her defiance. Stepping back two steps, he grasped the rope in his hands and gave it a quick tug, releasing the blade. Her severed head bounced several times before landing in front of Gelda‘s mother. In a moment of madness, her mother withdrew a ceremonial dagger from beneath her dress. The Administrator cowered in fear, certain he was her intended target. She, however, had no intention of killing the Administrator. The guards would have cut her down before she even got close to him. Grasping the hilt of the dagger firmly in her palm, Gelda‘s mother drove the blade deep into her heart. She would not be without her daughter.

117 Gelda had been correct about her last words. The Jarn had suffered greatly at the hands of Jakuta. He had arrived that day with a device he had been working on for months. He had managed to fuse two opposing crystals together, binding them in such a way with a third crystal, to render them useless until the third crystal had been removed. Once done, a force unlike anything the Jarn had ever seen before was unleashed.

After realizing it was the remains of his wife hanging from the platform in the town square, Jakuta was filled with a rage he would have never thought possible. Many of the townsfolk had left, their obligation fulfilled but the Administrator, his assistants and several dozen onlookers remained. Jakuta had removed the crystals from his pack, sliding the protective crystal from its place. The two crystals began to hum at once as the opposing forces began to collide. Jakuta tossed the crystals toward the platform as he vowed an eternity of vengeance on the Jarn. He turned, riding quickly out of town, unopposed, save for a futile effort of a young guard who came at Jakuta from his right side. Yanking his blade from its scabbard, Jakuta cleaved the guard‘s head from his neck with minimal effort. As he left the town of his birth, he threw his father‘s sword into the dirt. Lowering his head, he encouraged his mount to run faster. Jakuta was not afraid of pursuit. He was afraid of the crystals. . .

Jakuta, much like the Jarn, had evolved over the millions of years that had passed since that day but like many of his distant memories, he refused to let them go. The Jarn were indeed a powerful race. They were considered to be God‘s Guardians by some, but Jakuta knew better. They were careful to conceal who they really were. Onoch, Master of the Proving Grounds, was among the inner circle of the Jarn. None would dare question him. The Jarn had forgotten Jakuta‘s name ages ago, but Onoch remembered it. Jakuta was certain of it. Onoch had been one of the few who had survived the explosion that day. Back then, his title had been, Administrator.

118

For nearly an hour the group had discussed their options. No two wishes were exactly the same, making it difficult to reach a decision. Of the twenty-six wishes, assuming Dagur‘s wish was still active; seventeen were pushing for a major wish, claiming minor wishes to be a waste of time. Of the nine minor wishes, there was four wishing for one form of a lottery win or another, one blind grandfather healed, an Aunt with cancer cured, an autistic boy healed, a brother brought back from the dead, and one wish to sleep with a young Hollywood actress.

Of the seventeen major wishes, one wished for the hole in the Ozone to be repaired. Another wanted to see the atmosphere cleansed to stop global warming. There were wishes for massive reforestation, cleaning the ocean, a huge repopulation of the oceans to bring marine life to a level, equal that of the sixties, and the removal of nuclear weapons from the planet. Eight people had plans to eliminate a great deal of the world‘s populations. One of the ideas had been to euthanize everyone over the age of seventy. Other ideas included killing every prisoner on the planet, euthanizing those with disabilities, and eliminating the population by 1/5. Countries with the highest populations would be affected the most.

Other major wishes included: the creation of a new Eden, the destruction of all weapons on the planet, a list indicating the whereabouts of every missing child in the world, a list of answers to all the questions that have plagued mankind for years. Questions such as, who did kill JFK? Where is Osama Bin Laden? What happened to the dinosaurs? Was there a big bang?

One of the more intriguing wish requests was a wish calling for the removal of the marks. Another wish that caught the interest of the group was a wish for the destruction of all pornography, outlawing it permanently. On that same theme, a wish request was made for a cure for pedophiles. This led to a

119 heated debate. Several of the group refused unequivocally, stating they would never waste a wish on such a disgusting branch of the mankind tree.

As they neared the deadline imposed on them by Zalmay, the group had their decision narrowed down to, what they thought, was the best plan. They would use their major wish to clean the atmosphere. By doing so, they hoped it would stop, or at least slow, global warming, improve the general health of mankind, and slow, if not halt the level of global catastrophes linked to the unstable environment. With the six remaining minor wishes, one would be used to bring Tamihana‘s boyfriend back to life, assuming it would work. The remaining five wishes would be for $10,000,000 each for a total of $50,000,000. The money would be split evenly amongst the families of the participants. It worked out to $250,000 per person. The group thought it to be more than fair, everyone other than Anton. He had remained silent throughout the discussion, his eyes never wavering from Tamihana. The taste of blood in his mouth combined with a newly formed hatred for this woman had Anton fully erect.

―I wish I was at my home with a D‘han,‖ shouted Anton. ―That is my wish.‖ The air shimmered around Anton briefly before fading away. A soft female voice announced his wish had failed.

―Unfortunate,‖ smiled Anton. ―It would have been fun. I will see you at the Proving Grounds tomorrow. Until then, I will enjoy my wish in private.‖ Crossing his arms, he whispered a location and was gone. ―A murderer on our team,‖ said Clarence. ―Just when you didn‘t think things could get much worse.‖

―I suggest we stick to our resolve, with or without him,‖ offered Wilson.

―I do not agree with Anton‘s thinking,‖ said Charlotte, as she wiped her matted hair from her sweaty forehead. ―I do,

120 however, agree with keeping my wish for myself.‖ Before anyone could respond, she was gone.

―Anyone else,‖ asked Wilson. Everyone else was on board with the plan, albeit, a modified plan. They now had four wishes for money.

Wilson led the other twenty-four members of their group into the room. He had been voted to be their official spokesperson. He remained standing after the others had seated themselves.

―Members of the Security Council, World Dignitaries, and the entire population of the World, my name is Wilson Collins. I have been named as spokesperson of our humble little group. We have discussed twenty-seven suggested solutions to our wish dilemma, and we have come to a conclusion as to how we can best serve the world.‖

―Any how might that be, Mr. Collins?‖ asked Zalmay. Wilson explained their plan, staring straight into Carla Rozzala‘s recorder as he did, unflinching and unblinking. He was smooth as silk. He explained in detail, the twenty-seven different suggestions. He also discussed their methodology for arriving at the conclusion that they did.

―Preposterous,‖ snapped Zalmay. ―This young woman commits murder and we are to turn a blind eye. You will wish for wealth for all the participants. This is your plan? You could not even completely convince your team to agree.‖

Wilson was unfazed. ―There is no right or wrong answer. Mankind‘s problems are many and at this point, our wishes are few. We are hopeful that some of us will return to make more wishes. Should that plan fail, we feel we have made the best wish for the world. The wish for wealth is not one of greed. We are simply providing for our loved ones. If nothing else, it will allow us to better focus on the task at hand, that

121 being survival.‖ Wilson paused for a moment, struck suddenly by a question that floated into his mind.

―If I may inquire, what is it the Security Council feels we should do?‖

―That is easy. We voted unanimously on the matter before you arrived. We would seek immunity from death to world leaders and to the members of this Security Council. Without world leaders, the world will crumble.‖

―You feel the leaders of our world are above the rest of us, Zalmay?‖ asked Wilson.

―I feel no man is above another-―

―Bullshit,‖ shouted Wilson, cutting Zalmay off midsentence.

―Mr. Collins, I will ask you a final time to show at least a moderate amount of diplomacy. Your antagonistic attitude toward this Council is unwarranted. We all want what is best.‖

―If world leaders are slain, they will be replaced, as they have been in the past. To suggest that anyone be protected from the Jarn is ludicrous. We are all in this together.‖

―Yet here we are, with twenty-seven people protected by the Jarn.‖

―Protected so that we can participate in their games, is hardly protection. Need I remind you that 173 people were killed yesterday at the Proving Grounds. We were selected to participate at the Proving Grounds. We were informed that should we survive, we would be granted a minor wish. Humanity was not promised our wishes. We entered into a contractual obligation. We fulfilled our end of the contract. The reward is ours, not yours, not the Security Council, and not the worlds.‖ Wilson took a deep breath, letting his message sink in.

122

Turning to face his team mates, Wilson asked all but Tamihana, Anh Nguyen, Akila Abaza, Chloe Taylor, Shen Wu, Levi Cohen, and Anton Laurent to form a circle. It was time to make their major wish.

Zalmay picked up the phone that lay on the table beside him, shouting for security. Within seconds, more than a dozen, well armed soldiers had entered the room, surrounding Team Earth.

―Take aim,‖ shouted Zalmay. The soldiers trained their sights on the group. Zalmay had no intentions of allowing Collins to play God. Wilson stepped forward, defiant and intent to end this quickly. He spoke slowly and purposely, imposing his will on each word.

―I wish for Zalmay to be transported safely to the village of Khumjun near the base of Mount Everest in Nepal.‖ There was a brief flash of light and Zalmay was gone.

―Mr. President, I would humbly request that you step forward and take control of the situation.‖ Charles Abernathy stood slowly, straightening his tie and smoothing out his jacket.

―And if I choose not to, will I too be sent to Nepal?‖

―Mr. President, I cannot explain how I know, but I can assure you, Zalmay had his own agenda. We have little time and we all need to be on the same team here. Please help us out.‖ Wilson was overwhelmed again with a feeling of disorientation.

―This goes against protocol, Mr. Collins. In accordance with the Security Council constitution, Zhang Yesui should assume Zalmay‘s duties.‖ Zhang had faced immense pressure several times during his career but nothing that rivalled this. The future of mankind was about to be re-written. Zalmay had been convinced his was the best course of action. Collins clearly felt

123 he knew what was best. Everything was happening so fast. Zhang needed to slow things down a bit.

―The president will be summoned back to the Proving Grounds in less than twenty-four hours. The Security Council must have leadership.‖

―What do you propose, Mr. Yesui?‖ asked Wilson. His anger had left him. Just as he knew that Zalmay was an evil person, Wilson could sense that Mr. Yesui was an honourable man.

―I propose that the president serve as a mediator between yourselves and the Security Council. I realized you mean well Mr. Collins, but I have known Zalmay for many years. He is a good man.‖

―I am sorry Mr. Yesui, but Zalmay has secret ambitions that you are not aware of. There are documents in his house safe that will prove my words to be true. I would explain everything but we do not have time. Send someone. By the time we return from the second round, assuming that we return, you will have found your proof. If I am proven wrong, I will make amends, but I assure you I am not wrong.‖ Wilson felt he was losing his grip on reality. He had just sent Zalmay to a neighbourhood that bordered on oblivion, he had made accusations that he was unsure he could back up, and he was about to lead a group of people in a wish-making session that would mark the first step in world change. It was like an acid trip he had taken years ago. At the peak of his experience, he had felt like he was watching his body from above. He heard the thoughts, spoke the words, and functioned as though he had been someone‘s puppet. This was similar. He turned to his team mates, focusing his thoughts on them, hoping to clear his mind. Brock looked at him, concern etched on his face. Wilson shrugged it off, moving forward.

―Mr. Yesui, please ask the soldiers to stand down,‖ asked Wilson. Zhang quietly instructed the men to step down,

124 requesting they return to the outer chamber and await further instructions.

The other men and women of Team Earth took their places in the east gallery. Wilson instructed Dagur to join the circle. If the wish didn‘t work, he would at least know that Dagur had wasted his wish. His gut told him Dagur‘s wish had not been taken serious. All but Wilson, Tamihana, Ashley, Chloe and Brock formed the circle. Hands were interlocked. They were ready to begin.

―I humbly request that the Security Council formally endorse what we are about to do,‖ said Wilson.

―You will proceed with or without the blessing of this council, so it matters very little at this point but I will say this. The Security Council is not opposed to what you are about to attempt.‖

―Fair enough,‖ offered Wilson. ―Whenever you are ready, let‘s make our first attempt.‖

Clarence stood at the top of the circle. He stated the intention of the group and everyone repeated it aloud. The third and final chant reverberated throughout the room. Without delay, each of the participants was bathed in a shimmering light, including Dagur. No voice rejected their wish. It had been received.

―If nothing else is accomplished by our team,‖ began Wilson, ―We can go to our graves knowing we did a miraculous thing for our planet and its people this day.‖ Ashley wasted little time wishing for a reversal of Tamihana‘s fate. Ashley was bathed in the shimmering light. Again, there was no voice denying the wish. On a nod from Wilson, Brock and Chloe used the last two wishes, requesting ten million dollars for the families of Team Earth. Both wishes were denied.

125 ―Try for less money,‖ suggested Ashley, ―But go one at a time this time. We can‘t afford to lose these wishes. Clarence laughed out loud.

―No pun intended,‖ he said playfully. Brock went first, requesting five million dollars. In less than a heartbeat, Brock was surrounded by a pile of certified cheques. There was one cheque from every country in the world for an equal amount of money.

―I was picturing myself covered in thousands of small bundles of twenties,‖ chuckled Brock, ―But this will do.‖

―Should I go for eight million?‖ asked Chloe.

―It is up to you Chloe,‖ replied Wilson, ―But for what it‘s worth, this money is coming from our own people. Perhaps we should keep it at five.‖ Chloe nodded, not waiting for anyone else to reply. She quickly spoke her wish and squealed with delight when a pile of certified cheques arrived at her feet.

―We may wish to remember this,‖ added Brock. ―It may go a long way to understanding the Jarn. They have the ability to manipulate and create as they desire. Why the certified cheques? Why not just create a pile of money?‖

―The financial world is complex,‖ said Brock. ―Perhaps flooding the world with a large amount of freshly created bills would create havoc.‖

―I hate to break up this party,‖ said Clarence, ―But I have a family to visit in case things turn bad in the morning. Mr. Yesui, are we free to go?‖

―Of course, but the Security Council requests that you return here in the morning, one hour prior to your required departure to the Proving Grounds.‖

126 Carla was about to lower her recorder when the limp, blood-soaked carcass of Gord Fobeur slammed to the ground in front of her. She choked back the bile in her throat as she scampered backward, the camera locked on Gord. It was quite obvious he was dead. Half his face was missing, one arm had been cleaved cleanly off and his one leg appeared to have been chewed off. The monitors, currently displaying Carla‘s signal went to white noise for a second or two. When the picture cleared, it was Onoch.

―This human violated the rules of the Proving Grounds. For that he was placed in the tubes, home to the insectlopodes.‖ White noise returned to the screens briefly before returning to Carla‘s recorder. She quietly lowered the recorder, deactivating the device. Then she began to cry.

Chapter Seven The Trial of the Second Tower

The members of Team Earth began to gather as early as 6:00 am the morning of their return to the Proving Grounds. Wilson arrived first, followed by Brock several minutes later. As much as he wanted to, he chose not to see his children a second time. Their first visit had been perfect. If he was to die today, he wanted the memory of a beautiful visit to be their last memory of him. He had requested his children not be allowed to watch the carnage from the Proving Grounds. Brock was uncertain that his ex-wife would be able to keep them from the television. Last evening, Brock had thought about a trip to the psychiatric facility that had housed him for the past few months before realizing he needed to do nothing more than call out Sarah‘s name to go to her. The words were barely clear of his

127 lips when he had found himself in her bedroom. His former nurse had been lying in bed watching the events unfold from the Security Council. As Brock materialized in her bedroom, she clutched the blankets to her chest, cowering in fear. As she realized what had just happened, she lowered the blanket and came to Brock, throwing her arms around his neck, giggling like a foolish schoolgirl. The rest of their evening was magical. Wilson had spent the evening alone with a bottle of Yellowtail merlot, pondering the possible strategies for round two. If the second round was anything like the first, Team Earth was in serious trouble. With any luck, they would not have to face the Ungolans, the Exiles or the D‘han. They had finished as the top three after the first round. It was the Ungolans that Wilson feared the most. They were more animal than humanoid. With razor-sharp talons, thick fur and powerful jaws, they seemed virtually unstoppable. Perhaps the Jarn had a new form of combat that involved weapons. They may favour the intelligence of the humans. Clarence had returned to his family. A large feast had been prepared by his mother and the employees of the carnival. Hundreds of people had flocked to the warehouse facility where the carnival had its headquarters. None were permitted inside the gates but Clarence was gracious enough to venture out to sign autographs and to thank everyone for their support. After the feast and long after he had tucked his daughter into her bed, Clarence shared several shots of Ouzo with his parents, his wife and the members of his carnival family. He held his wife tightly against him, trying his best to comfort her. It was well past 3:00 am before Clarence drifted into a fitful sleep. Tamihana had willed herself to Doug. She had no desire to see him, but she had to know firsthand that he was alive. As

128 she materialized in her own living room, Doug was pouring himself a shot of vodka. He was drunk. ―I would have thought coming back from the dead would have been a life changing experience. Once an asshole, always an asshole, Doug?‖ Doug responded by firing the vodka bottle at her head. She ducked, moving out of his reach, should he try anything. ―My next stop is the police. When I return from the Proving Grounds tomorrow evening, I want any sign of you gone from my house. The next time, I won‘t allow anyone to waste a wish bringing you back.‖ He moved toward her menacingly but she was gone.

Ashley had returned home to her family. After a run along the river road out toward Riverview Cemetery and back, Ashley treated herself to a long hot shower and one of her dad‘s famous home cooked meals. Her Uncle Bob, Aunt Lana, and her cousins joined them. It seemed relatively normal, which in itself was odd, considering the situation. Her mom had adjusted to her meds and was engaging in coherent conversations. They shared laughter and tears well into the night. Ashley fell asleep in an upright position on the end of the couch. She remained that way until morning. She awoke at 5:00 am, her mom‘s head resting lovingly on her shoulder. She kissed the top of her mom‘s head before dislodging herself gently from her mother‘s grasp. She slipped quietly upstairs, dressing quickly and tying her hair back. As she crept quietly back down the stairs, she found her dad waiting at the bottom. ―Just come back to us, okay?‖ he half asked, half stated. His eyes were puffy. This was very difficult for her dad. He had always been the one to fix things. He couldn‘t fix this. No one could. Ashley hugged her dad tightly. 129 ―I‘ll do my best. I promise. Tell Mom I love her.‖ She blew her dad a kiss as she vanished.

Dagur was the third to arrive at the Security Council chamber. He was in good spirits. The wall his dad had built around himself had dissolved overnight. Dagur may not have used his wish as he had previously thought but some form of divine intervention had created a miracle. Dagur had sat with his father, Ylfa and his uncle down by the pier, in front of a large fire pit that had roared until well after midnight. They had shared stories, laughed, and even cried. Dagur‘s father had shocked him when he began to weep, apologizing for not being the father Dagur deserved. Dagur wasn‘t sure whether to slap him, hug him, or do both. He did the latter, knocking his father from his chair. He then picked him up and embraced him, kissing his father on the cheek. Ylfa had smiled as he had knocked his son unconscious with a vicious hook to the jaw. Dagur regained consciousness ten minutes later. The three had roared with laughter, sharing a final drink before calling it a night. Ylfa told his son he was proud of him. Charlotte Gustavsson arrived just as the delegates were taking their seats. It was obvious what her wish had been. Charlotte was beautiful, thinner and dressed for a cocktail party, not the Proving Grounds. ―Help the world or help yourself, eh Charlotte,‖ snapped Ashley. ―You disgust me.‖ ―Your opinion means nothing to me,‖ Charlotte shot back. ―You saved a murderer. You are the one that is disgusting.‖ ―Ladies,‖ warned Wilson, pointed toward Carla. Her recorder was pointed directly at the two of them. Carla appeared to have aged overnight. They were entering the third day of this 130 craziness. Wilson wondered what toll this would have on all of them by the time it was over, if they were lucky enough to survive long enough to see the end. Anton arrived a moment later, refusing to speak to anyone, happy to take a seat at the end of the back row. ―Is Team Earth ready to begin, Mr. Collins?‖ asked Mr. Yesui. ―I believe so,‖ responded Wilson. Mr. Yesui gained everyone‘s attention with several taps on the microphone. ―Good morning to everyone. Within the hour, Team Earth will return to the hostile environment of the Proving Grounds. The delegates will appeal to the Jarn regarding the matter of the wishes. Although the earth is forever thankful for the cleaner air, the thinking of certain members of Team Earth lead us to believe, more now than ever, that we should control the wishes. Mr. Collins, before we have a repeat of yesterday‘s antagonist showdown, let us leave this in the hands of the Jarn. I would like to focus on keeping as many of you alive as we can. We had three tech teams working through the night collecting data to create a presentation that may help save your lives. We simply ask that you watch it now before leaving for the Proving Grounds.‖ ―We would be happy too,‖ replied Wilson, ―And how is our friend Zalmay Khali?‖ ―He is well, thank you. He will return here early tomorrow morning. He insists something be done, but that is a matter we will address at another time.‖ With a nod from Mr. Yesui, the presentation began. It was a series of still photos, illustrating the tactics and weakness of each race. The presenter, a young man in his early twenties with a shaved head, wire- rimmed glasses and a stained shirt, provided the commentary.

131 His presentation, unlike his appearance, was flawless, providing Team Earth with a wealth of information. As the time for departure grew closer, Wilson drew everyone near. ―Anton, I will clear about this. I don‘t like you. In fact, given a chance, I would probably kill you, but in order for us to have a chance, we have to stick together, regardless of any personal feelings. Does everyone understand this?‖ Everyone but Anton nodded in agreement. Anton stood up and approached Wilson. ―I look after Anton and only Anton. If you and I end up in a cage together, watch your back.‖ Anton smiled before vanishing. He had gone to the Proving Grounds. ―Don‘t worry about him, Wilson,‖ said Brock. ―We have your back. Anton will get what‘s coming to him.‖ ―I will do whatever I can for all of you,‖ offered Clarence, ―But, Charlotte, I hope like hell you are going to change before we leave.‖ ―A fat ass in a fat dress or a tight ass in a tight dress. Neither will help me fight, but if I die today, I want to be remembered this way, not the other.‖ Ashley felt a moment of compassion, yet she remained silent. This woman had issues. Now was not the time to deal with it. ―Best we leave now, before we are pulled there,‖ suggested Wilson. Looking toward the Security Council and the delegates, he thanked them for the presentation, reassuring them Team Earth would return. Mr. Yesui bade them farewell and wished them success. In less than a minute, Team Earth was gone. A moment later, the delegates, Carla, Ned and Tim joined Team Earth at the Proving Grounds.

132 The coliseum had changed. It has also grown in size. The containment units used to house each team were smaller and without video screens. A thick steel door stood where the screen had been, leading to the center of the coliseum. Other screens now filled the upper level of the containment unit. The battle cage used in round one was missing. A mound of dirt, rising to a height of twenty feet, stood where the cage had been. The slope toward the center was a gentle grade, filled with rings of stone every ten yards, ten in total. From above it would have looked like a giant archery target with the center point of the rise serving as the bull‘s-eye. So vast was this new battlefield, the humans could not identify any creatures on the far side. The voice of Onoch filled the air. ―Welcome to all who have returned to the Proving Grounds.‖ There was a pause as hundreds of weapons fell to the ground. There were swords, maces, clubs, daggers, and staves of all shapes and sizes, spread across the battle area. There were no missile weapons of any kind and shields were absent as well. Evidently, Onoch had no desire for long, defensive battles. This was about bloodshed. Onoch‘s voice returned. ―Each round, of the second trial, the door to your containment unit will open. One member of your team must enter the battlefield. You will earn points for every second you manage to survive on the battlefield so deciding who will fight next must be a decision made quickly. Once on the battlefield, it would be wise to acquire a weapon. The rest is about survival. Each round will last until 50% of the competitors have been eliminated. Some rounds will end quickly, others will be long and drawn out. Competitors will receive points for each kill. Additional points are awarded for each level of the hill you reach. There are ten levels, each worth a 10% bonus to your score for every second you remain at that 133 level. Should a competitor be fortunate to reach and hold the top of the hill, he or she will receive 100%, or double, their score. Those charged with the recording of this event should attempt to record all the battles, not just those involving their people. The screens in the upper level of your compound will provide a better view of the battles.‖ ―The competition will last 147 rounds, the number equal to the remaining participants from the Ungolan team, the highest after round one. All other teams will be forced to send players to the battlefield a second, third, fourth, fifth, and in some cases, a sixth, and even a seventh time. Any team unable to field a fighter will be eliminated from the competition and their planet will face global genocide. Once everyone from a team has completed their first battle, the fighting order is established and fighters will be automatically summoned to the field from that point on. As fighters are eliminated, players will move up in order. You have five minutes to discuss any possible strategies before round one begins. Once the process is underway, it doesn‘t stop for any reason until one hundred and forty seven rounds have been completed.‖ Wilson quickly gathered everyone around. They didn‘t have a lot of time to waste. ―Weapons will be an advantage to us. Unlike some of our opponents, we are built to hold and wield these weapons. To score higher points, many of the creatures will move toward the center, the heart of the fighting. For those of us who may not fare well in the fighting, stay to the outside. It will increase your chance of survival. Scoring points is not nearly as important as staying alive.‖ ―Agreed,‖ shouted Clarence. His guts were churning. He wanted to vomit but he knew his family would be watching.

134 Carla and her henchmen had their recorders pointed at Team Earth. That would change as soon as the signal was given. ―I will go first,‖ offered Clarence. He needed to get this over with as soon as possible. ―As you wish,‖ replied Wilson. ―I will be right behind you. The rest of you will line up in the order you wish to go. We will all have to fight repeatedly. There is no question of that, but before we go out, I would like everyone to form a circle, putting your hands in the middle, much like a football team. On three, I want everyone to shout, TEAM EARTH as loudly as you can.‖ Everyone but Anton moved into the circle, hands extended. Wilson placed his hands on top of the others. This wasn‘t about a football chant. His back grew fiery hot, spreading down his arms onto his hands. It quickly spread to everyone gathered in the circle. As quickly as it came, the fire left. Fear left those in the circle. They were ready for battle. ―On three,‖ shouted Wilson. ―One. . .two. . . three, Team Earth!‖ Clarence moved to the door, followed by Wilson. Brock was third, followed by Dagur, Anton Laurent of France, Kedar Heddad of Saudi Arabia, Levi Cohen of Israel, Krystof Jovanovic of Serbia, Varun Singh of India, Shen Wu of China, Dag Halvorson or Norway, Jung Hwa of South Korea, Abebe Menelik of Ethiopita. The ladies waited to see if Anton Popov would move into place with the rest of the men. ―Ladies first,‖ he snickered. ―You are a bastard,‖ hissed Tamihana. ―We‘ll see who is left standing when this is over,‖ he replied. Ashley moved behind Abebe followed by Tamihana, Rosa De Silva of Sri Lanka, Ivy Hsu of Singapore, Maria Carvalho of Brazil, and Charlotte Gustavsson who had tore her 135 dress open to provide herself with unrestricted movement. Falling in behind Charlotte was Anh Nguyen of Vietnam, Emma Smit of the Netherlands, Paja Johansen of Denmark, Beatrix Faria of Portugal, Akila Abaza of Egypt, Chloe Taylor of South Africa, and Roberta Jenkins of South Africa. Anton Popov remained by himself at the back of the containment unit. He appeared not to have a care in the world. It couldn‘t be further from the truth. He hadn‘t joined the circle, failing to receive whatever it was that Wilson had given the others. Anton was both terrified and thrilled. He didn‘t want to die, not this close to a wish of immortality. A horn sounded and the doors opened, signalling the start. Clarence charged forward, his teammates cheering wildly in support. Clarence snatched up the closest weapon, a barbed spear with a polished wooden shaft. The creature closest to him – a Deagol - resembling a dwarf; barrel-chested and well muscled with a scraggly beard that hung to his belly. The Deagol had managed to secure an axe. He growled as he turned to face Clarence who feigned a thrust to test his opponent. The Deagol didn‘t flinch, rushing forward, axe raised above his head. Clarence lost his footing as he retreated, tumbling onto his back. The Deagol, with a sneer of victory on his ugly little face, moved in for the kill. As the axe swung downward, the Deagol was swept from his feet by the outstretched arm of an Ungollan. The Ungollan, who carried a spear of his own, drove it downward, impaling the Deagol onto the end of it. The dimwitted Ungolan assumed the fight to be over and began to retrieve his spear. The Deagol had managed to cling to his axe which he now swung from his dire position. The axe took the Ungolan in the thigh. Roaring with fury, the Ungolan began to stomp the Deagol with his feet. Clarence took advantage of the situation, leaping to his feet. He charged 136 forward and drove his spear into the Ungolan‘s back with all his might. The Ungolan swiped at Clarence who leaped out of range. As the Ungolan turned to face Clarence, the Deagol managed a small but effective chop to its knee, dropping the big creature to the ground. Clarence spotted a pair of daggers to his left. He sprinted to them, thankful that no other creatures were near them. Grabbing a dagger in each hand, Clarence rushed the Ungolan, burying a dagger in each side of its neck. The big creature began to gurgle on its own blood as it started to slip forward into the throes of death. Clarence managed with great effort to yank the spear from its back as it landed partially atop the Deagol. The Deagol went mad, thrashing to free itself. Clarence circled out of range of the creature‘s axe, turning back to quickly bury the spear into his eye. The creature grew silent. Clarence was winded but far from done. Retrieving his spear, he observed the battlefield. None had made it to the center, although many had gained several levels. Clarence took off at a run, eager to earn his team some additional points. He vaulted the first wall and was closing on the second when he turned to face a D‘han. She carried not one, but two swords. She charged. Before Clarence could react, he found himself back in the containment unit. Clarence winced as he pulled a sliver from his palm. Maybe it wasn‘t a big enough injury for the Jarn to heal. He hoped so. Fighting five rounds with no healing was going to be exceptionally difficult. He had been lucky the first round. Wilson charged forward, snatching a scimitar as he reached the first wall. He knew the Ungolans were housed two units to the left of Team Earth. His mission was to dispatch the big creature first. As he cleared the first wall, he could see the big creature closing in on him. Wilson rushed toward the 137 creature, sword held high. Just as they were about to collide, Wilson faked a high strike, choosing to tuck into a roll. Coming up behind the slow moving beast, Wilson sliced into its right leg, quickly leaping left to severe the Ungolan‘s left hand which held a large club. The vicious chop severed the hand cleanly, dropping the club to the ground. Retreating back, Wilson waited for the creature to advance. It moved slowly, limping on its damaged leg as blood gushed from its arm. Wilson turned briefly to check behind him. He didn‘t want any unexpected company. The Ungolan showed no emotion as it trod forward, its dark eyes focused on Wilson. Wilson rushed in, sword again held high but this time there was no fake. He struck the creature with a solid blow to the neck, burying his sword deep into the flesh. The Ungolan swung a blow that would have crushed Wilson‘s head, had he not ducked. Retreating, Wilson went in search of a weapon, happy to leave the beast to die. He cleared the second wall and was well on his way to the third wall when he encountered a large broadsword. He clasped both hands around its massive hilt and was turning toward the third wall when an Exile leaped over the wall, landing in front of him. Wilson swung the massive sword, managing only to graze the hairy beast. Wilson spun, throwing the sword upward to deflect a club strike from the Exile. The force of the blow was explosive, driving Wilson back, leaving his arms vibrating with pain. Wilson moved backward, sword extended, managing to deflect a second blow from the powerful Exile. The third strike tore the sword from Wilson‘s hands leaving him defenceless. Wilson feigned going left and took off right, leaving the Exile in his dust, or so he thought. What the Exile lacked in foot speed, it well made up for in the ability to fight. The only thing that saved Wilson‘s life was a well timed leap over the second 138 wall. The club which the Exile had hurled toward Wilson hit the wall with shattering force, landing between his outstretched legs, and mere inches from his crotch. The spinning force of the club knocked Wilson from the wall, who was gathering himself up as the Exile approached. Wilson picked up the club which was remarkably light. Less than a second later, Wilson was in the containment unit.

Brock moved right, eager to avoid contact with the Ungolan. A spiked war club became Brock‘s first weapon. It was light and appeared sturdy; the spikes deadly. Brock skirted the outer perimeter until he realized he was the only one, except for an Ig who was not moving inward. Brock cringed as he ended the life of the Ig, a small childlike creature who appeared to have no ability to fight whatsoever. Sprinting forward, Brock was inside the fourth circle before he encountered a second creature. A Woolmott, a fur covered humanoid with large tusks protruding from its thick jaw, it raised a short sword, eager to engage this human. The Woolmott had held a sword before. That much was evident as the creature swung the blade in a pattern of fluid arcs, flaunting his skills. Undaunted, Brock set himself in a defensive posture, hoping his speed would prevail. The creature advanced, choosing a slicing attack directed at Brock‘s neck. Brock drove the club upward to meet the blade of the sword, twisting the club on impact to ensnare the blade in the spikes of the club. With a recoil of the club, Brock managed to disarm the Woolmott. Brock went low, pulling the club into a low swinging arc that came up under the creature, tearing into the Woolmott‘s midsection. Brock rolled away, tearing the club free as he went, furthering damage to the creature. As the Woolmott stumbled to retrieve his sword, Brock buried the club in the creature‘s head. 139 Certain it was over; Brock grabbed the creature‘s sword and moved forward. As Brock cleared the wall, he managed to sneak up on an unsuspecting Selenese as it watched a bull-faced Burloc engage a multi-limbed Kratta. The soft-fleshed Selenese was vulnerable to the fluids of a human but Brock did not wish to chance a close range battle. He had watched as the powerful hands of a Selenese had crushed the skull of a human competitor. Not wanting to give his position away, Brock planted his feet firmly, rocking back slightly to gain momentum as he hurled the club forward. The entire head of the club penetrated the soft flesh of the Seleneses‘ back. The creature squealed in agony as it dropped to its knees. Brock was about to retrieve his club and finish the Selenese when he found himself back in the containment unit. Dagur was next. He took off at a run, grabbing a scimitar near the first wall, and a dagger just after the second wall. He had been watching closely. No one had come close to the center of the ring. He intended to be the first. An Ungolan had been following him but fell behind and gave up the chase. An exceptionally tall Exile had been watching Dagur‘s progress as he moved inward. The Exile, who had started at Dagur‘s nine o‘clock was on an intercept course. Dagur was about to vault the fourth wall when he caught a glimpse of the fur-covered Exile moving in on him. Dagur changed direction, heading away from the Exile, while skirting the wall. When he felt he had gained a safe distance, he threw himself over the wall, not aware that a Crawdiggion was holed up against the wall. The creature, a cave dweller from Nevex Prime resembled a hairless Orangatang. Its wrinkled skin was a dirty grey. Long arms ended in hands with only three fingers. The creature‘s large, saucer shaped eyes left it nearly blind in the sunlight of the Proving Grounds. Had 140 Dagur not fallen into the creature‘s lap, he may have escaped unharmed. The Crawdiggion reacted by wrappings its long arms around Dagur, pulling him tightly against its chest. Dagur was pinned, unable to free his sword arm. One of Dagur‘s ribs cracked as the creature exerted all his strength, literally squeezing the life from Dagur‘s lungs. Dagur managed to pivot the dagger in his hand, forcing the point of the blade into the creature‘s side. This only angered the Crawdiggion who began to thrash wildly, squeezing Dagur with one final tug that crushed his chest, destroying his heart and lungs simultaneously. The Team Earth members were speechless. Several began to cry. Dagur was just a boy. The look on his face as he was crushed to death would haunt thousands of people back on Earth for years to come. Three had entered the battlefield and three had returned. Team Earth had been lulled into a false sense of superiority. Dagur‘s death brought everyone crashing back to reality. As the round concluded, Dagur‘s body disappeared, as did all the casualties of the Proving Grounds. Anton Laurent stepped onto the field next. He was followed by Kedar Heddad, Levi Cohen and Krystof Jovanovic. Varun Singh and Shen Wu followed. All managed to return to the compound alive. Shen had received a slashing, stab wound to the lower thigh and Levi had taken a Woolmott‘s tusk to the face, puncturing his cheek. Both men were receiving medical attention as Dag Halvorson fought for his life. Fortunately for Team Earth, Chloe Taylor had been a nurse back in South Africa. At the back of each compound, the Jarn had placed a table with rudimentary medical supplies. Chloe, with the help of Ashley and Tamihana, had managed to stop the bleeding on both wounds. Shen had required eighteen stitches to close the gash in his thigh. The wound had come near the end of his battle, 141 allowing Chloe to begin working on him almost immediately. His blood loss had been minimal but the wound would greatly limit Shen‘s mobility in the next round. Chloe bound the wound firmly with gauze, hoping it would hold. Levi had lost two teeth and was left with a gaping hole in his cheek that was near impossible to stitch. Chloe chose to clean it thoroughly, covering it with a non-stick pad and taping it closed. Dag managed to reach the eighth circle before facing off with a Slith, a perfect blend of humanoid and reptile. The creature, from the waist down appeared human. It stood upright on two legs, although a snake-like tail trailed several feet behind the beast. From the waist up, the Slith was all snake. The creature wore no clothing above the waist, revealing serpentine skin covering of a King Cobra. The creature had no arms. Its upper body undulated constantly as it moved forward, the head weaving to and fro in perpetual motion. The body ended in a large protruding snout with dark, lidless eyes to either side, ever watchful. A large forked tongue flicked outward continually, as if it was testing the air. The jaws of the Slith were able to open wide, to swallow their prey, as had happened to one of the humans two days earlier. The Slith were deceptively quick and able to spit acidic venom that both paralyzed and burned its victims. Dag retreated slowly, armed with a ten foot long pike. The pike was heavy, requiring two hands but it could be thrown if need be and it was perfect for keeping creatures such as the Slith at bay. If his opponent breeched his defence, the pike could be manoeuvred to be used as a staff. The Slith advanced, snapping out at the end of the pike, trying to tear it from Dag‘s hands. Dag soon realized he was being backed toward a cluster of six creatures engaged in a 142 bloody battle. Planting his back foot, he raised the pike as a spear and launched it toward the Slith, turning to sprint toward the ninth wall as the projectile reached its target. The tip of the spear was prevented from penetrating the skin of the Slith by a well time strike from the creature‘s head, driving the spear downward. Green blood oozed from a small gash to the creature‘s midsection. The Slith hissed and leaped toward Dag who was nearing the ninth wall. Turning to see where his opponent was, Dag tripped on a rock, twisting his ankle. He managed to maintain his forward progress but the Slith was closing fast. Dag placed one hand on the four foot wall and was about to propel himself over when he was enveloped by darkness. The Slith had leaped onto the wall, and engulfed Dag‘s upper body into its extended jaws. Surrounded by wet darkness, Dag tried to punch his way out. His skin began to burn from the toxins and his body was turning numb. He could do nothing but watch as the creature reared up his head and continued to swallow him whole. Dag prayed for a quick death.

Jung Hwa was raised in the southern tip of South Korea, a place originally known as Goguryeo when Korea was divided into three kingdoms. Jung‘s grandfather had taught him the forgotten art of Subak, an ancient form of martial arts. Jung managed to find not one, but two double edge daggers known as athames. Although traditionally used in Wicca rituals, the daggers were sharp and would serve his purpose. Unlike many of the others, Jung chose to bring the fight to his opponents, selecting the outer ring as his battle area. It was less congested with far less risk of anyone or anything sneaking up behind him. Jung was fast, well-muscled and a killing machine. In his first round of battle, he managed to dispatch five opponents. Wilson watched in wonder, curious 143 why Jung had remained unnoticed in the group battles from two days earlier.

Abebe Menelik of Ethiopita managed to survive the battlefield in a much different fashion than Jung. He did what Ethiopians do best. He ran, and ran. He was six feet tall and weighed no more than one hundred and fifty pounds, all of it muscle. An Exile and a D‘Han attempted to trap him but his speed prevented their success. Wilson was happy to see him return safely but questioned the effectiveness of his strategy in the rounds to come.

Ashley entered the battlefield as Abebe returned. She was impressed with how calm she was, almost as though she was simply taking care of business. She located a small hunting knife, wedging it into her waist belt. She found a spear just north of the knife, securing it quickly before moving forward. Her strategy was similar to Abebe‘s but she intended to earn more points doing it. Years of running had honed her legs into a well muscled support system that carried her light frame with ease. Her eyes scanned left to right and she moved, cautious not to be blindsided. She cleared the first three walls with ease, evading a Deagol whose stature kept him from becoming a threat. As she reached the fourth wall, an inner voice whispered a warning and she gave pause, which saved her from a fate similar to Dagur. A Crawdiggion was sitting against the wall, waiting for a potential victim. Ashley turned west and was about to sprint to a safer place to gain another level when she felt something prickly brush her arm. Her right arm went immediately numb. The spear fell from her hand. She turned to face a creature known to the humans as a Violator. No one could pronounce their actual 144 name. They were a chameleon type of creature that could easily blend in to its surrounding. They had been annihilated in the first competition because they could not hide from their opponents. Their main weapon was a paralyzing neurotoxin that incapacitated their opponent, allowing the Violators to feed. Ashley pulled the knife free with her good hand and aimed for the creature‘s head. It dodged to the right but Ashley managed to stab it in the shoulder. The creature howled but she could not decipher if it was pain or pleasure. Either way, she calculated she had less than a minute before total paralysis set in. It was time for a radical plan. Her chest was beginning to tighten as she threw her body onto the wall, rolling to the other side. The Crawdiggion sat patiently unaware of her activity, or so it seemed. She was banking on him noticing. Running clumsily toward the Crawdiggion, Ashley could hear the Violator‘s noisy pursuit. It was gaining on her. Less than four feet from the Crawdiggion, Ashley veered left, spinning back with her arm outstretched, catching the Violator on the shoulder, knocking it into the Crawdiggion who was quick to swoop it into its powerful arms. Ashley staggered forward, anxious to put distance between herself and the Crawdiggion. Her vision began to blur and each step required further effort. Sweat poured freely from her pores and her breathing became ragged as she collapsed into darkness. The horn signalling the next round blasted. Wilson and the others were relieved to see Ashley‘s body return to the compound. She was unconscious but her vitals appeared strong. She had a chance. Tamihana‘s first experience on the open battlefield was the stuff of nightmares, and perhaps legends. She was easily bowled to the ground by a knife-wielding D‘han who had the 145 misfortune of diving onto her to finish her. Tamihana had, by sure luck, managed to raise the point of her dagger upward as the D‘han‘s body came down with crushing force. The tip of the dagger punctured the human equivalent to a heart which in the D‘han is located just above the hip. The D‘han died instantly. Try as she might, Tamihana tried to crawl out from under the weight of the particularly large D‘han but to no avail. A Slith, leaving a Woolmott to succumb to his venom, spotted Tamihana struggling and advanced in her direction, unaware of the Violator who lay in wait, several feet from Tamihana. The creature had been moving cautiously toward Tamihana, anxious for its first kill when it sensed the vibration in the ground that indicated movement from behind him. The Slith was near Tamihana – a grin on its reptilitan face – when the Violator sprung up to greet him, striking the Slith‘s right leg. The Violator shrunk away from the Slith, waiting for the toxin to do its work. The Slith moved forward, no visible sign of distress from the toxin. The Violator turned to flee when the Slith swallowed its head. Lifting the Violator from its feet, the Slith stood dangling his prey from its powerful jaws. Suddenly the Slith fell to its knee, rolling onto its side, yet maintaining its vice-like grip on the Violator. The Violator began to trash about madly, kicking and flailing its arms. The Slith became disoriented, releasing the Violator from his grasp. The creature ran from the Slith, getting no more than a few feet before it fell, a victim to a toxin equal to his own. Both creatures were in the final throes of death when Tamihana found herself back in the safety of the compound. She went immediately to Ashley who was conscious but weak. Of the thirteen women who fought in the first round of the open battlefield, Tamihana, Ashley, Paja Johanssen, Rosa Desilva, Akila Abaza, Beatrix Faria, Chloe Taylor managed to 146 survive. Only Akila Abaza had demonstrated any degree of fighting skills. She had managed to dispatch an Ig and a D‘han without sustaining a single wound. Chloe had been saved from certain death by a Woolmott seeking revenge on the Ungolan who was about to slice her in half. An Ungolan had torn a Woolmott to pieces in the round prior, prompting the attack. Time had run out before the Woolmott could turn its attention back to Chole. In the end, it was the brightly coloured dress worn by Charlotte that had led to her demise. Determined to remain hidden and out of harm‘s way, Charlotte had made her way to the center of the first wall. There, she hunkered down, pulling herself tightly to the wall. Had it not been for the hem of her dress flapping every so slightly from a small gust of wind, she may have succeeded. An Ungolan, having just finished a lengthy battle with a D‘han, was moving inward toward the second wall when he caught a glimpse of the material. Still, he pondered moving forward, anxious to gain more points. In the end, his curiosity got the better of him and he moved to investigate. He picked Charlotte from the ground by the scruff of her neck as she wailed for mercy. The Ungolan knew nothing of mercy. Increasing his grip, he thrust her face first into the wall, obliterating her skull, killing her instantly. Emma Smit‘s death was the most difficult to watch. After managing to dispatch a Ig, Emma had chosen to move slowly inward, cautious to avoid a second battle. Her weapon of choice was a short sword with a jewel-encrusted hilt. It was a beautiful sword with a double edged blade that was razor-sharp. As she reached the third wall, a fast-moving Imperial approached from the east. Turning, she raised the sword, bringing her hands to her chest. She would let the creature make the first move. The Imperial surprised her by dropping its weapon, a slender 147 long sword. Prostrating itself before her, the Imperial looked up with its puppy dog eyes, begging for mercy. Emma, unsure of her next move, stepped slowly forward, hands still clutching tightly to the hilt of the sword. The creature reached out and clutched Emma‘s foot, gaining control of her mind in a heartbeat. Emma appeared peaceful as she slid the blade slowly into her midsection over and over again. Most of Team Earth was shouting for her to snap out of the trance, induced by the Imperial but it was to no avail. Her mind belonged to the Imperial. Several minutes later her soul belonged to God. Anton Popov stood near the door as Chloe returned to the compound. With a sneer directed toward Wilson, Anton left the compound, running for an axe and a short sword that lay nearby. Looking left, he was happy to see the Ungolan moving away. His happiness was short lived for the Ungolan was marching toward his prey, the D‘han. Anton broke into a wild run. The Ungolan would not steal his trophy. The Ungolan was focused on the D‘han. It‘s limited intelligence did not sense Anton rushing up behind it. It‘s first realization of Anton was the feeling of pain as Anton buried his axe in the Ungolan‘s back. Turning to face Anton, the Ungolan was suprised to see the human laying on the ground. Anton smiled as he drove his sword into the creature‘s genitals, rolling quickly clear of the creature‘s feet. The Ungolan attempted to make chase but dropped to its knees, driving the short sword further into its genitals. Rolling to its belly, the massive beast attempted to pull the sword from its groin. Anton took advantage, prying the axe from the Ungolan‘s back, winding up and thrusting the axe down into the creature‘s neck, silencing it forever. The D‘han remained where she had been, watching the battle. She held a pair of curved daggers, somewhat similar to a scimitar, yet much shorter. Axe in hand, Anton paused to 148 retrieve his sword, wishing afterward he hadn‘t. A gross, yellow fluid covered the blade producing a noxious smell similar to dirty socks covered in eggs that were left in the sun for a week. Anton moved forward slowly, careful not to underestimate this creature. He admired her nearly as much as he hated her. The D‘han charged forward, only to break off her attack at the last second. She was testing him. Swinging the axe in an arc, Anton swung it full circle and part away around again, gaining momentum before releasing the axe. His timing was poor. The axe struck the D‘han flush in the chest but it was the top of the axe that struck flesh, not the blade. The force of the impact drove the D‘han back. It was clear he had injured her. Sword in hand, he charged. She spun, attempting to snare his blade between her curved blades with hope of tearing the sword from his arms. Anton had been too quick for her, retracting the tip of his blade out of her reach. Driving the blade forward, he managed to slice into her lower back. Not wanting to kill her yet, he pulled his sword back, turning the blade flat, smacking her flush on the side of her head, knocking her unconscious. She crumpled to the ground. His member had never been so rock-hard. Disarming her, he used one of the curved blades she had held to undress her. Sliding the blade beneath the material of her tunic, he sliced his way up the material until he reached the back of her neck. Tugging her clothing away, he was impressed to see she wore no undergarments. Her body was firm, the skin, creamy and flawless. Reaching down, he pulled her up by the waist, folding her body onto her knees, leaving her buttocks exposed and slightly elevated. He intended to have her as he choked the life out of her. As he removed his pants, he bent to have her, only to realize he was back in the compound.

149 ―Noooooo!,‖ he howled in anguish. ―Let me finish,‖ he begged. ―I want to finish. I need to finish.‖ Wilson drove his fist into Anton‘s temple, knocking him unconscious. Everyone was disgusted with Anton‘s behaviour. Chloe went as far as to kick him the ribs. Ashley wanted to join in but thought better of it, choosing to return to the front to watch Clarence as round two for the humans began. Clarence took one step out from the compound as he vanished. Clarence was shocked to find himself at the far side of the coliseum. He took a moment to familiarize himself with the area. He had just become accustomed to the area surrounding the compound. This latest development required a rethinking of his strategy. He moved slowly forward scouting left and right. To his right was a creature known as a Shade. They were a mysterious creature, covered in a shadow that continued to undulate as they moved. A Shade‘s face would never be seen, not until the day they passed on. At death, the shadow followed the Shade into the afterlife. Clarence knew little about their fighting style. During the first event, they would move forward, enveloping their opponents in their shadows. Some began to scream hysterically, some were unaffected. Clarence had no desire to see what lay beneath the shadow. The Shade turned toward Clarence; its shadow seemed to shrug before moving away. To the left was a Flix, a slender, feather-covered creature that was capable of short flight. Attached from shoulder to elbow were two wings that were enabled when the creature extended its arms to their full reach, allowing the creature shorts burst of flight from a running liftoff. The creature could glide for a much longer duration if the point of liftoff was from a tree, a hill or a cliff. The Flix were not fighters despite a powerful beak and two sets of effective talons. The Flix had no desire to 150 be here and avoided combat whenever possible. They had spent most of their time during this event running. Clarence was surprised to come across an unstrung bow and a quiver of arrows. He grabbed the bow, bending it with the use of his legs to string it. He was excited to have a bow. Years in a carnival had given him hours and hours of time with a bow. As happy as he was, Clarence was nervous that other creatures would have a similar weapon in their hands. Notching an arrow, Clarence slipped the quiver of arrows over his shoulder and moved forward. Emerging from the east end of the first wall was a Woolmott. The mangled corpse of an Ig was in his right hand. As he spotted Clarence, he discarded the carcass and began to run toward his next victim. Clarence dropped to a knee to steady himself, drew back the bowstring, holding it gently between his forefinger and thumb. Careful not to release it clumsily, Clarence fired the arrow, striking the Woolmott in the chest. If he had wounded it, he could not tell. Notching a second arrow, Clarence noticed his hands were shaking. He could differentiate between nervous and anxious at this point. Drawing the string, he released a second arrow, this one into the creature‘s groin. The Woolmott dropped to ground, catching his right tusk, throwing him into an awkward roll. The Woolmott sat there, cursing Clarence, his eyes ablaze with hate. Clarence notched a third arrow, launching it into the creature‘s throat. With five arrows left, Clarence moved to the first wall. Instead of clearing it, he stood upon it. More arrows lay ahead on the ground. To his left, there was a crossbow. Bolts for it would be nearby. Near the second wall, the Shade was engaged in hand to hand combat with a Kratta. The Kratta was flailing madly as the Shade attempted to engulf his opponent in his shadows.

151 Clarence took aim, releasing an arrow wide left of the Kratta‘s head. Notching a second arrow, Clarence took a deep breath to steady himself, drew the string and fired, catching the Kratta in the side of the head, killing it instantly. The Shade withdrew, heading toward the east end of the second wall. Clarence fired just ahead of the Shade catching it flush in the midsection as it was moving forward. The Shade stumbled ahead several steps before falling. The shade around its body began to grow dim. As Clarence reached the Shade it was dead. The shadow surrounding it dissipated leaving the face and body of a young boy. ―Oh my god,‖ whispered Clarence. ―I am so sorry.‖ He wanted to hold the boy, to comfort him. He looked so young and innocent. As Clarence wiped tears from his eyes, the boy jolted upward, attacking Clarence without warning, tearing at the flesh of his face with sharp fingernails. Clarence was stunned, doing everything he could to protect himself. Out of desperation and confusion, Clarence slapped the boy firmly on the cheek, driving him back. The boy was like a creature possessed, relentless in his attack. Clarence regained his composure, gained his footing, and lashed out at the boy with his shoe. The boy was quick to his feet but Clarence was quicker than the boy, swinging it as a club, connecting with the boy‘s nose. The boy went down and showed no sign of getting back up. Notching a final arrow, Clarence fired it into the boy‘s chest. The boy‘s breathing began to slow. ―Na da,‖ it said. The boy smiled, closed his eyes and was gone. ―I‘ll be damned,‖ said Clarence. Just when he thought things couldn‘t get any weirder.

152 ―Are you kids watching your daddy?‖ he screamed at the sky. Smiling he struck out for the center. He wanted to be the first to make it the middle. Wilson had been watching Clarence closely in the monitor. There was no other way to see him. The matches were taking longer. Creatures were beginning to form strategies. Less risk was being taken. He warned the others to study their opponents closely. Learn from their mistakes. They were all surprised to see missile weapons on the battlefield. Onoch‘s voice filled the battlefield. ―The Igs have been eliminated from the Proving Grounds. Dignitaries from Koltov Minor are to leave immediately. Global genocide will occur at the conclusion of this trial. Prepare yourselves.‖ Wilson couldn‘t help but think how unfair it had been for the Igs. They were unsuited for this harsh environment. Clarence entered the back of the compound, shouting for Wilson to go. Wilson stepped onto the ground and was transported to the exact same spot as Clarence had been. Unfortunately there was no bow nearby. A javelin was lying not far from where the bow had been and Wilson latched onto it. It was light and well balanced, making it a good missile weapon as well as a good melee weapon. Wilson chose the Flix to his left. Running at a forty-five degree angle, Wilson hoped to intercept it near the wall. Wilson cocked back his arm, taking three bounding steps to lock on to the Flix as it reached the wall. Wilson let the javelin fly as the bird leaped into the air, thrusting its arms wide. The javelin sailed passed the Flix as it cleared the wall. Wilson continued his pursuit, using his hand to pivot as he threw himself over the wall, looking for any other creatures as he landed. With no one in sight, Wilson moved quickly to the crossbow. Unfortunately, it lacked a pull arm or a crank to set the bow

153 string in place. Putting the crossbow on the ground, it took every bit of his strength to pull the thick bowstring into place. Wilson opened the satchel that lay next to where the crossbow had been. The satchel contained a dozen metal crossbow bolts. Noticing dampness at the end of the satchel, Wilson brought it to his nose, wincing as he snorted a pungent odour. He could not be certain but he believed the tips of the bolts to be covered in poison. Sliding two bolts beneath his belt, Wilson slung the satchel over his shoulder, confident the poison would not penetrate his clothing. Sprinting forward, Wilson covered six walls in less than a minute. As he mounted the seventh wall, he stood atop of it briefly to survey his surroundings. Up ahead, between the ninth and final wall, dozens of creatures were engaged in a disorganized shoot out. Pulling a bolt from beneath his belt, Wilson placed it carefully into the bolt groove, notching the end of the bolt to the string. He was about to fire on the Flix when he noticed a shadow moving slowly along the wall near the Flix. Adjusting his aim, he fired to the left of the Flix, striking the Violator in the abdomen. The creature‘s position was revealed, startling the Flix who leaped out of the Violator‘s range. As Wilson started to reload his crossbow, the Violator began to spasm, writhing in agony and frothing at the mouth. ―Powerful poison,‖ thought Wilson as he pulled the weapon up to eye level, scanning for his next target. The Flix had cleared the eighth wall and was now out of range. Wilson remained where he was, happy to pick off targets at will and avoid becoming a target himself. He managed to kill an Exile, a Slith and a D‘han before time ran out. He was uncertain as to the damage inflicted by his final bolt, which grazed the shoulder of an Ungolan. As time expired, the Ungolan was down on one knee, in obvious pain. 154 Brock managed to survive the second round, but his battle was not without consequence. Locked in a melee with a Flix for the duration of the round, Brock finally killed the beast but not before the creature tore a chunk from the backside of his shoulder. Unable to stitch the wound, they bandaged him as heavily as they could, hopeful he could survive the next round. The poison that had served Wilson so well during his battle; ended up costing Anton Laurent his life. Anton had been about to retrieve his spear from the twitching body of a Flix when a poison-covered arrow struck him in the thigh. A Inlander from Outer Reach stood grinning as Anton fell. Inlanders were grey in colour, muscular, with broad shoulder. Their race was a hairless breed with black, beady eyes and slender, protruding jaws. The rat-faced Inlander tossed his bow aside and dropped to all fours, roaring like a lion before charging forward. Less than five feet from Anton, it pounced; landing gracefully onto Anton‘s back, driving him to the ground. Opening its large jaw, the Inlander tore into Anton‘s throat, tearing it open. Careful not to ingest any poison, the Inlander leaped away, returning to his feet. Kedar Heddad of Saudi Arabia, Krystof Jovanovic of Serbia, Varun Singh of India had all employed a similar strategy. As cowardly as it was, it saved their lives. All three waited until the creatures in their area moved forward before moving themselves, happy to settle in next to the first wall. Only Krystof had come close to death. A Flix, fleeing the charge of a Wollmott, leaped a wall, landing near Krystof. The Woolmott slammed into the wall, narrowly missing its prey. Krystof felt the thunderous force of the impact. The Flix turned and began to advance on Krystof who was without a weapon. The Flix snapped at him, snagging a piece of his cheek flesh as it pressed 155 the attack. Krystof, wild with fear, threw a series of punches and slaps as he attempted to defend himself. The Flix, undaunted, surged forward, tearing a sizeable piece of flesh from Krystof‘s shoulder. The Flix sensing victory, lunged, striking at Krystof‘s exposed forehead. Krystof soiled himself and began to scream before realizing he had returned to the compound. He had managed to avoid death but at the exact moment death would have been a comfort. Shen Wu surprised everyone with his speed and proficiency with a bow. He managed to kill a Flix, a Shade, a Woolmott, an Ungolan and a Kratta. Levi Cohen, weakened by his first battle and nursing a gash to his face, succumbed to multiple injuries inflicted by a Kratta, armed with four daggers. At the onset of their battle, Levi had wounded the Kratta with a javelin. The Kratta feigned death, using the ploy to draw Levi in, and as Levi reached to retrieve his javelin, the creature sprung up, slicing into him repeatedly as it drove Levi into the second wall. Levi slid down the wall, leaving a trail of his own blood as the creature continued to hack away at him, long after he was dead. Jung Hwa was not as impressive as he had been in the previous round but he managed to kill an Ungolan and an Exile while remaining free of injury. Abebe Menelik of Ethiopia was unable to enjoy the strategy he utilized in the first round. Try as he might, he could not shake the Flix that pursued him. Left with no choice, but to fight, Abebe grabbed a tomahawk as he ran, stopping several feet later to turn and hurl it at his pursuer. The Flix extended its arms, taking momentary flight. The lift generated was not nearly fast enough to avoid the tomahawk as the blade tore deep into the creature‘s thigh. The Flix returned to the ground, its left leg 156 buckling under the strain of the injury, sending it sprawling onto its belly. Abebe was quick to find a spear which he used to skewer the Flix to the ground before it could regain its footing. Abebe was content to finish the round standing next to the dead Flix. As Abebe waited anxiously for his round to end, Wilson took Ashley and Tamihana aside. Taking a hand from each in his hand, he drew them closer. He instructed them briefly in the use of bows and spears as he squeezed their hands. A warmth spread from his hand to theirs, up their arm to settle in their chest. ―Do not let fear control you,‖ he began. ―Many of the targets are large and slow. Go for them if you can. Avoid the Flix, if you can. It will come for you if it senses your fear. The Flix detest fighting but they must also realize the outcome if they continue to run. Stay in the compound an extra few seconds when the round begins. With any luck, the Flix will be on the move when you arrive at the other side of the battlefield.‖ With a final pump of their hands, Wilson left them to ponder their strategies. Wilson stopped to speak with Chloe. She had just finished working on Krystof. He had required a total of twelve stitches. Krystof remained unresponsive, almost catatonic. ―Chloe, take my hands in your hands,‖ he said offering his hands to her. ―What‘s up?‖ she asked, taking his hands in hers, feeling the warmth almost immediately. ―You can‘t keep up this pace without a little help,‖ said Wilson offering a weak smile. Across the battlefield, in the upper level, Onoch sensed something was amiss. He attempted to focus on the vibratory

157 force that was causing disharmony but as fast as it had come, it left. Ashley and Tamihana managed to survive, having mimicked Abebe‘s strategy of avoidance, despite loud shrieks and grunts of disapproval from the cages in the immediate area. Rosa De Silva of Sri Lanka was the first female casualty of the second round. Rosa had been terrified to re-enter the battlefield but she was summoned to the starting point nonetheless. As Rosa appeared on the battlefield, a Flix and a Shade advanced on her. The Flix tore her to pieces as she let out scream after bloodcurdling scream. ―They have a good idea of our order now,‖ shouted Wilson toward the remaining women. ―You must fight. Avoidance is no longer an option.‖ The words were no sooner out of his mouth, and Ivy Hsu of Singapore was gone. The remainder of the women fought as instructed. Some, such as Ivy Hsu of Singapore did well, killing several beasts without sustaining any significant injuries. Others fought well, failing to make a kill but they did manage to cheat death. Roberta Jenkins of South Africa, fought brilliantly, slaying a Shade using two double bladed, D‘han flavels, three sided weapons with a handle at the base connected to two blades forming a triangle. Unlike Clarence, Roberta managed to avoid the trap that had befallen him in his battle with the Shade. She slashed the throat of the childlike creature before it had a chance to attack her. As Roberta turned to leave, she found herself face to face with a Blugar. She knew what the Blugar was capable of. The large, one eyed creature had thick arms that ended in fingerless, hammer-like hands. The beast struck her in the side of her face. She was fortunate to be quicker than the Blugar, dodging the brunt of the blow. The force of the strike still 158 managed to knock her off-balance. Rolling away from the Blugar, Roberta dove into a tuck and roll to gain distance from her slow moving opponent. Choosing not to flee, Roberta turned back, blade extended in her right hand, swiping a deep gash into the Blugar‘s chest. Howling with rage, the creature caught Robert with a short jab to the shoulder, snapping her collarbone. Ignoring the pain, refusing to yield, she attacked with her left hand, slashing into the Blugar‘s extended right arm, nearly severing the hand from the thick wrist. The creature smashed the flavel from her right hand, crushing three of her fingers in the process. The Blugar swung its right hand, despite the severity of the injury. It made contact with the side of Roberta‘s head, much of the force lost as the hand snapped clean away from the wrist. Roberta fell to the ground, the jolt of the impact sending a searing pain through her damaged shoulder. With blood gushing onto her from the Blugar‘s open wound, she threw herself forward, blade thrusting upward into her enemy‘s groin. She was praying for a recoil reaction but the creature held its ground, driving its good fist downward onto the top of her skull, ending her life. Wilson was certain Anton would pursue the D‘han but was surprised when he armed himself and went on a killing spree, eliminating six opponents while achieving the inner most circle. The smug look on his face upon his return said it all. More of the same presented itself over the next two rounds. Additional weapons of both melee and missile varieties littered the battlefield. Shields of all shapes and sizes appeared in the fourth round. The Dregs of Unclav Minor, the Moors of Oceanic, and the Lechrocks of the Greenbelt Region were completely eliminated from the competition, all destined to vanish as a race.

159 Earth was fortunate in the third round; they managed only one fatality, that being Krystof. His injuries from the previous round had left him unable to fight. His self-confidence had been shattered. He made a valiant effort but a Shade sucked the life from his body as its shadows tore into his mind. He was completely insane before he drew his last breath. The fourth round was a repeat of the third round. Again, there was only one fatality, and for the second round in a row, it was one of the men who perished. Varun Singh of India, a peaceful man of Hindu faith had fought the idea of violence he entire life. With three kills to his credit, he was guilt-ridden to the point of breaking down. He refused to leave the entry point, choosing to kneel and pray. He prayed for forgiveness and he prayed for his family. He continued to pray as an oversized Flix, pecked away at him. Blood poured freely down his face as chunks of his forehead and scalp were torn away. Still, he continued to pray.

Everything changed in the fifth round. The entire battlefield was surrounded in a dome, blocking out all light. For the spectators, Jarn technology provided an enhanced, night vision view of the game. The Crawdiggions of Nevus Prime were cave dwellers. The absence of light gave them a distinct advantage; an advantage they shared with the Shades. All other creatures were nearly blind, forced to rely on their senses of hearing and smell. To make matters worse, their starting point had changed. Adding to Team Earth‘s problem was the energy factor. Everyone was close to exhaustion, making fighting difficult enough, but without water, a heat stroke seemed likely. Unbeknownst to the humans, to the west of their new starting point were the broad-nose Guluffs, creatures similar in stature to the Ungolans with exceptionally large heads that 160 resembled that of a furry cow. To the east were the Dronics, a race that was very similar to the humans with two distinct differences; the two antennae atop their heads and their strong desire to eat what they killed. The antennae acted as a radar, alerting the Dronics of any possible threats. The men managed to survive the fifth round unscathed. The women were not so fortunate. Ivy Hsu of Singapore and Anh Nguyen of Vietnam both fell victim to a Dronic‘ spear. It was sheer luck that saved Chloe Taylor from the same fate. She had bent to tie a loosened shoe lace when the spear had sailed over her head. Panicked to the point of madness, Chloe made for the wall, slamming into it with gut-wrenching force. Scaling the wall, she remained on it, walking west until she found herself back in the compound. The light returned for the sixth and final round. New weapons were added, among them, hand grenades which Clarence found odd. The Proving Grounds had pretty much stuck to the medieval theme to this point. Clarence scanned his surroundings briefly. The Guluff was moving forward. The Dronic was about to, but it was attacked by a wiry little beast known as a Ratitti. The Ratitti leaped onto the Dronic‘s back, pummelling it with one hand while holding tight to an antennae with the other. The Ratitti was built like a spider monkey, only much taller, making it very agile and quite strong. The Dronic rolled to the ground in an attempt to dislodge the Ratitti but the little beast held tight. Clarence only needed five steps to discover the first batch of hand grenades. Pulling the pin, he tossed one at the two combatants. Neither saw the grenade which exploded two seconds later, killing both creatures instantly. With two grenades in hand, Clarence rushed forward.

161 It became clear to Clarence early that the other creatures were unfamiliar with the grenades. Clarence progressed easily toward the center, annihilating a dozen competitors en route to the third wall. From there, he maintained his position, able to reach the inner-most circle with a strong throw. From his position he killed another five creatures and was about to take out two more when he was thrown into the wall with bone crushing force. He slipped into darkness. A D‘han had sat back studying Clarence and his technique with the strange weapon. She followed his moves, managing to lob one in his general direction, enough to blast him from his feet. Thinking Clarence dead, she moved forward, eager to experiment with this new weapon. Clarence managed to survive the round but his injuries were critical. Chloe began to work on him immediately with Brock, Ashley and Tamihana assisting. Chloe instructions were clear: Stop the bleeding, keep him quiet and pray that he survived for the next hour. With any luck, the second trial would end and the Jarn would heal the survivors. Wilson was quick to take the offensive, eliminating five opponents in less than a minute. Gathering grenades as he moved, he veered left, eager to stay clear of the D‘han. Soon after, explosions rung out from the east of his location; a certainty that the D‘han had learned from her predecessor. Other explosions from different directions rang out across the battlefield. Other races were either aware of the workings of a grenade or had begun to figure it out on their own. Regardless, the knowledge of the grenades was spreading. Wilson was about to launch a grenade toward the fourth wall when a tiny notion crept into his mind, causing him to jump back. A Violator lashed out at him, narrowly missing his leg. Wilson swung the foot of his opposite leg, catching the Violator 162 in the face, driving it into the wall. Pulling the pin on the grenade, Wilson distanced himself from the creature before turning and firing the grenade back toward the wall. The grenade was still several feet away from the Violator when it exploded but the damage to the creature was immense. It lay twitching in the throes of death as Wilson skirted around it, heading west. As Wilson continued to run west, he realized he was nearing their compound which meant he was near the compound of the Ungolans. He retreated back to the outer wall and continued to move toward the Ungolan compound. By the sound of the explosions, the D‘han was much closer to the center, eliminating her as a threat. Many of the doors to the cages were closed. Wilson nodded as he passed the human compound. Anton was standing in the doorway, the annoying sneer still plastered on his face. ―I suggest we keep this door shut now,‖ said Wilson and he broke into a run. His destination was the Ungolan compound, an excessively large compound filled with a great number of the large beasts. The door was open and it was unguarded. As fast as his hands would allow, Wilson pulled firing pins, launching grenade after grenade into the Ungolan compound. He threw five inside the door, locating a sixth on the ground outside the compound. As the first grenades began to explode, he swooped up the sixth, pulled its pin and lobbed it toward the door. A fifth explosion ripped through the compound as the sixth grenade broke the plane of the doorway. The sixth grenade was slapped back out the door by a raging Ungolan, whose smouldering hide was seeping blood, as it reached forward, slamming the steel door shut just as the final grenade exploded harmlessly. Wilson had slain thirteen Ungolan and wounded eight others. It was a

163 move that would earn him praise from the other races, but he had earned the eternal hatred of the Ungolan people. Brock, like Wilson, threw caution to the wind, rushing headlong toward the first wall, stopping briefly to grab three grenades. The Dronic to his right had reached a pile of grenades and was in the process of picking them up when a grenade exploded in front of him, blowing the right half of his body away. An Inlander turned away, looking to throw a second grenade toward the Ookenland to its right. The Ookenland turned away from the grenade, throwing its large arms up to protect its face. The grenade exploded. The Ookenland grunted, resuming its journey. The Inlander turned away from the Ookenland, setting its sights on Brock, except Brock had moved to where the Dronic had entered the battlefield, lobbing a grenade of his own in the direction of the Inlander, who attempted to flee at the sight of the grenade. Failing to move quickly enough, the Inlander took the brunt of the explosion on his legs, tearing the right one from his body, mangling the left one beyond use. Satisfied the Inlander was as good as dead, Brock opted to continue right. He managed three more kills before time expired. Returning to the compound, he was relieved to see that Clarence had regained consciousness. Going to him, Brock took Clarence‘s hand in his, squeezing it. ―You did good out there, Clarence.‖ ―Got careless,‖ he replied. ―The D‘han are a sneaky bunch. Wilson and I both chose to avoid the D‘han because of it, so you probably saved our lives.‖ This brought a smile to Clarence‘s face. Tim was standing a short distance away, recording Clarence while Carla and Ned continued to record the battle. Unlike the human eye,

164 the recorders could zoom in at any distance to provide a crystal clear picture of the action. Clarence pulled Brock closer. ―I need you to do something for me, Brock.‖ ―Anything, man. Just name it.‖ ―Make sure my family is looked after if I don‘t make it.‖ Brock gave Clarence‘s hand a reassuring pump. ―You know I will, but it don‘t matter. You‘re going to make it. This isn‘t the time to pussy out on us.‖ Clarence laughed, causing himself a severe jolt of pain. Chloe shooed him away. He was replaced by Wilson who took Clarence‘s hand in his, but for a very different reason. Clarence could feel the warmth flow through his veins. He was suddenly drowsy. Closing his eyes, he allowed himself to drift off to sleep. Wilson released his hand, placing it gently on the bed. Onoch paused for a second time. A thought nagged at the back of his consciousness. ―I sense something is amiss,‖ he spoke to the ever watchful eye on his staff. ―Find it,‖ he commanded.

As the sixth round progressed, the proficiency with hand grenades improved dramatically. Abebe Menelik ended the round with a spear lodged deeply in his abdomen. Paja Johansen of Denmark was the only casualty of the sixth round, ending her own life when the hand grenade she intended to throw, fell to the ground at her feet. The round ended without Chloe or Anton participating. The round had ended. Fourteen of the twenty- seven humans remained. Fortunately for the humans, all wounded were healed or they would have certainly become a group of twelve or less. Clarence sauntered slowly forward to join the rest of the group. He was still pale but fully healed. 165 ―Wow, that was rough,‖ he began, ―But I‘ve got to tell you, as I began to fade, it was almost peaceful. I felt no pain. I didn‘t see a bright light though. That concerned me a bit.‖ That brought a chuckle from everyone. ―You didn‘t see a light because it is not yet your time,‖ added Shen Wu. Onoch‘s voice brought an end to their converstation. ―The Igs, The Dregs, The Moors, and the Lechrocks will face global genocide within the hour. These events will be televised to every planet represented here. It will serve as a reminder to all what fate may befall your people should you fail. The scores will be posted momentarily. The bottom ten scores will face a global punishment determined by the Witnesses. All teams finishing in the bottom fifty will no longer be protected or governed by the Jarn. Fridges will no longer be filled. Peace will no longer be maintained. All participants are free to go. The Trial of the Third Tower will test you in ways you cannot imagine. It will commence forty-hours from now.‖ Anton left immediately. Everyone else remained. ―I say we follow him and slit his throat,‖ said Clarence. ―We‘d be doing the world a favour.‖ ―I agree that we would be doing the world a favour,‖ said Tamihana, ―but murder is still murder, as I know all too well.‖ ―Agreed,‖ responded Clarence. ―How do you think we did, Wilson?‖ asked Brock. ―Well enough to avoid the bottom ten; of that I am certain, but I don‘t know if we cleared the bottom fifty.‖ As if on cue, the results began to pour in. The Exiles – fur-covered creatures with the frame of an NBA player – had overtaken the Ungolans for first place. The Ungolans were sitting in second position, followed by the D‘han, the Woolmotts, The Exiles, the 166 Imperials, Broadnose Gullufs, the Inlanders, Deagols, and Burlocs rounded out the top ten. The humans were relieved to see themselves sitting in twenty-fifth position overall. ―Our team was cut in half,‖ began Wilson. ―We must do what we can to minimize our losses in the upcoming trials if we are to stand any hope of surviving these Proving Grounds. Scoring points is one thing, but surviving must be our number one priority.‖ ―We did our best,‖ countered Brock. ―Don‘t misunderstand me, Brock. I am proud of our accomplishments. We moved up over one hundred and fifty places in the standings. That is remarkable, but some teams have six times our numbers. The Ungolans had 147 after the first trial. Their numbers have dwindled to sixty-five. The Exiles, who now sit in first place, have eighty-three left. The D‘han have ninety-one. They lost the least number in the second trial. If we reach zero, it will be our planet facing global genocide.‖ ―For an advanced race, they are more barbaric then we are,‖ said Ashley, referring to the Jarn. ―Carla, I have a favour,‖ announced Wilson. Carla moved forward, recorder rolling. ―Shut off the recorder please,‖ said Wilson. ―Can‘t do it, Wilson. You know the drill.‖ ―Just for a moment, Carla. It is important.‖ She clicked the recorder off. ―Thank you. We need you to follow Anton. The three of you can take turns. If you don‘t he will kill one or more persons. The Jarn want footage. Give it to them and save a life at the same time.‖ ―We need sleep, Wilson. We may not be fighting but this is taking a toll on us as well.‖

167 ―I know Carla and I will use my wish to rejuvenate the three of you if you do this.‖ ―Why not follow him yourself, Wilson?‖ asked Carla. ―There is something I must deal with and I cannot do both.‖ ―Is the group returning to the Security Council?‖ asked Carla. ―Yes, I believe we are obligated to return there before we go our separate ways.‖ Wilson turned to the rest of the group. ―Is everyone willing to do that before returning to your families?‖ Everyone was in agreement. ―I will give you an answer before you leave the Security Council; fair enough?‖ ―More than fair, thank you.‖ With a brief smile, Wilson vanished, followed closely by his comrades.

Chapter Eight The Return

Zhang Yesui appeared to have aged ten years in two days. He greeted the returning team members stiffly, 168 congratulating each on having survived a second round. A table of food stood in the corner of the room, offering a wide variety of delectable fruits and vegetables from a variety of ethnic origins. It appeared as though diplomacy had worked its way down to the catering department. Team members snacked and engaged in idle chit chat with members of the Security Council as they awaited the return of the delegates. President Abernathy had been the first, and only delegate to return. The president assured everyone that nothing was amiss; just a need to speak to their countrymen first. Nearly an hour passed and Clarence was reaching the end of his patience. He wanted to see his family. He wasn‘t even sure why they were here. Moments later, the last of the delegates arrived and Zhang called the meeting to order. Carla, Tim and Ned activated their recorders; Carla focused on the delegates, Tim the team members and Ned had his recorder pointed at Zhang. ―Ladies and gentlemen, we have a unique and awkward situation that we must work through before we can continue to deal with the Jarn, the wishes, and the future of mankind. Zalmay Khali is the president of this Security Council. Accusations have been levelled against him, accusation that we have failed to substantiate.‖ Wilson jumped to his feet. ―Mr.Yesui, there must be a mistake.‖ ―Unfortunately, the mistake is yours,‖ lied Zhang. He considered himself an honourable man and he hated himself for what he was about to do but he had been given no choice. The world needed structure. The world needed order. The masses were under the false pretence that the Security Council ran the United Nations which ran the world. It could not be further from the truth. Corporations ran the people who ran the government 169 who ran the world, and behind those corporations, buried deep beneath a pile of shell companies and offshore accounts were a small group of very powerful people. A spokesperson, representing this group had made it very clear to Zhang what he was to do next. Zhang prayed that this was one of those times where the end justified the means. Wilson could sense something was amiss. Zhang was lying, but why? No good could come of pushing this; not now. ―Zalmay will assume his duties in twenty-four hours. Mr. Wilson, I am asking you to honour our decision in this matter.‖ ―As you wish,‖ Wilson replied cooly. Brock and Clarence exchanged looks with each other, both puzzled by Wilson‘s docile behaviour. ―Thank you,‖ offered Zhang who failed to hide a puzzled look. He had expected a fight. ―Before the thirteen of you leave here, there is a matter of grave urgency that must be addressed. In forty eight hours, your team will return to the Proving Grounds for the third trial. Should Anton survive, he will receive a major wish. It is the concern of this council that Anton will use it to make him-self immortal—― ―I know where you are going with this Zhang, but you need to stop recording if you wish to conceive a plan of some kind. I am quite certain Anton is watching.‖ ―Probably killing someone as we speak,‖ muttered Clarence. ―Stop recording,‖ ordered Zhang, who immediately regretted it. Force had not worked well lately. ―Let me rephrase that. Please deactivate your recording devices momentarily.‖ Carla hesitated, unsure of she wanted to comply. This was about to become newsworthy. 170 ―We are charged with recording all events, at the Proving Grounds, and here on Earth. Failure to do so can result in death.‖ ―We have witnessed your footage from the Proving Grounds. I don‘t believe you have anything to fear. Other races can barely operate the recording devices.‖ ―You saw what they did to Gord,‖ argued Carla. ―They claim he violated the rules. It was unfortunate, but it had nothing to do with his recording ability.‖ Carla spoke quietly with her co-workers. They deactivated their recorders. ―What are your thoughts, Mr. Collins?‖ ―The way I look at it, we have several options. We could try to kill him but I fear the Jarn reaction would result in harsh discipline. We could take our chances; letting nature takes its course. Perhaps, he will be killed in the third trial. Should he survive, he would have only one wish. Assuming others survive, we could negate his wish.‖ ―What if he wished for immortality?‖ ―I‘m not sure such a wish would be granted. If it were, even an immortal would not survive a meat grinder.‖ ―That‘s barbaric,‖ shouted the Prime Minister of England. ―Yes, it is, but not nearly as barbaric as the return of Hitler.‖ ―True,‖ added President Abernathy, ―But if it is the goal of the Jarn to rehabilitate a planet, would they allow such a wish to be granted?‖ ―Wishes are earned by the competitors,‖ said Wilson, ―Which was the crux of the discussion held previously with Zalmay. To endure the hardships of the trial, one should be granted the right to his or her wish, even if the wish maker is Anton. I would like Carla, Ned or Tim to follow Anton. They 171 need simply call out his name and the Jarn magic will take them to him. Record his every move. If he tries something, we can move on him. The recorder output is everywhere. Any one of the thirteen of us could be there in a heartbeat. That would also solve the problem of good ratings Onoch demands.‖ ―He makes a good point,‖ snickered Clarence. ―Worth a try,‖ added Brock. ―I agree,‖ said Ashley. Zhang observed the delegates who were mulling it over amongst themselves. He turned to the Security Council members seated at the large oval table in front of him. He requested a show of hands to support Wilson‘s plan. It was unanimous. Carla agreed to go first. Ned would replace her in three hours, followed by Tim. Carla activated her recorder, bid everyone a farewell and called out Anton‘s name. Nothing happened. ―Take me to Anton Popov,‖ she stated forcefully; still nothing. Wilson stood, as did Brock, Ashley, Tamihana and Clarence. They all asked to travel to Anton. None were successful.

It was nearing dusk. Times Square was unusually quite. With the Jarn in control of Earth, most people had no desire to leave their homes. They fridges were stocked. They were free of work obligations. An endless array of movies was available between trials. Exercise enthusiasts were out and about but in much diminished numbers. Commuters were in the suburbs, happy to avoid the go trains and the subway. So subtle was the energy emitted by the transmission that no one on the planet 172 realized the Jarn had lulled them into a stupefied state of splendour. Aside from the families of the team members, no one was cringing in horror. No one was shocked when another member of team earth was killed. Everyone watched, but no one understood. Although they were not aware of it, the citizens of planet earth should be thankful. If it were not for the protection of the Jarn, earth would be thrown into a state of total chaos. As it were, things were about to change. Alicia Montgomery and her sister Rebecca were on their way to their father‘s house in Queens, a twenty minute subway ride from Times Square. The sisters had agreed to alternate trials with their separated parents, Hugh and Maria who had agreed to move apart after Hugh was caught sleeping with the pool boy, Timothy. As the sisters walked toward the closest subway entrance, they both commented on the eerie quiet of the square. There weren‘t fifty people in the whole square. As they reached the stairs to the subway entrance, Alicia paused, allowing Rebecca to go first. A faint grunt from Alicia caught Rebecca‘s attention, causing her to turn back. Alicia looked scared. Her hands began to tremble as she clutched her chest, gasping for air. It was then that Rebecca noticed the blood pumping from a gaping hole in the middle of her chest. ―Oh my god,‖ she screamed. ―Alicia!‖ She reached out to her sister but before her hands could reach her, she was shoved violently down the stairs. Her skull made contact with the eighth stair, puncturing her frontal lobe and ending her life. Alicia watched through misty eyes as she slumped to her knees; her life pouring on to the stairs. The last thing her mind registered before she succumbed to the darkness was a man laughing.

173

Frustrated that Anton was missing, and equally frustrated to be stuck in the Security Council debating wishes, Clarence was about ready to implode. He wanted to see his family. The second trial had nearly killed him, leaving him with a vivid image of his own mortality. He had no fear of death. He was not a religious man but he was a god-fearing man. For years, he had pondered what lie beyond the veil that separated life from death. ―Here‘s what I think,‖ he blurted out, stopping President Abernathy in mid-sentence. ―We have thirteen wishes. I will use my wish to request a list of everyone in the world that has a terminal illness, emphasizing in my wish that the list only include people who are pure of heart. My team mates will use their twelve wishes to save twelve people. It may not be the ideal way to use twelve wishes but it is a way to demonstrate that there is still good in our world.‖ ―Bloody brilliant,‖ shouted the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom. Shouts and cheers of agreement came from everyone in the room. Clarence was dumfounded. He had just wanted to go home and that was the first thought that popped into his head. After a brief discussion, it was agreed that Clarence would wish the list into existence, leaving it for the Security Council to read, designating those on the list to a number that would be used in a lottery in less than twenty-four hours. Twelve people, facing certain death would be given a new lease on life. One couldn‘t help but feel overjoyed by the prospect of saving twelve people. Wilson, like the others, was at peace with the decision to save twelve deserving souls, but it did not lessen his concern of 174 Anton. The planet housed over six billion people. What were the odds that a team of two hundred, randomly selected people, would happen to have one, very crazy serial killer? It reinforced Wilson original suspicions that the Jarn were not quite who they claimed to be.

Doug Streets, the former boyfriend of Tamihana, sucked the lime juice from his wrist, as he grabbed the shot of tequila from the bar, slamming it back. His companion, an exotic dancer by the name of Hummer, followed his lead. Both slid their empty shot glasses back onto the bar, adding them to their collection. He was leading in their competition with eleven shot glasses to her nine. Doug was a drinking veteran. Hummer was a rookie; so much so that she hadn‘t notice him dump the contents of a rufie into her drink. Doug suggested they grab a room upstairs to continue their party, ordering a round of drinks to go. Hummer aka Barbara Waldings was a twenty-one year old, college drop-out. Her breasts had gotten her most of what she had needed in life up until a month ago when posters of her breasts were found plastered from one end of campus to the other. Jeremy Jinkerson, a former boyfriend, was suspected of the act but Barbara didn‘t wait around to find out. She grabbed her things, caught a bus to Indianna, moved in with her older sister and secured a job dancing at Club Bing Bang. The money was good, the tips even better and the owner protected his girls. Dezi Cabero stopped Doug and Hummer as they headed up the stairs. ―Hummy bear, everything okay?‖ Dezi asked. ―Just peachy boss,‖ she giggled. 175 ―Don‘t mess with my girl,‖ said Dezi. ―I know better,‖ lied Doug who planned to leave town first thing in the morning after he had some fun. Doug and Hummer stumbled into the room. The date rape drug was taking its hold on Hummer. Doug helped her onto the bed. Hummer was confused but still giggling like a little school girl. ―You remind me of a girl I know,‖ started Doug. ―I don‘t like her very much, which I guess means I don‘t like you very much.‖ ―Your silly,‖ laughed Hummer. The laughter stopped immediately as Doug struck her flush on the cheek with an open- handed strike, moving quickly to cover her mouth. She fought to remove his hand but was too weak from the drug. Doug raised a fist to strike her a second time but the fist seemed to just hang there. A look of confusion came across Doug‘s face, his grip on her mouth loosening enough for her to scream, but before she could draw a breath to scream, she felt a slight pressure on her throat, followed by a warmth. Blood poured down her neck, onto the bed from the gash to her throat. Blood from the gaping hole in Doug‘s chest poured down, onto her abdomen. Doug tried to speak but couldn‘t. The two were stuck in a pose of confusion, neither expecting their night to end like this. As the knife was pulled free of Doug‘s back, he collapsed onto Hummer‘s body with a thud. Anton spit on them before calling out his next destination. It was Tabitha Donahue, Brock‘s wife.

176 Jakuta watched from a galaxy away as Anton killed Hummer and Doug. It was vile acts such as this that gave credence to the Jarn‘s use of the Proving Grounds, but as Jakuta was well aware, acts such as this were almost always performed by the minority of any race. The Seekers from the planet Grimore, located in the furthest reach of the universe, were one of a handful of exceptions to this rule. Their lives were governed by lust. They raped, they killed, and they destroyed, over and over again. It was a wonder they had managed to sustain a large population for as long as they did before the Jarn had come along. The Seekers had dominated at the Proving Grounds, losing only eight members of their team after three trials. They appeared unstoppable, until they entered the Black Mist Forest. During their trek across the vast forest, the Seekers had lost one hundred and seventy of their numbers. The Seekers had faced not one, but two global punishments which had nearly crushed their race. They had managed to avoid global genocide but the effects of the Proving Grounds continue to have an effect on Grimore, three thousand years later. The Proving Grounds were created by Onoch with the approval of the Jarn Council centuries after the first signs of negative influence began to appear in the universe. Originally, the Proving Grounds were designed as a peaceful solution to the changing universe, although Jakuta had always been convinced of Onoch‘s ulterior motive. Two hundred creatures from each affected planet had been brought to the Proving Grounds, but not to fight for their lives. They had been brought there to be re- educated, granted a limited amount of power, and returned to their planets to make the changes required. Had that system remained, Jakuta would not be compelled to act against his

177 people. The Proving Grounds had grown into the very cesspool it fought to destroy. Jakuta struggled every minute of his existence to find peace but he knew in his heart that it would never come, not until Onoch ceased to exist. More years had passed then Jakuta could ever count, but the time for vengeance was very close. His plan had been simple, but the variables were many. Many things would have to occur for his plan to succeed but after all this time, it was finally within reach. One way or the other, it would soon be over.

Wilson sat on the leather couch in the front room of his flat. A cold bottle of Newcastle Brown sat between his legs. It had taken him some time to grow accustomed to the taste which at first reminded him of dishwater. Some preferred it served at room temperature but Wilson could not get past his Canadian beer drinking roots, which was about ice cold beer even when it was ice cold outside.

It was quiet in his flat. He turned on the television, regretting it immediately. Channel after channel of the Proving Grounds or related stories. One channel had a banner message flashing, warning the world of Anton Popov. A picture of him was stuck up in the corner of the CNN page. It appeared as though Carla had the entire crew working this story from every possible angle, perhaps in an attempt to gain some much needed rest. Wilson was disappointed when Abigor did not show. Wilson sipped on his beer, trying to remember any details of his 178 life. He vaguely remembered Canada, knowing that was where he came from but unable to remember any details of his life or how he came to live in England. He had no recollection of any friends or family. The whole thing made him sad. From out of nowhere, a shadow materialized behind him, sending Wilson diving for cover, spilling his beer in the process. ―Oh my god,‖ exclaimed Tamihana, her hands to her face in embarrassment. ―I needed someone to talk to and I was hoping you wouldn‘t mind but I did not mean to just show up in your living room.‖ ―Could have been worse,‖ scoffed Wilson. ―I could have been whanking on my willy.‖ ―Excuse me?‖ questioned Tamihana. ―Sorry,‖ replied Wilson. ―Just a bad joke.‖ He went to the kitchen to retrieve a cloth for the spilled beer, offering to grab Tamihana one while he was up. She graciously accepted. As Wilson cleaned up the beer, Tamihana took a seat in the recliner in the corner of the room. The two began a wonderful visit that would last well into the night.

Ashley arrived to the quiet of an empty house and a note from her father explaining that her mother had been hospitalized. She was to come right away. In the blink of an eye, Ashley was in the middle of central admitting at Sydenham District Hospital. Her family was nowhere to be found. Closing her eyes, she called out her mother‘s name. She opened her eyes to find herself in a private room surrounded by her family. Her Aunt screamed, her father and Uncle jumped and her cousins laughed. 179 Ashley‘s mom was on a respiratory. The stress of watching her daughter had been too much. She had had a massive stroke hours earlier. The doctors had told her dad that she would be lucky to survive the night. Even before Ashley took her mother‘s hand in hers, she knew what she would do. It did not matter that she had agreed to give her wish to save a stranger‘s life. It did not matter how she would look to the world. Closing her eyes in silent prayer, she squeezed her mother‘s cold hand in hers before using a wish to heal her. At her request, the nurses removed the respirator tube. Within the hour, her mother regained consciousness. She was not only healed, she looked rejuvenated. Her dad wept openly, as did her Aunt. Her Uncle was always the ‗tough‘ guy but he shed his share of tears as well. It was a heartfelt moment for the entire family. She would face the scrutiny for her actions in the morning. Tonight she would celebrate with her family. It could very well be their last time together.

Brock found Sarah cooking a spaghetti dinner in the kitchen of her apartment. She was not nearly as startled as she had been the first time he materialized in front of her in her bedroom. ―Why hello my sexy hero,‖ she whispered as she threw her arms around him, pulling him tightly against her. She wore only an apron, a tee shirt and a pair of comfortable shorts. ―Miss me?‖ he asked. ―Always,‖ she answered. ―You were amazing at the Proving Grounds. I think I‘ve lost ten pounds just from the stress of watching you.‖

180 ―You look beautiful,‖ he said, swooping her back, leaning down and giving her a soft kiss on the lips. ―I was hoping you would come. Supper‘s just about ready.‖ ―There is no place I would rather be,‖ he said but as he said it a sudden twinge of guilt struck him. He was flooded with a feeling that he was choosing her over his kids. ―Sarah, I want to enjoy supper and the evening with you, but I just need to make sure my kids are okay first. I won‘t be but a few minutes.‖ ―Sure,‖ she said with a bright smile, the one that always melted his heart. ―Everything okay?‖ ―That‘s just it. Up until a minute ago, I would have said yes but I have a nagging feeling that something‘s up.‖ She kissed him on the cheek, wished him luck and reassured him she would keep supper warm until he returned. With a wink, he was gone. He reappeared in the kitchen of his ex-wife‘s boyfriend‘s kitchen. ―Hello,‖ he shouted. There was no answer. He moved toward the living room. It was empty, save for a burning cigarette in the ashtray. ―Odd,‖ he thought. Neither Tabitha, nor her boyfriend smoked. Something was wrong. Brock was certain of it now. ―Tabby,‖ he shouted. ―Where are you? Emily! Krammer!‖ Still no answer. He took the stairs three at a time. As he reached the top stair, a sleepy Krammer stumbled out of his bedroom. ―Well, there you are,‖ he shouted happily. Emily appeared seconds later, running with glee to embrace her father. Brock held them tight, asking the whereabouts of their mother. ―She tucked us in and said something about reading a book to calm her down,‖ said Krammer. 181

―Yeah,‖ added Emily. ―Watching you today really worried her. I think she might still love you.‖ Krammer slapped Emily on the arm, shushing her. ―Ouch,‖ she yelped. ―You said so too you big idiot.‖ ―Kids, it‘s okay. Right now, I just need to find your mother. I need to make sure she is okay. Can you help me find her?‖ Taking their father‘s hands in theirs, they led him to the master bedroom. It was empty. They went downstairs. The cigarette had formed an ash almost the entire length of the cigarette. Brock stamped it out. Suddenly, a muffled thud was heard from below the floor. ―Is there a basement in this house?‖ asked Brock. ―The wine cellar,‖ answered Krammer. ―Show me quickly,‖ whispered Brock, instructing Emily to remain right where she was. She was too scared and refused to stay by herself. Reluctantly, Brock swept her up as they ran toward the cellar. Voices could be heard as they reached the top of the cellar stairs. Setting Emily back on her feet, Brock put his finger to his lips, signalling silence. Leaving the two to stand guard, he crept down the stairs as quickly as he dared. Tied face-down onto an old worktable, Tabitha was whispering to someone, pleading them not to hurt her. As Brock drew closer, the body of Kinglsey, Tabitha‘s annoying new husband became visible. He was unconscious; a nasty welt was beginning to form on his forehead. Brock paused, momentarily in shock at what he was seeing. As he wife struggled and begged not to be harmed, her pants were being pulled slowly down her over her hips. Beneath her pants she wore a pair of peach colour panties. She had the look of a frightened child. Brock overcame his shock, suddenly realizing why they couldn‘t 182 find Anton. He had wished himself invisible. Careful to make no noise, Brock lifted a claw hammer from a tool rack to his right. As he moved carefully forward, he could hear Anton‘s voice, promising to do all sorts of wicked things to Tabitha. Luckily for Brock, Anton‘s body was positioned with his back toward him and the light was directly over his ex-wife‘s body, so there was no risk of a shadow giving his position away. Anton had convinced himself there were no threats left in the house. He was engrossed in his torment of Tabitha. As Brock raised the hammer into the air, preparing to strike, Anton warned Tabitha how much he was going to hurt her. Brock swung the hammer with fury, catching Anton in the side of his face. Anton squealed in pain. Brock was quick to leap onto the body, striking him again. He heard teeth smash as the hammer made contact with Anton‘s mouth. Anton made some sort of undistinguishable noise and his body was gone, dropping Brock several inches to the hard concrete. A knife, presumably the one Anton was carrying lay on the ground beside Brock‘s hand. Grabbing it, Brock used it to cut his wife loose, turning away so she could dress. The two went to the aid of Kingsley who came around with a few light slaps to the face. Apparently he had just feinted. Brock called for his children, explaining to them all what had happened. Brock knew what he had to do. He hated to waste a wish but he would not allow that monster an opportunity to hurt anyone, now that he knew what he was doing. ―I wish Anton Popov to sleep until it is time to return to the Proving Grounds.‖ He waited for any sign of disapproval. None came. His wish had been accepted. He was certain the world would be thankful for his actions. With any luck, he had put Anton to sleep in the middle of a busy intersection. He hugged his kids, reminding them how much he loved them. He 183 bid his wife and Kinglsey a good evening. Just before he left, he wife place her hand on his cheek. ―I owe you my life,‖ she said. ―You owe me nothing,‖ he smiled. ―You are the mother of my children. I harbour no ill will against you. You did what you had to do and now, I am doing what I have to do. I have a woman in my life.‖ The shock was evident on her face. ―What, you thought I would be destitute forever?‖ ―No, I‘m sorry. I didn‘t know.‖ ―No problem. Once I finish at the Proving Grounds, I hope to build a new life, and in that new life will be my children, on an equal sharing basis. Do we have a deal?‖ He extended his hand. Tabitha took it, and squeezed it. ―Deal,‖ she said. With a final, ―I love you‖ directed toward his children, and a promise to return the following day, Brock was gone.

Clarence lay in bed with his wife, Danielle, holding her in his arms as he caressed her shoulder. He had just returned from carrying his daughter Sophia back into her room. She had insisted on sleeping with her mom and dad, to which her dad had no objections. Much like his first return, he was treated like a hero by the carnival community. A large meal had been prepared. He had been asked to make a speech, which he kept very short, thanking everyone for their support. As he lay there later that evening, sharing an intimate moment with his wife, she turned to him and begged him not to return to the Proving Grounds. ―They gave you the gift to travel at will, including to the Proving Grounds. Nobody said you had to return.‖ 184 ―You know I cannot do that, even if it were possible. I am sure I would be pulled there if I did not return; besides, I am not a coward, Danielle. Why would you ask this of me?‖ ―I have had a nightmare of a forest. You are in the forest but you become forever lost. It is horrible. I wake up screaming from this dream.‖ ―The forest you speak of could only be the Black Mist Forest. I‘m sure it‘s nothing, but even if it is, it is the fourth trial. Let‘s deal with the third trial first, besides I think I have something here to make you forget about your nightmares.‖ She laughed as he pulled her beneath the blankets.

Team Earth arrived at the United Nations building at 9:00 am the following morning. They had been moved to the main meeting hall of the United Nations, a much larger room than the Security Council. The room was filled to capacity. A small group of chairs surrounding a board table had been reserved in the center of the room for the members of Team Earth. A beautiful breakfast buffet awaited them. The table was filled with fresh, exotic fruits, croissants; an assortment of quiche, pastries, and breakfast rolls. At the far end of the table were a dozen or more hot items that included: French toast, waffles, sausages, bacon, biscuits, and a delicious bone-in ham that oozed juices with every slice. As they ate, the team mates enjoyed a playful banter, glad to avoid discussing the issues of the Proving Grounds. Tomorrow morning would come soon enough. After an hour, Zalmay entered the room. It was clear he was harbouring a 185 grudge. He marched passed the members of Team Earth, stopping only when he had reached President Abernathy. A heated, yet quiet exchange took place, ending with Zalmay storming out of the room. The president approached Zhang Yesui who appeared disturbed by whatever news he was receiving. As the president finished, Zhang simply nodded and moved to the podium. ―Zalmay has informed the president of the United States of his immediate resignation. As it is stated within the charter set forth by the United Nations, I shall serve in that role for the duration of his term.‖ ―Interesting turn of events, eh Wilson,‖ piped Clarence. ―Yes, a bit of a puzzle actually,‖ replied Wilson who was baffled by Zalmay‘s sudden change of heart. Zhang pressed forward, eager to draw the thirteen names of those whose lives would be spared that day. A team of over one hundred men and women had worked well into the night narrowing the list of one hundred and eighty thousand down to one thousand. Those names lie in the bottom of the large metal draw bucket that sat on the small table to Zhang‘s right. As Zhang took the microphone in his hand, the threesome of Carla, Tim and Ned appeared. Carla looked the most haggard of the three, although none of them looked fresh by any means. Before Zhang could begin his speech, he was interrupted by Ashley who pleaded with him for a brief opportunity to speak. He was reluctant to comply but the look of sadness in her eyes persuading him to allow it. ―Hello,‖ she began. ―My name is Ashley Shrewsbury.‖ She paused for a moment to clear her throat. She was extremely nervous. ―Last evening when I arrived at our family home, I was shocked to find no one home. My shock turned to horror as I 186 read a note from my father, stating that my mother had been rushed to the hospital. I went there immediately.‖ She paused a second time as her emotions overtook her. One of Zhang‘s aides offered her a tissue which she gratefully accepted. Wiping her eyes, she was determined to get her emotions in check. Taking a deep breath, she continued. ―My mother had suffered a massive stroke. She had been placed on a respirator and the doctors had informed me that it would take a miracle for her to survive the night. I am truly sorry, but I could not let that happen. We are here today to save thirteen honourable souls. I am here to tell you that we have already saved one. I used my wish to save my mother.‖ The rumblings were not as bad as Ashley had anticipated. She quickly made her way to her seat. Before she reached her seat, Brock had arrived at the podium, whispering into Zhang‘s ear. His outrage was well concealed, offering the podium up for the second time. ―Before I begin, did anyone else from our team use their wish last evening?‖ No one had. ―Good,‖ thought Brock. That might take some of the sting out of what he was about to say. Brock explained what had happened to his ex wife and how Anton had to be stopped. His wish was not a solution to the problem of Anton but it was a temporary fix until something better could be arranged. Shouts of anger rang through the hall, some calling for Anton‘s head, others for his permanent exile from Earth. Brock took his seat, and for the third time, Zhang stood before the podium.

―Despite the horror of the events of the past four days, we have been granted a moment to reflect on the greatness that is the human spirit. We have been granted a rare opportunity to save the lives of eleven truly remarkable people. Over one 187 hundred members of the United Nations worked to narrow a list that numbered close to two hundred thousand people down to one thousand. Everyone on the list is a deserving soul, as the wish requirements indicated. For those people whose names are not drawn today, I can only pray that our team brings back several major wishes, and I can only hope that one of them will purge our planet of these life-threatening diseases.‖ This received a well-earned round of applause. Zhang, with the assistance of the president and other delegates, drew eleven names. Each ticket was handed to a member of Team Earth, who proceeded to make a wish for a full recovery for each person. All but one wish was accepted. Beatrix Faria of Portugal called out the name of Ethel Irene Ferguson of Detroit Michigan and the wish was rejected by an angelic voice. She was about to make a second attempt when Wilson stopped her. ―Take me to Ethel Irene Ferguson,‖ shouted Wilson, ready to be swept away by the power of the Jarn. He remained where he was. ―I believe this woman is no longer with us,‖ said Wilson. After verifying that Wilson‘s suspicions had been correct, Zhang drew a twelfth name from the bucket. Before Beatrix was allowed to read the name aloud, Carla went to him, to record the event. Andrew David Krayenbrink lay on his side, his skeletal frame, proof the effects of late stage bone cancer. With Carla in position, Beatrix made her wish. A brief pause was followed by a feint glow that surrounded Andrew‘s body. Within seconds he opened his eyes, something he had not done for over a week, after slipping into a coma. Andrew was a very fortunate man. Ethel‘s demise had been his salvation. Ned and Tim, on Carla‘s instructions split the list of names. They would spend the afternoon giving the world some 188 feel-good stories while Carla prepared a solemn story on those not so fortunate, and a follow-up on Anton Popov‘s activities, which included a possible double homicide involving two young girls just off Time‘s Square.

Chapter Nine The Trial of The Third Tower

Wilson stood at the doorway to the coliseum grounds. It had been transformed yet again. Gone were the walls and the weapons, replaced by hundreds of torturous devices, each manned by a large creature, donning a black hood, similar to that of an executioner. Some devices were recognizable, such as the medieval rack which stood closest to the compound. Others, such as the collection of glass shards that littered twenty yards of the ground, Wilson was unsure of their purpose. The collection of these devices was spread out linear, beginning less than ten feet from the opening to their compound, continuing to the center of the coliseum.

189 Wilson could not fathom what the Jarn had planned. His vision prohibited him from seeing the end of the long row clearly, but there were roughly fifty stations to each row, each row identical to the others in layout. Wilson could only guess that each team was to move from station to station. Wilson watched as the coliseum began to fill with spectators. He was certain the coliseum had grown in size. Brock and Clarence arrived within a minute of each other, both men looking refreshed. Beatrix was next, followed by Abebe Menelik of Ethiopia. Abebe smiled warmly and shook everyone‘s hand. Shen Wu of China and Jung Hwa of South Korea arrived together. The two had been training together, each happy to share the distinct fighting skills of their people. Anton arrive next, his face a swollen mess. Two of his teeth were missing, his lip was cut and his right eye was swollen. It suited him. Anton said nothing, choosing to stand in isolation at the back of the compound. Brock, tempted to finish what he started, moved toward Anton but was stopped by Wilson. ―I agree with your intention,‖ whispered Wilson, ―But now is not the time.‖ Brock nodded his acknowledge but continued to gaze toward Anton. ―Not so tough against a man are you, you filthy disgusting pig? Pray the Proving Grounds take you. I won‘t be so gentle.‖ With that, Brock turned away. Ashley arrived second to last, appearing to have rejuvenated herself somewhat, although the baggage she carried under her eyes had darkened. Tamihana was last to arrive, dressed in a thick leather vest and a pair of camouflage cargo pants with a pair of heavy hiking boots. In a satchel she carried over her shoulder, she had a pair of light running shoes, a sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants.

190 ―Not sure what to expect, so I brought extra,‖ she said. Wilson simply smiled. She had charmed her way into his life. In many ways, Tamihana was like his wife, at least he thought so. His memories of his wife were cloudy at best. Onoch stood on the second level, his staff held firmly in his right hand. He had instructed the single eye of the staff to focus his sight on the outer realm of inner space. There was a good chance The One was not going to appear at the Proving Grounds, choosing to watch from afar. If this were true, focusing on vibrations of thought probing from above would make it easier for the eye to hone in on their target. ―Greetings. Welcome to those fortunate enough to survive the trial of the second tower. The trial of the third tower will test your endurance, your ability to withstand pain, and your body‘s ability to withstand a significant amount of damage. A member of your team will be summoned completely at random to the current stage of your team‘s progression. Every team will begin at the first station which is a replica of an ancient device known as the rack. Its use is known throughout the universe, and it is still used on hundreds of planets, especially in the Plague District of Semus Five. Each participant will be placed on the rack and the ropes will be pulled taut so that all teams will begin evenly. A half turn of the wheel will occur every thirty seconds for three minutes, after which a quarter turn will occur every thirty seconds until half of the participants have begged to be released, blacked out or died. When half of the participants have failed, the round has ended. Those teams that were successful will await the start of the next station. Those teams failing will have to face the first station again until half of the teams have once again failed. This is repeated a total of five times. Those teams unable to advance are eliminated from the competition and will await global punishment. Points are scored for moving 191 forward, five points for those who advance in the first round, four for second, and so on. No points are scored for those advancing on the fifth round. If less than half fail after three minutes, the round will continue for another minute. All those surviving the time limit will advance. The creatures resembling an executioner are known as the Nah Kee from the planet Jebea Minor. They are very skilled at what they do. Only the masters of their profession are brought here. At the conclusion of each station, all signs of that station will be eliminated, created a greater distance between the stations. The relevance of all this will be made clear to you as we proceed. The Trial of the Third Tower begins in five minutes. ―What the hell?‖ said Clarence. ―We won‘t know whose turn it is until it is too late.‖ Wilson gathered everyone around. ―The secret is simple. Persevere at all costs. Our numbers do not allow us the luxury of failure. Crawl deep inside your mind and stay there. Focus on a happy place and force yourself to stay there in your mind until the round is over. We can do this. Humans are stubborn by nature.‖ ―What about him?‖ asked Brock thumbing toward Anton. ―Pray he dies,‖ answered Wilson. ―Here, here,‖ chirped Clarence. As Wilson pumped up his team, Anton vanished, appearing on the rack. The Nah Kee secured the ropes to Anton‘s wrists and ankles, spinning the wheel until the ropes were taut. ―Oooouch,‖ whined Anton mockingly. Wilson wondered how long a snivelling bastard like him would last. On a nod from Onoch, a large horn blared, signalling the start of the round. Each Nah Kee turned their wheel a half turn. No one 192 made a sound, except Anton. He howled in pain, begging to be released. In an instant he was back in the compound. ―Are you mad?‖ shouted Wilson. Sneering with his mangled lips, Anton spit toward Wilson before stepping cautiously backward toward the rear of the compound. ―I do not care about your precious team. I care about surviving this day. Once I arrive back home, I wish my revenge. Until then, st-‖ Anton was cut off in midsentence as Wilson lunged forward locking his hands around his throat, squeezing the life from him. Anton‘s eyes began to roll up into his head just as Wilson was whisked away to the rack. The first round of the first station had ended. Wilson felt the ropes tighten, pulling his legs and arms straight. The pressure was uncomfortable but bearable. The horn blared. Round two had begun. The Nah Kee turned the wheel one half turn. Wilson felt a flare of pain in his right arm but it quickly subsided. Thirty seconds passed and another half turn of the wheel was made. Wilson felt pain in both arms and an uncomfortable pain just above both knees. Another thirty seconds, another turn of the wheel. Creatures began to wail, some were screaming to be released. Wilson endured. At a minute and a half in, the wheel was turned another half. Wilson was beginning to panic. A searing pain engulfed the muscles surrounding his right elbow. His left shoulder felt as though it would tear from the socket. His knees had gone from uncomfortable to very painful. His ankles hurt as well. Wilson endured. At two minutes, another turn. Wilson was beginning to lose faith in himself. He felt like his major joints were on fire. He dove deep within his mind, driving away the pain with images of his wife. For the first time in a long time, she was clear in his mind. He clung to her image, and to the image of his son, long after the round ended. It took three and a half minutes 193 for half of the group to give up. Team Earth would advance to the second station. Back in the compound, Tamihana and Ashley attempted to massage the circulation back into his strained muscles. He was sore but he knew there was no damage. He attempted to stand; he legs shaky but able to support him. As he began to walk, a light washed over him and he was healed. ―I will assume the Jarn are back to their healing ways,‖ said Wilson. Anton stood at the back of the compound glaring at Wilson. ―If you give up again, I will kill you. It‘s that simple.‖ He and the others turned their back on Anton. A horn issued five, high-pitched, short bursts, signifying the end of the fifth round. Onoch began to explain the second round. ―The Pear of Anguish is a disgusting device placed in the orifice of the candidate‘s choice, that being vagina, anus or mouth. The victim will be strapped down accordingly and the device inserted. It is indeed a pear shaped device, made from metal with four leaves, attached at the top by a hinge. Once inserted, a special crank, found at the bottom is turned, opening the leaves, causing considerable pain. Begin!‖ Beatrix found herself before the Nah Kee. She was instructed to choose an opening. She had thirty seconds. Beatrix looked back toward the compound. She began to cry. In the end, she chose to have the device lodges in her buttocks. She was bent over a table and strapped into place. The Nah Kee began to remove her pants and panties. Her situation could not possible become any more degrading. She told the Nah Kee she did not want to expose herself. The Nah Kee tore her pants from her and when she lashed out with her foot, the Nah Kee struck her firmly in the back, silencing her. With a quick tug, he 194 removed her panties and began to insert the device. She no longer fought back. She laid there and wept as he finished his task. As uncomfortable as it was, she was not in any pain. A blast of the horn started round one of the second station. The Nah Kee began to turn the key, slowly but continually. A slight pressure became an uncomfortable twinge, which quickly grew into a fiery pain as the device began to cut into her flesh. As the round approached two minutes she could feel blood running down her legs. The pain was becoming unbearable and not one participant had screamed to be released. She was convinced she had no chance of outlasting some of these creatures. She remembered what Wilson had said and she tried to push the pain from her mind. She could not. Finally, an agonizing wail cut through the air, giving her a smidgeon of hope. Clenching her fists and her teeth, she forced herself to begin counting aloud. She reached fifteen before screaming for the first time, clenching unconsciously in the process, driving her flesh against the device, increasing her torment. Others began to scream and shout, some begging to be released. Beatrix legs were a steady stream of blood. She could feel the bile crawling up her throat. She was going to vomit. She swallowed, determined to hold it down, knowing how much worse it would be if she didn‘t. Her leg began to twitch as the device burrowed into a nerve. She vomited, involuntarily clenching, causing herself incredible pain. Blood gushed from between her legs. She began to fall into darkness when she heard five short bursts from the horn. She had made it. Beatrix came to with Ashley and Chloe at her side. Her pants and her posterior had both been returned to normal. Despite being healed, Beatrix shook all over. Her flesh had been repaired but the damage done to her mentally was beyond repair.

195 Fourteen teams were eliminated during the second station, among them, the Seleneze. They would face a global punishment of some kind at the end of the trial. Jung Hwa was summoned to the third station. He stood silent as Onoch explained the station. ―Strangle vine is a living creature from the jungles of Budabi on planet Krsolv. Each participant will allow him or herself to becoming entangled in the barb-covered vine. Once entangled, the signal will be given to begin. The vine will try to kill you. Its barbs will tear you open, the toxin from the barbs will cause you to itch, and the vine itself will attempt to squeeze the air from your lungs. You may incorporate any means possible to escape. I wish you luck. The itching will test you in ways you would never have previously imagined.‖ Jung watched helpless as the vine was laid across his shoulders by the Nah Kee. He shuddered as the strangle vine wound its way around his body, covering him from head to toe in seconds. He did manage to place his arms in front of his chest, thinking it a good strategy against suffocation. The horn sounded, starting the action of the third station. Jung inhaled deeply, trying to expand his chest. By digging his elbows into his abdomen, he thrust his forearms outward in an attempt to prevent the creature from crushing him. The strangle vine made no attempt to crush him. It coiled tightly once and released him. Jung was relieved. This wasn‘t so bad, or so he thought. The creature coiled against him in order to push the barbs slightly into the skin, releasing small pockets of toxin all across Jung‘s body. Jung began to itch almost immediately. It went from a mosquito bite itch to a poison ivy itch in seconds. It exploded into a poison oak itch, only ten times worse. Jung tried to remain calm but he was overwhelmed by the itch. He squirmed 196 and twitched as he wiggled an arm free to scratch at his shoulder. Scratching the one itch felt heavenly but his relief was short lived. The strangle vine increased its grips without warning, pinning Jung‘s arm in an awkward position, requiring all of his strength to pull it free and return it to its position against his chest. He could still breathe but his breathing was laboured. The itching intensified, if that was even possible at this point. Every inch of his body itched. He tried to run but his feet became entangled in the vine, landing him on his side, driving more of the barbs into his skin. Jung writhed about, unable to regain his footing. He began to hyperventilate as the onset of a severe anxiety attack started to take hold. He wanted to scream. He wanted to laugh; not a chuckle or a giggle but a maniacal, full-out evil laugh that started at the soul. He thrust his arms against the vine, pushing with all his might. The vine was far too strong to snap or stretch. The more he fought, the more he intensified the itch, more importantly, the more he fought, the tighter the vine‘s grip. He changed his strategy, forcing himself to lie perfectly still, slowing his breathing. The vine‘s grip did not lessen, nor did it intensify. Jung could live with that. Calming his breathing did nothing, however, to lessen the severity of the itch. Jung‘s passive approach lasted only seconds as he was overwhelmed by a wave of intense itching. In one fluid movement, he pulled his knees in as best he could as he rolled onto his side, driving himself upward. He stumbled and nearly fell before regaining his footing. His victory was short lived as the strangle vine tightened its grip, catching Jung off guard. It took all his strength to gain a breath. He began to curse in Korean as the itching began to push him to his limit. It was unbearable. He wanted to shout for his release; instead he just shouted. He screamed every Korean 197 obscenity his wicked uncle had ever taught him. He was still screaming as he re-entered the compound. The vines were gone, as was the itching. He had been healed but his nerves were certainly frazzled. ―That was horrible,‖ he muttered, dropping to his knees. He began to pray, asking for forgiveness for his weakness. As the station continued through its subsequent rounds, Wilson gathered everyone but Anton close to him as he stood near Jung. ―So far, we are doing well. Aside from Anton‘s performance, we have been flawless. We have a long journey if we are to make it the center but I know we can do this. Our ancestors endured far worse than this. It has become apparent that many of our competitors have a low threshold to pain and mental torture. I am not saying we are the smartest creatures here but I can assure you we are near the top of this food chain. That is our advantage. No one can predict what is to come but this is our chance to gain ground on the leaders.‖ Wilson‘s stirring speech was interrupted by five blasts of the horn, signalling the end to the third station. ―The fourth station replicates the method of torture used on Varati Seven during military questioning, on Earth during the witch trials, on Geng during the Inquisition Age, and on Seer Major to test the spiritual fibre of pre-school children.‖ The third stations vanished, replaced by a device that best resembled a teeter-totter. Ashley vanished, reappearing at the far end of the teeter-totter, to which she found herself strapped down. Her body rested on ten foot length of board, her head at the furthest end of the board. She was suspended over a large barrel of water that was approximately twelve feet in diameter. As the Nah Kee raised his end of the apparatus, the head of the victim would be lowered into the water. After a

198 time, the victim would be raised from the water briefly, only to be lowered again, and again. Onoch continued. ―The Nah Kee will lower each contestant into the water for thirty seconds, raising them for twelve seconds to draw fresh air. Five seconds will be added to each subsequent dunking, while one second will be removed from the time allowed to draw a fresh breath. This procedure will be repeated ten times. There are no added attempts by your team mates for this station. The punishment for failure at this station is death. Each of the barrels is filled with Manzan Leeches. They will drain your blood and will attempt to enter your body by any means possible so be careful to protect your airways.‖ The horn blared. Ashley drew a breath as the board splashed against the water, driving her head beneath the surface. The straps prevented her from defending herself so her strategy was to remain motionless and count her time. As she reached twenty-nine, she felt the board being lifted. One down, nine to go. She looked down, happy to see only one leech on her right hand. Its bite was painful but bearable. With two seconds left, she took a deep breath and began to count. This continued for five more rounds. As she drew her breath for round six, the leeches now numbered forty. Their tiny teeth were razor sharp, cutting through her clothes. Two had settled on her breasts which was very unsettling. As she counted, a leech landed on her eye, latching onto the eyelid. She squeezed her eyes, losing some of her breath as she almost screamed, losing track of her count. She felt lightheaded and was unsure if it was from holding her breath or the blood loss. As she came up, she drew a large breath, exhaling and drawing a quick second as she was plunged under for the seventh time. The leech had made its way through the eyelid and was 199 feeding on the eye itself. Ashley felt ill. To make matter worse, a leech landed on her mouth and was attempting to burrow its way into her lip. With a quick flick of her upper teeth, she managed to knock the leech loose. As her time was nearing its end, another leech squirmed into her right nostril. She turned her head abruptly to the right, slamming her nose into her shoulder not once, but twice. As she came up for the seventh time, she exhaled through her nose, shooting the mangled leech onto her chest. She barely had time to draw one breath and she was plummeting downward. The number of leeches had nearly doubled. She was beginning to lose feeling in her right leg. Twice she lost count as her mind began to wander. Her strength was beginning to fade. She had to force the breath from her lungs in order to get any breath at all. She came very close to inhaling water. There were now a dozen leeches on her breasts. The water in the barrel had turned crimson. She returned to the surface for the final turn. She exhaled but left herself no time to inhale. As her head plunged beneath the surface, she began to panic. She counted, praying she would make it for seventy-five seconds. She reached twenty and her lungs began ache. At thirty seconds, her lungs were screaming for air. At forty seconds, she succumbed to the darkness. Only forty participants survived past the seventh turn. Of those, only twenty-two survived the fourth station. As the boards were returned to their resting place, all contestants were given one minute to recover on their own. Of the eight that had lost consciousness, only Ashley had jumped back to consciousness on her own, coughing up water, and drawing a much needed breath. Team Earth went wild, jumping up and down in celebration. 200 The day grew into night as the trial of the third tower continued. The Jarn presented every possible form of torture imaginable, and some unimaginable. Abebe had his fingernails removed, one at a time, followed by each of his toe nails. As they were removed, the raw skin was coated in an Iodine-like substance. He performed admirably. Chloe was placed in a spike-lined esophagus, known to the ancient Egyptians as an Iron Maiden. The lid was closed, driving dozens of well placed spikes into her body, leaving her to bleed to death. When the death toll reached 60%, the station was ended. The vital signs of each contestant were on display, showing the deaths as they occurred. Chloe‘s survival came down to a fight between her and an Ungolan for the final death spot. Her vital signs were much weaker than the Ungolan but her heart was much stronger. The Ungolan‘s heart could not adjust for the massive blood loss and it shut down. Shen Wu was placed in a similar challenge but he was whipped repeatedly. When the death toll reached 60%, the station ended. Shen‘s back was shredded to the bone but he prevailed.

Kedar Heddad of Saudi Arabia failed in his attempt to cross an empty tar pit filled with angry swamp rats. The rats were twice the size of a Norwegian rat and twice as mean. The rats had been transported from the Plague District of Semus Five. The pit was twenty yards across and ten feet deep. There was a ladder going in and a ladder going out. The rats were unable to get out and were turning on each other in fury. Kedar was to enter the pit at one end and exit the pit at the other by any means necessary. Kedar was patient, allowing himself to slowly slide down the thick pile of squirming rats until his feet found 201 the floor. From there he pushed his was slowly forward, careful not to step on a rat. He managed to move five yards in five minutes. He was sweating profusely as he shoved onward, reaching the halfway point in fifteen minutes. It was very difficult to move. As he reached the fifteen yard marker, almost a half hour had elapsed. The wall was almost within his reach. As he moved his right leg forward, a rat nipped at his ankle, drawing blood. A feeding frenzy ensued as dozens of rats sought out the fresh blood. He was overwhelmed with panic and began to flail his arms as he threw rats out of his way in an attempt to reach the ladder. He was attacked repeatedly. Wounds appeared on his arms, drawing the attention of more rats. Soon his arms were covered. He continued to flail and began to scream as a rat bit into his neck. This brought a swarm of rats to his back, shoulders and neck. They began to nip at his face. He tried to swat at them but there were too many. His hand touched the wood of the ladder and he tried to pull himself out but they had him. Kedar vanished beneath the pulsating pile of rats. Tamihana turned away, vomiting almost instantly. Ashley followed suit as did Shen. It had been difficult to watch. Even Anton appeared to have paled from watching such a horrific death. As horrific as it has been to watch Kedar perish beneath a sea of writhing rats, it had been equally painful to watch Akila Abaza of Egypt face a Sentient slug. Placed on her knees with her chin lowered onto the top of a stone pedestal, Akila was strapped firmly into place. The Sentient slug was placed on top of a similar pedestal ten yards away. Sentient slugs are creatures created in the Jarn labs of the Jarn home planet of Sutarius. Created for the sole purpose torture, the Slugs are given the ability to inflict considerable damage to a creature with its mind. Although unable to do 202 physical damage, a slug will attack the mind, creating the illusion of physical harm, wreaking havoc on the central nervous system, leading to shock and complete system failure. A creature with a low IQ would not last two minutes with a slug. Onoch‘s voice cut through the air as he instructed the participants of what to expect. The slug would increase the intensity of its attack, focusing on the weakness of the particular creature it faced. The Imperials, with a natural mind controlling ability, were immune to the slugs, giving them a free pass on the station. Akila was fine for the first three minutes although the strain was evident. Veins bulged on her forehead and blood began to trickle from her ears. As the station entered its fifth minute, blood began to ooze from the mouth and nose of Akila. What had started out as small tremors had developed into a full body shake, similar to Parkinson‘s, only much more pronounced. Her eyes began to roll up into her head and she began to convulse. She died seconds before the horn sounded to end the station. As they approached the forty-eighth station, everyone was mentally and physically exhausted. Any form of team spirit had been drained hours earlier. Wilson guessed they were approaching fifteen hours of competition. Darkness never reached the Proving Grounds so it was difficult to tell what time it was. Of the remaining team members, only Anton had been summoned twice. The rest had faced three challenges or more. With three stations to go, Wilson hoped that Anton would face a horrifying death; a suiting end to a horrible person. If it were going to happen, it would be in the last two stations. Clarence was summoned for station forty-eight. A long stretch of land now separated the compounds from the center point of the 203 coliseum. A wooden, high-backed chair appeared outside the compound. It was a solid wooden chair adorned with jewels along the top of the back portion of the chair. It was made of oak with a thick wooden seat and spindled legs. A Nah Kee stood at the ready; hammer and spikes in hand. Clarence stood beside the chair, nervously awaiting his instructions. Onoch was happy to oblige. Every participant will be ordered to strip, revealing their genitalia. The Nah Kee will, on my command, nail your genitalia to the seat of the chair using three spikes. Each race has its own, unique biological makeup, for lack of a better word. The Nah Kee had been instructed on how to proceed with each individual. This station will be a test of will. At the sound of the horn, each contestant must make their way to the center of the coliseum. The chair must accompany you all the way. You may drag it or you may choose to rip your flesh from the spikes and carry the chair, or you may simply try to move while holding everything in place. Points are scored for those arriving first through fiftieth place. After that, no points are awarded. I will remind everyone that the third trial is nearly done. Those finishing in the bottom fifty will face sanctions. There are three teams with one member left and six teams with three or less members. Global genocide is, once again, inevitable, I‘m afraid. Begin!‖ Clarence was asked to remove his pants and undershorts. He was reluctant to comply. The Nah Kee turned toward Onoch, nodding. With a sneer, it waved his hand. Clarence found himself sitting on the chair, clothes removed and legs spread. He suddenly had to urinate very badly. He tried to move his arms but could not. A wave of nausea overtook him but it passed quickly. He knew his family would be watching.

204 ―Well, what are you waiting for, you ugly piece of shit. Do what you have to do.‖ Clarence turned his head away but could feel the Nah Kee‘s grimy hand on his sac. Pulling it taut, the Nah Kee started a spike, finishing it with two quick hits. It was painful but not near as bad as Clarence thought it would be. The second spike was worse. It was placed on the opposite side, pulling tightly against the first spike as the Nah Kee drove the spike in. On the final hit, the side of the hammer struck Clarence‘s right testicle, causing him excruciating pain. He vomited onto the back of the Nah Kee‘s head. The Nah Kee retaliated by hitting Clarence in the side of the head with the hammer. The blow caused Clarence to sway left, causing a slight tear in his sac where he was spiked to the chair. He felt ready to vomit a second time, but choked it back. The Nah Kee took his penis, stretching it as far it could, driving a spike into it, just below the head. A second spike was driven through the penis at the base. The Nah Kee spit on Clarence and walked away in disgust. Clarence was in agony. Any movement sent a jolt of pain up his spine into the back of his neck. He awaited the horn, unsure if he would be able to move at all. A wave of chill passed through him and he tried his best not to shake. Mobility had returned to his arms. He lowered them, grasping the seat of the chair on both sides, ready to attempt a lift at the sound of the horn. He had not yet looked down. He didn‘t think he wanted to. The throbbing was escalating and he was certain it was about to get worse. The horn sounded, signifying the start. Clarence looked to his left and his right, watching what others may choose to do. Some, much like him, chose to do nothing. Others were attempting to lift their chairs and body as one. The pain they were inflicting on themselves was excruciating. Four compounds to his left, a beautiful D‘han was pushing herself 205 upward, trying to dislodge herself from the seat. She let out a bloodcurdling scream as she managed to lift herself several inches from the seat. Blood showered down from the tears in her flesh. With one final push, she tore free, throwing the chair over her shoulder in triumph. The compound of D‘han cheered wildly for her and she began her march toward the center. Clarence was a strong man, some might even say brave, but nothing could have possibly prepared him for this. As carefully as he could, Clarence leaned his body weight forward, careful to hold the chair firmly against his buttocks. As his toes hit the ground, a shockwave tore through him, leaving him gasping in pain, yet he held his position. Knowing it was going to hurt like hell, he flattened his feet and took the weight of his body and the chair onto the flat of his feet. The pain escalated; the pressure on his testicles was making him feel nauseous again. Lifting his head, he scanned the grounds for signs of progress from any other contestants. The D‘han was on her knees, well over halfway to the center. The back of her legs were covered in blood; lots of blood. Gritting his teeth, Clarence carefully lifted the chair. He looked ahead. He had at least one hundred steps. He couldn‘t imagine how he was going to do this. ―You can do this Clarence,‖ coaxed Wilson from the compound. The others crowded around, offering words of encouragement. ―God bless you all,‖ managed Clarence, ―But this is going to get rough. I will apologize for the language in advance.‖ Taking a baby step, Clarence was happy to feel no additional pain. He took a second, a third and a fourth step, realizing he had barely moved a foot. At least it was progress, and unlike the D‘han, he had no intention of leaving a piece of himself on the chair. 206 Clarence continued for fifty steps, pausing several times to rest. As he completed the fifty steps he knew he had to sit down for a minute. That scared the hell out of him. Getting up had been painful. Going back down was not going to go well. It wasn‘t about being optimistic, it was a fact. He contemplated a reversal of how he got to his feet, that being slow and methodical. He couldn‘t get a visual of how that could work in reverse so he did what he thought was best and he allowed himself to fall back onto the chair. The impact sent a shockwave through his body unlike anything he ever felt before. The initial shockwave caused his body to recoil, causing further pain. He swore a string of words he hadn‘t used since the wild days of his youth. It did nothing to help the pain. Clarence was sweating profusely. His team mates were shouting encouraging words to him. He raised his right arm and shot them the finger. He looked around, gauging the progress of his opponents. Several were further along than Clarence, all struggling just as he was. The D‘han was back on her feet but she looked unstable and weak. She took a wobbly step forward, dragging the chair along beside her. After a brief rest, Clarence leaned forward, gaining his feet and pulling the chair up behind him. Throwing caution to the wind, he began to take quicker steps in hope of gaining a greater distance before tiring. He had taken nearly twenty steps when a small rock tripped him up, sending him to the ground in a heap. He clutched the chair tightly against his buttocks, choosing to take the brunt of the impact on his face. Despite his best effort, the skin surrounding the right testicle tore open. Fluid oozed out of the opening, along with his right testicle. Clarence vomited repeatedly between screams, causing himself additional, unwanted stress. As the heaves subsided, Clarence looked around. His opponents were at differing levels of 207 completion. Some hadn‘t moved, refusing to make their situation worse. Others were moving valiantly forward. Clarence felt a surge of craziness flood into his mind. ―Fuck this!‖ he shouted, turning his head toward the heavens. ―You want to test me? You want to see what I‘ve got? Well alright then!‖ he shouted. Reaching down, he grabbed a hold of the top of his penis, ripping it clear of the spike, shouting obscenities as he tore it free. Placing his fingers around both sides of the spike at the base of his penis, he tried to minimize the damage as he pulled it free. His hands were covered in blood and he vomited again as he reached for what was left of his sac. Cupping his sac as best he could, he yanked not once, not twice, but three excruciatingly painful times before he came free of the chair. His screaming stopped, replaced by sobbing. He questioned what he had done to deserve this. Pushing himself up, he gained his footing, albeit awkwardly. He refused to look at what he had done to himself. Blood was flowing down his legs at a steady rate and he knew his time was limited. Lifting the chair on to his right shoulder, he began his march toward the center. The D‘han was on the ground to his left, less than twenty feet from the center. She was dragging herself forward, pulling the chair behind her with her foot. As Clarence passed her, he paused, setting his chair down. Moving to her, he picked her nearly limp body from the ground and carried it to the center, leaving a blood trail as he went. He returned for her chair and carried it to the center. Both the D‘han and the chair vanished. Clarence returned to his own chair, weakness beginning to set in. Hoisting the chair on to his shoulder a second time, he had to fight off a dizzy spell before he continued. Blood continued to seep from his wounds as he marched slowly forward. Three feet from the center, he 208 collapsed, falling face first into the center. He awoke in the compound moments later.

Anton vanished prior to the start of the forty-ninth station. Everyone was relieved to see him chosen, hopeful that he would fail. The Nah Kee bound Anton‘s hands with two sections of rope. The rope was fastened to a pulley system which would be used to hoist Anton into the air. Once elevated, Anton, and all the other competitors would be moved over a steel barrel, eight feet in diameter. In the barrel was lava from the Deep Scar Mountains. The lava had cooled somewhat, bringing the temperature down to only 1800 degrees. Each contestant would be lowered briefly into the tank and then lifted out. Each round, the lowering would increase by an inch. Rods were strapped to the contestant‘s legs, running up to the lower back, preventing them from bending their knees or waist. Any contestant passing out from the pain would be revived by any means necessary. Any contestant passing out three times would be lowered the length of their body into the lava. The station would be closed after fifty competitors had been eliminated. Anton turned back toward the compound smiling. ―I haven‘t come this far to die now. I will have my wish.‖ ―I despise that man,‖ said Tamihan, ―But that is no way to die. For a highly advanced civilization, they sure like their barbaric behaviour.‖ ―I agree,‖ said Ashley. ―The Jarn disgust me. We are here because our planet gives off a negative energy. What does the Proving Grounds give off? They are beginning to make little sense.‖ Without warning, a large Jarn male appeared in the compound. ―I am Kinto, son of Maul. I serve the Proving Grounds as a witness. It is within my rights to slay you for slandering the 209 name of the Jarn. You have been warned. Do it again and you will be rewarded with death.‖ With that, he vanished. ―Wow, didn‘t see that one coming,‖ said Wilson. Anton was lifted by his hands and suspended over the barrel of lava, as were all the contestants. He appeared calm but the wet stain spreading across the crotch of his pants told a different story. Brock laughed aloud. ―The serial killer has gone and pissed himself. How fitting.‖ Anton glared at Brock, whispering something beneath his breath. Before Brock could antagonize him further, the horn sounded. Anton was lower until the bottoms of his feet were covered with the lava, then quickly removed. He shrieked in pain, his eyes bulging from his head as he tried to remain conscious. Thirty seconds passed before the contestants were dunked a second time, an inch higher than the first. Anton started to shriek but the pain was too much for him. He blacked out. The Nah Kee tossed icy water from a bucket into Anton‘s face, reviving him. Anton jerked back to consciousness, howling in pain, begging the Nah Kee to stop. The Nah Kee returned to his position and at the one minute mark, lowered Anton into the lava up to the top of his ankle bone. Again, Anton blacked out. For the second time, the Nah Kee threw water into his face. Anton‘s feet appeared alien. Giant blisters were forming on the sides of his feet. The bottom of his feet appeared to be eaten away. The ankle bone of his left foot was clearly visible. ―One more blackout and Anton is a dead man,‖ said Wilson. ―We can hope,‖ replied Brock. ―No, even with Anton, I cannot hope for that,‖ stated Wilson.

210 At the one and a half minute mark, Anton was lowered to the top of his ankle. He drew short, shallow breaths, determined to stay conscious. As he was pulled from the barrel, his teeth were clenched tightly as he breathed rapidly through his nose. The vein in his forehead was swelled to the point of bursting. Anton was on the verge of collapse. As the time approached the two minute mark, the horn blasted five times, signalling the end of the station. Fifty creatures had failed. Fifty creatures would be dropped to the bottom of the barrels. Anton appeared at the back of the compound, shivering from fear. He cowered away from everyone. He had been completely healed, including the wounds inflicted by Brock. Wilson was summoned for the fiftieth and final station. It was named the Passion after the events of the crucifixion of Jesus Christ. The contestants were to be flogged, given forty lashings, after which they would have a crown of thorns placed firmly on their heads. Each contestant would then carry a large wooden crucifix to the center of the coliseum. Only the first ten would be allowed to reach the center. All others would be returned to their compounds with no points and no healing. The ten to reach the center would be nailed to the cross at the palm, the shoulder, and the feet. Using a dagger, the Nah Kee would plunge the blade into the side of the contestant before the cross was to be raised up. Once raised to its full height, the crucifixion clock would begin. The first contestant to survive six hours would be granted a major wish. Each hour on the hour, the Nah Kee would inflict additional damage using their dagger, under strict orders to avoid major organs. Without warning, Wilson found himself stripped of a shirt, facing a stone pillar with his arms pulled airborne, suspended from two brass rings, one on either side of the pillar. Short chains led to manacles which were secured to his wrists. 211 The Nah Kee, armed with a cat o‘ nine tails took a position just behind Wilson. The tails of the cat were designed to lacerate the skin, increasing the damage inflicted. At the sound of the horn, the Nah Kee began. The pain was bearable at first and Wilson tried to keep his skin loose to minimize the damage. Twenty lashings in, Wilson‘s back was a bloody mess, covered with gaping holes and flaps of flesh. With ten lashings to go, a portion of Wilson‘s shoulder blade had become exposed. When the fortieth and final blow was struck, Wilson slumped against the pillar, drawing ragged breaths. His back felt as though it were ablaze. Every inch of it burned. His manacles were removed and he was ordered to his knees. A crown of thorns was set upon his head. Once it was aligned to the Nah Kee‘s liking, it was forced downward, driving the short spikes into the flesh surrounding his skull. Wilson gasped in pain as a dozen or more rivers of blood began to trickle down his face. Ordered to his feet, Wilson found himself standing before a wooden cross. ―Begin,‖ ordered the Nah Kee who removed himself from Wilson‘s path. ―Come on Wilson, you can do this,‖ shouted Clarence. Others jumped in, cheering him on. Wilson studied the cross and his situation. Carrying the cross on his back would be the most logical. It would also be the most painful. Carrying it cradled in his arms may work, but the strain on his shoulders would wreak havoc on his back as well. In the end, he lowered himself to one knee, taking the weight of the cross on his left shoulder, the least damaged of the two. With a grunt, he managed to bear the weight to a standing position. Allowing the tail of the cross to drag behind him, Wilson started forward at a slow but steady pace. An Ungolan to his left was the only creature that he could see that was ahead of him. Wilson 212 increased his pace, realizing the importance of arriving first, even though his head and back throbbed with every step. With less than twenty yards to go, Wilson had drawn even with the Ungolan. The huge beast was lumbering forward, unaware of Wilson‘s progress. As he passed the Ungolan with ten yards to go, the Ungolan roared and charged forward. Wilson leaned forward and increased his speed, driving himself into a dive with two yards remaining, landing just ahead of the Ungolan. He was informed by the Nah Kee that he would have a one second advantage once he was positioned on the cross. Wilson had been so intent on getting to the center, he had forgotten about being nailed to the cross. Several Nah Kee had gathered to assist with the positioning. Laying Wilson onto his back, spread eagle, they wasted no time driving the first spike through Wilson‘s right palm. Moving to his left side, they repeated the procedure with his left hand. The pain was sharp but not as bad as he had anticipated. The shoulders concerned him and the feet just plain terrified him. As it turned out, the pain in his shoulder was only moderately worse than the palms had been. Where he had overestimated the pain in his shoulder, he had greatly underestimated the pain to his feet. The spikes used on his feet were several inches longer than those used on his upper body and there apparently was no soft tissue to nail through. As the second spike made its way through the top of his ankle, he felt lightheaded. A flash of warmth spread through his body, his head cleared and the pain seemed somewhat less. At the far end of the coliseum, Onoch once again felt a disruption in the harmony of the Proving Grounds. ―I assume you sensed that as well,‖ Onoch said to the eye without speaking the words. The eye acknowledged his suspicions. The One was nearby. 213 Wilson winced as the Nah Kee slid his blade between his ribs. The pain had been searing but began to fade quickly, replaced by the painful pressure placed on his limbs as he was hoisted into place. A clock, located atop of the cross started immediately. The Ungolan clock, as the Nah Kee had predicted started one second later. A D‘han was third to arrive at the center, forty-five seconds later, followed by a Deagol, a Woolmott, a Dronic, and a broad-nosed Gulluf. For three hours, Wilson endured. He had been wounded twice more, once in the thigh and again in the shoulder, near the area where he was impaled. He couldn‘t imagine he had much blood left. The Ungolan showed no sign of weakening. The Deagol to his right was struggling to hold his head up. Wilson could not see any of the others. As the fourth hour came and went, Wilson began to doubt himself. He began to drift in and out of consciousness. A memory of a joke became stuck in his head. In the joke, Jesus calls out to his disciple Peter. ―Peter,‖ he shouts, ―Come to me.‖ Peter fights through the crowd, reaches the first row of guards and is beaten and carried away. Moments later Jesus calls out again to Peter who doubles his effort and manages to fight his way to the inner ring of guards. He was about to speak to Jesus when he was dragged away and beaten for his efforts. Bruised and bloody, Peter stood ready, and when his master summoned him for the third time, he fought like a mad man until he reached the base of the cross. ―I have made it, master. What is it that you wish of me?‖ ―Peter,‖ he answered his faithful disciple, ―I can see your house from here.‖ Wilson chuckled despite his situation. As he laughed, he began to cough, causing himself some unwanted pain. As the 214 clock moved past five hours, Wilson‘s breathing had become shallow. With less than thirty minutes to go, Wilson lost consciousness. His breathing began to rattle in his throat; an indication that fluids were filling his lungs. He was on death‘s door. The Ungolan expired with fifteen minutes remaining. Wilson‘s blood loss had slowed to an unnoticeable ooze. His head hung limply, the gurgling in his throat more pronounced. With five minutes left the gurgling could no longer be heard. He was in the final phase of dying. The breathing was almost undetectable. With less than a minute left his body had shut down. There was absolutely no movement. His breathing stopped with ten seconds left. He was dead to the world but his heart managed to beat a final couple of beats, carrying over the threshold. He had done it. He awoke to cheers of victory in the compound. Everyone but Anton had gathered around. Anton had left at the conclusion of the final event after Onoch had explained the rules of major wishes and provided the standings. It had been explained by the master of the Proving Grounds that major wishes, unlike minor wishes could not be undone without a great deal of difficulty, requiring the authority of the witnesses to allow such an action. Competitors were reminded that their wishes were limited to their planet‘s sphere of influence. Competitors would be immune to the effect of any wish until the conclusion of the trials. Wilson sat up slowly, still not quite himself. ―You cut that a little closer than we would have liked,‖ smiled Clarence. ―I don‘t recall much of anything beyond the fourth hour. I am healed yet I don‘t feel whole at all. The whipping, the thorns, and the nailing to the cross, will be forever burned into 215 my mind. That was truly awful and we have only completed the third of ten trials.‖ Wilson walked to the monitors, relieved to see that Team Earth currently sat in nineteenth place. ―We may be a small team, but we are indeed a strong team.‖ ―Here, here,‖ shouted Clarence. Brock and the others joined in. ―Were there any other teams left to face global annihilation?‖ asked Wilson. ―Yes, three, I‘m afraid,‖ said Brock, ―But let‘s worry about that later. We need to go home. We have earned the right to help save our planet.‖ Carla and Ned were standing nearby. Ned was still recording the crowd and the other races as best he could. Carla was focusing on Wilson and the other members of Team Earth. ―Where is Tim?‖ asked Wilson. ―He followed Anton,‖ Carla replied. ―Is that wise?‖ ―We are to give the story everyone wants to hear and see. I would prefer to follow all of you until the end. You represent Earth well, but Anton is like that train wreck that you can‘t turn you head away from. We must do what we must do. I will not apologize for it.‖ ―No apology necessary,‖ said Wilson. ―I‘m just concerned about his well being.‖ ―Duly noted,‖ she quipped as she vanished from the Proving Grounds. ―See you back at the U.N.‖ said Tim as he followed Carla. Nobody was prepared for what awaited them back on Earth.

216

Chapter Ten Pestilence

Anton‘s wish had been made swiftly; his judgement final. He requested the Four Horseman of the Apocalypse. He request was denied, so he wished for Pestilence to rain down on Earth. His wish was granted. The protective powers of the Jarn dissipated, allowing the wave of disease to wash over the planet. Few families would be spared its effect. Wilson and the others arrived, shocked to hear of Anton‘s wish. Even for a homicidal, serial killer, this was a new low. ―I should have killed him when I had the chance,‖ muttered Brock. Zhang Yesui welcomed the twelve survivors, commending them on their valour. ―Unfortunately, Mr. Collins, you were correct regarding Zalmay Khali and I was a fool for doubting your wisdom. I let personal feelings cloud my judgement and I am truly sorry.‖ 217 ―Apology accepted, Zhang, but what has he done to prove me correct?‖ ―He is with Anton,‖ offered Tim who had snuck in shortly after Team Earth had returned. ―They are plotting something but I was unable to obtain any useful information. Anton has armed himself with a couple of pistols, a taser and a large knife that he has strapped to his waist. Before I could ascertain any additional information, he pointed the gun at my head and I left.‖ ―I have to go to my family,‖ said Clarence. ―I will deal with my wish later.‖ ―We were not sure what to expect at the third trial so we took the liberty of bringing the loved ones of Team Earth to the United Nations building. They are currently residing in the lower level. Everyone came except your ex-wife Brock. She did, however, send your children. I also took the liberty of securing Sarah Lawrence. I hope that is alright.‖ ―Yes, of course,‖ answered Brock. ―Did Tabby give a reason why?‖ ―She thought it best to stay at her home with her boyfriend. She made mention that she had made choices. Now she would have to live with them. Kingsley has hired a security team to keep watch over them. She felt the children would be safer here.‖ Brock nodded his understanding but he was awash with guilt, and it pissed him off that she could still make him feel this way. ―I would suggest we take an hour to see our families,‖ offered Wilson, ―After which we can reconvene to discuss how to best use our twelve wishes. Onoch made it clear that overturning a wish would be difficult but I‘m sure there is a way to circumvent what Anton has put in place.‖

218 ―The Security Council has issued a warrant for his immediate arrest,‖ said Zhang. ―And how do you propose to catch a man that can move about at will.‖ ―With your help, we would sedate him and keep him that way until he is to return to the Proving Grounds. Furthermore, it is the goal of this Council to see that he is sedated before he returns, if he should survive. He cannot make a wish if he is unconscious. We believe he will follow the pattern of the four horsemen of the apocalypse or worse.‖ Zhang paused to wipe sweat from his brow. He admitted to suddenly feeling flush. It was beginning. While the others visited their families in the lower level, Wilson returned home. He wasn‘t sure why but something was pulling him in that direction. He whispered to Tamihana that he would return shortly. They were, after all, the only two without families.

Onoch had not left his position at the Proving Grounds. His vision was far reaching, as was common for all the Jarn. Just as they could travel at will, the Jarn could see at will. He had been observing the survivors and the other humans that surrounded them. His mind had been racing from one planet to the other in one part of the universe as the eye in his staff did the same in a different part of the universe. The subtle energy shifts at the Proving Grounds had disturbed him. He had probed each of the individuals, sensing nothing out of the ordinary. As Wilson was announcing that he was returning home, Onoch moved on to the next planet.

219 Wilson arrived home to darkness, just as he had left it. Before he could reach the lights, the voice of Abigor broke the silence. ―You have done well,‖ he said. ―I‘m still alive at least,‖ replied Wilson as he turned on the lights. Abigor, hidden behind the folds of his hooded robe, moved slowly forward. ―You and I will never see each other again, Wilson. The gift you are about to receive will serve as my final gift to you. Onoch is aware that something is amiss. He can sense subtle energy changes when you use your gift.‖ ―What gift is that?‖ ―A gift similar to the one I am about to give you; a gift that you will not recall once given, much like the previous gift you were blessed with. You will see glimpses of the gift, possibly hear voices or thoughts that are not your own, similar to the voice that guided you home today, at this precise time, seconds after Onoch‘s probing eyes left this planet.‖ ―I do not understand,‖ said Wilson. ―What is it that you have done-― Abigor stopped him midsentence by touching a gnarled fingernail to his forehead. Wilson became rigid. Abigor took his hand, turning it upward, placing a black crystal on to his palm. Leaving Wilson, Abigor moved to the kitchen to retrieve a glass of water. Returning he placed the glass of water into Wilson‘s other hand and ordered him to swallow the crystal, washing it down with the water. Abigor placed a hand on Wilson‘s chest, muttering a short incantation. ―You will awaken as I leave. You will not remember this visit. You will remember returning home to shower. Once you have showered you will seek out Tamihana.‖ The words were barely spoken and Abigor was gone. Wilson opened his 220 eyes, eager to jump in the shower so he could return to Tamihana. He was growing rather fond of her. Brock found his children and Sarah in a small apartment in the east wing of the lower level. Brock had been unaware that such a thing existed. The apartment had two bedrooms, a fully stocked kitchen and a spacious living room complete with an entertainment network with surround sound and a fifty inch flat screen television. An Xbox game system had been secured at Kramer‘s request. Kramer and Emily were playing a war game as Brock entered the room. ―Haven‘t we had enough fighting for one day,‖ he shouted, happy to see his children. ―Daddy!‖ they shouted in unison, jumping up to mob him. He winked at Sarah who had been sitting on the couch, watching the children play, a half eaten bowl of popcorn on her lap. She rose to her feet but remained where she was. She had no desire to ruin their moment. ―So you two have met Sarah?‖ he asked. ―Yeah,‖ laughed Emily. ―She‘s nice. She said she‘s your girlfriend.‖ Brock blushed at that. ―Yes, I believe she is,‖ he chuckled. ―And how are you three getting along?‖ ―Good,‖ said Kramer, ―But it‘s hot in here.‖ Brock actually thought it was cool. He put his hand to Kramer‘s forehead. He was burning up. Brock vowed to kill Anton as soon as they returned to the Proving Grounds. Brock led Kramer to the couch, laying him with his head propped up. He reached for the phone which lay on the end table next to the couch. He dialled zero. When the operator picked up, he informed her of the situation and asked that a staff medical personal be sent to them.

221 ―I will as soon as possible sir,‖ she replied. ―I have received ten similar calls in the last fifteen minutes. Additional medical staff has been requested by the nearby hospital. The will be arriving shortly.‖ ―What‘s happening?‖ asked Sarah. ―Anton wished for pestilence and it is here. Many have speculated that the pestilence would come in the form of plague or worse. I will not allow my children or you to die. If I have to use my wish to save you, so be it.‖ ―Is it that bad?‖ asked Sarah. He turned to her and caressed her cheek. ―Yeah, babe, it‘s that bad.‖ ―My sister lives alone on the east side. Could I have her come here?‖ ―Definitely,‖ answered Brock. ―What‘s her name?‖ ―Cynthia Maude Lawrence.‖ Brock disappeared, returning a moment later. He had spoken with Zhang and was reassured that she would be granted entrance. Brock made Kramer comfortable, coxing him to drink some water. Emily had returned to the video game, oblivious to what was happening. ―Kramer, I have to go for a while. A doctor is coming to see you and Sarah will watch over you until I get back, okay?‖ Kramer just nodded before closing his eyes. His skin had grown clammy. Similar situations were occurring throughout the building. Clarence‘s daughter and mother were affected. All three of Ashley‘s cousins had sprouted fevers and six of Shen Wu‘s children had grown ill. What was happening inside the walls of the United Nations was miniscule compared to the outside world. Those outside when the pestilence struck

222 received the full brunt of the disease. It was not the plague as some had thought. It was much, much worse. Brock sat with the others, in the Security Council chamber discussing possible options. Every possible wish imaginable was covered. Going back in time and stopping Anton had been one idea. It interfered with the Proving Grounds and was not allowed. They were reminded that wishes had to remain with the realm of influence. Another idea had been to wish for a vaccine to the pestilence but the group rethought the logic of that decision, as it would do no good at this point. Those not affected by now, may not be affected and trying to distribute such a vast amount of vaccine would be near impossible. A third idea was to wish that everyone could be healed that were afflicted by the pestilence. It was rejected by the Jarn, stating that it caused a wish conflict, a new development not discussed with minor wishes, when Tamihana‘s boyfriend was wished back to life. Unlike the minor wishes, these wishes received explanations so the group could better plan their wishes. They rotated the wish attempts around the table, not wanting to jeopardize any individual by collecting three strikes, nullifying the wish.

Shen Wu suggested they that wish that there be no deaths from the pestilence. Everyone agreed it was worth a try, with Shen making the wish. The wish was accepted and everyone rejoiced. They were now left with eleven wishes that could be used for helping the earth, at least so they thought. Carla was standing by the president, near the closest monitor. She beckoned everyone to join them. With the Jarn no longer influencing Earth, all hell was breaking loose. David Sedoko, news anchor for CNN was showing a feed from Israel. War had broken out in the West Bank. Casualties were high. 223 Egypt was considered declaring war on Israel. Saudi Arabia had threatened to attack Lebanon, blaming them for the conflict in Israel. The entire Middle East was falling apart. The president ordered the military into high alert. ―Zhang, keep me informed of activities here. I need to be in the war room.‖ The president vanished. The other dignitaries followed, each having their own countries to worry about. ―Do they not realize we can solve this situation from here?‖ asked Wilson. ―I‘m not so sure you can,‖ said Carla, listening to her headset as she spoke. ―I have an unconfirmed report of a dead teenage boy who died from the pestilence but is still moving and talking.‖ ―What!‖ shouted Wilson. ―That is insane.‖ ―Go live to my recorder,‖ ordered Carla who vanished. Her feed came up on the monitor seconds later. She was at a hospital. The doctor appeared visibly shaken, rambling in his native tongue. Carla was shouting for someone who spoke English. A small, Caucasian nurse approached Carla offering to help. She looked frightened. Screaming erupted from behind the curtain. ―What is happening?‖ shouted Carla to the nurse. ―The boy. . .the dead boy. . . is behind the curtain. He was dead but he is still alive.‖ Carla marched forward, tearing back the curtain, revealing a teenage boy that should definitely be dead. He had clearly bled out through his skin, eyes, nose, mouth and ears. Large ugly sores covered his blotchy skin. He started to scream over and over. Two, large attendants were holding him by his arms as a doctor attempted to verify that he was dead. He lifted his head and took the boy‘s face in his hands. He spoke to the boy and he became silent. The doctor 224 resumed his examination. After a moment he looked toward Carla and the crowd gathered. He spoke to the crowd and the nurse translated for him. ―The boy has no heartbeat and no pulse. He is dead, yet he lives.‖ The boy began to scream. Carla returned to the Security Council. ―We are getting similar reports from a dozen other countries.‖ ―Oh my god,‖ said Ashley. ―We created this. That is not what we meant.‖ ―That apparently does not matter,‖ offered Beatrix Faria. ―We must fix this,‖ said Shen Wu. ―I will not lose my family and I will not allow them to become like the boy.‖ Team Earth returned to the board table they had been seated at earlier. They were joined by Zhang and several other members of the Security Council. ―The president has requested that you wish for world peace immediately. Iran is threatening Israel with a nuclear strike in less than one hour.‖ ―I have no problem complying with his request but we must be certain to word this wish so we achieve the desired effect,‖ said Wilson. After a lengthy discussion, it was decided that no other meaning could be derived from, ―We wish for world peace.‖ After a vote, they made the wish, using Ashley‘s wish. World peace lasted for exactly one minute. A revised wish was made requesting world peace for one month, in case it didn‘t turn out so well, the world would not be stuck with world peace for all eternity. They were down to nine wishes, having managed to stop any world wars, although in-country fighting was still an issue. Tim and Ned remained on hand to provide updates on world events. Carla had been asked to join the president and the Joint Chiefs of Staff in the war room. 225 ―We have managed to make a bad situation worse and I can‘t think of a solution to this nightmare,‖ said Clarence. ―Zombies! My daughter and her grandmother are going to turn into fucking zombies.‖ ―No they aren‘t,‖ said Brock. ―I‘ve been thinking about a solution and I think I may have one. We can‘t make a wish to counter an existing wish but as we have found out that we can make a wish to alter an existing wish. We wished that those affected couldn‘t die, altering the path of those people, not the way we had hoped but altered nonetheless. I propose two things. For those already dead but still alive, I propose that we wish them all to the center of the world‘s largest magma lava pools. They will be incinerated instantly, a much more merciful solution to their current plight. Secondly I prop-― Shen cut him off midsentence. ―I will not do that to my children!‖ ―Shen, you misunderstand me. This solution is only for those already dead. Your children were inside and their infection is not nearly as advanced. The solution for those still alive is a different form of mutation. I suggest we wish that the disease itself leaves the body. The wish, at least in my thinking would not conflict with the pestilence wish. A final wish would place the pestilence itself deep beneath the ice of Antarctica where it would remain frozen and out of our reach. By wishing that our people cannot die, we have granted the pestilence a form of immortality. Wilson patted Brock on the shoulder. ―Nicely done, my friend.‖ ―Don‘t thank me just yet. It‘s just a theory.‖ Zhang asked for a moment to inform the president. Shen excused himself and vanished. He returned a moment later. 226 ―I needed to know that none of my children have worsened to a point of becoming this undead.‖ ―Everyone understands Shen,‖ said Ashley. ―We are all frightened for our families.‖ Brock left for a moment, wanting to see how Kramer was doing and to check on the arrival of Sarah‘s sister. Kramer had worsened but would be fine if this plan worked. Sarah‘s sister had arrived and was busy playing video games with Emily. Sarah, forever the nurse, was applying a cold compress to Kramer‘s forehead as the doctor adjusted his IV. His fever had reached 102 degrees. Brock kissed his son on the cheek, gave Sarah a quick hug and returned to the group. ―The president believes your plan to be sound. He suggests you act quickly.‖ No one wanted to be the one to wish the zombies away so they drew straws. Chloe drew the short straw. The wish was accepted. The second wish was made by Brock. It too was accepted. Before they proceeded, Brock willed himself back to Kramer. ―Daddy,‖ said Kramer weakly as Brock strode over to him. ―Feeling better little man?‖ he asked. ―Uh huh,‖ he replied. ―Can I have some chocolate milk?‖ ―Yep, he‘s feeling better,‖ laughed Brock. With a squeeze of Sarah‘s shoulder he promised to return soon. Maria Carvalho made the wish to transport the pestilence itself to the middle of the Antarctic ice, placing it out of harm‘s way for now, but by no means was it a permanent solution. ―Well, this did not go as well as I had hoped,‖ said Wilson, ―But we still have six wishes to help our planet. Let us determine how to save our planet.‖ For the next three hours they discussed a wide variety of wishes. Transforming vast sections of dessert into lush farmland was one possible wish. 227 Reforestation to a point equal to the number of trees on the planet in the seventies was another suggestion. The list grew as the discussion continued. Transforming every cigarette butt into its atomic weight in oxygen was a popular idea. They could cure heart disease, one or more forms of cancer, or AIDS. They could give sight to the blind. The deaf could hear or the crippled could walk. The disfigured could be beautiful or the mentally challenged could suddenly be normal, if there was such a thing on this planet anymore. Eighty-nine different ideas were discussed and the group did not achieve a majority vote on any of them. In the end, it was decided that each team member would place the idea they liked best into a box in the middle of the table. Zhang would be asked to draw out six. It was a practical decision for an impractical situation. In the end, the following wishes were granted: Reforestation to a point equal that of the turn of the century, a cure for heart disease, a cure for ovarian cancer, the blind would no longer live in darkness, a cure for AIDS, and finally the location of all missing children in the world would be revealed. Tim recorded the event, broadcasting it to whoever had hydro and a television to watch. How quickly things had changed without the Jarn to protect them. All but the reforestation wish went off as planned. None of the group had considered by wishing for reforestation to the levels of the seventies that the forest would return to every place where trees had been in the seventies. Buildings, constructed on treed properties after the 1970‘s were destroyed, replaced by thick forests. The effect of the wish was good for the planet but devastating for mankind. Billions of dollars in damage was created, hundreds of thousands of jobs were lost. That, combined with the loss of lives from pestilence had left the world reeling. 1.4 billion lives were lost from the pestilence. An 228 additional 400,000,000 lives were lost from the reforestation. Rioting erupted in forty-five countries. Essential services were down, or running well below acceptable levels in most countries. The president invoked martial law and country-wide curfews. Canada, Mexico, England and France followed suit. The president also ordered all troops home. The days of being the police force of the world were over. By the time Brock made it back to his children, they were fast asleep. Sarah and her sister were enjoying a tea and each other‘s company. Sarah had managed to contact their parents. They were fine although they were afraid to go outside. They lived in south eastern Detroit, an area deemed amongst the most unstable in the country. Brock apologized to Sarah in advance but he needed to be sure about his children‘s mother. He was gone a total of five minutes. Tabitha and her boyfriend were both fine. The three bodyguards he had hired, however, had all died.

229

Chapter Eleven The Fourth Trial Black Mist Forest

Almost thirty hours later, the remaining members of Team Earth returned to the Proving Grounds. The mood was downcast as they gathered, one by one. They had arrived on Earth after the third trial, ready to change the world. Anton had changed all that for them and despite their best efforts, they clumsily fought their way through wish after wish, accomplishing far less than they had hoped to. They all had agreed in the end that they would try to do much better upon their return. They found themselves on the fringe of an immense forest. They were alone. Anton was the last to arrive. Brock lunged at him immediately, driving him to the ground. Wrapping his hands around Anton‘s throat, he began to choke the life out of him. He would not allow this bastard to do anything else to anyone. Anton began to flail about wildly but was unable to dislodge Brock. ―How does it feel, you maggot? Over a billion people dead because of you. You are pure fucking evil.‖ Anton‘s flailing began to subside. His eyes began to roll up into his head. Without warning, the powerful hands of a Jarn flung Brock clear of Anton, landing him in a heap several feet away. Brock was so enraged; he leaped toward the Jarn before realizing his mistake. The Jarn knocked him backward with a powerful backhand. 230 ―Do that a second time and you will die today. The fourth trial prohibits team mates from killing each other for reasons you will soon understand as you enter the forest.‖ The Jarn vanished. Leaving Anton to recover, the group, led by Wilson, moved closer to the forest. A wide, dirt path served as the entrance to the dark and gloomy woods. The forest was comprised of an unusual species of trees with dark black trunks that corkscrewed their way skyward. Long, twisted branches jutted from the trunk at every angle imaginable. Sinewy, leaf- filled vines drooped downward from every level of the tree. The leaves were black and tattered, not by age or disease but by design. As they reached the entrance, Wilson stopped. ―I would suggest we wait for instructions,‖ he said. Tamihana stood by his side, her arm locked in his. They had been intimate the night before and Tamihana could only describe it as memorable. Onoch was not visible to the group but his voice was crystal. ―The fourth trial takes place in the Black Mist Forest, magical woods which will test your abilities as a team. The forest is a living creature sensitive to the needs, wants and fears of those who dare cross it. Your goal is to cross the forest and reach the Spires of Blood which lie on the far side of the forest. Of the one hundred and ninety-four teams remaining, only the first one hundred to reach the Spires will score points. The balance of the teams will face harsh sanctions. Be forewarned, your team will only be as strong as your weakest member. You will not be permitted to harm a team mate during this trial. You will see why momentarily. Remember, time is against you. Although we are not visible to you, we are watching you, as are those on your home planets. The recorders will not be required 231 again until the return to the coliseum. They will continue to record from their home planets. Good luck to all teams.‖ ―Let‘s go,‖ said Wilson, marching forward, followed by the others, with Anton trailing behind. Wilson had gone less than twenty feet when the mist began to appear. It started as wisps, a strand here, another strand there but as they moved forward the strands began to weave themselves together. At forty feet in, the mist had grown into a thick fog, limiting their vision to ten feet. Wilson continued forward on the broad, dirt path that wound its way through the woods. A broad-shouldered husky trotted out of the mist ahead of them, its tail wagging as it strutted up to Wilson, looking up to him, waiting for a command. ―Chester,‖ he said puzzled how his favourite pet, Chester had managed to materialize here of all places. He couldn‘t be sure but Wilson thought for a moment that Chester was dead. Wilson dropped to his knee and gave the dog a rough affectionate hug. Tamihana was terrified of dogs. She had been bitten on the ankle by a vicious Doberman when she was a child. A passerby had managed to drive the dog away with a stick. The dog was later put down by Animal Services. A low growl emanating from the mist to their right caught everyone‘s attention. Chester‘s tail stopped wagging as he turned toward the source of the noise. A black Doberman focused on Tamihana slunk out of the mist. ―Oh my god,‖ whispered Tamihana. ―That dog attacked me when I was younger.‖ She involuntarily backed away from the dog as it stalked her, readying itself to attack, oblivious to the others. Brock thought about how a baseball bat would be nice to have about now. As the dog crouched to pounce, Brock found his hands gripping a Louisville, wooden bat. Stepping forward he took aim as the dog leaped. He caught the dog on the side of 232 the head, knocking it unconscious, perhaps killing it. As the dog lay there, it shimmered briefly and was gone, as was the bat and Chester. ―What the hell is going on?‖ asked Clarence. ―As Onoch said, the forest will know us. It appears to have the ability to create the images in our head so I suggest you think happy thoughts or we are in seriously trouble.‖ ―You are already in trouble,‖ laughed Anton. Several men, dressed in black pinstriped suit, donning white fedoras and carrying Tommy guns appeared to their right. ―My favourite movie scene is the Valentine Day massacre,‖ his maniacal laughter reverberating through the dense woods. Wilson acted quickly, thinking of a large, brick wall. It materialized as the guns roared to life. Brock wanted his bat back and he got it, smacking Anton unconscious with it. The gun fire ceased immediately but Brock‘s head flared with pain, as did everyone else‘s. ―What the hell happened,‖ Beatrix. ―My head hurts like hell.‖ ―I think I get it,‖ whispered Wilson as he massaged his temple. ―We are of one collective, yet distinctly separate consciousness. We seem to be able to act alone but our actions affect us all.‖ Wilson slapped himself in the face. Everyone winced in pain. ―Okay, don‘t do that no more please,‖ said Clarence. ―Sorry, I needed to verify my theory,‖ responded Wilson. The sting in his temple reminded Clarence of his mentor Bruno Stanzivic, a former golden gloves champion who had helped Clarence to become that man he was. He had clipped Clarence on the temple on more than just one occasion sparing.

233 Clarence was taking back as the big man came lumbering toward him. ―Bruno,‖ shouted Clarence as he ran and gave him a big bear hug. Happy memories of the carnival and his time with Bruno flooded Clarence‘s mind. Circus music blared through the forest. Danielle and his daughter Sophia joined the joyful reunion. Clarence had a brief memory of Bruno‘s death. That was all it took to turn Bruno into a decaying corpse. Sophia began to scream and Danielle covered her eyes. Clarence felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Wilson. He turned back and Bruno, Danielle and Sophia were gone. Dozens of familiar people, pets, and items began to appear around them. ―Follow me,‖ shouted Wilson as he led the group back the way they had come, leaving Anton on the ground in an unconscious pile. In a matter of minutes, they had returned to the entrance and everything began to clear. ―Wow, that was some kind of crazy,‖ said Ashley. ―I seen that lady walking toward Clarence. She looked like my Aunt Agnes who materialized right in front of me. Aunt Agnes always reminded me of the wicked witch from the Wizard of Oz and before I knew it, the wicked witch had replaced Aunt Agnes. I screamed and the tin man, the scarecrow and the cowardly lion were moving toward me. That‘s when Wilson said to follow him.‖ ―Well, at least we know what we are up against.‖ ―It feels like a dream,‖ said Tamihana. ―Unlike a dream, these thoughts we are creating have substance. I‘m quite certain that Doberman would have hurt Tamihana, much like the machine gun carrying mobster would have riddled us with bullets.‖

234 ―I am hopeful you have a plan,‖ said Shen. ―I am not certain how I would react if I started to reminisce about a Godzilla movie.‖ ―Onoch said we are only as strong as our weakest link. In our case, that would have to be Anton. He could summon death in many different ways so keeping him unconscious would be a good start. Killing him is not an option as we know now. What he feels, we feel. Did anyone else feel Tamihana‘s fear when the dog arrived?‖ They all had, just as they had felt Clarence‘s panic when his friend transformed into a decaying corpse. Wilson‘s plan was simple. They would all focus on a single red rose. As they travelled, roses may appear by the hundreds but nothing life threatening should come of it. Wilson suggested they march single file, each person laying a hand on the shoulder of the person ahead of them. This would make it easier to maintain focus on the rose. When they reached Anton, Brock would throw him over his shoulder, alternating with all the men in the group until they reached their destination. With a few last words of encouragement, the group headed out. The first flaw in their plan was Anton. He was gone. Wilson reminded everyone of the plan and to focus on the rose. They would deal with Anton when they found him. The group travelled for a quarter mile at a pace set by Wilson. There were roses everywhere but the quickly laid plan seemed to be working. Occasionally someone‘s thoughts would begin to drift and an entire rose garden would appear, or a large trellis covered in roses. Several floats from the Rose Bowl parade made brief appearances and even an English butler holding a cup of red rose tea. The worst scare came from a bullfighter awaiting the charge of a bull, a single rose clenched between the matador‘s teeth. A quick thinking Brock shouted 235 for the bullfighter to run to his right away from the group. Moments later, they came across Anton. He was standing in a misty clearing, surrounded by a band of mercenaries. Anton took a large haul from a fat Cuban cigar that was jutting out of the corner of his mouth. Removing the cigar in a flamboyant, over dramatized manner, he requested that Brock step forward. ―Shoot him in the arm,‖ ordered Anton to the burly man to his right. The solider took aim and fired. The bullet passed through Brock‘s upper right arm. The pain was instantaneous and intense. Anton howled in pain, grabbing his right arm. His mercenaries disappeared. A trickle of blood ran down Anton‘s arm, as it did with all the members of Team Earth. ―We are in a bit of pickle, so here is the deal,‖ said Brock who explained to Anton in no uncertain terms that they would march single file, focusing on roses and nothing but roses until they reach the Spires. Failure to do that would result in a sudden loss of consciousness. As Brock was talking, dozens of snakes wound their way toward him. Wilson smiled as a large sumo wrestler grabbed Anton in a choke hold. The snakes vanished. Wilson could feel the pressure on his own throat but continued nonetheless. ―Co- operate and he will be gentle. Failure to comply will result in your unconscious ass being dragged through this forest. Answer yes or no.‖ Anton managed a nod of yes. ―Everyone stay focused on the roses and I will continue to focus on our large friend.‖ ―I am focusing on the throbbing in my arm,‖ said Chloe. ―Then focus on healing your arm. Look at it, watch it heal and see if it‘s as easily transferred as the pain.‖ Chloe did as she was instructed, closing her eyes and visualizing the wound healed. In seconds, it was gone, as was everyone else‘s. ―Well that was pretty easy,‖ she giggled. 236 ―Remember that,‖ said Wilson. ―We may need your services again soon.‖ They moved out, Wilson leading in a manner of speaking. The sumo was out front, guiding Anton along with Wilson in close proximity to monitor his progress. Dead roses began to appear next to the dozens of other flowers along the path, and in the nearby woods, proof that Anton was co- operating. They had not travelled far when a crashing noise sounded to their left. ―Roses, everyone!‖ barked Wilson whose Sumo shimmered briefly before he retook control of the image. He was starting to get a headache. Everyone claimed to have been on task. The crashing grew nearer. Something large was barrelling through the woods in their direction. A wild-eyed Flix, running for its life, came into sight to the left. It was about to leap into the air and take flight when a powerful set of jaws tore it from the air, sending a spray of blood everywhere. As the Flix died, so did the large creature pursuing it. It vanished. The large beast had resembled a Tyrannosaurus Rex, only taller and covered in thick, blood red scales. ―If the Flix was killed, would all the Flix with him be killed?‖ asked Ashley. ―Possibly,‖ answered Wilson. ―All the more reason to focus on the roses.‖ They managed another half of a mile before their situation deteriorated. Everyone was beginning to grow weary. Maintaining an image for that long would be difficult for a well trained, Shaolin monk but for this group, nearly impossible. As they walked through a second clearing, much larger than the first, they found themselves in a large field of flowers. Clarence looked toward Wilson for guidance. Wilson was 237 wearing an oxygen mask. Through the mask he told them where they were. ―We are in the field of flowers in the Wizard of Oz. The flowers will put you into a deep, deep sleep. Wilson struggled to keep the two images stable, ordering the sumo to squeeze Anton‘s stomach, emptying it of air, causing the same to happen to everyone. As the sumo released Anton‘s stomach, he inhaled as did the others, sucking the sleep spores deep into their lungs. Everyone dropped to the ground, sound asleep. Satisfied that everyone was asleep, Wilson discarded the image of the sumo and the field of flowers to disappear. With the field gone, Wilson removed and tossed away the mask. He had no idea of their exact location or how far the Spires were from their current location. He hoped that this plan to rest his people would grant them the strength to finish this. As weary as he was, Wilson was confident he could see this through.

Back on Earth, fewer and fewer people were watching the broadcast from the Proving Grounds. Worldwide violence had escalated to unprecedented levels. The wish for World peace was preventing countries from attacking each other but it did nothing to stop the violence in each country. The southern United States exploded into a war zone overnight as whites and blacks engaged in a race war that made the Klan activities of the sixties seem like a pie baking contest. Not a country was spared. It was as though each country was imploding in on itself. Millions died the first day and millions more lie wounded, dying. Hospitals were of no help. News of a hospital takeover early in the day, prompted gangs from all over the United States to take up arms and do the same. Food, drugs and beautiful nurses to serve as play toys. It was a gang leader‘s dream castle.

238 Richard St. Clair sat in the oval office with Vincent Farley, the Secretary of State. A meeting with the Joint Chiefs of Staff had concluded moments earlier. The decision to call in the National Guard had been an easy one. With troops arriving home daily from abroad, St. Clair was determined to get a foothold on the anarchy that had overtaken the country. A message was being broadcast twenty-four hours a day that martial law was in effect. Anybody caught on the streets between dusk and dawn would be shot without question. Food ration distribution centers were set up strategically at five hundred locations across the country. Each center was well protected by Marines and monitored from above by the Air Force. Special Ops teams were dealing with the hospital situation. Teams were ordered to take back the hospitals by any means necessary. Orders to kill all hostiles were very specific. There was to be no taking of prisoners.

Wilson waited only five minutes before waking up his team, pondering when they became his team. Waking Anton last, Wilson brought his friend the sumo back. Wilson apologized to everyone, explaining that it was necessary to allow them a moment to refresh their minds. No one was angry or argued with Wilson‘s logic. They just wanted to get out of the forest.

Wilson marched forward, increasing the pace they had set earlier that day. Time was against them and he had no idea of how well the other teams were doing. Team Earth had managed to move up into eleventh place, a feat he would have never thought possible after their dismal start. He drifted back to the first battle the humans had faced against a team of Ungolans. 239 The sheer size and power of these beasts had overwhelmed the humans. ―Wilson!‖ shouted Tamihana who was pulling him back away from a group of ten Ungolans advancing on the humans. The sumo disappeared, leaving Anton to cower as the closest Ungolan drove him backward with a swipe of his large fist. Everyone felt the force of the strike. Wilson fought off a moment of panic as he willed a machine gun into his hand and opened fire, dropping the first wave of Ungolans. More Ungolans appeared, coming at them from every direction. Wilson dropped the gun, closing his eyes in concentration. Suddenly, they were all inside their familiar compound, all but Anton. Clarence rushed to the door and dragged him in by his foot. Closing the steel door, everyone, including Anton moved to the center of the compound. ―I am so sorry. I drifted off,‖ said Wilson. ―Everyone focus on the roses again, and the Ungolans will be gone.‖ Within seconds, they disappeared. When Wilson was confident all was well, he released the image of the compound. ―Anton, you are on your own. If you want to get out of here, I suggest you do as the rest of us.‖ ―Certainly,‖ smirked Anton as he strode forward. They hadn‘t gone far when the first of many large rats came into view. Wilson reminded everyone to stay focused. They all assured him they were not thinking of rats. Wilson reached ahead and pulled Anton back toward him. ―Is this your doing?‖ ―No,‖ he replied smugly. ―I could do much better than rats.‖ The rats flooded the forest floor in all directions. There were hundreds if not thousands of them. Wilson was unsure of their next move. If they were not of his group‘s design, then 240 who? To buy them some time, Wilson pictured a circular wall of fire about three feet high. He hoped that would keep them at bay until he could devise a plan. He was wrong. One brave rat leaped through the flames landing on Tamihana‘s foot. She shrieked as Brock kicked the creature outside of the circle. A second one landed behind them, a third to the side. Beatrix crushed one with the heel of her shoe, Maria did the same with the other. More and more rats were attempting to breech the flames. Wilson expanded the flames in height and in width. That seemed to slow their advance. Through the flames stood a boy wearing a plaid shirt, a pair of baggy corduroy pants and an old pair of running shoes. His glasses sat on his nose at an odd angle and his appeared to have gone a lifetime without a washing. ―Who is the boy?‖ shouted Wilson. ―Look at him. Someone here must know him.‖ ―It is not any of your people, Wilson. He is my doing.‖ Everyone followed the voice to a midway point of a nearby tree. There sitting on a thick, vine-free section of a branch was a winged creature the size of a large crow. With gossamer wings and a tiny, slight human frame, the creature appeared harmless. In a loud voice that did not match the creature‘s tiny body, he addressed the human. ―I am Scol, of the Mist. You should not be here.‖ ―We have no choice,‖ replied Wilson. ―We have to cross to the Spire of Blood or risk punishment from the Jarn.‖ ―The Jarn have no say here. The Forest belongs to the mist as do all the creatures that dwell here.‖ ―We beg your forgiveness, Scol of the Mist,‖ said Wilson.

241 ―It is not your forgiveness I seek,‖ snarled Scol. ―The one named Anton. He wishes me dead. He is dark, like the forest.‖ ―What is it that you wish of us?‖ asked Brock. ―I require one male and one female from your group in exchange for safe passage.‖ Wilson pulled an image of two pistols into his mind, preparing to draw them as soon as they materialized. ―I wouldn‘t do that Wilson,‖ warned Scol. Wilson ignored him, pointing the barrels of both guns and firing repeatedly. Scol was hit three times in all, dead before he hit the ground with a light splat. The boy with the rats howled in anger. It was clear now that the creature in the tree was nothing more than a prop for the real Scol, if in fact that was the creature‘s name. ―Give me a male and a female in exchange for safe passage or you will all die now. My patience is growing thin.‖ As if to flaunt his power, the flames of the circle diminished to half of what they had been. ―May we have a moment to discuss this?‖ asked Wilson who doubted the creature‘s abilities. If it wanted a male and female, why not just take them? ―One minute, and not a second more,‖ stated Scol. Wilson slapped Tamihana lightly on the face. She recoiled, covering her face with her hand. ―Did anyone else feel that?‖ he asked. No one had. That little voice in the dark corner of Wilson‘s mind had been correct. For whatever reason, they were no longer of a joint mind. They still faced a creature that knew their thoughts that just happened to have an army of large rats at his disposal but a plan was shaping quickly in Wilson‘s mind. ―Clarence, do you know what white noise is?‖ ―Yes,‖ he answered. 242 ―Good, I need you to focus white noise at our buddy Scol starting now.‖ ―Anton, you and Tamihana are to walk toward Scol. You are the two we are offering. I am going to announce my displeasure at this decision and fade to the back. The rest of you are to emit a feeling of anger and hurt toward Scol. I will do the rest. Brock dropped to his knee, clutching his temple. ―Your attempt to annoy me was weak at best,‖ said Scol. ―What is your answer?‖ Anton and Tamihana walked forward offering themselves. Wilson lowered the flames slowly, allowing the two to walk out of the circle. The rats moved aside, clearing a path. Scol was pleased with himself. The female had a radiant beauty about her. The others would be pleased with his trophy. He raised both his hands. ―You will feel a warmth that will envelope you. This will bind you to me allowing you to travel to the mist. Once we have gone, the others will be free t-― Scol gasped as the blade was thrust through his back and out his abdomen. He had been unaware of Wilson‘s movement. How was that possible? Shock was replaced by rage as Scol ordered the rats to attack. Wilson placed the barrel of the pistol to the back of Scol‘s head and pulled the trigger. Scol died instantly. The rats hesitated but did not disappear as Wilson had thought they would. ―Quick, back to the circle,‖ he shouted, grabbing Tamihana by the arm, tugging her to safety. As they crossed the circle, Wilson extended the flames beyond far and wide, dropping to the ground as he did. A sharp pain flared behind his left eye, momentarily blinding him. The rats squealed and dozens, if not hundreds attempted to reach the group but failed. Only one managed to survive the flames, landing on its badly 243 burned paws, taking a hold of Maria‘s ankle before Beatrix crushed its head with her heel. She was becoming quite proficient at rat crushing. The pain in Wilson‘s eye was excruciating. He struggled to maintain a hold on the fire and it began to diminish. The rats were waiting, eager to pounce, and then they were gone, as was the pain in Wilson‘s eye. ―Well that was interesting,‖ said Brock who helped Wilson to his feet. Wilson thanked Brock, slapping him the face. Brock raised a fist to Wilson before he realized why he had done it. No one had felt the slap. ―We remain separated,‖ started Wilson. ―I suggest we move double time, returning to the focus of the rose that got us this far. I can only guess what wrath we might face if word should get back to Scol‘s people.‖ Wilson ordered everyone into single file, hands on shoulders, double time and to focus on the rose. With Wilson leading and Anton trailing, they sped their way through the forest, reaching the first sign of a change in the surroundings. They were beginning to move uphill. As they continued, the grade of the slope continued to grow slowing them down considerably. The mist was beginning to thin as was the thickness of the forest. The roses grew less and less as their abilities began to fade. They were almost there. As they reach a plateau, the forest opened into a clearing. At the end of the clearing was a long suspension bridge that connected to the base of what must be the Spires of Blood. Mountains higher than anything any of them had seen before disappeared miles above them into a bank of storm clouds. The mountains appeared to bleed. Run off from the mountains

244 cascaded downward out of sight into the frothy mist of the chasm‘s floor. To the east and west, other similar bridges connected the forest with the mountain. Several other groups had emerged and were at differing stages of completion on the bridge. Beatrix stood staring at the bridge as it swayed in the wind, a look of terror etched on her face. She was deathly afraid of heights. Wilson ordered the others to begin crossing the bridge. Anton shoved his way forward only to be yanked from his feet by Brock. ―You will cross last, if you cross at all,‖ he shouted menacingly. Clarence tore off his shirt and ripped it into a couple of strips. He convinced Beatrix to cover her eyes. Led by Ashley and followed closely by Shen, the three began the journey. It was slow going but they were well over halfway when the mist people arrived. Unable to leave the protection of the forest, the creatures were forced to extend the mists beyond the normal boundaries. The mists swirled and pulsed as they began to blanket the plateau. Everyone but Maria, Brock, Abebe, Anton and Wilson were on the bridge. ―Everyone go, now,‖ ordered Wilson. Maria went first, followed by Wilson, and Abebe. Brock waited for Anton to approach. ―The mist is coming Anton. You will be their pet for all eternity; quite a fitting ending to an evil prick such as yourself.‖ Anton looked behind. The mist was close. With a shriek of madness, Anton charged Brock who was ready for him. Holding on tightly to the bridge supports, Brock lowered his shoulder and drove Anton sideways. Anton managed to snag the lower support rope, saving himself from a plunge into the chasm. Brock was about to kick him free of the bridge when he realized 245 he just couldn‘t do it. God would have to take care of it. The mist was less than ten feet from the bridge and it appeared as though the mist was bringing thousands of rats with it. Brock turned and moved as quickly as he could. The squeals of the rats intensified as they closed on the bridge. A chill went up Brock‘s spine but he refused to look back. Had he done so, he would have seen that Anton had managed to climb up onto the bridge just as the mist reached the edge of the plateau. Anton‘s bloodcurdling screams filled the chasm. Brock turned and watched as Anton stumbled forward covered in frenzied rats. Blood was everywhere as Anton attempted to dislodge the rats from his body. As he stumbled forward into the sun, the rats exposed began to sizzle, returning to the safety of the mist. Anton, blinded by the blood trickling from wounds to his forehead groped for the support to regain his footing. Brock was not a heartless man but he could not bring himself to help Anton, not after what he had done to his wife, his child and the world. Everyone but Abebe and Brock had reached the safety of the Spires when the right side of the bridge broke loose. The rats, confined to the darkness of the mists had shifted their attack to the rope supports of the bridge. Anton was only ten feet behind Brock when the bridge shifted. Both men were still able to move along the top of the left support, going hand over hand. Abebe was two steps away from the base of the Spires when the bridge broke loose completely from the other side. Brock grasped the rope in a death grip and braced himself for impact. As the bridge swung toward the jagged stone wall, Brock felt something pass by him. Later he would find out it was Abebe who had lost his footing and plummeted to his death. Brock‘s left shoulder smashed into an outcropping in the cliff wall, nearly sending him to his death. His left arm tingled 246 but remained functioning. He began the ascent to the top when from below came a cry for help from Anton. Brock ignored his pleas, and continued to climb. ―Please, my leg is broken,‖ he screamed. ―I am sorry for what I have done but you must help me,‖ he pleaded. Brock reached the top and was helped up by Wilson and Clarence. ―I am sorry for Abebe,‖ said Brock. ―He was a good man, unlike the scum dangling from the remnants of the bridge.‖ ―You can‘t, as a god fearing man, leave him there to die,‖ said Beatrix. ―You will be a murderer,‖ suggested Chloe. Brock thought on it for a moment. ―I will need the help of all the men. If Wilson and I get a good foothold, we can pull up an arm‘s length of board, maybe two steps at a time. Shen and Clarence can hold that length firm while we reach down for another length.‖ Everyone was in agreement and they began to pull Anton up. As Anton began to crest the edge of the cliff, Brock offered him his hand. Anton looked up through his blood-caked eyes, anxious to reach the base. He extended his hand to Brock who took it firmly in his. ―Look me in the eyes and swear to me that you will spend the rest of your life making amends for what you have done.‖ ―I do. I swear I do.‖ Brock began to lift him up slowly, watching as Anton second hand released its grip on the bridge. As Anton swung his free hand up to gain a higher grip, Brock released his grip, kicking Anton in the face, sending him screaming to his death. Nobody spoke. They were dumbfounded. Brock had just committed cold blooded murder.

247 ―You may think of me as you will, but he singlehandedly killed more people than Hilter, Atila the Hun and Ghengis Kahn combined, and his mission was far from over. If I am to be labelled a murderer, so be it. I have no regrets.‖ Brock stood and began to follow the path to the Spires. He had travelled less than fifty feet when the entire team found themselves back at the Coliseum. ―Team Earth, your placement in the fourth trial is ninety- third; overall, you are currently in forty-second position. There is no chance that Team Earth will face sanctions. You are free to go.‖ Two hundred had begun. Ten remained. Six trials still to face. The odds were not good.

Chapter Twelve 248 A Cursed Blessing

Tim remained behind to broadcast the final standings from the Proving Grounds. Ned went home for a shower and Carla went into CNN for some damage control. With the death of Gordon Fobeur and the current assignments of Tim and Carla, owner, Ted Turner brought in some new faces to help with the reorganization process. CNN had not only become the most watched news program, with the help of the Jarn, it had become the number one station overall. Other networks had switched to reruns for the duration of the Proving Grounds. With the world in a state of utter chaos, television programming was the least of anyone‘s worries. It was almost 11:00 o‘clock, Eastern Standard Time when the final results came in from the Proving Grounds. Earth was currently in thirty-seventh position. One hundred and sixty three teams remained. It was beyond comprehension that thirty- seven planets had been stripped of its intelligent life. The Selenese and the Inlanders were amongst the latest to perish. The Grenddels of Planet Omega Alpha had also faced genocide. Of the planets participating at the Proving Grounds, the Grenddels were the largest race, residing on a planet five times the size of Earth. Over seventeen billion people vanished in heartbeat. Onoch justified this action by offering proof of the restored harmony in that quadrant. Life was not gone from Omega Alpha, or any of the other planets where global genocide was initiated; quite the contrary. The planet would cleanse itself and begin a healing process that would last for centuries. The plant life would flourish, as would the animal kingdom.

249 Genocide was not the end of a race. It would be eons before the cycle began again, but intelligent life would return to Omega Alpha, Koltov Minor and the rest of the planets affected. As was the routine, the members of Team Earth returned to the Security Council. Carla was not far behind, joined by Tim and Ned. Zhang looked into Carla‘s recorder and spoke to the watching world as the delegates sat gathered to one side, and the remainder of the United Nations members sat in the designated seats. The room was filled to capacity. A few moments later, Carla spoke into her headset. After a quick word with Tim and Ned, she vanished. ―To the citizens of earth, we ask that you bow your heads in silent prayer, as we pray for the salvation of Abebe Menelik and Anton Popov. One was a valiant member of Team Earth, the other a despicable, evil man but both God‘s children. We also ask that you pray for the one hundred and eight-eight other brave souls who lost their lives fighting for our planet.‖ Zhang paused, offering those at home a moment of silent prayer. As he returned to the microphone, the first item on his agenda was one of a disciplinary nature. ―The Security Council has reviewed the actions of Brock Donahue pertaining to, and resulting in, the death of Anton Popov. The Russian president has requested we take disciplinary action. We have weighed the pros and cons of the matter and the decision was not made lightly but the Security Council will not seek an indictment against Mr. Donahue.‖ The Russian representative was on his feet, demanding to be heard. Zhang silenced him, reminding him that he could pursue the matter as a war crime at the Hague. That seemed to satisfy the Russian, at least for the moment. Turning his attention back to the world, Zhang proceeded.

250 ―We find ourselves in a perilous situation. Sixty percent of the world is currently without power to some degree. Hardest hit is South America. The wish to reforest has had catastrophic repercussions on this continent. The risk of disease grows daily. I would ask that Team Earth address this issue first and foremost.‖ ―What is it that you wish us to do?‖ asked Clarence. ―No pun intended.‖ The Security Council has discussed this matter in detail and we have a recommendation. There is a stretch of dessert, north of Las Vegas that is as empty as it is spacious. We would request that you wish all the bodies there in a mass burial mound, and that the site be made lush and green.‖ Ashley spoke up. ―I will offer my wish for that purpose, providing your people have looked carefully into the wording.‖ ―I assure you we have,‖ responded Zhang. With a nod from Zhang an assistant moved forward, handing Ashley a piece of paper, containing the wording. Zhang looked directly at Ashley. ―We have people at the site, including Carla Rozalla who will be broadcasting. They will inform us on the results of the wish once it has been made.‖ Ashley looked back to the other members of her team for reassurance before she read the wish. She read it only once, with a powerful voice, full of conviction. The wish was granted. Within minutes, a feed was broadcast to the Security Council. The chamber grew silent. Everyone was in awe. A mound of lush green stretched in all directions for miles. A rose garden, as per Ashley‘s wish, filled the highest point of the mound, protected by a large canopy formed by the foliage from the large oaks that formed a ring around the garden. It was breathtaking. Zhang gave instructions for the feed to go worldwide. He wanted to be sure of success before he showcased it to the world. 251 One wish down, nine to go. Clarence wanted nothing more than to join his family on the lower level. His desire to see them grew with each trip to the Proving Grounds. As it turned out, it took almost eight hours to agree on the remaining nine wishes. What seemed like hundreds of ideas; became a list of twenty which was whittled down to nine wishes. In the end, every member of the United Nations, the Security Council members and the remaining members of Team Earth voted. The first of the nine wishes was for the power to be restored worldwide. The wish was only 20% successful due to wish conflicts from the reforestation wish. Everyone regretted that wish. It was designed from good intentions, and years from now, it would serve the Earth well, but right now, it had created hell on earth. The second wish was to cure all those afflicted with mental handicaps, to include Down‘s Syndrome, mental retardation and other social disorders of varying degrees. Restoring the oceans to their conditions as of the early 1800‘s went off without a hitch. Not only were the oceans cleaner, all forms of ocean life, including coral were restored to what they had been two centuries ago. Tying in with the ocean theme was the thought to restore the Arctic and Antarctic ice shelves to a time five hundred years earlier. The wish would take effect in one month‘s time to allow for anyone in that area to leave. The wish to stop the manufacturing of all tobacco products would not sit well with the smokers of the world but it needed to be done. Despite overwhelming evidence of the harmful effects caused by tobacco, the world continued to allow them to be sold; another example of greed overriding logic. To appease the smokers of the world, the next wish was to cure lung disease. 252 The seventh wish was for all the earth‘s garbage to vanish. The wish was denied. The explanation given was clear. Matter cannot be destroyed, only transformed. A revised wish was for all garbage to be transformed into fresh water, to be distributed throughout the world, starting with the countries in greatest need. Any water surplus would be distributed evenly amongst the desserts of the world. The wish went as well as could be expected. A band of forty-three nomads drowned when a lake three miles across suddenly formed in the middle of the Gobi Dessert.

A wish for the honey bee population to increase five- fold became the eighth wish. It was suggested that a world-wide bee farm initiative be started to assist with the very important pollination process.

The ninth wish proved far more complicated that anyone would have realized. The initial wish was to cleanse all humans of drug addictions. After a lengthy discussion, it was deemed a bad choice because of the health issues and repeated drug use of our seniors. A second wording requested the stopping of all manufacturing of cocaine. Cocaine, despite its bad reputation as a worldwide narcotic, remains an important part of the medical establishment. In the end, it was decided to go with the alternate wish, that being nuclear weapons.

The ninth and final wish was for the complete elimination of all nuclear weapons. They were to be transformed into barrel of fruits and vegetables, to be distributed throughout the world. Much like the wish to transform garbage into water, the food created was to be distributed country by country in order of need.

At the end of their very long day, the members of Team Earth were proud of what they had accomplished. They had undone some of the damage created by their previous wishes,

253 and if they could survive another trial or two, they could continue to make their miracles. Carla, Tim and Ned spent the next few hours, zipping around the world, extracting feedback from hundreds of people. The majority praised Team Earth, the Security Council and the United Nations. One redneck from Louisiana, by the name of Clem Dubois, minced no words in his tongue lashing of the whole operation. ―You went and got rid of the retards. Now, who we gonna call retards? You think you‘re gonna stop me from smoking?‖ Clem paused to take a long drag from a home rolled cigarette. He smiled, revealing one tooth dangling from the top of his mouth. ―As long as there‘s weeds to dry up and roll out, I‘ll be smoking. I do want to thank you for getting rid of lung cancer. I had a nasty cough now for about a year. I used to grow my own tobacco on the back forty but you know what? My back forty is gone. Fucking trees everywhere. My corn got crushed. My tractor got crushed. My house got crushed. You crushed everything but my wife, the one thing I wished you would have crushed. To you folks in the United Nations, I have a message for you.‖ Clem held up his middle finger and thrust it at the camera, cackling like a crazy man.

All members of Team Earth went to be with their families; all but Tamihana and Wilson, who agreed a change of venue would be nice. They went to her place in New Zealand. Like many of Team Earth‘s members, the next twelve or so hours were spent sleeping. The Proving Grounds was beginning to takes its toll. Physically, they were beyond exhaustion. Mentally, they were all experiencing different levels of shock.

254 To see what they had seen, to have felt what they had felt. To many, it would be incomprehensible. Late the next morning, close to noon, a breakfast was held to honour Team Earth and their families. The families were given an option to be flown or driven back to their homes. Ashley‘s family chose to leave the sanctity of the United Nations, requesting to do so immediately following lunch. They wanted to arrive home in time to watch the events from the Proving Grounds. Everyone else chose to stay put.

Chapter Thirteen The Spires of Blood

Wilson arrived first, nearly an hour before the next member of Team Earth would arrive. He had hoped to map out the area, determine a possible route and determine their best strategy. None of them were possible. He found himself in a containment unit, high up on a ridge that ran full circle around 255 the mountain‘s highest peak. Containment units were spread out at equal intervals, at least as far as he could tell. His view to what lie beyond the peak was blocked. It was a safe assumption that the pattern continued beyond his view. Each containment unit opened onto a suspension bridge that led to the vast spire in the middle which appeared as a giant, blood-soaked appendage stretching toward the heavens. Wilson tried to leave the containment unit but could not. The door was locked shut. His view below was obstructed by cloud cover and the floor of the ridge but he could make out a ring of spires similar to the one before him. He counted six. Logic told him that it would equal ten in accordance to the Jarn way. Wilson was puzzled by the colour of the spires. The one in front of him appeared to be bleeding. Red liquid flowed downward, covering the entire spire, yet there was no apparent source. The gleam of the rock was intensified by the bright light of the sun as it emerged from a thick cloud bank. The ridge surrounding the spire was lush. Thick grasses and wild flowers covered the areas between the containment units. Trees of unusual shapes and sizes grew further inland toward the Black Mist Forest. Wilson did not recall any of this. The Jarn had been busy. Tamihana appeared first, looking refreshed and ready. She greeted Wilson with a wet, passionate kiss. He reciprocated with a light slap on her bottom and a warm hug. ―Well, at least it‘s a beautiful place to die,‖ she said, smiling weakly. Brock was next, followed by Shen, Maria, and Clarence. The rest arrived within minutes. Ashley was the last to arrive. Everyone exchanged hugs and words of encouragement. ―Any idea on this one?‖ asked Clarence to no one in particular. 256 ―There are spires below, ten of them I believe,‖ answered Wilson. ―I am guessing this to be a race down.‖ ―A race may favour humans,‖ offered Brock. ―Perhaps, but with the Jarn, nothing is ever as it seems.‖ ―Let us not speak of the Jarn, lest we risk their wrath,‖ suggested Shen, recalling the previous visit from one of the witnesses. Changing the subject, Chloe pointed out that the wind was picking up and that the bridges were beginning to sway. ―Perhaps a change of clothing might be in order,‖ she suggested. ―We have time,‖ said Wilson who was wearing a sweatshirt and a windbreaker. ―We can always shed clothing as we descend which is what I suspect we will be doing.‖ Beatrix, Maria, and Chloe vanished, returning a few moments later with an extra layer of clothing. Beatrix was transfixed with the bridge. ―We got you over one bridge, Bea. We can do it again,‖ said Clarence, patting her on the shoulder. Carla, Tim, and Ned appeared seconds later. ―Onoch said you are not needed until the return to the coliseum,‖ said Wilson. ―Just wanted to wish you guys luck. Cameras aren‘t on,‖ said Carla. Another round of hugs ensued, everyone but Beatrix feeling pretty good. The CNN crew vanished as Onoch‘s voice broke through the noise of the wind. ―Welcome. The Spires of Blood represent the halfway point in your journey; the fifth of the ten trials you will face. Of the two hundred teams that began this journey, only seven have been lost. The Igs, the Dregs, the Moors, the Lechrocks, the Selenese, the Inlanders and the Krenndels have been exterminated. Of the one hundred and ninety-three teams

257 remaining, eleven are close to elimination. The Black Mist Forest has taken its toll on many teams.‖ ―The Spires of Blood is similar to the Black Mist Forest in one way only. It is a race. No illusions will interfere and you will face no creatures other than your opponents. The landscape of the Spires is rugged at best and will test your strength and your stamina. Only one of your team need cross the finish line to secure your place, but 80% of your team must cross or face forfeit. The first one hundred teams to finish this trial will score points. The remaining ninety-three will be penalized harshly. As we progress from trial to trial, the stakes will continue to rise. Good luck.‖ A metallic click came from the door at the front of the containment unit. Wilson advanced, shoving the door open. ―Forgive me Beatrix,‖ Wilson said as he punched her squarely in the jaw. She slumped to the ground. ―Are you mad?‖ shouted Tamihana. ―She is terrified of heights. I will carry her on my shoulder with Clarence in front and Brock behind me for insurance. Time is against us, now move.‖ Wilson dropped down, securing her hand in his arm. She moaned as he lifted her in a fireman‘s rescue manoeuvre. Clarence was first to the bridge with Wilson close behind him, and Brock tight to him in case the bridge shifted and Beatrix was in peril. ―We have to move quickly,‖ shouted Wilson. ―If she comes around in the middle of the bridge, we are going to have a fight on our hands.‖ Clarence nodded, mumbling something about the A-Team and a fear of flying. They cleared the bridge without incident. Wilson used a handful of water from a small pool to bring Beatrix around. She was woozy but she could travel. Clarence scouted quickly east while Brock went west. Both directions ended in dead ends. 258 Due north was there only option. Other teams were still crossing the bridges. ―One of us needs to go ahead,‖ said Wilson. ―I‘m sure every team is sending out a front runner to rush ahead. Remember, the first team member to cross, marks the placement of that team. ―I will,‖ offered Ashley. ―What if you encounter one of our opponents?‖ asked Clarence. ―Then I run. There are no weapons here,‖ she replied, ―And I am our best runner.‖ ―I agree that you can run, but I too am a runner,‖ countered Jung Hwa of South Korea. ―I believe in strength in numbers. I offer to accompany you.‖ ―I am more comfortable with that,‖ said Clarence. ―It‘s not a male chauvinistic thing. I just don‘t want anything to happen to you or any of us. Two is better than one.‖ ―I know, Clarence. Trust me, it‘s appreciated,‖ she smiled. ―Well, Jung, it looks like it‘s you and me. Let‘s go.‖ The two headed out, disappearing around a sharp bend that was less than twenty feet away. As Wilson stood at the trailhead observing the landscape below, he was filled with a feeling of dread. Hundreds of rope bridges littered the mountainside for as far as the eye could see. The view from the containment unit had been deceiving. They were not climbing down the side of a slippery mountain. They were climbing into one. It was like looking down a volcano that had the top removed. Foliage was abundant as were trees. Everything grew around the blood red rock which appeared to be the lifeblood for everything that grew on the spire. After a final word of encouragement to Beatrix, and a third apology, Wilson led the expedition down the path.

259 Ashley and Jung followed the path for a mile before encountering their first bridge. It was a short bridge connecting two outcroppings in a narrow pinch of red rock that created a natural wind tunnel. The wind howled as they crossed the short bridge. The bridge at one point had them nearly parallel to the ground as it shot up in the air, driving them sideways, forcing them to cling for dear life until the wind eased back ever so slightly. Once clear of the bridge, Ashley gave Jung a smile and a high five. She couldn‘t help but think how Wilson would get Beatrix across. You could only hit someone so many times. Ashley and Jung increased their pace to a light jog. They were following a wider path that remained flat as it cut its way across the middle of the inner spire. Ashley guessed the spire to be roughly eight miles across. As they closed on the center point of the spire, the path forked. One path dropped steeply to the east in the form of carved steps. The second path was the start of a gentle rise to the northwest. ―You go northwest far enough to see where it goes,‖ said Ashley. ―I will do the same to the east. We will meet back here in five minutes, okay?‖ Jung nodded. As Ashley stepped down the sharp drop to the east, she lost her footing. A last second swipe of her hand was all that saved her. Her feet dangled over the precipice as Jung rushed to pull her up. She thanked him profusely before setting out much slower down the east trail. The trail was not so much trail as it was steps carved out of the blood red stone. They were damp and slippery, forcing Ashley to move with extreme caution. She followed the trail for a few moments which was long enough to gain a view of the trail‘s general direction. The stairs continued downward for as far as she could see where they disappeared into a crimson mist. Ashley‘s upper thighs began to burn from the climb as she reached the starting point. Jung was there waiting. His trek 260 had been a short one. The rise went for three hundred yards and then nothing. It simply ended. A drop of a half of mile or so awaited anyone wishing to travel further. Ashley took a moment to scrape an arrow into the rock with a piece of stone indicating the correct route to take for the rest of their group. Once she was done, she led Jung down the steps. They travelled in silence for twenty minutes, both of them focused on staying on the steps. At times, the steps hugged a section of the mountain, allowing them to steady themselves and move more quickly. At other times, however, the stairs jutted outward, suspending them eerily above the misty clouds that were drawing closer with every step. Eventually, they entered the mist and their journey grew much more perilous. The dampness of the mist clung to the steps, making it increasingly difficult to maintain their footing. As the mist thickened, their path levelled out. For a short period of time they walked on a flat section of plateau in what Ashley guessed to be an easterly direction. The plateau led to a long, dilapidated rope bridge. Boards were missing and many of the support ropes dangled loosely. Luckily, there was no wind here, not even a light breeze. It was as though the mist was absorbing the air. Both climbers found it difficult to breathe. As they cleared the bridge, the mist began to clear. A refreshing breeze kicked up and the sun cut through the mist. They found themselves atop a large pillar of rock, flat across the entire length of its surface. In its center was a large hole. Around the circumference were dozens of rope bridges. This place appeared to serve as a hub. The surface of the pillar was comprised entirely of the blood-red rock so a run was out of the question. Ashley moved forward as fast as she dare; Jung at her heels. 261 As they neared the hole, it was clear that stairs spiralled downward. As Ashley set foot on the first stair, she realized for the first time that they were not alone. Two Ungolans were approaching from the east. She motioned for Jung to hurry. As the two disappeared below the surface of the pillar, she realized her worst fear. They were trapped. Rounding the corner, ascending the wide stairs was a second pair of Ungolans. With a growl, they advanced.

Beatrix stopped short. The short bridge whipped back and forth in the wind. Wilson laid his hand on her shoulder. ―We can do this,‖ he reassured her. ―No, WE can‘t, and don‘t even think about striking me a second time.‖ ―Bea, we have to cross it. I‘m not going to leave you out here.‖ ―Eighty percent need to make it; that‘s eight out of ten. You still have nine. I will wait here until it‘s over. I will see you at the containment unit when it‘s over.‖ ―Bea-― ―No, Wilson, not this time. I refuse to budge on this. I‘m sorry.‖ Without waiting for him to reply, she walked away from the whipping winds and the flailing bridge. Wilson considered going after her and knocking her unconscious but he realized it could be an exercise in futility. From what he had observed from above, there were many bridges yet to come. He didn‘t like the idea of leaving her but at this point it was the only reasonable option. As it was, they almost lost Shen as they crossed. A vicious blast of wind struck the bridge as he reached for the support post on the far side of 262 the bridge. He was thrown into the side of the bridge, his body flipping as he rolled over the top rope. Clinging for his life, he just held on until there was a brief reprieve from the wind. As the wind slowed slightly, he pulled himself back on to the bridge, quickly reaching for the post, tugging himself clear. He was no sooner clear than another blast of fury shot through the channel. Shen, a devote Christian, kissed the crucifix that dangled from his neck, pausing to offer thanks skyward. With a final wave to Beatrix, the group moved on, leaving her huddling against the wall a safe distance from the bridge.

At the far end of the universe, on a small planet known as Gateway, Jakuta stood atop a gentle rise in the center of a ring of massive stones. The ring of stones was surrounded by a ring of tall, white birch trees. Both rings ended at the top of the rise where Jakuta currently stood. The rise led to ten steps which ended at two large gates, each mounted to a pillar of polished marble. The gates were crafted from golden stone, a mineral found deep beneath the surface of Gateway. They were crafted in a fashion similar that of a wrought iron gate, allowing a visitor to see beyond the gate, if, in fact, there was something to see beyond the gate. The gates led to the Gleam, a place of worship considered one of the holiest places in the Jarn universe. Only the Almighty Shrine on the Jarn home planet held greater significance. For those with the ability to open the gates, an opportunity to link with the creator, albeit briefly, was offered, if the creator of all that is, chose to allow it. Jakuta was one such individual. He had been to the Gleam twice in his long lifetime. His first trip was to seek comfort for the loss of his wife and the 263 betrayal of Onoch. The creator had indeed provided him with comfort. He also provided him with instructions. Vanish. Nearly two millennium later, Jakuta returned to the Gleam. He was once again granted an audience with the mind of the creator. Once again, he received instructions. He was also given a glimpse of the future of the Jarn, the universe and mankind. Now, as he approached the gates for a third time, he sensed it would be the last time. Jakuta placed a hand on the right pillar, activating the right gate. He moved to the left pillar, placing his hand against it, activating the left gate. Activating the gate was the easy part. Standing before the gates, awaiting entry was the difficult part. Three earth days passed before the gates finally opened. Jakuta stepped forward and was bathed immediately in a soft, warm light. He drew a slow, deep breath, closing his eyes, allowing himself to bask in the glory of the Almighty. He would not speak. It was not allowed. No one spoke to the Almighty. Only those chosen would hear the words of the Almighty. Jakuta was chosen. For the third time, he received the words of the Almighty. Few things touched his soul after all he had seen in his lifetime, yet the tears poured freely down his cheeks.

Ashley leaped down the stairs, her feet aimed at the Ungolan‘s chest. Jung followed her lead, throwing caution to the wind, launching himself toward the Ungolans. Ashley bounced off the Ungolan to the right, knocking him off balance but barley moving him. Fortunately, Jung‘s martial arts training and added bulk dislodged both Ungolans as he struck them, one with each

264 foot, driving them from the stairs. Both creatures howled as they plummeted downward, crashing below into life-ending silence. Jung quickly regained his footing, helping a shaken Ashley to her feet. The Ungolans were approaching from above. Jung motioned for them to move downward. The stairs spiralled downward for as far as the eye could see. They had been carved into sides of the giant pillar. They could see the Ungolans descending above them, moving quickly for big creatures, aware that Jung and Ashley must have dispatched their comrades. They howled in anger as they moved. Ashley and Jung moved as fast as they dare, but the Ungolans were slowly gaining on them. Ashley slowed, putting her hand on Jung‘s chest to slow him. ―What the hell are you doing?‖ he shouted. ―Trust me,‖ she replied. Moving herself to the edge, she lowered her body and disappeared from view. Jung leaned forward, happy to see she had landed easily on the stairs below which lay several feet further out from the wall. Jung slid over the edge and let himself fall. Surveying the stairs below, Ashley felt confident they could perform the same manoeuvre one more time; after that, the ledge began to work itself back into the wall. Ashley slipped down, falling out of view. Jung looked up, thankful for the distance they were putting between themselves and the Ungolans. He slid over the side anxious to let himself fall. As he let go, his right hand caught a small outcropping in the wall, cutting his hand and throwing him off balance. He landed awkwardly on his left ankle, turning it badly. He grunted in pain as he fell on to his side. ―Oh my god, Jung! Are you okay?‖ ―My ankle. Damn it!‖ Ashley helped him up, coaxing him to try a step. It wasn‘t as bad as he had thought, leaving him able to hobble forward down the stairs. If the pain in his foot 265 was a five, the pain in his hand was a ten. The cut was small and it had already stopped bleeding but the throbbing intensified. Ashley paused for a look up. She counted a total of twelve Ungolans. By the time they reached the bottom of the pillar‘s interior, Jung‘s hand had swollen to nearly double in size. He was sweating profusely and each breath was short and ragged. He insisted he was okay, encouraging Ashley to pick up the pace. The path led to an opening in the eastern portion of the pillar which took them to another suspension bridge. The air was warm here, heated by the sun which was partially absorbed in the mist which was slowly dissipating. Crossing the bridge was easy. It led them to a ring of spires, all connected by rope bridges. It appeared as though the ring ran the full circumference of the main spire. Bridges led to the other spires as well as toward the main wall that surrounded the main spire. A pack of Flix was southeast of their location, working their way down a set of switchback stairs along the main wall. ―Which way?‖ asked Ashley. ―The Flix seem to be doing well down the wall over there. Perhaps, we could try the same.‖ ―How‘s the hand and foot holding up?‖ ―They could both be better, but the hand is by far the worse. After everything we‘ve been through, I‘d hate like hell to die from a rock cut. For now, I‘m good to go, so let‘s head for the wall.‖ Ashley nodded in agreement and struck out for the wall, crossing a particularly large rope bridge to get there. They were roughly halfway across the bridge when they felt a jolt go through the upper support ropes. Turning, they could see four Ungolans hammering away at the support posts that held the bridge in place. 266 ―Run!‖ shouted Ashley.

The Kratta was lost. The rest of his team had moved on without him as was the way of the Kratta. Although humanoid, the Kratta were 40% insect, evident by their four insect-like appendages attached to their abdomen and shoulders. They communicated using a complex code comprised of clicks and beeps. The Kratta were incapable of compassion or any other complex emotion. They understood pain, fear and anger. Beyond that, their thought patterns were geared strictly for survival. If a member of their team became weak, he was left behind. If a member of their team became lost, it was up to that Kratta to find his way. Such is the way of the Kratta. The Kratta had managed to reach the containment unit of the humans. It attempted to scale the containment unit and escape the Spires but an invisible force prohibited him from doing so. Understanding it could not escape, the Kratta crossed the bridge and began to follow the path the humans had taken. Within minutes it reached the short bridge that whipped in the wind, the bridge Beatrix had refused to cross. The Kratta sniffed the air, testing it, processing it for wind speed and direction to better navigate the bridge. He hadn‘t expected to smell human. Turning back in the direction he had come, he sniffed the air again. Definitely human. He marched back only a few steps when he spotted the human, crouched into a small pocket of stone, shielding her from the wind. The human tried desperately to force herself further into the protection of the rock, but it was impossible. Pincers extended, the Kratta moved in for the kill.

267

Wilson had found Ashley‘s marking on the rock, leading them down the stairs. They had also found the pillar leading to the massive stone staircase that spiralled downward. As they approached the opening in the side of the pillar, Wilson held a hand up to silence the others. Something was outside the opening. Wilson moved toward the opening slowly and methodically. Two Ungolans were standing just outside the opening, grunting back and forth, pointing toward the cliff face off in the distance. Without giving away his position, Wilson could see rope bridges extending out in all directions. The one straight ahead appeared to be the worst for wear, with one half of the supports missing. Stepping back softly, Wilson joined the others. Whispering, Wilson explained his plan. He would charge out, leading the Ungolans to the bridge on the right. Assuming the Ungolans would follow, the rest of the team would head left and escape. Wilson would join them as soon as he was able. Everyone crept forward, taking their places on either side of the opening. Wilson gave Tamihana a soft kiss and a wink before charging through the opening, shouting nonsensical phrases as he ran toward the bridge. The Ungolans, dimwitted as they were, followed. Clarence watched, and as the two beasts reached the bridge, he signalled the others to run. Everyone made it to the bridge before the Ungolans realized they had been duped. They howled in anger, uncertain who to go after. In the end, when the others had cleared the bridge, the Ungolans decided to pursue the main group. Wilson remained where he was, scouting out his options. He couldn‘t be sure, but it appeared as though Ashley and Jung were nearing the bottom of the see saw stair on the main wall. There were Ungolans in pursuit, but they were well back. 268 Wilson made his decision. He would follow after Ashley and hope the others would find a path leading them to the cliff face. Wilson watched for a moment longer as the Ungolans made a clumsy attempt to cross the far bridge. He dashed across the pillar and took a firm grip on the remaining support for the lopsided bridge.

Beatrix Faria of Portugal was afraid of the Kratta, even afraid of death, but was still preferred to the terror of crossing a rope bridge. Her hand that held the jagged piece of red rock shook badly but she retained her grip as she thrust the rock into the Kratta midsection. The Kratta had been slow to react, dumbfounded in fact. He had sensed fear from this creature. He had not anticipated an attack. The Kratta looked down as the woman retrieved her rock, thrusting it forward a second time. Both wounds felt like fire to the Kratta. The creature screamed in pain, swiping at Beatrix with its large pincer, driving her back against the rock. Beatrix sprung from her crouch and stabbed the creature a third time in the shoulder. As she turned to flee, the creature grazed the back of her head with a swipe that left her lightheaded. She stumbled forward, managing five or six steps before falling face first. She shook herself off and regained her footing as the Kratta dislodged the makeshift dagger from his shoulder. He came for her. Beatrix ran as fast as she could, creating distance between her and the Kratta until she came to the bridge. She froze. Escape was just a few feet away. Beatrix turned to face the Kratta. She charged; head down, only to be knocked sideways into the rock wall. The Kratta turned, waited for her to come again. Beatrix took a moment, allowing the wooziness to pass. Her head was bleeding. Beatrix was built 269 like a German shot putter and her weight was equal that of the Kratta. She charged forward, pulling up just short of the creature as it swung for her head, missing her by a clear foot. Lowering her shoulder, Beatrix charged like a bull, wrapping her arms around the creature‘s midsection. She wanted to drive him off the cliff. He fought to slow their progress, even managing a blow to her back but it did not slow her. Just as they reached the bridge, Beatrix veered left and pushed off from the Kratta. The smile on Beatrix‘s face quickly turned to a grimace as the Kratta managed to snag her left arm in his upper pincer. Beatrix desperately clawed at the air, trying to reach the bridge support as she tumbled forward. Her hand caught the support but the momentum was too great. Beatrix was pulled into the chasm, to die the worst death she could ever have imagined.

Ashley and Jung had survived the bridge; barely. They had been forced to climb that last ten feet using just the left supports. The Ungolans who had nearly killed them, continued to pursue them. As Ashley and Jung reached the base of the cliff, they were clear of the mist and able to have the first clear view of their surroundings. Their goal was in sight but it remained at least a mile away. Gideon‘s Cavern, an enormous hole in the cliff face to the east was at the bottom of another huge cliff face which surrounded another set of blood-red spires with dozens upon dozens of rope bridges. The swelling of Jung‘s hand had spread to his arm, just pass the elbow. His foot was puffy but still functioning. It was his breathing that concerned Ashley. His chest was constricted, impeding his breathing. Something in the rock was toxic.

270 ―We have to keep moving, Jung. The cavern is there,‖ she said pointing toward Gideon‘s Cavern. ―Yes, my dear, and we are here,‖ he smiled. ―If you go north from here, those bridges and spires should land you in front of the cavern. I will go the other w-― Ashley cut him off. ―No! We stick together.‖ Jung shook his head. ―Listen to me, Ashley. I will go in that direction, cross two, maybe three bridges. I will crawl into a hole and slow my heart rate down. With any luck, I will live until the others reach the finish. If I keep moving, I am a dead man. We both know that. This is my best chance.‖ Ashley was speechless. She began to cry. ―I don‘t want to leave you out here.‖ ―I know that, Ashley and it makes my heart feel good to know that there are still some good people left in the world. Remember me, okay.‖ ―Of course,‖ she whispered as she threw her arms around him and squeezed him tightly. ―Now, go.‖ ―Stay safe, Jung. Please.‖ Ashley jogged toward the suspension bridge in front of her. Jung made his way toward the bridge to his right. It led to a second bridge that led to the cliff face. He would try to ride it out there. As he reached the halfway point of the bridge, Jung turned to look at Ashley. She was approaching her second bridge. She turned, waved briefly and took to the bridge. Jung was across the first bridge and closing in on the second bridge when Ungolans arrived at the base. There were four Ungolans. They stood huddled, grunting and groaning until a decision was made. The four headed in the direction of Ashley. As the last one waited for his turn on the bridge, he kept looking toward Jung. As his turn arrived, he

271 howled something to the others and turned toward Jung. He was coming for him.

Clarence could see Wilson descending the cliff face from atop the pillar. Brock had scouted below and was certain the stairs inside the spire would land them close to Wilson. Clarence shouted to Wilson who waved an acknowledgement. Brock led the others down the stairs. Everyone was growing testy. They were parched, their muscles ached from exertion and dehydration and every bone in their bodies ached from the jarring of walking countless roughly cut stairs. Nearly a half hour later when they reached the bottom, they were overjoyed to see Wilson kneeling before a pool of water a dozen yards away. They all partook of the cool, refreshing water, reinvigorating their spirit. Following Wilson once again, he led them along a plateau that curved around another of the large spires. Ahead, lay Gideon‘s Cavern. At last, their goal was in sight. Crossing a rope bridge to one side of the spire, and a second bridge to another plateau, they found themselves where Ashley and Jung had separated. As they prepared to mount the bridge directly in front of them, they were startled to see an Ungolan approaching from behind them. Its mouth was bloodied and it was limping badly as it left the final bridge separating it from them. It walked five steps before falling face first on to the rock. It moaned, groaned and growled before pushing itself back on to its feet. It wobbled toward Wilson and the others. Wilson ordered everyone to spread out. It had no desire to fight the human. It was fixated on the bridge directly ahead. The Ungolan‘s mouth was covered in crimson froth. Its breathing was laboured and twice it stumbled 272 as it closed in on the bridge. With the bridge clearly within its grasp, the Ungolan chose to walk off the cliff, crashing to the rocks below. ―What the hell was that about?‖ asked Maria. ―Not sure. My guess would be poison of some kind,‖ answered Wilson, who moved to the bridge, wishing to continue the quest. Jung watched from the shade of the rock he lay beneath. His right hand was gone, tore off by the Ungolan. It had bled profusely for a moment before stopping completely. Jung had no answer as to why. He wanted to shout for help but his vocal chords no longer functioned. He was ready for death.

The muscles in Ashley‘s thighs burned with every step. As she grew closer and closer to Gideon‘s Cavern with every painstaking step, she kept a watchful eye. To her right and to her left, more and more creatures were beginning to surface. Fear that she might not make it to the cavern in time pushed Ashley to increase her pace. Ahead lay a rope bridge that would connect her to the final spire. If the spire housed a spiral staircase like the others, she would exit to within a short run of Gideon‘s Cavern. It was hard to tell from her vantage point, but it appeared as though many teams had already arrived. Ashley shielded her eyes from the sun, trying to get a better look. She could see the Nah Kee; dozens of them. There was a Flix and a D‘han. Of that she was certain. The rest she couldn‘t be sure of. She marched forward, taking the bridge to the spire, happy to find a staircase awaiting her. She began the descent, using the wall for support whenever possible. She paused several times on the way down to rest her throbbing muscles. Ashley was on the verge of collapse or heat stroke. As 273 she exited the spire, she wanted to just sit down and cry. Everything hurt. She wobbled slightly with every step. She now understood how marathon runner‘s felt when they could no longer control their body. Every step was a challenge. As she rounded the bottom of the spire, Gideon‘s Cavern came into view. It was gigantic. It was taller than the CN Tower in Toronto and just as wide. A makeshift sign, presumably the work of the Jarn was displaying the number 98. She had made it, or so she had thought. As she drew nearer, a slow-moving Crawdiggion was lumbering toward the cave from the opposite direction. To her right, moving quickly down the stairs of the cliff-face was a pack of Sliths. The Sliths appeared to be in better shape than she, breaking into a run as they hit the base of the cliff. Ashley forced herself to run. She was drawing on reserves that she was unaware she had. Running clumsily, she maintained a steady, yet awkward pace as she gained on the Crawdiggion. The Crawdiggion was her only hope as the Slith sprinted by her effortlessly. The Nah Kee, armed with rifles, patrolled the area to avoid any bloodshed between the races. The Crawdiggion watched as the number board changed to 99. One number to go and the rest of the teams would be locked out, and as Onoch had said, harshly punished. The lumbering, hairless Crawdiggion was losing ground quickly to Ashley who charged onward. Her heart now pounded in her head and her vision began to grow fuzzy. Ashley Shrewsbury collapsed less than one hundred yards from the finish line. The Crawdiggion, screeched with delight as it celebrated its impending victory. Slowing to its original pace, the Crawdiggion watched as a D‘han approached from the direction the Sliths had come. She was not a concern. The D‘hans had already finished. She was just another team mate 274 arriving to complete the 80%. The Crawdiggion was puzzled as the D‘han stopped next to the girl. The beast thought for sure she would kill the human but quickly realized that the Nah Kee would shoot her on the spot. Ashley‘s eyes would not focus. She felt water pouring onto her face. She was in and out of consciousness as someone picked her roughly up and threw her on their shoulders. Ashley felt herself being jostled about and was certain she was going to vomit when she felt herself dumped to the ground. She heard the voice of Onoch announce that one hundred teams had made it to Gideon‘s Cavern. They would now wait to see who could fulfill the 80% commitment. A Nah Kee forced Ashley to drink from a water flask. She could hear the Crawdiggion screaming incoherently at the Nah Kee. She took the flask and crawled to the shade of the cavern. In less than a minute she began to shiver. A Nah Kee came to her and stuck a needle in her arm, thrusting a warm fluid into her vein. In no time at all, she felt better. She stood, and although still wobbly, she was certain her legs would not fail her. The Crawdiggion was waving his arms menacingly toward a Nah Kee who raised his rifle and shot the creature in the head. ―What happened?‖ she asked the Nah Kee. The Nah Kee stared at her from beneath its black hood. She pointed at the D‘han. ―Saved you,‖ managed the Nah Kee, holding a crystal to her throat. ―Your team took the last position and the Crawdiggion is angry.‖ She handed Ashley the crystal. Ashley rolled the crystal around in her hand. It was warm and cool, all at the same time. Ashley approached the D‘han. Placing the crystal against her throat, she asked the D‘han why. The D‘han replied but Ashley had no idea what she had said. Holding the

275 crystal against her own throat a second time, Ashley asked her to repeat herself using the crystal. The D‘han accepted the crystal, placing it against her throat. When she spoke, the voice was robotic but clear. ―The human male saved me from certain death. I have honour. I have now saved you. If we meet again, however, I will not think twice to kill you.‖ She handed Ashley back her crystal and turned away. Ashley‘s wait for her team mates was not a long one. Wilson and the remainder of Team Earth arrived within the hour. The second the team achieved their 80%, the team was returned to the containment unit. Ashley began to weep when Jung and Beatrix failed to arrive. It was a time of quiet contemplation as they awaited the final results. They were halfway through the ten trials and only eight of them remained. Failure to complete the ten trials would result in the genocide of the human race. The well muscled, fur-covered Exiles became the eighth team to join the list of genocide victims. Only eight of their team remained after the Black Mist Forest and as strong as they were, their climbing skills were horrid. One had died from the poison of the rock, attempting to make a weapon. Two more had died from the poison through wounds obtained from falls. The remaining five had simply fallen to their deaths. Team Earth, despite their dwindling numbers were currently in 109th place overall. Wilson was convinced that so long as the trials remained in a format similar to the past two events, they had a shot, albeit a long one.

Chapter Fourteen The Path to Salvation

276

Despite the best efforts of the Security Council, Team Earth objected to making wishes until the following morning. They were emotionally distraught, physically exhausted and in no shape to consider wishes. It did not sit well with the council but they had no choice in the matter. Another fourteen hours would hardly matter, given the current state of the world. Over one million people had perished in the short time Team Earth had been away. Brock went down to the lower level and hugged his children and Sarah. Despite his exhaustion, he had arranged a cab to central park and a horse and carriage ride, provided the horsemen weren‘t all dead. A military escort had been sent to guard Brock and his family. The violence had reached unprecedented levels but for some reason, it was the south that was ground zero. New York wasn‘t impervious to the violence but its effects were far less reaching this far north. They did manage to find a working horseman who was more than happy to take them through the park. He wasn‘t overly enthusiastic about the military vehicle following him, but he made do. Brock had convinced the United Nations kitchen to whip him up a basket of goodies for the ride. It contained fruits and pastries with a carafe of coffee for him and Sarah, and juice for the kids. ―What happened to Jung, Daddy?‖ asked Emily. ―He just went to sleep, honey,‖ replied Brock. ―If I am going to die, that is the way I want to go,‖ she said, as she licked the frosting of an éclair. She giggled. Brock couldn‘t help but laugh at her. She had frosting on her nose and her dimples were the cutest thing ever. For an hour and a half, Brock was the happiest he had been in a very long time.

277

Wilson and Tamihana stood in the center of a raging blizzard. They were dressed in shorts and light hooded sweatshirts, each wearing a pair of crocs on their feet. Wilson held the camera out in front of themselves, and took a picture. With a nod, Wilson was gone, followed closely by Tamihana. Wilson rubbed his arms to warm up. Propped up against the wall were several pictures of Wilson and Tamihana at different locations around the world. They were standing atop the pyramids in Giza, walking along the Great Wall of China, standing on the observation deck of the Burj Khalifa building in Dubai, currently the world‘s tallest structure. Wilson linked his camera to the computer chord to upload their North Pole photo. ―I‘m sure going to miss this ability,‖ said Wilson. ―That‘s not to say we can‘t travel the world in real people time,‖ laughed Tamihana. ―Where to next?‖ he asked. ―I‘ve always wanted to see the Grand Canyon,‖ she laughed. ―After you my dear.‖

Clarence sat in the dining hall with his family, enjoying a large meal prepared by the United Nation‘s people. Sophia was sitting on Clarence‘s lap, enjoying chicken nuggets and French fries. ―Clarence, I can no longer stay here,‖ said Rolf Delray, Clarence‘s father. ―I can‘t stand being confined.‖

278 ―I understand,‖ said Clarence. ―We must all do what we must do during all of this, but if you go, you must take Danielle and Sophia with you.‖ ―Of course we will. That is without question.‖ ―I do not want to leave,‖ said Danielle. ―I want to be as close to Clarence as I can be.‖ ―Clarence can come to us in a blink of an eye, Danny,‖ offered Rolf. ―I just need to have my own bed, but I do not want to leave you.‖ ―Honey, go with Moma and Papa. That way, I know you are in good hands, but not until the morning Papa. I want to enjoy a bed with my wife and later, my wife and daughter.‖ Rolf laughed. They all laughed.

Maria returned to the small village of Imbassai, Brazil, on the coconut coast. The village was home to one thousand friendly and proud citizens. No taxis run in Imbassai. Only two vehicles were allowed in Imbassai: The truck that brought fresh fruit and necessity items to Imbassai once a week, and the bus that brought tourists to the village three times a week. Arriving in Imbassai was a trip into yesteryear. The beaches were snow white and in pristine condition. The coral in the jade coloured waters was bright and vibrant. Motor boats were not allowed in the lagoon. Sailboats would come and go from the small port at all hours of the day and night. Maria stopped to visit her mother and father. They were not at home. She went to the market and they were not there either. She took a stroll down to the community center and was nearly scared to death as her family and friends screamed a welcoming SURPRISE to her. Carla was there, recorder in hand 279 to record the event. Maria‘s startled look was replayed dozens of times on CNN.

Shen Wu and Chloe Taylor accompanied each other on their journeys to China and Australia, each serving as tour guide for their respective countries. Shen brought Chloe to meet his parents. Chloe reciprocated by bringing Shen to her niece‘s 13th birthday party which was in full, ―Australian‖ swing when they arrived. Chloe‘s sister, her husband and her parents were among the twenty-some guests in attendance. Chloe‘s niece, Rebecca told Chloe she was her hero.

Ashley arrived home to find Mick McBride sitting with her parents. Ashley dragged him outside by a shirt collar to the chagrin of her mother. ―What reason could you possibly have for being here,‖ she demanded. ―I came to tell you I was sorry and to tell you that I am not that person anymore.‖ ―And I am not that little girl anymore. If you had cheated on me, or maybe lied to me for some reason, I could forgive that, but you were just a mean person and you don‘t outgrow that.‖ ―Just give me a chance to prove my-― ―No!‖ she shouted. ―End of discussion.‖ ―You‘re the one who hasn‘t changed, Ash. You still think you‘re something, riding that high fucking horse. You‘re still just a bitch.‖ 280 ―Get off my property and never come back on it you little shit,‖ shouted Tim as he shoved Mick away from his daughter. ―I was just explaining things to your daughter, Tim,‖ said Mick. ―Yeah, I heard. You had me convinced you weren‘t still an asshole. I was wrong. Move, while you still can,‖ said Tim between clenched teeth. He moved toward Mick and Mick scampered away like a scared rabbit. ―Sorry honey. He sounded sincere.‖ ―He always did, Dad. Thanks.‖ She gave her dad a big kiss on the cheek. ―How about a cold, Canadian beer,‖ her dad offered. ―I thought you would never ask.‖ A refreshed Team Earth gathered for breakfast the following morning, in preparation for the wishes to be made mid-morning. CNN had the brilliant idea to ask viewers what they thought. Thousands of emails arrived from locations that had power restored. For the most part, the suggestions were ridiculous: Make everyone in the south white, make everyone a millionaire, make it so dogs and cats can talk, and make all the fat folks skinny. Of the thousands of silly suggestions there was the odd good one. One suggestion became the first wish. It read as follows: To whom it may concern, The escalating violence in our nation is of great concern to us elderly folks who no longer feel safe. Prisons are overrun and with our current situation, greatly undermanned. I suggest a wish be made to create a prison in the middle of Death Valley. This prison would be for anyone convicted of a violent crime. The prison would contain two million cells. Each cell would contain a solid steel door that would lock from the inside, 281 designed to keep people out, not in. Prisoners would be free to roam the grounds, but at their own peril. There are no guards at this prison. Everyone is on their own. A sufficient quantity of food arrives every morning at 7:00 am. Again, everyone is on their own. The strong will survive.

It was signed, Archibald Morunsky. The prison population of the United State had been a problem for decades. With the current situation in the world, a world prison for all the world‘s violent offenders seemed like the best solution. Instead of the dessert, Antarctica was determined as the best location. The prison would be heated, supplying its inmates with hot and cold running water. Two million cells would house the entire world‘s current prison population which was greatly reduced by Anton‘s pestilence. The entire facility would be covered, protecting the inmates from the element but nothing would prevent the inmates from journeying outside. The only locks would be on the cells which would contain a corner shower, a toilet and a sink. Each morning food would arrive on a shelf above the cell mate‘s bed providing him or her with nourishment. There would be no radio, no television, no video games or Ipods. No medical treatment would be given. Each prisoner would remain safe if they remain in the safety of the cell. Venturing out of the cell was done at the risk of torment, torture or death. It was a barbaric end to a lengthy, poorly designed legal system which was overrun with corruption. Regular prisons would continue to be used for non-violent offenders. The second wish followed suit with the first. A device, dubbed the Informant, was to be placed in the capital building of every country. Prisoners would be summoned to the Informant for questioning. The Informant would provide a detailed report 282 using the thought waves of the individual. Violent offenders would be sent to Antarctica. Others would be sent to the closest prison. The third wish was to turn the now-defunct landfill sites into parks filled with trees and gardens. The fourth wish was to turn every abandoned property, dilapidated property and barren property into parkland. Even the smallest property would have lush green grass, fully grown trees and wildflowers indigenous to that area. Wishes five through eight returned the group to the medical profession. A heated debate ensued to determine which of the remaining cures should have priority. In the end, it was decided to cure Sugar Diabetes, Alzheimer‘s and Leukemia. A portion of the heated debate came when Governor Milson of Alabama pushed to drop the medical cures for fear of destroying the insurance business. Before leaving to return to their loved ones, Team Earth enjoyed a drink together on the lower level, away from the prying eyes of CNN and the Jarn recorders. The president sat in private chambers in the east wing of the United Nations building with Secretary of State, Vincent Farley, Vice President Richard St. Clair and Zhang Yesui, the current president of the Security Council. All agreed the wishes were helping restore order, all but the escalating violence, but the president‘s state of the union later that evening would diffuse that situation. Once the world became fully aware of the Informant and the new prison, things would change quickly, or so they hoped.

283

Chapter Fifteen Gideon’s Cavern

Team Earth found themselves back at the coliseum, albeit briefly. They were free of any containment unit, standing unprotected from enemies on all sides. Onoch stood upon his pedestal, his black staff with the single eye in his right hand. The witness sat behind him. Alana, the scribe sat to his right, ready to document the sixth trial. ―Gideon considered a hero to some races, an antichrist to others, and to some of the outlying races, he remains a virtual unknown. Gideon was a son of the Jarn who has passed beyond the veil eons ago, yet his reputation was, and remains, one of legend. Gideon, son of Cypress, was, during his lifetime, the highest authority on Jarn soil. He was the highest judge, answering only to God himself.‖ ―Today you will enter Gideon‘s cavern one at a time. You will be judged. The essence that is Gideon will probe your thoughts, your dreams and your fears. If you are strong willed, perhaps you will survive. In a moment, you will find yourselves standing before the Gideon‘s Cavern. Your journey may seem to last for years but your time in the cavern will last mere minutes. There are no points scored in this trial. Succeed and you live; fail and die.‖ Before Onoch‘s last words began to fade, Team Earth found themselves in front of Gideon‘s Cavern. They were the only team at the cavern, or at least the only team that was visible to them. A soft, pulsating glow filled the entrance to the cavern.

284 The cavern itself appeared to be breathing. Clarence moved forward. ―We have to enter it eventually, right? I wonder what happens if you touch it?‖ Clarence extended his right hand, just wanting to probe it. As his hand made contact, he disappeared. ―Everyone hold hands and we enter together,‖ said Wilson extending his hands. Tamihana took one and Shen took the other. Everyone else took a hand and they moved forward, Wilson leading. As Wilson breeched the barrier, he turned to Tamihana. She was gone. Everyone was gone. Clarence took a few steps into the cavern. He called out, his voice all but dead in the thick air. The cavern appeared to be nothing more than an oversized cave. As he moved toward the back of the cavern, he realized how wrong he was. . . “Hello Clarence. Clarence the clown. Clarabell the cow.” Clarence is nine years old, sitting in a deck in his grade four class. The taunting voice comes from the foul mouth of Christian Dominion, Clarence’s nemesis, who is seated across from him. Clarence is not sure why Christian hates him but it definitely is hate, of the deep seeded variety. Mrs. Mahoney is standing at the front of the class, discussing world geography, oblivious to Christian’s torment of Clarence. “You know I’m going to beat you at recess, don’t ya?” Clarence sits, terrified, knowing any answer to Christian is the wrong answer. . . Clarence is hiding behind a tree. He is eleven now. He is hiding from Christian who is bigger and meaner than ever. Clarence stands as straight as he can; doing everything he can to avoid Christian. Without warning Christian pops his head around the corner. Clarence screams like a girl as Christian punches him in the stomach. The scream is cut short as 285 Christian hits him again and again. Careful not to leave any marks, Christian tosses him against the tree and walks away with his cronies. . . Clarence is arguing with his mother in front of the school. They are seated in the family car. Clarence is pleading for her to take him away. Christian is waiting on the steps. He approaches the car as Clarence and his mother discuss his attending school. “Hello Mrs. Delray. This sissy son of yours trying to get out of school again?” “Why yes, Christian, he is. Can you do something about it?” Without answering, Christian pulls Clarence through the open window of the car, dragging him across the front lawn of the school. Everyone is laughing and pointing at Clarence. As Clarence’s mom drives away, Christian began to beat on Clarence who wails in pain. . . Clarence finds himself standing with his old friend and mentor, Bruno Stanzivic, a former golden gloves champion. “Hi Bruno,” shouts Clarence, embracing the big man. “I thought you were dead,” exclaimed Clarence. “I am,” said Bruno. “What? If you are dead, what am I doing here? Am I dead?” “No, at least not yet.” “Can you stop talking in riddles and tell me what the hell is going on?” “You have to fight Christian.” “I have to what?” “Fight Christian,” he repeated. “Why?” “I do not know. I am here to prepare you.” “No problem, I’ll kick his ass.” 286 “Perhaps,” replied Bruno. “Look at yourself.” Bruno held up a mirror. The man Clarence had become was gone, replaced by a skinny, eleven year old boy. Clarence felt his stomach works its way up into his throat as Bruno lowered the mirror. All the fear and terror, Christian had brought into his life had suddenly resurfaced into this nightmare. “Clarence, you are the boy before I made you into a man, but you retain the memories of all I taught you, do you not?” “I think so,” mumbled Clarence. “I THINK SO!” shouted Bruno. “YES,” shouted Clarence. “I remember but a lot of good that will do. He is twice my size for fucks sakes!” “Then you have already forgotten what I taught you. The first lesson is that size does not matter. Every opponent has a weakness. Expose the weakness. It’s that simple, boy!” Bruno’s last words reverberated in Clarence’s ears. . . The bell rang twice in the corner, signifying the start of round one. Bruno was gone. Across the ring, looking as menacing as ever was Christian Dominion. Clarence looked down, surprised to see gloves at the end of skinny arms. He wasn’t sure what he would do first, vomit or piss his pants. For the moment, he ran for his life. Overwhelmed by his terror, Clarence attempted to leap out of the ring, planting his face against an invisible wall for his trouble, landing flat on his back. Even though he had never been struck by his opponent, the referee who materialized from nowhere gave Clarence a standing eight count. Christian spit his mouthpiece from his mouth. “You can’t hurt me with your best punch, Clarice. I’m going to fucking kill you.” The referee vanished. “You see, Clarice, it’s just you and me now. No standing 8 counts, no running away, 287 just me and you and a world of hurt.” Christian starts laugh as he moved forward. Clarence’s mind is working overtime. He was reviewing Bruno’s words: Size doesn’t matter. Everyone has a weakness. As Christian swung a vicious hook to Clarence’s head, Clarence ducked and ran behind him, spinning himself around and backpedalling away. This angered Christian who moved in slower, determined to cut off the ring and eliminate Clarence’s escape. Christian moved forward, faking a jab, moving closer, penning Clarence into the corner. As Clarence moved to slide right, Christian was quick to toss a left jab, forcing him back into the corner, striking Clarence with a right jab to the eye, driving him into the corner. Then he pounced. Clarence put his gloves up to cover but the leather was little defence against Christian’s assault. After absorbing a dozen shots, Clarence ducked and squirted past Christian. Christian pursued and Clarence retreated, this time slower. He had a plan of his own. He allowed Christian within range, pulling back to avoid a jab, recoiling with a right jab of his own, striking Christian in the nose. It didn’t have the desired effect Clarence had hoped for. Blood poured from both nostrils, enraging Christian who rushed at Clarence swinging. Clarence, still scared to death, was fighting for his life. He slid under a hook, popping up with a quick jab to Christian’s jaw before sliding around the bigger boy. “I am going to rip your head off,” he screamed. He began to tear at the tape on his gloves with his teeth. Clarence took advantage, moving in quickly, faking a high hook, only to duck down and punch Christian with all his might in the nuts. Christian dropped to his knees, sucking air heavily between death threats as he held his groin. Christian lowered his head, 288 opening up an opportunity for Clarence to put an end to the fight. With everything he had, he swung for the fence, reaching from way back, putting his entire ninety pounds behind a hook that would knock Christian into next week. At the last second, Clarence pulled up. “It’s over, Christian. It was always over.” “Huh,” the big kid groaned. “I never hated you, and I never did figure out why you hated me, but I put it behind me a long time ago. I felt sorry for you. The only friends you had were earned through fear and intimidation.” Clarence looked upward. “It’s over. Did you get what you wanted?” They must have . . . Clarence found himself standing outside the cavern. Everyone was there except Tamihana. Chloe was weeping openly, wanting to be left alone. Maria‘s skin was ashen. She was trembling uncontrollably. Brock was trying to console her. Wilson stood alone, facing the cavern. He tried to re-enter the cavern but his entry was prohibited. Shen jumped when approached by Clarence. ―Sorry Shen,‖ he offered. ―No, it is I that is sorry. I had a difficult time. I have fought monsters and faced demons but nothing prepared me for my own demons. I am here by sheer luck.‖ ―It doesn‘t matter why you‘re here, be thankful you are here.‖ ―I am. More than you know. . .‖ Tamihana sat up in bed. She was seven years old. She heard a noise downstairs. Her first reaction was to pull the covers over her head and hide but after a few seconds, she forced herself to move. Moving slowly and quietly, she crept toward her bedroom door which was open. She hated having 289 her door closed. As she reached the door, she could see light from downstairs. She could hear voices, but they didn’t sound friendly. Tamihana moved along the rail, leading to the top of the stairs. Moving slowly down the stairs, she stopped four steps down. By leaning forward, she could peek into the living room. Whenever she couldn’t sleep, she would sneak downstairs and peek until she got bored. Tonight, she found her parents tied to two kitchen chairs. A man with greasy black hair and a scraggly beard waved a pistol her dad’s face. “Tell me where the money is or I will blow your wife’s face off,” hissed the burglar. “I’ve told you,” shouted her father, Victor. “I keep no money in the house. If I did, I would give it to you. My wallet is on my dresser and there is at least $600.00 in cash. My wife’s jewels are in the third drawer on the right side of the dresser. They will fetch you several thousand dollars.” The burglar was not convinced. “My source tells me there is a safe behind the fireplace in a secret panel. He also tells me that you keep at least $20,000.00 in there.” “Your source is lying,” argued Victor. Tamihana’s mother, Brooke was crying. She looked so sad. “Please don’t kill us,” she begged. “I don’t want to kill anyone but I need more than $600.00 and I don’t want your jewels.” The burglar was clearly agitated, pacing back and forth. Twice he pointed the gun and Brooke’s face. “I’m going to count to five. If you fail to tell me where the money is, I will be left with no choice but to blow your wife’s face clear off her head.” “One . . .two . . .three . . . four . . .” 290 “I can’t give you what I don’t have,” shouted Victor. “Oh, for the love of god, Vic, give it to him,” Brooke screamed. “Behind the fireplace, push the fourth brick from the left twice. It will open a panel. The code is 6-5-4-3-2-1-99.” “See how easy that was,” he muttered. He went around the corner to open the safe. Victor caught a glimpse of Tamihana on the stairs. He mouthed for her to hide. She nodded and ran upstairs but stopped halfway along the rail, lying down to watch her mom and dad. She didn’t want to leave them. Moments later, the burglar returned with a bag full of money. “Twenty thousand my ass, there must be fifty thousand here.” The burglar was almost gleeful, and then he turned. Raising the pistol, he blew his mother’s face off as he had promised. Blood splattered onto her father’s face. Her father begged for his life, claiming there was more if the burglar would just let him live. He had a daughter. As soon as it escaped his mouth, he realized his mistake. Victor looked up and saw Tamihana lying on the floor. “RUN,” he shouted as the burglar shot him in the forehead. Tamihana screamed and ran. She ran to her bedroom, locked her door and opened her window. Her mom and dad had practised fire drills and she knew what to do. She climbed out onto the roof, walked across the roof, clutching her teddy bear as she reached the satellite tower. She climbed down the tower, slowly, pausing to wipe tears from her eyes twice. As she reach the ground, she ran toward the shed but at the last minute she deviated from the fire drill, running to Mrs. Anderson’s corn field instead. She stopped after fifty feet or so, crouching down, hiding. She could see the burglar running to and fro in the backyard, trying to determine where she had gone. Their neighbour was a half mile down the road and unless the 291 alarm was triggered, help would not be coming soon. The burglar advanced on the corn field, leaning down and looking her way. She was far enough from the light that he could not possibly see her. Pointing the gun down the corn row, the burglar began to fire at random locations in her direction. One bullet whizzed a foot or two above her head. A siren could be heard faintly in the distance. The burglar must have heard it, for he made for his vehicle. Tamihana walked back to the house, entering through the front door. The sirens were much closer now. Help would be here soon and they would help mommy and daddy. She opened the front door and moved to the living room. She shook her mommy. Mommy looked funny, like a doll she had that the car tire ran over. She moved to her daddy. He looked funny too but he was still breathing. . . Tamihana was bawling uncontrollably. As she wiped her eyes, the burglar was sitting in front of her, tied to her father’s chair. She jumped back, clutching her throat as she screamed. “What the hell are you screaming about? I’m tied to the chair.” “You? How is this possible?” “I don’t know. Who the hell are you?” “My name is Tamihana Apihai. You killed my parents in this room when I was a kid.” “That was you,” he said laughing. “You were a quick little bugger. If I had caught you, maybe I wouldn’t have been caught.” “You were never caught.” “No, not for your parent’s murder, but for a dozen others. I got careless, and then I got dead. My roommate in 292 prison was quite skilled at neck breaking. Turns out, I killed his cousin. Go figure.” Tamihana was speechless. She stared at the man who was the killer of her parents. The blood stain was still on the back of the chair where her father had bled out while she had held his hand. Beside the chair was the pistol the burglar had used. “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” “Why did you kill my parents?” “Because they were there. Why else?” Tamihana picked up the pistol. “I need you to do better than that.” “Excuse me,” the burglar laughed. Without hesitation, she shot the burglar in the foot. “Jesus Christ, that hurt!” he shouted. “Why did you kill my parents?” she repeated. “Because they saw my face, you dumb bitch,” he snarled. “How did that happen?” “As I was entering the room to take them by surprise, my mask shifted, blinding me. I had no choice.” “So, because of a technical error in your robbery, my parents had to die, leaving a seven year old to have nightmares for the rest of her life?” “That about sums it up,” he said nonchalantly. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t blow your face off like you did my mother,” she said coldly. “Because you are a better person than I am . . . oh wait a minute. Nope, you’re not. You killed your boyfriend. Hah, you’re a killer just like me. Maybe we can work together sometime.”

293 “Killing you won’t bring my parents back.” The burglar stood, free of his bindings. As he turned, his mask was in his hands. Her parents were sitting across from her, tied to their chairs, very much alive. “Run,” her dad screamed. “Run,” her mom echoed. The burglar produced a gun, pointing it at her mother’s face. “Who dies this time, little girl?” asked the burglar. Tamihana raised her gun, aiming it at his chest. “You should have shot me when you had the chance. Nobody wins now. I die, you die. I live, your parents die, again. Choose little girl.” The burglar laughed coldly. Tamihana’s mind was swimming. She couldn’t bear to watch her parents die a second time. He deserved to die. She raised her gun, level with his face. He deserved to die. He was a murderer. Her finger tightened around the trigger. She pulled the trigger, pulling the barrel to the left, grazing the burglar’s ear. Dropping the gun, she walked away as she heard two shots ring out, her father once again pleading for his life. Seconds later, he was dead. . . Shortly thereafter, she was in Wilson‘s arms, crying harder than she had ever cried before.

Chapter Sixteen The Winds of Change

It was several hours before the team was returned to the Coliseum. Everyone sat, caught up in their own thoughts, their own nightmares. Clarence had relived a childhood horror, as had Tamihana. Chloe, Maria and Brock were shown a future based on choices they had made and choices they had yet to make. Gideon‘s Cavern had touched them all in a deep, emotionally draining way; all that is but Wilson.

294 Try as he might, Wilson could gather no images of what occurred inside the cavern. His mind was completely blank. That troubled him. Everyone else experienced something akin a life changing moment. Not him. Eventually they were summoned to the Coliseum. The news they received did little to improve their mood. Onoch informed everyone that they had been blessed with a gift from the cavern. They would receive no wish for this trial. In the trial to follow, only one team would receive wishes. Only one team would win the seventh trial. Onoch forewarned all teams that casualties would be heavy during the seventh trial. With that, he bid them farewell. ―Two trials in a row where our roles have been non- existent,‖ muttered Carla. ―We may as well have stayed back on Earth.‖ ―No wishes,‖ said Ned. ―That sucks.‖ ―With a slim chance of acquiring wishes in the next trial,‖ said Brock. ―We have accomplished much for the Earth to this point. We will do what we can in the future, at least what is allowed,‖ added Wilson. ―Let‘s go home.‖ Everyone but Tamihana and Wilson departed. ―Come with me to my home,‖ whispered Wilson as he held her. ―I can‘t,‖ she managed. She was trembling. ―I need to be alone, Wilson. I need to come to grips with what I was forced to relive in that cavern. My hatred for the Jarn grows quickly.‖ She kissed Wilson on the cheek and vanished. Wilson sat on the dirt of the coliseum floor. He was in no hurry to leave. Nobody waited for him. He had no family, no friends, no past and possibly no future. This particular visit with friends and family did not bode well for the members of Team Earth. Clarence and Danielle 295 engaged in their first fight in years. Ashley and her mother were at odds for most of her visit. Brock refused to share a bed with Sarah, an event that deeply hurt her. Even Krammer could sense the tension. Similar situations befell everyone. Tamihana and Wilson avoided each other for the duration of their stay. Despite the wishes made previously, the earth continued its downward spiral. A total of eleven major forest fires worldwide continued to burn out of control, each started by arsonists who were rebelling over the loss of loved ones caused by the reforestation. Murder rates were escalating despite the formation of the new penal system and the Antarctic prison. Team Earth returned to the Proving Grounds with baggage. The scars of the past, the possible scars of an uncertain future, and the entire fate of the world in their hands was beginning to takes its toll. Shen was the last to arrive. He spoke to no one, which was very uncharacteristic of him. Everyone stood in silence awaiting their instructions. Several moments passed; not a word was uttered. Finally, Wilson, who‘s patience were at an end, spoke. ―We must stick together,‖ was his short motivational speech. It worked. A moment later, Tamihana came to him, giving him a gently hug. ―Sorry. I have some demons that I‘ll share with you some day, just not now, okay?‖ He nodded and kissed her softly on the forehead. ―My wife wishes to leave me,‖ whispered Shen. ―We have been apart for some time. She wishes it to be official now.‖ ―I thought that is what you wanted, Shen?‖ asked Chloe? ―I thought so as well. Now, I am uncertain.‖ ―So go to her when we return and make things right.‖ ―I no longer think it is up to me.‖ 296 ―So, I wasn‘t the only one to have a rough homecoming,‖ replied Clarence. Ashley looked around making certain the recorders had not arrived yet before she spoke. ―My mother and I fought almost the entire time I was home.‖ ―Sarah and I had an ugly visit, although I think we were okay when I left,‖ said Brock. They all shared their stories, supporting each other and once again, coming together as a team. ―Ironic that our personal tragedies manage to provide us with strength as a team,‖ laughed Wilson. It was either laugh or cry and everyone chose to laugh which puzzled Carla, Ned and Tim as they arrived.

Chapter Seventeen The Battlegrounds of Anadais

―Welcome,‖ boomed the voice of Onoch. He stood alone on his pedestal above the coliseum floor. ―You have managed to complete six of the ten trials of the Proving Grounds. The Battlegrounds of Anadais is a simple, yet deadly contest. It is a trial that has been reproduced in one form or another on every planet participating here. It has been named, Frota Macla on Genisis, Capture the Flag on Earth, Silcabalama on Delcidoros II. Each team will be placed into a fortress of stone of a size equal in proportion to the size of the team; the smaller the team, the smaller the fortress. A variety of weapons are within a short distance of each fort. Each team will be given a flag. If your flag is taken, you must recapture it before it is placed inside the fort of an opponent. Should your flag reach an enemy fort; your team will be removed from the battlefield. If you manage to capture an enemy flag and return it to your fort, 297 you will have completed the first phase of the trial. You must capture six flags in total to complete this trial. Each flag must be displayed at the top of your fort; only then will it be considered captured. Only one team will claim victory. Only one team will earn wishes. The remaining teams will receive points but no wishes. The bottom fifty teams will receive harsh sanctions. Each team has five minutes to determine the terrain they wish to surround their fort. You may choose from the plains, forest, foothills, or marshland. Five minutes. The delegates and other guests are awaiting your arrival on the battlefield. Once there, you may gather weapons, but you cannot stray from your section of land until the horn is blown signifying the start. Additional points are awarded for kills.‖ A translator, similar to the one Ashley had used appeared before them. ―Each team has been given one translator device. Hold it to your throat and you may communicate with any other race. This device may very well save your lives. You may attempt to join forces with another race, but know this: Only one race may lay claim to any flag. Should two teams capture a number of flags, they my divide the flags between them or the two teams may decide to kill one another. The Battlegrounds of Anadais will provide many challenges. Good luck.‖ ―Oh boy,‖ said Clarence, ―Back to the fighting.‖ Everyone had been hopeful the fighting was behind them, at least until they had to return to the coliseum. ―What terrain?‖ asked Ashley. ―They all have their advantages,‖ answered Wilson. ―The plains are best suited for archers. The forest will slow down an assault but will be more difficult to defend, much the same with hills. Marshland will slow down any assault but if weed to go on the offensive, mobility will be greatly limited.‖ 298 ―I vote for the plains,‖ said Clarence. ―At least we can see them coming. No surprises.‖ Everyone agreed. ―We wish the plains,‖ shouted Wilson. In an instant, they were relocated outside a small stone fort in the middle of a plain that stretched over a half mile in each direction. ―Not exactly the vast plain I was hoping for,‖ said Brock. ―It will have to do,‖ added Wilson. The fort was only one hundred and fifty square feet with stone steps at each end that led to archer platforms, covering the entire perimeter of the building. They moved quickly, acquiring all the weapons in the area. When they were done, they had gathered six longbows, five dozen arrows, three crossbows, twenty bolts, a dozen spears, three javelins, eight swords, three axes, five shields and an assortment of daggers. Their flag, a red flag with a black circle encompassing the planet earth stood at the front of their fort, mounted inside a metal holder atop the archer platform. Nine other flag holders were distributed evenly around the fort on the remaining three walls. The door at the front of the fort served as the fort‘s only entrance and was constructed of flimsy wood, easily destroyed should they be overrun. On Wilson‘s direction, they brought their missile weapons up onto the four archer‘s platforms, leaving the melee weapons in an organized pile in the middle of the fort. Carla, Ned and Tim were on hand to film the event. From what they could ascertain, each group was given an area equal to roughly one square mile. The countryside, to the extent of their vision, was covered in one of the four terrains, in no particular order. To the north was a section of forest; to the east were more plains; to the south marshland, and to the west rolling hills. Beyond the plains to the east was forest. Only the plains to the east provided Team Earth with a clear view of their 299 opponents. A team of Deagols were busy gathering weapons. Brock counted twelve dwarf-like Deagols. Wilson thought he caught a glimpse of Ungolans to the south but could not be certain. ―Strategy?‖ asked Clarence. ―I believe our best bet is to defend our fort until some of the others have captured other flags.‖ ―That makes no sense,‖ countered Chloe. Wilson found her tone abrasive but kept his calm. ―If we bide our time, our enemies will continue to attack, capturing flag after flag. If we attack an enemy with five flags and defeat them, we will gain five flags from one battle. It should provide us with fewer battles; you could call it more bang for our buck.‖ Moments later the horn blared. It had begun. Wilson suggested three scouts: himself, Ashley and Clarence, each taking a recorder with them. Carla followed Wilson who travelled north into the hills. Tim joined Ashley as she journeyed north into the woods, and Ned went with Clarence who ventured south into the marsh. Each scout would advance on the adjacent properties for reconnaissance only. Once they had determined the approximate numbers of the enemy, they were to return at once. Shen, Brock, Chloe, Tamihana, and Maria would provide cover fire should they encounter the enemy.

Team Earth stood at the ready waited for action. Wilson, having the easiest terrain to follow, returned first, followed closely by Ashley and Clarence. Wilson reported D‘han to the west in a small valley between two small hills. Although it was only a guess, he thought the D‘han numbers to be at least thirty. Ashley returned next, winded and alone. Tim had been unable to keep up to her pace, but she assured everyone 300 he would be along in short order. A ring of Kratta guarded their fort. Ashley counted at least thirty. Clarence arrived moments later, covered in bog stench, happy to report a small band of Sliths, eight at the most, guarding their fort. That would be their most logical move, should they decide to attack. As tempting as it was to advance, they stuck to their plan. They waited. It was nerve wracking. At least an hour passed before they saw any movement. A small band of Marauders sought to attack the Deagol stronghold. The Marauders, a feret-faced, gaunt species of humanoids, advanced enthusiastically, whooping and shouting like a band of Cherokee raiders. If they had the fight of a Cherokee warrior, the battle may have lasted more than five minutes. The Deagols dragged the corpses from the fort, stacking them in a pile in front of the door. They also dragged a Deagol corpse outside the fort, dragging it thirty feet away, propping it up against a rock. Once there, they all took turns kicking the corpse. Ashley was aghast. Clarence found it amusing. ―He must not have fought well,‖ chuckled Clarence. Their first test came against the Sliths. They were armless creatures, reptilian in nature. Unable to hold or fire weapons, the Sliths were quickly repelled with an arrow assault. Thirteen had attacked. Only one had been killed. The others made a hasty retreat, which gave cause to rethink their strategy. Only eight had been at the fort, which would explain the others. Their numbers were much higher than thought. ―We are damned if we do and damned if we don‘t,‖ suggested Wilson. ―Our numbers are insufficient to mount and attack and defend ourselves, leaving us in a precarious situation. At least three of our neighbours outnumber us. The door to this fort would not stop a kitten. Our best hope is a battle between the Kratta and the D‘han that leaves them vulnerable.‖ 301 ―Unless we decide to risk a union with the D‘han,‖ suggested Ashley. ―Clarence saved one of them and the same one saved me. They are ruthless, but they seem to have a code of honour that we may appeal to.‖ The group took a vote, all agreeing to attempt an alliance. It was also decided to send Clarence and Ashley as their emissaries. Wilson watched as the pair disappeared into the hilly landscape to the west. They had no sooner disappeared into the first valley when eighteen Sliths appeared. They remained outside of arrow range, all but two of them. The pair of Sliths moved forward cautiously, stopping just inside the range of an arrow. The smaller of the two Sliths regurgitated the translator, managing to hold it into its mouth, so it could speak. ―Humanssssss,‖ it said. ―We wish to join you against the D‘han. What say you?‖ ―Six of us will make defending the fort a challenge against eighteen of them but I don‘t want those snake heads anywhere near me, if it is all the same to you folk,‖ said Brock. ―I agree,‖ said Wilson. ―Perhaps you should send them your answer.‖ Brock, who held the largest of the bows they had acquired, pulled back and let loose an arrow. His aim was low, striking the larger of the two Sliths in the leg. The smaller of the two Sliths tore the arrow from the leg with its powerful jaw, furthering the damage to the creature‘s thigh. The injured Slith pummelled the other with its head, sending it sprawling toward the fort, placing him in range of a second Brock arrow. This time, Brock‘s aim was true. He caught the beast square in the back, tearing through its major organs. The Slith fell forward into a spasmodic heap. The Slith with the leg injury roared, yet the seventeen remaining Sliths, retreated back toward the marsh.

302 Nearly twenty minutes later, Clarence and Ashley emerged from the hills on the run. A dozen, well-armed D‘han were in pursuit and closing fast. Wilson shouted for everyone to man the wall and prepare to offer cover fire. ―For god‘s sakes, shoot high. If you‘re not sure of your aim, wait until Clarence and Ashley are clear.‖ Carla was in the northwest corner of the fort, recording the pursuit. She was the first to notice two dozen Kratta marching toward them from the north. ―Ah guys, you have a problem!‖ she shouted. ―Brock, you and Shen take out a couple of D‘han. That may give the others reason to pause, buying us some time. The rest of you are with me. Accuracy won‘t be an issue with the Kratta.‖ Wilson led them to the north wall, notching his first arrow. The Kratta carried melee weapons which was a small relief. They would need to breach the fort to engage them which might provide them the time they needed to repel the D‘han. As Brock readied his first arrow for flight, Ashley began to wave her arms frantically. She was shouting something but Brock was unable to decipher it. ―Don‘t fire just yet,‖ he said to Shen. ―Something‘s not quite right.‖ As they entered into arrow range, Ashley broke off, heading northeast toward the Kratta. Her voice was faint but the message was clear, ―Shoot the Kratta!‖ Brock and Shen joined the others on the north wall. Six arrows were fired but only two found targets. The two who were struck continued forward with the others. The Kratta were closing quickly on the fort. Another round of arrows was fired, five of six hitting targets. Four Kratta were down, three were wounded and nineteen were gathering steam as they closed on

303 the fort. Team Earth would have one last barrage of arrows to let loose before the Kratta reached the fort. From the east came the Deagols, eager to jump in the fray. The short-legged creatures would be at least five minutes. Brock was the first to notice them. ―Now, all we need is the Sliths to join in and we will be completely surrounded.‖ ―Careful what you wish for,‖ said Wilson as he let go of his bowstring with a resounding twang. His arrow caught a Kratta in the face, pitching it backward into a second Kratta who took out two others in the process. Five more arrows were fired into the cluster, all striking flesh. A small, fierce-looking Kratta shouted instructions at the others, ordering them around to the east wall away from the D‘han. Clarence was the first foot soldier to reach the Kratta, throwing his weight behind his shield, driving a Kratta from its feet. Before the creature could react, Clarence plunged a short sword into its chest. Disobeying orders, three Kratta broke away to engage Clarence and Ashley. The D‘han were nowhere to be found. Wilson, Chloe and Maria each fired an arrow at the stray Krattas. Maria‘s sailed high but Chloe and Wilson both found their targets, leaving one Kratta against two humans. The creature turned to run with Clarence and Ashley in pursuit. Ashley held a javelin which she hurled toward the enemy. She failed to kill it, but the javelin became entangled in the creature‘s legs, forcing it to stumble to the ground. Clarence and Ashley pounced, making quick work of their opponent. The remaining Krattas were caught by suprise by the D‘han who had veered south at the last moment. They stood waiting as the Kratta rounded the corner. The leader of the Kratta placed the translator to his throat. ―Join with us. We can destroy the humans.‖ 304 ―No,‖ said the D‘han who had saved Ashley. The leader of the Kratta looked up. He had made a grave tactical error. ―I wish to surrender.‖ ―Sorry,‖ said Ashley who stood behind the Kratta. ―You know the rules. No prisoners.‖ She nodded at Wilson. The six on the wall fired down on the Kratta. Wilson, brandishing a short sword leaped from the wall to join in the melee. It was a short battle. Disheartened, outnumbered, and out skilled, the Kratta fell quickly to the combined forces. ―Look,‖ shouted the D‘han. The Deagols were less than a hundred yards away. Their numbers, much like the Kratta, were less than the combined numbers of the D‘han and the humans. They turned and began their march back to their fort. ―They are slow,‖ spoke the D‘han into the translator. ―We take them now and go our separate ways; agreed?‖ ―Agreed,‖ said Ashley. Brock and Shen had climbed down to join them. Maria, Tamihana and Chloe were close behind them. As one, they took off at a run. The Deagol were at least a quarter mile from their fort when they came to the realization that they would not make it. Turning, they formed a semicircle, waiting for their enemies to engage them. Only twenty yards separated the two when the combined attack force of D‘han and human came to a halt. Wilson, Brock and Shen, all with bows slung over their shoulders, notched arrows and fired on the group. The Deagols, expecting a melee, roared in anger. The leader of the Deagols, spoke into the translator. ―We have no archers. Honour us by engaging in melee. Do not hide behind your bows like old women.‖ Wilson smiled as he shot an arrow into the speaker‘s throat. Brock struck the Deagol to his left; Shen hit a target to his right. The Deagol broke ranks, half heading toward the fort, the other half running north. Wilson caught one of those fleeing 305 north with an arrow in the calf. It howled in pain as it hopped forward. Shen ended its howling with an arrow to its back. Maria, Tamihana, Chloe, Clarence and Ashley joined the D‘han in the pursuit of the others. They overtook them quickly, cutting half of them down as they fled. The remaining few put up a good fight. The D‘han lost two of their warriors. Maria managed to wound a Deagol with a quick thrust. She raised her sword, bringing it down in a cleaving arc, unaware of the dagger the Deagol held in its other hand. It drove the dagger into her midsection with such force; the tip emerged through the skin of her back. The sly grin on his face was erased by the force of a D‘han‘s war club smashing into his skull. Wilson went to Maria, taking her in his arms as he gently removed the dagger from her midsection. The blade was red with her blood but streaked in yellow as well. ―Deagol poison,‖ said the D‘han with the translator. Without hesitation, she thrust her blade into Maria‘s heart. Wilson leaped to his feet, turning on the D‘han. The D‘han stood her ground. ―Deagol poison is a very bad way to die. Your blood boils. You scream and scream until the blood oozes through your skin. I saved her this pain. Our deal is complete. You take the Deagol flag. We shall capture the Kratta flag. Should we meet again, we will be enemies.‖ No waiting for a reply, the D‘han ran off toward the Kratta fort. They stood over Maria for a moment. Shen offered a brief prayer. They agreed to leave her body there. The Jarn would deal with her. Shen offered to run to the Deagol fort to retrieve the flag. Everyone else would begin the march back to the fort. Shen arrived at the fort. The smell from the dead piled in front of their fort forced Shen to cover his mouth and nose as 306 he passed. He stepped into the fort cautiously, careful to scan the archer platforms for a Deagol waiting to pounce. The fort was empty. He sprinted up the stairs, anxious to retrieve the flag and be gone from this place. The flag was placed in the centermost holder as was their flag. He scanned the horizon, unable to ascertain any valuable information. Grabbing the flag pole in both hands, Shen pulled it free of the holder. A searing pain shot through his hands and up his arms, causing him to drop the flag over the wall. As the flag tumbled away, seemingly in slow motion, he caught sight of the yellow liquid that was smeared the length of the pole. He had been such a fool. He turned for the stairs, making it down two before tumbling to the bottom. He lay there for only a few seconds, uncertain why he should have to die like this. He had been a good man. He had lived a good life. Then, he began to scream uncontrollably. Wilson and the others paused as the echoes of Shen‘s screams permeated the air. ―Keep moving,‖ said Wilson. ―I will go to him.‖ Without waiting for an answer, Wilson took off at a full run. The others continued their march to the fort. Tim, who had remained behind with Carla and Ned came running toward them, his arms waving wildly. ―Sliths,‖ he screamed. The Sliths, had breached the divide separating the marshland from the plains. There were only six of them this time and they were moving fast. ―Damn it,‖ hissed Brock. ―I‘m the only one with a bow.‖ Five of them against six Sliths did not favour the humans. In close, the Sliths were deadly. With powerful, gaping jaws, they could swallow you whole or spit poison at you; neither a good way to die. Brock led the charge, followed by Ashley, Tamihana, Clarence, and Chloe. They were at least 307 the length of two footballs fields away when the Sliths entered the fort. Carla threw herself from the wall, screaming until she landed. The force of her landing caused her to bite the end of her tongue off. The Sliths exited the fort, one carrying the flag in its mouth. Ned‘s muffled cries could be heard from the belly of a Slith who moved behind the others, slower because of the weight he carried. Brock took aim and fired an arrow, low enough to miss Ned. It struck the Slith in the thigh. It did little to slow the beast down as it ripped out the arrow and continued on. ―Brock, forget about Ned,‖ screamed Chloe. Stop the one with the flag or we are done. Brock ignored her, firing a second arrow at the Slith that held Ned. The second arrow could not have been shot with better accuracy, striking the Slith in the crown of his head, missing Ned‘s legs by inches. The creature fell to the ground in a heap. Ned began to push his way clear of the creature‘s swollen jaw as Brock trained his sights on the flag carrier. He would have one shot, maybe two before they would be out of range. Gauging the stride of the flag carrier, Brock fired ahead of it by several feet. The arrow did not leave the bow cleanly, veering slightly off course, missing the flag carrier but striking the Slith behind it in the shoulder. Brock notched one final arrow, asked God for guidance and fired just ahead of the Slith. The arrow caught the Slith in the side, crippling it enough to cause it to collapse; landing firmly on its jaw. It lay there. A second Slith attempted to dislodge the flag from its jaw but the firm grip it held remained. The way it had landed must have locked the jaw onto the pole. ―Come on, charge,‖ shouted Brock as he threw down his bow, removing a sword from a scabbard he wore at his side. He ran toward the Slith. Two had continued to run; unaware their flag carrier had been fatally wounded, leaving two Sliths for the 308 humans to contend with. The two Sliths began to kick at the dying Slith, determined to retrieve the flag pole from the death grip it held. As the Slith expired, its grip on the pole eased enough for the other Slith to pull it loose. The smaller of the two Sliths, pole in mouth began to run. The larger creature moved to intercept the humans. As he ran, Clarence pulled a small axe from his waistband. Uncertain how it would serve him as a projectile, Clarence threw caution to the wind, hurling the axe at the Slith. His aim was perfect, his rotation horrid as the blunt portion of the axe struck the creature in the face. The Slith‘s knees buckled and it shook its massive head to clear away the starts, but it was far from defeated. Regaining its feet, the Slith surprised the humans by rushing into them. ―Fan out,‖ shouted Clarence who veered left, managing a grazing slice to the creature‘s upper body. It spit its toxin toward Clarence, missing him by less than an inch. The smaller Slith was escaping with their flag and Clarence knew he could do nothing to stop him. The others were keeping their distance. They knew how dangerous a Slith was in close. The creature came at Clarence, feinting to spit venom, causing him to dive, and roll to the right. As he came back to his feet, Clarence understood the Slith‘s intent. It was a ruse to provide the Slith with an escape route. Although too far in the distance to see clearly, Wilson was nowhere to be seen. The group moved toward Ned who was lying on his back gasping for air. ―Brock, you idiot, you cost us this battle,‖ chided Chloe. ―I‘ll try to remember that the next time you are in danger. In case you have forgotten, our first rule is survival.‖ They huddled around Ned who was beginning to succumb to the toxin. His eyes were unmoving, his breathing barely discernible. 309 Before Ned drew his last breath, they found themselves back at the coliseum. They jumped as Shen screamed in agony. ―Shen,‖ shouted Wilson. ―We are back. You are okay.‖ Shen jumped to his feet, uttering a string of Chinese profanities before slumping into the corner. He began to weep. Ned was his old self and even Carla‘s tongue had returned to normal. ―I don‘t understand,‖ said Clarence. ―I thought the recorders were protected.‖ ―As the game progresses, the rules continue to change,‖ said Wilson. Looking at Shen, he said, ―I am glad you survived. We may have lost this battle but your life is well worth the loss. It is unfortunate that Maria did not survive.‖ ―She died fighting valiantly in battle. I would have died out of stupidity.‖ ―Don‘t be so hard on yourself, Shen,‖ offered Ashley. ―I think any one of us would have done the same.‖ Chloe moved closer to Brock. ―I‘m sorry I yelled at you Brock. I wasn‘t thinking.‖ Brock gave her a pat on the shoulder. ―It‘s okay. In a sense, you were right.‖ ―The hell she was,‖ squealed Ned. The way Ned‘s voice squeaked brought a much needed laugh to the group. ―I would like to offer a prayer for Maria,‖ said Tamihana. Everyone, including Shen moved into a close circle. Tamihana spoke a traditional prayer in the language of her aboriginal people, the Māori. Onoch was standing in his usual spot, high above the crowd. He leaned forward, consulting with Alana, the scribe. He looked toward the humans suspiciously but said nothing. Several times, members of Team Earth attempted to leave the Proving Grounds but could not. They came to the realization that no one could leave until the trial had concluded. Tamihana,

310 her head in Wilson‘s lap, dozed on and off for the next few hours before Onoch‘s voice brought her to her feet. ―An epic trial,‖ he began, ―Decided by a foolhardy charge against an unmovable foe. The Ungolans managed to defeat the Dregs to claim victory in the seventh trial. The Deagols, the Sliths, the Marauders, the Movi Balac Clan, the Dronics, the Flix, and the Imperials will face global genocide. Of the one hundred and eighty-five remaining teams, the bottom fifty will face harsh sanctions.‖ As the standings were displayed, the members of Team Earth cringed. For the first time, they would face sanctions.

Chapter Eighteen In God We Trust 311

Team Earth members returned; tortured by their failure; saddened by the tragic loss of Maria. They returned to the Security Council where Carla and Tim stood waiting to record. Ned was absent, claiming the need for a temporary stress leave. Onoch did not contact the citizens of earth. Zemith was sent to administer the sanctions, and they were indeed harsh. With a wave of his hand, everyone, everywhere could see or hear Zemith. His face was on the water, in the clouds, on the side of abandoned buildings, down the middle of highways. His voice was gentle and soothing, yet everyone knew he was far from gentle. ―Citizens of earth, I come before you to issue sanctions deemed fitting by the witness at Proving Grounds. Three trials await you, if this dwindling team can survive that long. Let us hope that you face no further sanctions. The first sanction shall be the removal of all air transport.‖ He paused, looking upward thoughtfully. ―At this moment I am told there are one hundred and eighty-seven thousand people in the air. That is most unfortunate. With a wave of my hand, all air transport will cease to exist. All those currently aboard flights will fall to their deaths.‖ The president of the United States jumped to his feet. ―There is no need for that. Give them an hour and most of the planes can land.‖ A dark glint surfaced in Zemith‘s eyes. ―Sanctions are not for negotiation. Any further outbursts will be dealt with in a most unpleasant manner.‖ Lifting the staff above his head, he spoke words of an unknown language; waving the staff in figure eight pattern three times. ―All aircraft, aircraft parts and airports are gone from this planet.‖ Several people began to cry. Everyone was 312 outraged, yet no one dare voice their opinion. Wilson sat with clenched fists, vowing to avenge this deed somehow, some day. ―The second sanction involves fossil fuels. You continue to use coal and natural gas at a rate that will eventually deplete all of earth‘s resources. The mining of coal and draining of natural gas wells will stop immediately. You may use your current resources. Once they are gone, they are gone.‖ Again, he raised his staff. There were no figure eights or arcane words this time. ―It is done. For the third and final sanction, all firearms and explosives will be replaced by swords. The ability to create explosives, gun powder and other dangerous mixtures will cease to exist. If the world wishes to continue its path to oblivion, the battles will be fought with edged weapons. Moments from now, when I have taken my leave of this place, the transformation will take place. You will not see me again unless unfortunate circumstances dictate further sanctions. Thank you for your time.‖ With a grin and a final wave, you would have thought it was Santa Clause bidding children a farewell. The room exploded into a flurry of activity. Wilson moved slowly through the room as United Nations members sought console from those close to them. Wilson moved up to the podium, nudging Zhang politely to one side. ―Ladies and gentlemen, if I could have your attention please,‖ said Wilson calmly. He repeated the message a second time but the noise level remained. On his third attempt, he squeezed his hand over the microphone, creating a blast of squealing background noise which silenced the crowd. ―Thank you,‖ he said. ―These sanctions will only last until we can change them with wishes, forty-eight hours from now. Our stockpiles of coal and natural gas should last at least that long.‖ 313 ―In America, perhaps,‖ shouted the president of Georgia. ―In our country, we are at the mercy of Russian gas lines and coal shipments.‖ ―With all due respect, we have months before winter sets in, so forty-eight hours should not present a huge problem.‖ ―And if you fail again?‖ said the Kenya representative. ―Then these sanctions may be the least of our worries. Fill your churches. Pray to God for guidance and help. Stop killing each other and have some faith, even if it is a miniscule amount. We will prevail.‖ Wilson walked from the podium, whispered to Tamihana, bid his team mates farewell and vanished, followed closely by Tamihana. ―Apparently our hero status is quickly fading,‖ whispered Brock as he lay next to Sarah. Unlike the last visit, this reunion with Sarah was filled with passion and tenderness. His time with his children had been joyous, having finally put them to bed only an hour ago. For them to be up into the wee hours of the morning was a rarity. ―Humans are quick to judge,‖ was Sarah‘s response. ―For whatever reason, it is our nature. We fear what we don‘t know, we fail to appreciate what we have, and the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence.‖ ―Do you think the Jarn are doing the right thing?‖ asked Brock. ―By the right thing, are you referring to sanctions?‖ ―No, I mean the right thing with the Proving Grounds. Do you think their plan to clean up the universe is justified?‖ ―I can‘t guess what goes on in the mind of a Jarn, but I can‘t imagine how a barbaric contest can serve the universe in a good way. I honestly believe the Jarn, as evolved as they think they are, still carry some primitive man deep inside them.‖

314 ―I agree,‖ said Brock. He reached up and shut off the table light. As he lowered his head down to kiss her soft belly, he said, ―Let‘s deal with a much more important matter.‖ She giggled as he pulled her beneath the covers.

The entire village came out to celebrate Maria‘s life. It was a touching testament to a woman who had spent her entire life devoted to the service of others. A monument to honour her would be erected in the town square.

Clarence spent his time with his family, making certain they knew how much he loved them. It had troubled him deeply the way things had been on his last visit.

Shen‘s wife sat at their kitchen table awaiting his arrival. She had been crying. Her bags were packed, sitting near the front door. ―I will not pretend to understand, but I will honour your decision to leave,‖ said Shen. ―You almost died today, Shen. I am sorry that it took an event of that magnitude to realize how much I love you.‖ ―So you are staying?‖ ―The bags were in the car. I brought them back in. I wish to remain your wife if you‘ll have me.‖ Shen was overjoyed. He took his wife in his arms and held her tight. ―Know this,‖ he whispered into her ear. ―The Proving Grounds is a horrible, horrible place. I am certain that I will carry scars from this place that will mark me for a lifetime, but nothing compares to the nightmare of losing you.‖ She pulled back from him, taking aback. She was not used to her husband speaking this way. Her eyes were filled with tears. ―I should say nice things more often I think.‖ 315 ―Yes,‖ she laughed. ―You should.‖

Ashley appeared in her parent‘s front yard. Her dad was sitting on the front step enjoying a beer with his brother. They both rose to greet Ashley. ―Is mom still angry?‖ she asked. ―She‘s not angry, honey,‖ replied her father. ―She just doesn‘t deal with this well.‖ ―Should I go talk to her?‖ ―I think she would like that,‖ said her father. Ashley went inside, finding her mother in the laundry room downstairs. ―Hi Mom.‖ ―Hi Honey.‖ ―We okay?‖ asked Ashley. ―We were never, not okay, Ash, and I‘m sorry I am so out of sorts but I‘ve always been an overprotective mother and when your daughter is trying to save the world, it puts a little added pressure on her mother.‖ Ashley started laughing. ―What‘s so funny?‖ ―Me trying to save the world. Who would have thought?‖ ―Your dad and I, although to be perfectly honest, we thought it would be saving rivers, lakes and oceans.‖ Her mother reached out for her, giving her a big hug. ―You hungry?‖ asked her mom. ―I‘m starving.‖ They walked to the kitchen arm in arm, smiling from ear to ear.

―Where is your family?‖ asked Tamihana. ―I don‘t know,‖ answer Wilson. ―Does that bother you?‖

316 ―It‘s strange but I‘ve never known so I‘ve grown used to it. I can honestly say I don‘t dwell on it unless it comes up in conversation. I have no memories of any family. I‘ve grown accustom to the life of a loner.‖ ―You may be a mystery, Wilson, but you certainly do not exhibit the traits of a loner. You are a natural born leader. You exhibit compassion, and a tenderness I have never felt before. You had better be careful, mister. I think I might just fall in love with you.‖ ―That would be wonderful,‖ was Wilson‘s response, ―Because I am already in love with you.‖ Tamihana, who had been sitting on the far end of the couch, threw herself on Wilson, showering him with kisses. When she was done, she pulled back and looked him in the eyes. ―For real?‖ she asked. ―For very real,‖ he said, holding her gaze. ―If it is okay with you, I would like to practice consummating our marriage.‖ She laughed as she slid up to remove his shirt.

Chloe spent time with her family and some close friends. She had hoped that her friendship with Shen would grow into something more. He was a kind and decent man. She did not realize he was still in love with his wife. Perhaps his near death had sparked something in both of them. She would not interfere. The pub was called The River Dragon. It had been a favourite of Chloe and her family since she was a child. At least twice a week, they would gather at the Dragon. Chloe celebrated her sixteenth birthday there; her first encounter with stout ale. And so, on this night many years later, she ordered a stout, raised her glass to her friends and emptied the contents of her mug. Eight mugs later, she went home with a childhood friend by the name of Davey Grier. Davey‘s wife had died of 317 cancer four year earlier, leaving Davey to raise his nine year old son alone. The nine year old was now thirteen, going on twenty- two. She left Davey the next morning with a smile and a kiss and no promise of a return visit. She had enjoyed her evening but she wasn‘t ready for a relationship of any kind just yet; at least not until the Proving Grounds concluded. Chapter Nineteen The Land of the Ancients

Team Earth found themselves in a walled circular compound when they arrived at the Proving Grounds. The wall was twelve feet tall and forty feet in diameter, much larger than required for such a small team. Tim and Ned provided a lift for Carla so she could record the coliseum from atop the wall. The structures were without ceilings, yet Carla could see nothing beyond the walls of each structure. A blast of lightning struck the pedestal on the upper level, scaring everyone in the coliseum. As the smoke cleared, Onoch stood with his staff in hand. ―I would ask that all participants move to the outer ring of their compound. Failure to do so will result in death.‖ Wilson and the others moved quickly to the wall. Carla, Tim and Ned followed suit. ―Behold,‖ he bellowed. Before them, a large wooden object shimmered. It took several seconds for the object to solidify. Ashley drew a breath in wonder. Lying before them was a massive labyrinth. The attention to detail was mindboggling. ―Before you is a replica of the Land of the Ancients, a place of power, treachery and, if you are fortunate, salvation. Long before the planets of this universe began to take shape, creatures from a time before this time came into being on the 318 planet Krishyanna. They lived the life of Eden, free of worry or care for many thousands of years. Each generation spawned was a generation less pure. The council, fearing for the spiritual well being of their race, devised a labyrinth for the purpose of purification.‖ ―During the Age of Divide, after many decades of devotion to the project, Bovak and his crew of one thousand completed the Labyrinth. The labyrinth was magical and could be shrunk to a size similar to what you see before you. It was devised this way so each member of the council could contribute his or her magic to it. Guidelines were made and deadlines were set. In all, one hundred members of the council would offer up their magic, giving life and meaning to a device that would challenge their own people.‖ ―Once created, the Labyrinth was summoned each year during the festival of Creation. Those of age were required to enter the labyrinth through a cavern at the southern-most point. Escaping the labyrinth was the easy part. Surviving the labyrinth‘s magic was another story. The creators of this labyrinth are the forefathers of the Jarn, hence the name, The Land of the Ancients.‖ ―I would ask you now to study the labyrinth for in ten minutes time you will find yourselves in front of its entrance. You, much like the youth of old, must enter the labyrinth, survive its magic and escape through the north passage. Failure to do so will result in your death and global genocide. Recorders will remain where they are, recording the event as it develops. Points will be scored on a time basis. Should you manage to escape, full wishes will be granted. You have ten minutes.‖ ―Any suggestions?‖ asked Clarence.

319 ―I think our best bet is to divide the labyrinth in seven sections. Each of us should attempt to memorize our own section.‖ ―Sounds good to me,‖ said Brock. Everyone agreed. Ashley was given the first section, Chloe the second, Tamihana the third, Shen the fourth, Brock the fifth, Clarence the sixth and Wilson the seventh and final leg of the journey. Each of them attempted to trace paths through their section, trying to eliminate dead ends before they started. Several paths crisscrossed several times and there were several labyrinths inside the labyrinth. Even at the scale given to them, the Land of the Ancients was immense. Every possible landscape presented itself and through them all ran the walled corridors of the labyrinth. Ashley focused on the exits from her section, tracing backwards to memorable landmarks. She was nearing their starting point at the cavern entrance when her subconscious shifted. As her vision cleared she realized they were at the starting point. ―Ashley, the first leg is yours,‖ said Wilson. ―Lead us to the promised land.‖ Ashley didn‘t care about the Promised Land. She cared about the land of the dead and avoiding landing them there. The walls of the labyrinth stood thirty feet tall. The cavern-like entrance was a little more than half the size of Gideon‘s Cavern. Everything had a rich sheen about it, as though the entire structure had just been varnished in a redwood stain. Shen had chosen to bring up the rear. As he cleared the threshold of the cavern entrance, two outer gates of heavy solid wood slammed shut behind them, preventing any chance of escape. Ashley paused, running the maze through her mind. The path right was a definite dead end. The path straight ahead led to a fork which branched to another fork, leading to a third fork. 320 Right, left and then right at the forks was the correct sequence, or so she thought. The left path also led to a set of forks. The right path at that fork would lead them to a tunnel which would bring them close to the end of her section. What lie in tunnel? She had no idea but the rough terrain straight ahead had appeared difficult to navigate. ―What‘s the word?‖ asked Wilson, snapping her from her thoughts. ―We go left to a fork, then right to a tunnel. The tunnel will lead us to the end of the first section. Wilson offered her some words of encouragement and asked to move out. Ashley set a quick pace, wanting to make good time for as long as the terrain would permit. They reached the fork in twenty minutes, providing a benchmark of time from which they could calculate an estimated travel time through the labyrinth; although the estimate would vary in accordance to the severity of the landscape. Ashley led them down a slight drop as they followed the right fork. The walls of the corridor were designed to remain at a height of forty feet, regardless of the terrain. If the path dipped, the wall dipped; if the path rose, so did the wall. Above the wall was nothing. No sun shone, no clouds floated by, and no rain dropped. It was as though their world ended at the top of the wall. They travelled another twenty minutes, passing only one intersection. Ashley had been certain they had to continue forward. Another ten minutes passed and Ashley began to second guess herself. At the forty-five minute mark, they rounded a bend and to her relief, they found themselves at the entrance to an unlit tunnel. The tunnel, unlike the corridors was less than ten feet from floor to ceiling. Ashley reached her hand forward to probe the darkness. The inky blackness of the tunnel enveloped her 321 hand completely. The darkness was damp and cold, leaving her hand clammy as she withdrew it. ―Take my hand,‖ she said, not looking to see who took it. With her left hand locked into a vice-like grip, she thrust her right hand forward up to her shoulder. Looking back to Clarence who held her hand, she winked, asking him not to let go as she began to move forward. ―I‘ve got you, Ashley,‖ he promised. As she leaned forward, a force tugged at her, gentle at first, increasing in intensity as she began to resist. She screamed for Clarence to pull her out but her words made no sound. The force that pulled at her absorbed her words. She thought to squeeze Clarence‘s hand repeatedly, hoping he would sense the danger and pull her out, but her senses blocked any sense of feeling. Her mind raced as she tried to pull herself out of the tunnel. Ashley‘s heart began to race as she was overwhelmed by a feeling of suffocation. Something was draining the life from her. She fought against it, thrashing about wildly in an attempt to dislodge herself from the darkness. She grew weaker and weaker, eventually reaching a point of acceptance. Her heart no longer raced. Her anxiety was gone. She was at peace. Clarence tugged gently at Ashley‘s hand. She was unresponsive. He gripped her hand with both of his, pulling her out with one quick tug. She drew in a deep, life-giving breath as reality came crashing down on her. Her eyes had a wild look about them as she tried to explain what had happened. ―Ashley, you were only gone for about five seconds,‖ said Clarence. ―That‘s impossible,‖ she argued. ―I was at least five minutes.‖ ―I‘m not sure what happened in there, but Clarence is right,‖ said Wilson. ―Five seconds, max.‖ 322 ―I‘m going to assume the tunnel is impassable,‖ said Brock. ―Hard to say,‖ replied Ashley, ―But I won‘t go back in there. That tunnel is alive with something that wanted my soul; at least that‘s what it felt like. I had begun to surrender to it just as Clarence pulled me out.‖ ―The secret maybe is to run and keep running. If there is a force pulling you, let it pull you to the other side,‖ offered Shen. Wilson offered his take. ―Unfortunately, for those of us on this side of the tunnel, the outcome will remain a mystery. We could all cross or we could all die. I, for one, am not ready to take that chance. I suggest we turn back. Ashley, if we return to the intersection, will the path to the right take us out of here?‖ ―Yes.‖ With Wilson in the lead, and Shen bringing up the rear, the group marched back in the direction they had come. Wilson stepped up the pace, wanting to minimize their time lost. They reached the intersection in good time, turning left. They path continued as straight as an arrow for at least two miles before reaching a ―T‖ intersection. Their only choice was to go right or left. They chose left. The new path was anything but straight. It snaked its way left and right, up and down, veering at odd angles in unusual places, landing them in a clearing at the top of a small rise. Chloe pointed toward a sign in the center of the rise. ―This is where I take over,‖ she said. There were five paths ahead of them. Chloe explained that all five paths led them to a series of moving walls that formed an ever-changing maze. Crossing that would lead them to the next section. ―Is any path, more or less dangerous than the others?‖ asked Brock.

323 ―As I studied the paths, I noticed similarities in each. Holes would appear in each path at random times in random locations. I attempted to detect a pattern but was unable to do so. It is the same with the walls in the moving maze. They move in random directions at no set time. We will have to move quickly and cautiously through both areas. The walls could easily crush us.‖ ―Is there a path that is shorter that the others?‖ asked Ashley. ―They are the same length. The question is where do we want to enter the moving maze; at the side or in the middle?‖ ―The middle would provide us with more options,‖ suggested Shen. ―We could move up, back, left or right. If we choose a side, you eliminate one movement option.‖ ―I agree with Shen,‖ said Clarence. Everyone agreed. Wilson led them to the top of the hill. The five paths were laid out before them, each separated by a thick tall grass. The grass was forest green in colour and the thickness of a pencil, rising up from the ground at varying heights ranging from nine to twenty feet. Wilson led them to the center path, pausing at the trail head. ―Be wary of this grass, and anything coming out of it. We will need to watch this trail carefully. I want everyone to hold hands until we clear this trail. Should one of those holes pop up, I want us to keep each other out of it.‖ Turning, Wilson took Tamihana‘s hand in his. She in turn took Brock‘s. They started forward slowly, watchful for any movement. Shen, who remained at the rear of the procession, was less than ten feet onto the trail when grass stocks on either side of him came crashing down forming a thick wall at the trail head. The noise had startled everyone. Chloe had screamed and Shen had nearly

324 jumped clear of his shoes. They all remained frozen in place until Wilson signalled they would begin to move. As they moved forward, the grass continued to crash down behind them. Wilson held up a hand, motioning for them to stop. Releasing Tamihana‘s hand from his own, he inched his way to the side of the path. Lifting his foot, he nudged a stalk of grass ever so gently. The reaction was swift and violent. The grass lashed out, swiping downward at Wilson‘s foot, missing it by inches. The stalks remained on the ground for a few seconds before snapping back into place. The rock path where the stalk had struck was marked. Had he chosen to keep Tamihana‘s hand in his for his experiment, one or the other of them would have been gravely injured. ―What the hell was that,‖ whispered Clarence. ―I needed to know if we could push our way through the grass,‖ answered Wilson. ―Like it or not, this path is our only way to the maze.‖ Wilson took Tamihana‘s hand in his and led them forward. After a few steps, he turned to her, smiling his reassuring smile when the first hole opened up in front of him. Tamihana yanked him back to her, almost knocking herself and Brock over in the process. Wilson pushed forward, eager to know the nature of the hole but it vanished as quickly as it had appeared. As they journeyed deeper into the grassy landscape, the holes began to appear more often, in greater numbers. Once, five holes appeared simultaneously, narrowly missing Chloe and Shen. The grass continued to crash down behind them, fraying their nerves, adding to the tension they all felt. For the first time, having a small team was proving advantageous. Wilson couldn‘t imagine attempting to navigate through this with a team of Ungolans.

325 As they crested a small rise, Wilson could see the moving maze just up ahead. As he went to move forward, a hole opened just ahead of him. He was quick, but not quite quick enough. The bottom of his shoe dipped just below the surface before he was able to withdraw it. He paused to examine the damage to his shoe. The piece of his shoe that had been exposed to the dangers of the hole, albeit briefly, had been vaporized. ―Run!‖ he shouted, squeezing Tamihana‘s hand as he sprinted forward. As the path drew to an end, Wilson released her hand and jumped toward the entrance to the maze. Everyone had followed his lead and arrived safely. ―Sorry, but having seen what the damn hole did to my shoe, losing any part of any of us into a hole would be deadly.‖ ―Main thing is, we‘re here,‖ added Clarence. ―Any idea on how we are going to navigate this thing?‖ ―Unlike the holes, the walls move slower,‖ said Chloe. ―The main thing to watch for is a section of wall coming at us with no open wall to escape to. If we can avoid getting crushed, we must maintain a straight path. It may require us to sit tight and wait for a new corridor to appear. If we move with the walls, we will be forced to follow the path set before us by the wall. I am certain that path will keep us trapped in here forever.‖ Wilson moved forward, leaning into the entrance just far enough to study the size of the blocks. It would be tight but the group would fit in an area as big as the blocks. As he leaned just a little further, there was a grating sound as rock moved on rock. The corridor that lay ahead of them was suddenly gone, blocked by the huge stone that had slid into place. The movement was swift for an object of that size, but Wilson was confident they could stay ahead of it. ―When this corridor opens next, we go,‖ he instructed them. There wait was a short one. The rock slid left, opening 326 the corridor. Wilson charged forward, travelling inward three rocks in length. The stood poised, waiting for the maze to change. A rock ahead of them slid in, blocking their path. ―Back to the entrance,‖ shouted Wilson. ―Now!‖ Everyone scurried back to the entrance. They had no sooner arrived there when the area where they had been standing vanished. ―If we would have been there, we would be a pile of crushed bones and blood by now,‖ said Wilson. ―Any ideas?‖ asked Chloe. ―We sit and we study the rocks for a time, looking for patterns,‖ said Wilson. ―That could take a while,‖ countered Brock. ―Why not run like hell through the whole damn maze?‖ ―It may come down to that, Brock but let‘s give this some thought first,‖ replied Wilson. As the studied the rocks, they arrived at the same conclusion, Chloe had speculated all along. The pattern was random, as was the time. Wilson looked back toward the five paths through the grass. None were accessible, leaving them only one direction to travel. Wilson crossed his arms, pondering their best move when a flash of heat shot through his back. He had an idea. ―Did you feel it,‖ asked Onoch without moving his lips. He was connected to the staff and the eye imprisoned in the staff, as he should be; it was the eye of his oldest son; a punishment for disobeying Onoch. The eye acknowledged the energy shift. Both Onoch and the eyes focused their attention in the direction of the shift. It had occurred in the center of the Land of the Ancients, near the Ungolans. The contestants did not share the Land of the Ancients; each was given their own. The Land of the Ancients that had been theirs to study was now theirs to survive. As 327 Carla, Tim and Ned watched anxiously from above, so did the spectators in the coliseum. Huge screens; filled the ceiling and the walls of the coliseum, each featuring a different race. Onoch had sensed an energy shift from an area near the Ungolan compound which sat between the humans and the D‘han. He and his eye had been waiting, certain the shifts felt previously would return. It was isolated to three, possibly five races. The eye would watch these races carefully now. With two trials remaining, they would uncover the source of this unusual energy shift. ―When I say go, follow me, and listen closely to my commands. I‘m going on autopilot here. Whatever direction I tell you to go, move fast. Listen and move, listen and move.‖ Wilson waited until the wall opened. ―Ahead three squares,‖ he shouted. Everyone followed him. The wall closed ahead of them as the wall to their right slid down one square. It was like playing frogger. ―To the right,‖ he ordered. Everyone moved with him. ―Ahead four squares on my go,‖ he told them. As the rock cleared the path ahead of them, they dashed forward. They found themselves surrounded by rock for a few seconds before the rock to their left slid down. ―To the left, five squares. Move fast.‖ They scurried to the left as quickly as they could. Chloe had barely arrived when the wall closed, tearing the heel off her shoe. ―Ahead three, left two,‖ he shouted, leading them forward. The huddled together, again narrowly missing a rock panel as it slid in behind them. Chloe was getting winded. ―Right one square when it opens and up four squares, then left two squares.‖ ―We just came from the right,‖ questioned Chloe.

328 ―Just do as I say,‖ hollered Wilson. ―I need to stay focused.‖ The wall opened and they moved right, up, and then left. As Chloe crossed the threshold, the rock wall caught the hood of her sweat jacket, pulling her back. She screamed as she was pulled into the corner, smacking her head roughly against the wall. Wilson ignored her scream, issuing orders for the next move. Ahead four, left two and ahead three. Shen went to Chloe, unzipping her jacket, pulling her free of it. She was shaking up, but able to continue. The wall opened and Wilson advanced; everyone on his heels. Shen guided Chloe forward, able to keep up, but just. Shen grabbed Chloe and hurled them both into the group as the wall closed. Brock and Clarence helped everyone to their feet. Wilson was untouched. ―Two left, three ahead, two right and run straight ahead to the exit. This is it.‖ The wall opened to the left and Wilson was off and running. Chloe had managed to kick off her shoes and was running barefoot with Shen at her side. They stayed close as they moved two left and there was minimal separation as they moved ahead but Shen could feel the gap growing as the moved toward the right. ―Run!‖ he shouted at Chloe, pulling her arm as he sprinted forward. The exit was in sight. He was a good ten feet behind with three blocks to go. Chloe was slowing him down but he refused to leave her. As they closed on the final block, Shen screamed for Chloe to dive. He threw himself forward, tucking his legs in as he did. It saved his life. He rolled forward, his momentum carrying on to the exit. He spun, looking for Chloe. ―What happened,‖ he asked the others. ―I told her to dive.‖

329 ―She didn‘t, Shen. She just stopped; lost her nerve.‖ They sat waiting for the wall to open. When it finally did, Chloe was not there. The walls continued to shift and the wall in front of them continued to open and close but there was no sign of Chloe. She was lost, or so they thought. After nearly twenty minutes had passed, they heard a gleeful shout to their right. There stood and battered and bruised Chloe, holding her shoes in her hands. She had found another way out. After a brief celebration, it was Tamihana‘s turn to guide. From their current location, ten paths led forward into a thick mist. No walls or grass or any other form of barricade separated the paths. At the beginning of each path were dozens of spears, which were an immediate worry to everyone. If there were spears, chances were good that there would be creatures to defend against. Tamihana was certain of flying creatures that had hovered above the mist. What they were, she could not be sure. Tamihana thought it best to take one of the outer most paths. From what she had observed, these two paths appeared to be the most navigable. It had been difficult to ascertain much because of the mist but she was certain the paths all connected in the center. Tamihana led them to the start of the outermost path before Wilson stepped forward to lead. He snatched one spear for each hand and suggested everyone else do the same. He found it odd that the spears were pointed at either end. The mist promptly enveloped them, ushering them into a eerie world of whispers and shadows. The path was one of broken stones, forcing everyone to move warily forward for fear of a turned ankle or worse. As they rounded the first bend, a shadow, shades darker than the landscape, swooped down on them, uttering a shriek as 330 its wings gathered air, conveying them a warm, foul gust as it soared back into the sky. ―Is the hair on anyone else‘s neck standing straight up?‖ whispered Clarence. No one answered but he was sure it would have been unanimous. They had managed only a few steps when a second creature swooped, this one lower and the stench much worse. Chloe struggled to hold down the contents of her stomach. The intervals at which the creature or creatures was swooping down at them continued to increase. Wilson insisted they increase their pace. Wilson was convinced there were at least three creatures following them. He wasn‘t sure of their intention. None had made an attempt to attack. Until they did, Wilson saw no need to launch a spear. For ten minutes, they inched along, slow and steady. Everyone had grown accustom to burying their faces in the armpit on each passing of the creatures. As they approached a small rise, an air current of fresher air wafted their way. Wilson scurried up the rise, bewildered by what he found. The mist limited his vision but from what he could see, they had arrived at a large chasm. At the end of the path stood two pillars carved from stone that he could make no sense of. He scampered back down to the others. ―Tamihana was correct. The paths do meet in the middle. The problem is that they meet at a rather large chasm.‖ ―Are there bridges to cross?‖ asked Tamihana. ―None,‖ answered Wilson as he led them to the brink of the chasm. As he pondered their next move, Wilson‘s hand grazed the bottom of the spear head where it was attached to the shaft of the spear. There was a small flap of material loose. Intrigued, Wilson examined it closer. It was indeed a flap of material. He tugged at it, revealing a shiny silver metal beneath it. Thinking he was on to something, he peeled the material back 331 as one might the world‘s largest banana. The entire length of the shaft was composed of a lightweight metal that shone brightly in the dim light of the mist. Without warning, one of the flying beasts swooped down on Wilson. Holding the spear up in a defensive position, Wilson braced for impact but it never came. The beast clutched the spear in its talons, lifting Wilson from his feet. Wilson thought to let go but he was already over the chasm. Clinging for dear life, Wilson watched as the swirling mists of the chasm passed by below. He dared to look up, wishing later he hadn‘t. The creature was as black as night, with a serpentine body and the wings of a dragon. Wilson was so engrossed with the creature he failed to notice they had reached the other side. The creature flapped its wings, slowing its decent as it reached a set of pillars similar to the ones on the other side. The flying beast, lowered the spear onto the pillars before thrusting its wings in a powerful blast that sent it soaring back into the sky. ―Unbelievable,‖ muttered Wilson to himself. They weren‘t spears. They were a carrying rod, used to transport people across the chasm. When the outer wrap was removed, it was a signal for pickup. Wilson yelled across the chasm to the others. He could barely hear their muffled response but it was loud enough for them to communicate. He explained what they must do. Moments later, Tamihana emerged from the mist, her face etched in terror as they crossed the chasm. Her terror turned to joyous relief as it lowered her to the pillars. Wilson took her in his arms and hugged her tightly. The others, following Wilson and Tamihana‘s lead, arrived soon thereafter, each showing the same blend of terror and joy that Tamihana had exhibited.

332 ―You have to wonder what would have happened if we would have thrown one of those spears at one of those dragons,‖ speculated Clarence. ―If they really are dragons, I would think it would have blasted us with fire,‖ said Shen. ―If I was a gambling man, and I am,‖ said Clarence, ―I would lay down a large wager that at least half of the other races remaining would have attacked the dragons.‖ ―Let‘s hope that is the case,‖ said Wilson. ―We need all the help we can get.‖ Wilson led them through the remainder of the mists. The dragons continued to fly overhead and the stench continued to burn their nostrils and cause their eyes to water but nobody complained. Eventually the mists began to fade and the temperature began to drop. By the time they had cleared the mists, it had begun to snow. In the background, a vast, snow- covered mountain glimmered in the sun, a strange contrast to the dark snow clouds that loomed directly overhead. ―I don‘t remember seeing snow,‖ said Chloe, referring to the model they had observed back in the compound. ―I‘m afraid so,‖ said Shen. ―There are three ways through this section. Two paths lead to the outer borders of the Lands of the Ancients, skirting around the mountain or straight up the gut. This section is no larger than any other and I am at a loss to explain why it appears so far away. An illusion perhaps?‖ ―What do you recommend?‖ asked Wilson. ―From what I saw back at the compound, the trek straight ahead does not veer, cutting our travel time in half. Gusting winds, not found on the outer paths do frequent the center however, at least that was the impression I got.‖

333 ―Does anyone have objections to the middle?‖ asked Wilson. No one did so they set out, Shen in the front this leg of the journey and Wilson in the rear. The snow was steady, melting as it hit the ground, and the air was refreshing after the stifling air of the mists. Everyone was in relatively good spirits as they marched toward the mountain. As they neared the base of the mountain, the clouds began to dissipate and the snow began to slow. By the time they had reached the start of a large pass through the mountains, the sun was shining and the snow was gone. The entrance into the pass was a steady incline on a ten percent grade. It was a long half mile ascent to the top of the rise. Below, lay a snow- covered valley that seemed to go on for miles and miles. As they began the descent into the valley, they received their first blast of wind. It chilled everyone to the bone and the force drove Chloe backward. The wind was intense, but it was also brief. The second wind was as strong as the first, lasting several seconds longer. Everyone was rubbing their hands together for warmth when the wind finally subsided. ―If this continues to intensify, it‘s going to be a long road to the next section,‖ surmised Brock. ―The outer paths were much longer,‖ explained Shen, ―And I don‘t believe the temperatures would have varied more than a few degrees. The wind will be a problem but from my observations I believe this to be the better path. I suggest we huddle and run between gusts, huddle together during the blasts of wind, and move as quickly through this god-forsaken section as we can.‖ ―Agreed,‖ said Wilson. ―To add to that logic, I suggest we rotate lead positions after every huddle, taking turns as the windbreakers.‖ Before they could move, they were battered with 334 another chilling wind. As discussed, they huddled together, turning their back on the wind until it subsided. As the wind diminished, they began to jog down the path. A full out run would be too risky, giving the icy conditions of the path. They continued down into the valley, jogging, huddling, jogging, and huddling until they reached the bottom of the valley where the temperatures were warmer and the winds less intense. The journey down the valley hadn‘t been as harsh as they had anticipated. They hoped the same held true on the journey up. For the first quarter of a mile, the trek up was relatively easy. As they reached the half mile point, the cold winds had begun to exceed anything they had faced on the way down. Snow had begun to fall in earnest, covering the icy surface of the stone path. Jogging was no longer an option; just standing was becoming a challenge. Cold soon became freezing which rapidly became dangerous. Chloe‘s teeth were chattering she was so cold. As they approached the ¾ mark of the journey, they became linked together as one, dragging each other up the hill, one, slippery step at a time. The snow fall intensified, transforming into a blizzard. Improperly dressed in these conditions would result in hypothermia if shelter could not be found. The winds had grown in strength every step of the way and were approaching gale force. Often, no ground was gained between gusts. They could see the end of the trail off in the distance but were making little progress. Chloe told the others to go on without her. She just wanted to lay down in the snow and go to sleep. Brock was tempted to join her as was Ashley. Wilson refused to give up, encouraging the others to take a few more steps, and then a few more. Chloe began to babble incoherently. Wilson lifted her on to his shoulder, using Brock‘s shoulder for support as they moved forward at a snail‘s pace. 335 They continued for another ¼ mile, heads hung low, any sense of purpose eroded from their minds. Their bodies were on the own as they marched robotically, one slow step at a time. Wilson was unaware that the snow had stopped ten minutes early or that the winds had died down. He was also unaware that the temperatures had started to rise. He was snapped back to reality by Chloe, striking him in the back weakly with her fist, demanding to be set down. Somehow they had made it. As they walked out of the mountain region, Wilson insisted on a brief rest to clear their minds and allow their shattered bodies a brief reprieve from the climb. ―Shouldn‘t we keep moving?‖ asked Ashley. ―We could, but the way I look at it, Ash, we are here by the will of God. I am not a religious man but let‘s be honest, we keep dodging bullets and I am not about to rush forward with a cluttered, weary head into whatever hell awaits us.‖ ―Well, since you put it that way, okay,‖ she chuckled. ―Besides I see we are heading back into a walled maze.‖ ―Tis true I‘m afraid,‖ said Brock. ―What lies ahead is the ultimate laboratory maze with dozens of dead ends, intersections and corridors heading in all directions. I didn‘t have time to map it all in my head but I can get us through most of it from memory.‖ The group lay huddled together for warmth, caring little about any awkwardness. They had been through far too much to worry about close contact. None of them realized how exhausted they were. Everyone thought someone else would wake them. As unintentional as it was, they slept for nearly two hours. It was Wilson who turned suddenly in his sleep that caused Tamihana‘s head to shift, landing on her own arm. She glanced at her wrist watch and was shocked at the time that had

336 elapsed. As she woke the others, no one thought it possible for them to sleep this long out in the open. ―You‘re up, Brock,‖ said Wilson as he headed toward the labyrinth ahead. There was only one entrance, located in the exact center of the wall. Brock asked everyone to follow him and stay close. This labyrinth had no moving parts but as they ventured deeper into the maze, it grew more complicated. Brock moved forward, unwavering in his navigation as they snaked their way through the first half of the maze. They reached the center of the maze in less than ten minutes. ―That will gain us back some time,‖ mumbled Brock as he knelt to rest for a moment. ―I‘m not sure about the water though.‖ He was referring to the beautiful fountain that stood in the center of the small clearing. Growing to the left and right of it was a pair of banana trees, full of the golden-skinned fruit. Shen scaled the arched banana tree like an experienced monkey as the others rushed to the fountain to drink. Shen pulled a banana free of the tree, popping the end to skin it, sinking his teeth in to it. ―They‘re delicious,‖ he shouted, tearing two bunches from the tree and tossing them into the fountain, splashing Tamihana and Ashley in the process. ―Sorry, didn‘t‘ want to smash them,‖ he laughed. Brock joined the others at the fountain. The water was icy cold and tasted pure. Together, with the bananas, they had sufficient fuel to finish their journey. Brock insisted everyone carry their banana peels; that he would explain later. Not wanting to waste any more time, Brock suggested they move on, leading them down a corridor to the right, one of the three on the adjacent side of the clearing. He recalled the right corridor leading to a junction with three paths. As they

337 were swept away by the Jarn, his last glimpse was of an exit somewhere near the top of one of those three paths. The corridor was similar to the one they had travelled earlier. The stone walls ran upwards of forty feet tall. Nothing lay beyond the ceilings, as was the case before. It was as though their reality ended there. Brock continued down the corridor until they reached the junction. He turned to his friends and explained the situation. ―I know the exit is up there,‖ he said pointed in a direction he believed to be north. ―The problem is the Jarn did not allow enough time to map the entire trek. I would suggest we follow the corridor to the right and stay right until we reach the end. I asked everyone to keep the bananas for a reason. Starting with Tamihana, I need you to break a small piece of peel off just before every intersection so we won‘t lose our original path. It is important that the peels be place skin side up. Should our first choice not work out, we will retrace our steps. If this path bends its way back to the beginning of this junction, we will at least now that from the peels.‖ ―Sounds logical,‖ said Clarence. ―It‘s a solid plan,‖ added Wilson. With Tamihana trailing, they moved forward. Eventually, the trail they were on wound back around to their beginning. ―What a waste of time,‖ muttered Chloe. ―Not necessarily, Chloe,‖ said Brock. ―We have now eliminated one of three possible exits. If we hadn‘t marked the trail with bananas, we would have continued on, not realizing we had come in a circle.‖ ―I suppose,‖ she conceded. Brock moved down the middle junction with Clarence trailing the group, dropping pieces of peel when required; this

338 time the peels were dropped flesh side up. As they rounded one bend, they found themselves on the first path they had taken. ―I don‘t remember this fork being here before,‖ said Brock. ―We wouldn‘t have,‖ said Brock, ―Because we were focused on our forward travels, much like we ignored intersections. The right to left trails were not a factor in our plan. Now, I‘m beginning to think they are.‖ They continued on the path until they arrived once again at the beginning. With Shen dropping peel strips, to distinguish the trails, they moved down the left trail. As with the second trail, somehow they managed to merge on to the first trail. Brock called a halt, reversing their direction until they came back to the beginning of the curve. The banana strips Shen had been dropping were near the far wall. The walls were moving, too slow for them to notice but as they moved, the walls curved, steering them back to the same place every time. ―Run,‖ he shouted, sprinting off the way toward the beginning. As he rounded the corner where the three junctions formed, a gap had opened in the wall. ―You sneaky bastard,‖ shouted Brock. ―Hurry everyone before it closes.‖ He ushered everyone through the wall. A corridor similar to the one they had come from went on for several hundred feet, before it opened onto a bridge. The bridge led them to a grassy clearing. At the far edge of the clearing, a muddy river flowed lazily by. The far bank was filled with a thick growth of tall, lush trees, the branches of which, formed a canopy over the river. Long vines, dangling down from the branches were secured to a number of wooden posts on their side of the river. ―You Jane, me Tarzan,‖ laughed Clarence. ―It appears that way,‖ said Tamihana. 339 ―Not quite,‖ countered Wilson. ―Truth be told, the vines used in Tarzan movies were called Lianas and they grew up the sides of trees but they were actually ground plants.‖ ―Seriously,‖ shouted Clarence. ―I actually believed the dude could do that.‖ ―No, unfortunately not,‖ responded Wilson. ―Well we have to. That is the only way across the river and from what I could tell from my time on this section, the river‘s loaded with a school of some fish. Given the type of environment we are entering, I will assume the worse and go with piranha.‖ ―I have an idea,‖ said Wilson who moved toward the posts. An assortment of deadwood littered both sides of the river. Wilson, careful not to fall in the river, retrieved a chunk weighing about forty pounds. Handing it off to Clarence, Wilson untied one of the vines, wrapping it securely around the wood. ―I‘ve secured this wood at a level I think our feet would be. I want to test it for clearance; after all, we have plenty of test vines.‖ Convinced the stump was secure, Wilson gave it a heave hoe. The wood barely grazed the water, setting off a swarm of activity turning the water into a sickly, frothy foam. The log easily cleared the far bank. Wilson reached into his pocket, tossing his banana peel into the water. In a heartbeat, the creatures of the river attacked it. ―Okay, so no matter what, don‘t fall in the water,‖ shuddered Ashley. Wilson went from post to post, cinching a large knot toward the lower part of the vine, high enough to easily suspend any of them clear of the water. The problem was a launch point. Wilson thought it best if he or Brock served as the launch point, placing the person to go on their shoulders. Wilson explained that each person would have to cling to the vine for dear life, 340 thrusting their feet out to create speed. When they saw land, let go. It should be as easy as pie except for two things: Chloe lacked sufficient arm strength to hold herself above the knot, and whoever was chosen to go last would lack an elevated starting point. Wilson resolved the first issue, placing a stirrup loop to support her foot, which she could rest her weight on. The only danger was that her foot would become tangled as she attempted to eject herself. Chloe assured them it would be worth the chance. She assured them she would be careful. Ashley was the lightest. She would require some propulsion to guarantee her clear of the river. With help, she climbed onto Wilson‘s shoulders. She was given the vine and a reminder to clamp her hands securely around the knot. She would be given a push by Clarence and Brock who would run with her, providing a final shove as they reached the bank. On a nod from Ashley she leaped from Wilson‘s shoulders. Brock and Clarence rushed forward with her but only Clarence was able to get a hand on the small of her back. It was enough. As Ashley began to ascend upward on the other bank, she let herself plummet to the ground. She gave everyone a big thumbs up. Tamihana was next. Based on Ashley‘s velocity they deemed it unnecessary to provide additional force, which may cause her to spin out of control. She failed to gain the velocity that Ashley had, but she cleared the bank by eight feet. Shen went next, followed by Brock. Next was Chloe. ―Remember, Chloe, when you are close to the other side, pull yourself up on the knot to relieve the pressure on your foot and let yourself fall to the ground,‖ said Wilson. She nodded her acknowledgement but her fear was evident. As she stood atop Wilson‘s shoulders, her legs trembled. ―Ready?‖ 341 ―No, but I am going anyway.‖ With a leap forward, she sailed out over the water. Her arc was good and her speed was good. As she cleared the river, Wilson could see her pull up on the knot. She leaped toward the ground, only to have her body tugged back toward the water. Her foot had become ensnared in the loop. She swung out over the water, screaming frantically for help. She lifted her head, as she tried to reach the rope but failed. Her hair dragged across the water just enough to stir the fish into a frenzy. On a second effort, she managed to grab hold of the rope, pulling herself clear of the surface, but it was obvious she would not be able to pull herself up onto the loop. Wilson moved down, not one, but two posts, removing the vine. ―What are you going to do?‖ asked Clarence. ―Something that requires your help. Run beside me as I run to the left. When I yell now, I am going to jump up and thrust myself forward while you give me the best shove you have ever given anyone. If I can gain enough speed, I hope to swing back in an arc to snag Chloe with my rope. I only hope to reach shore. I will need you waiting over there by the shore.‖ He pointed to an area in front of the post where he had taken the vine. ―I will need you to grab the vine and pull it secure. As soon as I am on the ground I will help you.‖ ―It might just work.‖ Chloe was crying. She was certain she was going to die. ―Chloe,‖ Wilson shouted. She continued to cry but she tipped her head toward him. ―I can‘t hold this much longer,‖ she said. ―Only for one more minute. I am going to swing out past you and snag you with my rope. I will pull you back this way and Clarence and I will pull you in, okay.‖ She just looked 342 at him helplessly, eventually nodding but certainly not understanding. ―You ready?‖ he asked Clarence. ―God, I hope so,‖ Clarence replied. Wilson started into his run, shadowed by Clarence. As they approached the limit of his vine, Wilson yelled, ―Now,‖ as he leaped up in the air. The timing was perfect. Wilson sailed outward, pumping his hips in a velocity-increasing thrust. As he reached the maximum height on the other side, he pivoted himself to produce a second thrust, in an arc that would take him around Chloe. He could hear Clarence shouting for Chloe to hang on as he whizzed past her. Wilson felt the two vines collide and he began to slow down. He slowed considerably as he neared the shore. He wasn‘t going to make it. As he ran out of speed, he extended his legs to Clarence who managed to grab the end of his shoe. ―Don‘t let go,‖ shouted Wilson. Slowly, Clarence worked his way up to the bottom of Wilson‘s shoe to his ankle, finally reaching the calf. He tugged him to shore, setting him gently onto the ground, careful not to lose the vine. Once both men had the vine in their hands, they made quick work of reeling in Chloe. She could not stop crying. He didn‘t want to do it, but in the end, Wilson slapped her in the face. She stopped crying as she laid her hand against the sting of her cheek. The look she gave Wilson was one of daggers and death, the latter of which he had just saved her from. ―Sorry Chloe but we don‘t have time for this. I need you back up on that rope.‖ ―I can‘t. My hands are so shaky, I just can‘t do it. Leave me here. If you make it out of here, I will be summoned to the coliseum.‖

343 ―I can‘t take that chance. We are too few in numbers as it is, and there is the uncertainty that you will be summoned. The Jarn continue to change the rules.‖ Wilson pulled her to her feet and pulled the vine toward Clarence. ―Get her up on my shoulders,‖ he instructed Clarence. ―Another plan?‖ ―Yep.‖ ―My turn?‖ ―Yep.‖ Wilson explained that Clarence was to take the vine and place his foot in the loop. Using their combined weight, he would hold Chloe much like Tarzan used to hold Jane and transport her across the river. Using his hips, he would thrust forward like a swing, returning to this side, doing the same on the final journey. ―And what about you?‖ asked Clarence. ―Oh, I think I have one more of those running loop da loops in me,‖ he smiled. On Wilson‘s command, he dropped to the ground, letting their weight carry them forward. The vine creaked with the weight but it held. Clarence dumped Chloe unceremoniously to the ground, pumping to gain speed on his return. He made it the other side with ease, as did Wilson. The remainder of the journey through the jungle was the easiest part of the trial except for the mosquitoes, gnats, and flies. Wilson found it hard to believe that Jarn children would be subjected to such a harsh spiritual awakening. It seemed much more about survival then it did about spiritual growth. Where the jungle ended, another jungle began. A new species of trees stood before them, as tall as oaks, and nearly as straight, covered completely in lush foliage of varying shapes and sizes. One path awaited them as Wilson had noted. This section was 344 about faith and luck. As they ventured forward, the path came to a wall which went on in either direction out of sight. Along the walls were giant wooden balls. On further inspection, they found the balls to be hollow with a row of handles around the center. The inside of the ball was filled with a soft fleshy substance. It was damp to the touch but did not appear to be sticky or toxic. ―Are we supposed to ride these to the bottom?‖ asked Tamihana. ―I believe so,‖ answered Wilson. ―From what I could gather, this terrain is similar to the marble boards used by kids. They are filled with rows of nails, causing the marbles to bounce to and fro, landing in a hole along the way or making it to the bottom where the marble owner would gain a prize.‖ ―I‘ve got to hand it to them, they are creative,‖ said Brock. ―You would be creative if you had several million years to come up with this stuff,‖ said Ashley. ―I think I will walk down,‖ said Clarence as he began to pass through the opening in the wall. He was thrown back for his trouble with a large zap much like a giant outdoor bug light. Clarence picked himself. He was shaken but okay. ―Another experiment,‖ he said, rolling one of the balls through the opening. It was unaffected, clearing the wall and quickly gaining speed as it tore down the steep grade, bouncing from one tree to another as it continued its journey downward. As it was about to vanish from sight, it dropped into a hole. A blast of flame shot from the hole, sending the ball skyward. As the fiery mass returned to the ground, it shattered. ―I liked your experiment back at the river better,‖ said Clarence. ―Yeah, me too.‖ 345 ―There are two sets of handles in each ball. By doubling up, we may increase our odds of survival. I can‘t imaging seven balls making it down safely but three maybe.‖ ―How do you figure three?‖ asked Chloe. ―The balls are big enough to fit three people. We go two pairs and one trio.‖ ―Who is the trio?‖ ―Myself, one of the other guys and Tamihana.‖ ―Figures,‖ muttered Chloe. ―Are we that quick to forget Chloe?‖ Wilson asked her, referring to his saving her life. ―No, I just don‘t want to die.‖ ―None of us do, Chloe, now here‘s the plan. Assuming Clarence and I go with Tami, I will reach to one set, holding myself and Tami against him. He will reach behind me and do the same, forming a sandwich. It will prevent us from bouncing loose. The handles allow us to fit our shoulders between them, should we make a solid impact. I know it will be tricky but the same plan will go for the rest of you, only minus the sandwich.‖ In the end, it was Chloe and Shen, Ashley and Brock, Tamihana, Wilson and Clarence. Wilson‘s plan called for them all to begin rocking their balls at the top of the hill. With any luck, they would stay together on the way down. On Wilson‘s command, they began to rock. Wilson, Clarence and Tamihana were first out of the gate, followed closely by the others. The first impact jarred Wilson‘s arms but he held steady. Clarence nodded that he was good to go. As they spun off the corner of a second tree they began to pick up speed, crashing into another tree with such an impact that Wilson and Clarence smashed foreheads. Wilson became disoriented as they continued to be jostled around. He could feel blood trickling down his face. Tamihana was terrified, clutching onto Wilson for dear life. 346 Another collision was followed by yet another, as they spun out of control. Wilson was thrown back, smashing his head into a handle. He held his death grip as blackness began to overtake him.

Chapter Twenty Redemption

The Security Council was in darkness, as was most of the world. The sanctions had indeed been harsh. The United Nations was included in the roaming blackouts, necessary to reduce power consumption. Natural gas stores were vast but without hydro, the pumps would cease to operate, stopping the flow of gas. Bands of sword-wielding gangs had gathered in Times Square, set on attacking anyone who challenged them. In the short time that had passed since its inception, the group called themselves, ironically enough, Heavy Metal.‖ As silly as the name was, the gang‘s agenda was quite serious. Their intentions were given to CNN for the afternoon broadcast which had came and went shortly before the black out. Heavy Metal was a gang comprised of gang members from seven of New York‘s gangs. It included the Los Zetas, Jamaican Posse, Mara Salvaturcha, Eastcoast Bloods, Trinitarios, Ghost Shadows, and the Crips. Their numbers had swelled to over a thousand in the past seventy-two hours. The loss of guns had changed things, but only marginally. Their goal was a systematic takeover of the city. They already controlled Time‘s Square, the transit system, a total of nine variety stores and three 347 banks. By day‘s end they intended to hold the United Nations building, their first big challenge. Wilson and the others arrived at the United Nations building early in the evening. Despite the healing touch of the Jarn, Wilson‘s head stilled ached where he had fractured his skull. After reaching the bottom of the hill, the others had a brief look at the terrain before they were summoned to the coliseum. It had been a miracle they had survived. Clarence was appalled and fascinated at the same time. The Jarn were a despicable race but they were also creative geniuses. The jungle slope was equipped with traps, pits, and ramps designed to send the occupants of one of the balls hurling into space. It gave Clarence goose bumps to see how many different ways they could have died. At the coliseum, Onoch explained that nearly one third of the remaining participants had perished during the eighth trial. In light of this revelation, the humans considered themselves fortunate. He had spoken to them, but only briefly. ―Eleven more teams have earned global genocide. Within the hour, their fates will be sealed. To the remaining teams, the witnesses have deemed it unnecessary to impose sanctions. The standings will be posted for you to review upon your return. The ninth trial will be the most difficult for many of you. You may leave.‖ With the help and advice of the Security Council, President Abernathy and the other delegates, Team Earth was quick to decide on their wishes. First, they overturned two of the three sanctions imposed by the Jarn. They decided to leave the weapons sanction in place for the time being. The murder rate would be lower if it was left more difficult to kill someone. A sword was much messier than a gun, and not everyone had the stomach to hack someone to death. This would probably not 348 hold true with the Heavy Metal gang so a third wish was used to transport everyone from the gang to the prison in Antarctica. A fourth wish was to provide food and water to everyone on the planet, much the same way the Jarn had been doing before they abandoned the human race. The wish was designed to last for three months. A fifth wish was to clear ten thousand acres in each country with fertile, nutrient-rich soil that was seed ready. Their sixth wish was to be given the location of every planet in the universe that would support human life; that currently contained no intelligent race. That wish was denied. A wish for a space vessel capable of intergalactic travel was also denied. A third attempt at a sixth wish was for a safe, environmentally friendly automotive energy source to replace oil based fuels. Their wish went beyond their wildest expectations. Gas stations were replaced with hydrogen centers. Diesel and gasoline engines were replaced with powerful hydrogen cells with zero emissions. The only by-product was water. The seventh and final wish was for a new mentality in the world. It may have seemed strange to the masses but to those locked inside the Security Council, it was the perfect final wish. The world ran on greed. For years, the oil industry was aware of fuel alternatives, yet they chose to ignore them because of profit. The Kyoto accord was a great idea but country‘s claimed they could not afford to implement the changes. Companies paying outlandish bonuses to managers who failed horribly to keep their companies out of financial trouble. The world complained but nothing changed. The leaders of the world watched as millions were overcome by credit card debt. It was inevitable, yet no one stepped in to stop it. No, it was time for change. The seventh wish made it so. A lack of greed would not create compassion but it would no longer distract the masses from a loftier goal.

349

Chapter Twenty-One Coliseum - The 9th Trial

―Two more trials and we are done with this crap,‖ said Clarence to Wilson. At this point they were the only two to arrive in the compound. Tamihana had told Wilson she needed a few minutes. ―It can‘t end soon enough for my liking,‖ said Wilson. ―But I‘ve got a bad feeling about this trial.‖ ―Why?‖ ―I‘m not sure but as Tamihana and I were lying there last night, enjoying each other‘s company, I was overcome by a feeling of dread and I haven‘t been able to shake it since.‖ ―I‘m thankful to have made it this far, but having made it this far, I desperately want to finish what we‘ve started.‖ ―As do I,‖ said Wilson. The words were no sooner out of his mouth when the others began to arrive; Shen first, then Ashley, then the others, including Ned, Carla, and Tim. ―I‘ve been told that we will get to record this trial up close and personal,‖ bragged Carla. ―Let‘s hope that‘s a good thing,‖ said Brock. Onoch arrived at the Proving Grounds but not on his normal perch, high above the crowd. He appeared in the center of the Proving Grounds dressed in a midnight black robe with crimson trim. In his right hand was the staff with the eye. The

350 eye probed them. Wilson could feel its gaze. Clarence shot the eye the finger, prompting laughter from everyone. ―The ninth trial, for most of you anyway, will prove to be the most difficult trial of them all. One race at a time will enter into the center ring.‖ With a wave of his staff, a large metal ring with walls ten feet tall appeared, surrounding Onoch. He levitated above the wall, making himself visible to all. The ring will contain an assortment of weapons, all part of your planet‘s history. You will not use these weapons against another race. In the ninth trial, you will use these weapons against each other. Only one member of each race can advance to the final trial. One hundred and eighty-one teams remain, seventy percent of which have less than twenty participants remaining. Points are earned for the speed of the kills. The faster the battle, the higher the score. The Witnesses had decided to announce the final scores, including the scores from the Lands of the Ancients, at the conclusion of this event. You have five minutes.‖ Onoch vanished, only to reappear up on his pedestal. ―I will not fight any of you,‖ shouted Shen. ―This is insane. There are no other words to describe it.‖ ―We will enter the ring and just stand there,‖ said Clarence. ―Agreed,‖ said Brock. ―I couldn‘t harm any of you,‖ Ashley whispered. ―Are they really going to make us attack each other?‖ ―All those dignitaries are not sitting in the stands to watch combatants stare at each other,‖ said Wilson bitterly. ―I know now why I was overcome with a feeling of dread. Killing your own, to what end? What spiritually evolved species would want this?‖ ―Could you really kill me, Wilson?‖ This came from Tamihana. 351 ―Only if they make me.‖ ―What the hell is that supposed to mean,‖ she demanded. ―Enough, Tam,‖ shouted Shen who rarely raised his voice. ―You are giving them what they want already.‖ ―Shen‘s right,‖ said Brock. ―We will oppose this any way possible but know this, if they force us to fight, I will use every ounce of my will to not strike any of you.‖ Onoch‘s voice interrupted their discussion. ―Each race, in alphabetical order will be summoned to the center of the coliseum. As you enter the ring, you will lose all knowledge of your team mates. They will be your hated enemy. Killing them will be a great victory to you and your people. As you deliver the killing blow, you will remember who they were, but just briefly. Once the contest has ended, the remaining warrior will be healed of any physical wounds. The mental damage, however, will remain with you for a lifetime. The first team to enter the ring will be the Ahnkes from Celestial. And so it begins.‖ As the Ahnkes took to the ring, Wilson braced himself as their compound began to ascend. At twenty feet, the compound slowed to a stop. The Ahnkes most closely resembled humans, more specifically, the bald headed, white robed priests of ancient Egypt. Eleven remained. Three minutes later, one was left standing. Wilson had watched their eyes closely. Just before they began, he noticed a slight change in their eyes. The remaining Ahnke fell to his knees as the realization of what he had done struck home. He vomited twice before vanishing back to his compound. As the next team entered the ring, Wilson could not fathom the rationale behind this trial. Even the torture seemed humane compared to this. 352 ―Only one of us is to remain after today,‖ said Clarence. ―To what end?‖ ―I can only assume they have a grand finale planned for the final trial,‖ answered Wilson. ―I will give them credit. They have tested every one of our strengths and weaknesses in ways I would have never guessed.‖ ―So, what‘s the plan?‖ asked Brock. ―If it is true, and we forget ourselves as we kill each other, then I will ask you all to forgive me now, but I ask that we all vow to use our final wish to bring the six of us back to life. We have done our part to save the world. I think they would understand if we wished ourselves back to life.‖ ―What if the survivor returns to Earth and there are sanctions involving millions of lives? Do you think our people will understand then?‖ ―Good point, Brock, but we could have ignored the earth, ignored our people and made wishes selfish in nature,‖ countered Wilson, ―But we didn‘t. We deserve this.‖ ―I agree with Wilson,‖ added Ashley. ―As do I,‖ said Tamihana. ―Count me in,‖ said Clarence. In the end, everyone put their hands into the center of a circle and swore to uphold their agreement, regardless of any peril the earth may find itself in. Carla had been filming the whole thing. Clarence grabbed the recorder and held it up to his own face. ―To the citizens of Earth, know this; we have served the earth well. We ask now for your understanding. You have witnessed our suffering and you have witnesses our triumphs. We have earned one wish.‖ Team Earth watched as team after team attacked each other. Each battle was quick and bloody. The ring prevented escape, the weapons enhanced the speed of the kill. The Broadnosed Gullufs appeared in the ring. The humans were 353 next. Chloe vomited in the corner several times. Wilson guts rumbled as he pulled Tamihana against him. ―No matter what happens, remember I love you,‖ he whispered. She held him tight. ―I love you too. It figures though, I finally find a man I adore and we‘re going to try to kill each other. I seem to bring that out in men.‖ They smiled at each other, despite the situation. As he kissed her gently on the lips, they were summoned. ―I refuse to pick up a weapon,‖ shouted Chloe, dropping to the ground, placing her hands behind her back. ―Be quick. That‘s all I ask.‖ Wilson stared defiantly at Onoch, making a gesture, indicating he would cut his throat if given the chance. Onoch actually smiled, fuelling Wilson‘s rage. Wilson shot him the finger as the battle began. Wilson leaped back, grabbing not one sword but two. He was uncertain how he had come to be here, but these people wanted him dead. An assassin to his right, who was slow to rise from her knees, was his first victim as he ran her through with the sword in his left hand. Spinning away, pulling the sword from her body, he used the sword of his right hand to knock a Korean man off-balance with a hack to his shoulder, allowing Wilson enough time to come up underneath of him with the second sword. Kicking the man away, Wilson turned, moving toward the back of the circle, sizing up the remaining opponents. It was then that it struck him. He looked down. Shen and Chloe lay dead. He had killed them. No, he couldn‘t have done it. It would have been one of the four on the far side of the cage. It had to have been.

Two men were locked in a struggle, one wielding an axe, the other a pair of long daggers. They were equal in size and fighting skill, neither given an inch to the other. Two beautiful 354 women fought just off to the side of the men. One was a beautifully tanned women with high cheek bones, the other a nice looking woman with the body of a runner, sleek and firm. Neither held a weapon. Each had a hand on the other‘s hair, pulling for control, searching for an opening and a chance to break free with the other hand to strike a blow. The athletic one, slipped her hand free, punching the pretty one in the throat. The pretty one dropped to her knees, gasping for air. The other girl grabbed a mace, swinging it in an upward arc, catching the pretty woman in the chin, smashing the life from her. The roar of fury the athletic one emitted as she struck her foe was replaced by remorse. She began to sob, mutter, ―oh no, oh no,‖ repeatedly. ―Odd,‖ thought Wilson who remained where he was. He would wait for the outcome of the two men before making a move. The girl stopped crying, rose to her feet and smashed the man holding the axe in the back of the head with her mace, killing him instantly. Her look of satisfaction was wiped from her face as the other man thrust two daggers into her chest, running her into the wall with a bull charge. She was dead before she hit the wall. As the girl had done, the man‘s yell of victory was replaced by mourning. He called her by name; Ashley. Wilson rushed forward before the man regained his senses. His timing was perfect. The man began to turn his head toward Wilson as he brought the blade slicing down, cleaving the man‘s head clean off. Wilson spun, making sure he was alone. It was then that it hit him. He had survived the trial. At first he couldn‘t move. Tears poured down his face at the sight of Tamihana, her face crushed and bloody. He stumbled toward her in a drunken stupor. He dropped to the ground beside her, lifting her head on to his lap. He began to cry in earnest. And then they were gone. 355 He found himself alone in the compound. He turned his back on the ring. He could not watch. His heart ached. He cried like a baby as he mourned the loss of his friends; his team mates. ―Film that if you like,‖ he said to Carla, Ned and Time, ―But do not, even for a minute, record me like this.‖ They all complied graciously. Nearly five hours elapsed before the conclusion of the ninth trial. Wilson had managed to cry himself into a light doze, despite the noise of the coliseum. ―The Proving Grounds opened with two hundred teams of two hundred participants, a total of 40,000 creatures gathered from the four corners of the universe and all parts in between. A total of forty-four teams were eliminated resulting in the global genocide of those races. Since its inception eons ago, the Proving Grounds have never seen a genocide level so low. Previously, eighty-three had been the lowest number of teams to be eliminated. You have all done well.‖ Onoch paused as the crowd offered a round of thunderous applause. ―In forty-eight hours, one hundred and fifty-six combatants will return to the coliseum for a final trial. There are no sanctions from the trial today, and there will be no sanctions from the final trial. Points have been calculated and the final tallies will appear on the monitor in your compound. At the conclusion of the tenth and final trial, there will be no genocide. It will be a time of celebration.‖ Again, Onoch paused for the crowd. ―At the conclusion of the final trial, wishes will be allocated based on placement. The planet to finish in first place will receive two universal wishes which extend one‘s wish power beyond the influence of their home planet. The planet in first will also receive ten major wishes. Second place will receive one universal wish and ten major wishes. Third place 356 will receive ten major wishes. Fourth through twelfth place will receive a descending number of major wishes, ending in one for the twelfth place team. Teams finishing beyond twelfth position will receive nothing.‖ Wilson turned to look at the board. Earth was in twenty- ninth position. He would need a miracle to move up into the top twelve. ―The contestants are free to go,‖ said Onoch before he vanished. Wilson willed himself to his flat. When he arrived, he was appalled. His flat had been looted. The windows were shattered; his furniture had been torn to bits. His flat screen television sat smouldering with a tire jack protruding from its middle. ―Take me to Carla,‖ he shouted. He found himself standing next to Carla as she addressed a board room full of CNN employees. On a white board was written, ‗Serve or Servant‘. Wilson was speechless as he read on. They were discussing his decision to wish the others back to life and from what he read, they thought it was a bad idea. The meeting was to discuss how it should be presented to the world. ―Wait ten seconds and request to come to me,‖ said Wilson before he disappeared. Carla snatched her recorder from the table, told the others she would return shortly and followed Wilson. ―If this is what the people of our planet have become, then perhaps I should make my last wish global genocide,‖ Wilson said between clenched teeth. ―My people gave this planet everything we could in the manner we thought best, with guidance from the Security Council and world leaders. Why would anyone do this to my home?‖ Wilson paused for a

357 moment. It was then he noticed the letter lying on the remains of his coffee table. The letter was short and to the point. You thought you would turn my world upside down. You did. Congratulations. If you survive tomorrow, and I doubt you will, you will be human again. Your wishes will be gone and your ability to zip around our planet will be gone. I will spend the rest of my life ruining yours. Use your wish on me if you like, although I don‘t think Abigor would approve. Zalmay

Wilson was stunned. Zalmay. ―It was Zalmay,‖ he told Carla. ―I should have guessed. A world leader gone crazy. Go figure. Thank you for coming Carla. I need you to leave now.‖ ―But what if the letter is a fake? Perhaps someone is using Zalmay‘s name to push you into something, I thi-― ―Goodbye, Carla,‖ Wilson said in a soft tone. Carla thought to push the issue but thought better of it. Wilson went to his fridge. The contents were spilled on to his floor. Broken glass and shredded food products lay everywhere. He willed himself to Tamihana‘s. He was relieved to see they hadn‘t trashed her house. He went to her fridge and grabbed a much needed beer. Sitting on her couch, using the cold beer to sooth his throbbing head, he made his wish. ―I wish that Brock, Ashley, Tamihana, Shen, Clarence and Chloe, who were my team mates only hours ago were alive and in the same health they were in before they died.‖ It took only seconds but his wish was denied. He knew in his heart that Onoch and his witnesses would not allow such a wish but he prayed he was wrong. He was beside himself with grief. Through nine trials he had suffered, 358 succeeded and shared with those seven fine people but it was the loss of Tamihana that tore at his heart. She had touched a part of him he thought was dead forever. Her spark had given him hope again. Now she was gone. As he sat in misery he contemplated visiting each of the families to express his sympathies but he just couldn‘t do it. Should he survive the final trial, there would be time for it later. If he didn‘t survive, it wouldn‘t matter. He lay back and closed his eyes. The early stages of depression began to creep their way back into his mind, a feeling he was all too familiar with. As he worked on his beer, he tried to determine how Zalmay could possibly know Abigor and what any of it would have to do with the Proving Grounds. Wilson barely knew Abigor having only visited with him on two occasions, both at the flat. He knew Zalmay was a bad person but he had been unable to ascertain why. Wilson was exhausted but his mind would not grant him the luxury of sleep. Images of his friends lying dead and bloody raced through his mind. He thought of Onoch and how wonderful it would be to kill him and close the Proving Grounds forever. He would not give up yet. He would not surrender to the gloom of depression. He had one more trial to face.

Chapter Twenty-Two The Final Trial

359 Before departing for the Proving Grounds, Wilson stopped at the Security Council. Power had been restored to areas not affected by war, weather and reforestation. Zhang was standing alone near the window, staring at the waterfront. He was glad to see Wilson. ―I am deeply sorry for the loss of your friends.‖ ―I appreciate that Zhang. Thank you. I am going to make a wish with just you and I present. No audience, no recorders, just you and me.‖ ―Are you sure that‘s wise?‖ ―Well that‘s up to you,‖ answered Wilson. ―Here goes. I Wilson Collins wish that Zhang Yesui be granted the power to name a wish within the next three hours and for the Jarn to honour that wish provided it falls under the guidelines set forth by the Jarn.‖ Almost instantly, the wish was approved. ―Why,‖ asked Zhang. ―As you said, is it wise for me to make a wish in my current frame of mind?‖ ―I will make good use of the wish, Wilson. Thank you. Aside from those to ignorant to understand what is happening, the rest of the world will be praying for you today.‖ ―I hope so, Zhang. I am going to need all the help I can get.‖ Wilson offered his hand to Zhang. ―Take care. I gave you the wish, because you are one of the few honourable men we have left.‖ Before Zhang could reply, Wilson was gone. Wilson made a final stop en route to the Proving Grounds. He wanted to use a visit to his flat to spark his rage, to prepare him for whatever lay ahead. It worked. He wasn‘t there two minutes and the anger from a day and a half earlier returned. With a final glance around, he knew he was ready. Wilson arrived at the Proving Grounds later than usual. The compounds were gone. Although everyone was free to walk 360 about, only a particularly large Ungolan chose to do so. He wandered toward Wilson, stopping a few feet away. ―What,‖ Wilson muttered in a threatening tone. The pair locked eyes briefly before the Ungolan grunted at Wilson dismissively and sauntered off. As the Ungolan moved away, Wilson‘s back muscles flared with pain causing him to cry out. The Ungolan turned, pausing to look back at Wilson. The creature looked puzzled but carried on. The pain in Wilson‘s back left as quickly as it came. Up on the second level, the eye communicated with Onoch who was speaking with Alana. ―Yes, I know,‖ answered Onoch. ―The Ungolan or the human?‖ ―The Ungolan,‖ answered the eye telepathically. ―Are you absolutely certain?‖ asked Onoch. ―Absolutely,‖ it replied. ―I will notify the witnesses,‖ said Onoch. Moments later, Onoch addressed the crowd. ―Before we begin the final trial we must deal with a matter of the utmost urgency. A contestant in today‘s final trial has aligned himself with The One, a renegade who fights to destroy all we have worked for. We knew he was in our midst but with the aid of The One, he was well disguised as we knew he would be.‖ Onoch moved to the edge of the upper level, pointing his staff to the coliseum floor. ―Take him,‖ he shouted, pointing at the Ungolan. The witnesses formed a tight ring around the Ungolan as they marched him to stand before Onoch. ―This creature stands before you today, a symbol of all that is wrong with the universe. He is an agent of darkness who seeks to destroy all we have worked to create. This cannot be allowed. Allow the energy to leave your body and your death

361 will be swift. Fight the power of the witnesses and you will suffer greatly.‖ The Ungolan was confused. He sought to speak in his defence. ―Silence,‖ shouted Onoch. Looking to the ring of witnesses, he nodded. Extending their hands, palm outward, they projected a brilliant light into the Ungolan‘s body. At first the Ungolan just stood there, stupefied. He was going to be a hero. He was the first Ungolan to face the final trial since the legendary Mka Bh‘u in the age of Eternal Darkness. As the Witnesses continued, he could feel a pull on his skin as their power probed deeper, seeking something he did not have. From across the coliseum, Wilson could feel the probe although it was subtle at that distance. The warmth returned to his back, milder, calming. His memories returned. His lessons with Abigor flooded his mind. His body became taut. He had been told the time would come when he needed to remember. That time was now. As the attack on the Ungolan increased, so did the power hidden deep within Wilson. For a brief moment, he felt as though he would lose himself to the power. The Ungolan began to howl as the witnesses struggled to take his power. Onoch could feel the surge. He was close to victory. With the energy, The One would be weakened. With the energy, Onoch and the Witnesses could hunt him. In a single, unified motion, the witnesses began to pull their hands away from the Ungolan, the final stage in this purging. Pieces of skin began to tear from the Ungolan, hitting the witnesses in the face and arms. Onoch stared in horror. The Ungolan wasn‘t the one. He had been deceived. If the eye was capable, it would have been smiling at that moment. ―Stop,‖ shrieked Onoch, seconds too late. The Ungolan came undone, exploding into a shower of bones, flesh and blood. 362 No one moved. No one dare speak. The fury coursing through Onoch‘s veins was immeasurable. His first thought was to smash the staff and destroy the eye, a thought he made quite clear to the eye. He had made a mistake, and by no means a small one. He had destroyed an innocent creature. For the first time in over a million years, Onoch felt a sense of panic. He drew a breath, calmed himself and made light of the incident. ―With a wave of Onoch‘s hand, the Ungolan reformed. With a wave of his fists and a string of Ungolan curses, the Ungolan appeared to be demanding some form of justice. Onoch pointed his staff at the beast, silencing it. His composure was returning. ―There is evil at work here,‖ said Onoch. ―It has managed to evade capture, yet here it remains. It is unfortunate that the Ungolan was drawn into this but such is fate when intertwined with destiny. Return to your place Ungolan and watch your tongue or I‘ll tear it from your mouth.‖ Pointing his staff at the Ungolan a second time released it from Onoch‘s spell. The Ungolan wasted no time returning to his space before this had all happened. Wilson watched as the huge creature lumbered past him. He prayed he wouldn‘t have to face him. Onoch waited until the Ungolan reached his space. ―In accordance to the Jarn way, the tenth trial is hand to hand combat to be fought in the same ring that you killed your team mates in. You will be allowed to use the weapons and armour of your choosing. Say it and you shall have it. Weapons and armour may be changed at any time before or after a battle; never during. Weapons are limited to bladed weapons, clubs, axes and short spears, although the spears cannot be thrown. Armour may be plate, chain mail or leather. All have advantages and disadvantages. The fighting order will remain top seeded 363 against bottom seeded throughout the trial. One hundred and fifty-six will begin. Only one shall prevail. The winner of the tenth and final trial is granted a universal wish. As each pairing is announced, you will have one minute to prepare yourself.‖ Onoch stepped back, turning to the witnesses. They were not happy. Alana never stopped writing. As the Proving Ground scribe, it was her job to document everything. She was never allowed to question, at least not aloud. A voice, not unlike Onoch announced the first pairing. The Ungolan was to face a Shade. Wilson would have thought the Shades would have perished a long time ago. The Ungolan opted for no weapon and no armour. He also chose no mercy. Wilson watched each match carefully, making mental notes for future battles. Seeded in twenty-ninth place pitted Wilson against a Woolmott, a fur-covered humanoid with large tusks protruding from a powerful set of jaws. He had watched a Woolmott tear the face off a Selenese with incredible speed. The Woolmott stood nearby with his back to the current battle. His head was cocked in Wilson‘s direction. He was Wilson‘s size, a bit larger in the shoulders, but the same musculature.

As the twenty-eighth battle concluded, Wilson stood. When his pairing was announced, he requested chain mail for his body, a plate mail helmet with no visor a pair of short swords and a belt with three throwing daggers on each side. He received everything but the daggers. After Onoch‘s speech, he knew it would be a long shot but it would have been worth it. Clarence had taught him how to throw knives, something he had learned in the carnival business. A pair of well thrown daggers toward the Woolmott‘s knees would have given Wilson a distinct advantage.

Wilson drew a deep breath to clear his mind. He was ready. Abigor had prepared him well. In an instant, Wilson found himself in the ring with the Woolmott. Wilson assumed a fighting stance, balancing himself lightly on the balls of his feet,

364 weight slightly forward. He taunted the Woolmott, wanting him to make the first move. They circled each other for over a minute, both comfortable in a defensive position. Another minute passed with no action. The crowd began to boo. An audible click activated the ring and it began to shrink forcing the two combatants closer. A second click stopped the advancement but both fighters took the hint.

The Woolmott held a full body shield in his left hand and a heavy, spiked club in his right. Wilson watched the club as he darted in, jabbing the shield before darting back out. The Woolmott didn‘t flinch and he made no attempt to strike Wilson. Wilson knew what he was doing. It was an old trick used to build false confidence in an attacker. Repeated probes would go unanswered and the attacker would grow confident, seeing an opportunity. As he struck, the defender would parry the attack, counter attacking with a quick attack such as jab or a half thrust, catching the attacker off guard allowing the defender to follow up with a second, possibly lethal strike.

Wilson probed a second and third time. On the fourth probe, he only extended himself halfway, recoiling back as the Woolmott advanced, jabbing forward with the club. Wilson put everything he had into a downward slice, striking the club near the base, severing it cleaning, leaving a stub of wood in the Woolmott‘s hand. The Woolmott charged, using his shield as a battering ram, driving Wilson back. Wilson allowed the Woolmott to carry him for several feet before rolling off the shield to the right, whipping around and slicing the creature full on the back, cutting him deeply. The Woolmott remained on its feet, blood pouring from the wound. He spoke words that Wilson did not understand, dropping slowly to one knee, discarding his shield.

―What is he saying,‖ shouted Wilson.

Onoch replied, ―He claims you as the victor, asking only that you relinquish a sword so that he may die with a weapon in his hand, a death of honour among my people.‖

365

―Tell him no,‖ shouted Wilson. ―He is lying.‖ Onoch‘s voice relayed the message. The Woolmott was unresponsive as blood continued to flow from the wound. Wilson ventured close, eager to end it when the Woolmott roared to its feet at a speed Wilson would have thought impossible. Sheer luck allowed Wilson to bring the swords up defensively, blocking not one but two attempts from the Woolmott to gore Wilson with a tusk. The creature drove Wilson into the side of the ring, winding him slightly. With a flick of his tusks, he managed to dislodge the sword from Wilson‘s left hand. Dropping the second sword, Wilson used one tusk for leverage as he threw himself over the Woolmoot, using his momentum and his firm grip on the tusk to pull the creature to the ground. Before the Woolmott could regain his balance, Wilson planted a well timed kick to its ribs, knocking the air from its lungs. Spinning, Wilson went for the swords, scooping both on the run, coming around on the far side of the Woolmott who had gained his footing. Wilson came in high with the sword in his right hand, drawing the creature‘s attention upward, only to drive the sword in his left hand, deep into the Woolmott‘s chest.

Wilson jumped clear, sword held high, waiting for the beast to make a move. The Woolmott clawed at the sword, frantically trying to pull it from its chest but it would not come. The creature managed several words as blood began to bubble in its mouth. It was over.

―What did he say?‖ shouted Wilson.

Onoch, once again replied, ―It was Woolmottian slang. Translated into your language it is the equivalent of ‗fuck you‘.‖ Wilson found himself laughing as he was transported back to his space.

The first round ended with several surprises resulting in the deaths of eleven of the higher seeded contestants, resulting in Wilson‘s advancement to twenty-first position. He would face the fifty-ninth seed, a young Nebbler from the planet N133S.

366 The Nebbler was an obese creature, slow of foot and mind. It wielded a long sword, the only weapon capable of reaching his opponent, due to the Nebbler‘s limited reach and excessive girth. The creature secreted a greasy fluid, a by-product of its sweat glands. It was the slippery secretion that secured his first victory. His opponent had rushed forward, slipping on the greasy fluid, upending himself and slamming his unprotected head onto the stone. Death was still death, and victory was still victory. The fight with Wilson lasted less than a minute. Wilson walked in slowly and hacked the creature to pieces.

As Wilson returned to his space, the Ungolan shook its large fist at him. Wilson wasn‘t sure if it was angry or congratulating him. The Ungolan was sour because he earned a bye into the second round.

Wilson‘s seeding remained unchanged going in to the third round. Forty contestants remained and he would face the twentieth seeded creature, a Violator. Violators were chameleons with exceptional blending skills. Wilson called for thick leather armour from head to toe, including a leather helmet, leather gloves and thick leather boots. Violators were not skilled warriors but they carried a toxic bite. The creature had not advanced to the third round for nothing. Wilson had to be cautious. For weapons, he chose two short spears.

He was summoned to the ring, already sweating from his armour selection. He stood silently, watching for a shimmer or a shadow but he saw nothing. The Violator was playing possum. Wilson moved cautiously to the left, turning back to his right. This was nerve wracking. The Violator held no weapon or it would show, so his only concern would be a bite and the thick leather should hold up. As he turned back to the left, he felt something on his leg and reacted, pulling his leg back. A slight tear in the leather was proof the creature had been there, and that its teeth were sharp. Wilson pulled the piece of the material back in place, probing the ring for a sign of movement. He probed again but in a manner Abigor had shown him. Abigor had told him it was a long forgotten skill. It involved a process

367 humans took for granted, the release of thought. It was a part of everyday life, but listening to responses from those thoughts wasn‘t. For two weeks, Wilson had repeated the lesson, frustrated by his repeated failures. One day, without warning it simply came to him. Once he knew what to listen for, the rest was easy.

Closing his eyes, Wilson probed again. His mind gave him a glimpse of the creature to the north. Turning east, Wilson probed again. The Violator was moving slowly up behind him. Spinning with all the force he could muster, Wilson turned with one spear held head high, the other at knee level. Both made contact. Wilson began to thrust each spear into the ground like pistons, making contact on the fourth strike. The Violator squealed as it struggled, its visibility all but gone. Spinning itself on the spear with no care for torn flesh, the Violator went for Wilson‘s ankle. One bite was all it needed. As its fangs closed in on the ankle, Wilson speared the thing through the ear, ending its life.

With twenty remaining, Wilson‘s seeding had only improved to eighteenth, but it was good enough to keep him away from the Ungolan. His opponent was a vile beast known as a Yunk, a mud-covered, smelly creature with three eyes and bark-like skin. The Yunks, known for their hatred of the D‘han had crept silently around the perimeter, attacking the D‘han from behind, breaking her neck. The Yunk celebrated as though he had won the tournament, kicking the D‘han in the head as he danced about.

The contest underway in the ring was halted. The Witnesses appeared before the Yunk and he was yanked away to appear before Onoch.

―I have forewarned all those gathered of an evil at work here,‖ bellowed Onoch. ―This evil shall be purged.‖ Pointing his staff at the Yunk while speaking the words of an ancient incantation, the Yunk became engulfed in flames. It tried to run but could not. It tried to swipe at the flames but they would not

368 die. He screamed as he burned. He screamed for a very long time. When the screaming finally ended and the ashes that were the Yunk blew in the wind, Onoch addressed the crowd.

―As is Jarn law, unprovoked attacks outside of the trials between adversaries is punishable by death. The D‘han shall be revived. The human shall receive a win by forfeit.‖ The crowd‘s reaction was mixed, mainly cheers mixed with a few unenthusiastic boos.

―Who dares mock the word of the Jarn,‖ demanded Onoch. The booing ended and the cheering escalated. If Onoch was satisfied, it didn‘t show.

The twenty became the ten and the ten became the five. The Ungolan received a second bye which infuriated the creature, leaving Wilson, the D‘han, a Burloc, and a Broadnosed Gulluf to square off. Wilson drew the Burloc, a creature that closely resembled a Minotaur in stature and facial appearance. He had watched the Minotaur fight, assuming he would make it to the later rounds. He was a skilled warrior, capable with a multitude of weapons. He wore chain mail armour in every battle but his choice of weapons varied from fight to fight.

Onoch had informed them of the final fight. Three would remain at the end of this round. They would enter the ring together for the final fight. The D‘han struggled in her fight with the Gulluf who most closely resembled an Ungolan with a cow‘s face. The Gulluf pressured the D‘han relentlessly who continued to backpedal, circling the ring, looking for an opening but none came. The D‘han lashed out, nicking the Gulluf on several occasions but unable to mount a serious offensive while on the run.

As the fight wore on, the Gulluf managed to catch the D‘han with a serious blow, or so he had thought. A master of deception, the D‘han remained crumpled until the Gulluf ventured into range. As he raised his club to smash the life from her, she managed to slice the Achilles tendon of his right ankle,

369 rolling away to the left as the war club smashed into the stone. Caught off balance, the Gulluf toppled to his right, leaving the D‘han the opening she had hoped for. Leaping onto him, she skewered him from side to side, leaping clear before he could swipe at her. Without a weapon, she could only watch as he struggled to get up. He roared in anger as his life seeped into the cold stone of the coliseum floor.

Wilson went into this battle with a simple plan: An all out offensive. The Burloc had dominated each fight, doing so with a barrage of attacks, changing as his opponent‘s defences changed. He would do the same to him. Wearing a plate helmet, with lightweight plate armour, Wilson chose a short spear and a short sword.

As soon as his feet touched the stone floor, Wilson charged, as did the Burloc. At the last second, Wilson sidestepped the Burloc, turning into him, attacking from the side. He caught the Burloc on the back with a blow that stung Wilson‘s hand, denting the creature‘s armour and forcing a huge grunt. Wilson pushed the battle, thrusting with the spear, slashing and hacking with the sword, driving the bigger creature back. Both human and Burloc began to tire, each making punishing mistakes. As they reached the point of exhaustion, it was the memory of Tamihana and his friends that energised Wilson to finish the Burloc off. As the Burloc took his final breath, he put his hand to his chest and saluted Wilson. Wilson could only nod in return. The creature had fought valiantly.

As he sat in what had become his space, he watched Onoch. Refreshed and rejuvenated from the Jarn magic, Wilson was ready for the final fight. Three together in the battle ring was not good. All strategies previously used were useless. Who was he to prepare for, the D‘han or the Ungolan? Both were skilled, although rage favoured the Ungolan. The D‘han would be easier to kill if he could get a blade near her.

Wilson chose a buckler shield, and a short sword, with a belt holding two long daggers. He chose chain mail because it

370 was lighter which would enhance his mobility. He opted for a plate mail helmet with a fully open face to provide better visibility.

The three came face to face inside the ring. The D‘han was to his right and the Ungolan to his left. The D‘han pointed toward the Ungolan, shouted something like him, him.

―Oh, hell yes,‖ answered Wilson joining her in a duel assault on the Ungolan. Armed with a club and a dagger, the Ungolan roared as he swept his club in an arc aimed at driving both his enemies back. It failed miserably. They both ducked out of reach and advanced. The Ungolan threw the D‘han back, but Wilson managed to penetrate its thick hide with a thrust to its ribs. A vicious backhand caught Wilson‘s shield, lifting him from his feet. He landed in a heap several yards away. The D‘han, wielding two swords sought to distract the Ungolan with one and hurt it with the other. The Ungolan was perhaps slow witted but he hadn‘t advanced this far for lack of battle prowess. Moving as though he was going to swing his club at the D‘han, the Ungolan, chose instead to throw it at her with a quick flick of his wrist. The heavy club caught her flush on the face with bone-crunching force, breaking her nose and smashing away her front teeth. The Ungolan advanced on her, seizing his opportunity to finish her, but Wilson was on him. Throwing his weight behind his small shield, Wilson launched himself at the creature‘s head, catching him flush, driving him to the ground. As he landed, Wilson began to stab the Ungolan repeatedly until he was knocked off by a powerful sweeping arm, landing Wilson headfirst on the stone.

With ears ringing and blood seeping down his face, Wilson forced himself up on wobbly legs. He still held his shield but his sword was in the Ungolan who was pushing himself up to his feet. Tugging the sword from his side, the Ungolan roared with fury. Marching forward, he was met with a sword from the D‘han. She had flung it toward him, burying it in his chest. The D‘han was badly injured. She fell to her knees. Blood was coming out of her ears, nose and mouth.

371

The Ungolan staggered forward, Wilson‘s sword held high. The D‘han had slumped to her side. She looked toward Wilson but she was looking at something beyond him. Wilson started to move backward but his legs were not co-operating. He stumbled back another step, falling backward. He tried to push himself away from the Ungolan who was faltering as well. The short sword fell from its hand. It dropped to its knees. With a final roar of defiance, the Ungolan succumb to its injuries.

―Thank God,‖ whispered Wilson who found himself standing alone in front of the platform. A roar of applause shook the coliseum. His injuries had been healed. The Proving Grounds would soon come to a close. It was almost time to claim his prize.

372

Chapter Twenty-Three As Above, So Below

Onoch stepped forward, congratulating Wilson on his victory. He would be granted one final wish, and it was not just any wish, it was a universal wish. With it, Wilson was certain he could resurrect Tamihana and the others. He wanted more than anything to bring them back but he had sworn an oath and he was bound to that oath in ways both Jarn and human.

Wilson stood patiently as Onoch announced the final placement. The Ungolans had claimed first place, followed the Burlocs, and the D‘han. Earth had finished in fifteenth place. As Onoch prepared to close the games, Wilson decided it was time.

―I wish to engage Onoch in hand to hand combat to the death, to be governed by the Witnesses who are bound to an oath of fairness,‖ shouted Wilson.

His wish was denied.

―You would challenge me,‖ laughed Onoch as he raised his staff almost casually, pointing it at Wilson. With a flick of the staff, a blast of light shot forth from the end of the staff, engulfing Wilson completely. As the flames died down, Wilson stood uninjured. The crowd was in awe.

―What is this nonsense?‖ demanded Onoch. Wilson ignored him, trying to reason a way for the Jarn to honour his wish.

―So it is you,‖ seethed Onoch. ―Instead of the Ungolan, it was you all along.‖

373 ―My wish is a request for a Jarn Tribunal to be held, here and now, witnessed by the Jarn and the entire universe. I seek justice.‖ The air shimmered momentarily. The voice of an angelic female informed all those gathered that the wish had been granted.

―How is it, that a human would know of our tribunals?‖ asked Onoch, directing the question at the Witnesses who were now joined by ten Jarn elders, five males dressed in black robes with emerald green trim, and five females dressed in white robes with yellow trim. All but one of the five men was clean shaven. The bearded one moved forward. He stood a head and half taller than the others.

―I am Kalahn, one of ten who serve the tribunal,‖ he said. ―The Witnesses may be excused. You have served the Jarn well. Go in peace.‖ Without a word, the Witnesses bowed and were gone. Alana looked toward Kalahn for direction.

―You will remain, Alana and document this event.‖

―What event, brother, Kalahn?‖ asked Onoch.

―A tribunal of course, as granted by the wish made by the human.‖

―The Jarn have not held a Tribunal in eons,‖ argued Onoch, ―And never, in the history of the Jarn, has an outsider been granted such a privilege. Who is this human to demand justice from the Jarn?‖

―The human is not as he seems,‖ stated Kalahn.

―So I have said,‖ countered Onoch. ―He is in league with The One.‖

―No, my misguided brother, he is not. He is The One. He is Jakuta.‖

374 ―That‘s impossible,‖ said Onoch. ―I would have sensed his presence at once. This is rubbish.‖

―Yet, you, Onoch, leader of the Proving Grounds could not destroy this petty human with your staff moments ago.‖ Onoch was speechless. It couldn‘t be. He stared into Wilson‘s eyes, searching for a sign of Jakuta but to no avail.

―I am not sure I understand the nature of this tribunal,‖ snorted Onoch in defiance. Turning to the crowd, he ordered them gone from the Proving Grounds.

―Remain where you are,‖ spoke the thunderous voice of Kalahn. ―You and the entire universe shall bear witness to this event just as the entire universe has been forced to bear witness to the Proving Grounds.‖

―To what end?‖ asked Onoch.

―Justice, brother Onoch. Jakuta has gone to incredible lengths to weave a plan that would ensnare you. Many times, it appeared as the plan was doomed to failure, yet Wilson prevailed.‖

―You have been a part of this,‖ suggested Onoch. ―That is incomprehensible.‖

―As you should know, Onoch, the Jarn are one in many ways, and completely separate entities in many other ways. Each newborn Jarn is an evolutionary advancement toward our return to the gate. Our goal and the goal of many civilizations is to return to the Father. You have drifted from the path, brother Onoch. The Jarn are few and the universe is vast, yet the Tribunal found it difficult to fathom that we had overlooked such a sinister occurrence. As we speak, the Witnesses will begin a cleansing of their souls that will last for years to come. Zemith, the Collector will join them. The taint of evil fills this place, created by your corrupt mind. Had it not been for Jakuta willing

375 to gamble his life by entering the gate, we may have never have known of this place.‖

Onoch was visibly shaken. As Kalahn had been speaking, the other members of the tribunal had formed a circle around him. A glow encircled Onoch, ensnaring him, preventing his escape. ―If it is the decision of the Tribunal that I should be tried for my alleged actions, I ask that this Tribunal be moved to our home planet. The actions of the Jarn are not to be judged by these creatures.‖

―Quite the opposite, I‘m afraid,‖ replied Kalahn. ―You willingly engaged in activities, deemed barbaric for eons, keeping it well hidden from the Jarn. The level to which you have stooped is reminiscent of a time long, long ago when the Jarn required a shell to survive when fighting was a way of life. You have brought us full circle.‖

―I have done noth-,‖ began Onoch.

―SILENCE,‖ boomed Kalahn, ―Or I will silence you myself.‖ Kalahn strode forward, leaping down to the floor of the coliseum. He examined Wilson as he circled him, looking at him as though he were an experiment. As he finished his probe, he looked directly into Wilson‘s eyes, demanding he explain himself.

―Kalahn, and members of the Tribunal. I am Jakuta, son of Kiet. Only through the guidance of the true one have I completed this journey. Although I remain in a place far from the Proving Grounds, I am bound to the soul that is Wilson Collins. I have suffered the hardship of the gate and will remain forever changed, yet I have touched the pureness of the Father. I carry with me a tiny fragment of the essence that we will spend our lifetime praying to someday acquire. The essence is to be given to Onoch.‖

Onoch was livid but remained silent.

376

―I have no reason to doubt the Father but I question your role in all this. What is the motive that has driven you all these years?‖

―Onoch killed my wife, destroyed my family and arranged it so I was to become an outlaw to my own people. I do not ask you to trust my word. I ask you to take the essence.‖ Wilson appeared in a trance as his arm extended forward, offering an object the size of pea with the brilliance of the sun toward Kalahn. ―As you hold essence, you will see the truth of it all. The Father has asked that the ten of the Tribunal all touch the essence to feel the purity of The One, to renew your faith. Once this had been done, it is to be given to Onoch. He is to swallow it.‖

As Kalahn took the orb, Wilson returned to his body. Kalahn sensed the shift. ―Is he still with you?‖ asked Kalahn.

―He will remain with me until this is over,‖ answered Wilson, ―But he has completed his task. I am charged with completing the rest.‖

Kalahn‘s hand was shaking as he took the tiny orb. The calm that overcame he was instant. His eyes shifted, turning as white as the glacial snow before returning. Kalahn was filled with a look of absolute joy. Floating upward, watchful of the orb, he gave to the closest member of the tribunal. As the orb was passed from man to woman and woman to man, the look and the shift in the eyes was identical.

Onoch closed his eyes, chanting silently, bringing his staff up, and slamming it down with thunderous force, rocking the coliseum. Kalahn extended his hand, muttering two short words. Onoch‘s staff flew from his hand, into Kalahn‘s who released it at once.

377 ―I will not hold a staff as black as this one but I will release its prisoner.‖ With a wave of his hand, the eye vanished.

―Before Onoch absorbs the essence, I request to speak to him,‖ said Wilson.

―Very well,‖ said Kalahn.

―Your future is bleak,‖ began Wilson, ―And for that reason, I have a proposal that may satisfy all concerned. I challenge you to a battle of hand to hand combat. It shall be a fight to the death.‖

Onoch was seething with rage. ―It is not you I wish to kill. It is Jakuta, who refuses to face me after all these years.‖

―If I die, Jakuta dies. Our souls are bound, as they have been since the beginning of this madness.‖

―And should I kill you?‖ asked Onoch.

―I would ask that you be allowed to die of natural causes, yet restricted to the Jarn home planet for the remainder of your days.‖

―And what is it that you would seek, in the unlikely event that you would defeat me?‖

―I would ask for six wishes, easily within the Jarn ability to grant. I would ask that all members of Team Earth be given their lives back. I would ask that all races eradicated by global genocide be returned. I would ask that all planets be returned to the state they were in the moment Zemith arrived. I would ask that every planet be made healthy in a way that does not jeopardize lives on those planets. The last two wishes I will make once this has ended. If I die, those wishes will die with me.‖

378 ―Such wishes are child‘s play for the Jarn,‖ snorted Onoch. He was beginning to see a way out of this dire situation.

―If Onoch and I agree to such terms, will the Tribunal honour such an agreement?‖ Kalahn and the others had touched the orb. They knew the truth of the matter.

―The agreement is sanctioned and forever binding, as is the way of the Tribunal. Before we proceed, the orb must be consumed.‖

―Certainly,‖ shrugged Onoch, taking it from the woman to his right, and dumping into his throat. He gagged as he choked it down, regretting it instantly. Whereas the orb had enlightened the members of the Tribunal, the orb sought to destroy Onoch. Falling to the ground, Onoch gasped in pain as he was engulfed in light. The members of the Tribunal moved back to a safe distance, afraid Onoch may explode. He writhed about, screaming for it to stop. His skin began to darken as the light was driven from his body. A stench of burning skin filled the air as the light dispersed into the sky, leaving Onoch huddled on the ground. The air shimmered not once but twice in the area surrounding Onoch and he jumped to his feet. He had been healed, just as hundreds of competitors had been healed throughout the trials.

With a wave of Kalahn‘s hand, Onoch and Wilson found themselves in the center of the coliseum. The walled ring was gone, replaced by a ring of assorted weapons. Wilson stood ready, drawing a breath to calm himself. Onoch kept making a fist with both hands, as though something were amiss.

―This is the very barbaric behaviour that brought us to this point, Wilson, yet you intend to end it this way.‖

―I couldn‘t have written a better script myself,‖ he smiled.

379 ―In that undersized mind of yours, how is it that you intend to defeat someone who is immortal,‖ asked Onoch, a broad smile pasted on his large face. Wilson couldn‘t help but laugh. ―When I said you would die of natural causes, did you really think it would be as an immortal? That wouldn‘t be much of a death sentence now would it. My mind may be smaller than yours, yet it seems to be a tad sharper. The orb took the power of the Jarn from you.‖

―That is impossible,‖ he shouted, yet the look on his face said it all. Terror was etched in his eyes as he turned to Kalahn. ―You can‘t do this. I am of the Jarn.‖

―You stopped being of the Jarn ages ago, Onoch, but if you can defeat the human, you will not die this day at least.‖ In a rage, Onoch marched to the weapon‘s rack, drawing a long sword and a shield.

―Immortal or not, I will not die at the hands of a human,‖ he shouted as he charged Wilson who had armed himself with a similar shield and a battle axe. Allowing Onoch to come at him, Wilson thrust his shield toward him, using Onoch‘s momentum to spin off him, driving around to attack him from the rear. His axe narrowly missed Onoch lower back, just managing a shallow wound to the top of Onoch‘s buttocks. If Onoch experienced any pain, he didn‘t show it and there was no blood. Something was amiss.

Onoch came at him again, but pulled up short this time, slicing the air wildly with his sword. Wilson was forced to retreat until Onoch halted the assault. Onoch charge a third time. Wilson managed to deflect Onoch‘s sword with his shield, capturing Onoch‘s shield with the head of his axe. Pulling Onoch‘s shield toward him, Wilson forced Onoch to pull back to save his balance. Wilson gave in, thrusting the head of the axe into Onoch‘s face with teeth-shattering force. Onoch grunted but again there was no blood.

380 Wilson back pedalled a few steps, buying some time to sort this out. He knew from the essence he had carried what awaited Onoch. Perhaps it took time to eradicate several million year‘s worth of energy. Onoch came again, and again. He was relentless. He seemed to be growing stronger. Wilson threw his shield at his opponent, dashing toward the weapons rack to retrieve two swords. He had barely secured the second sword when Onoch was upon him. Wilson felt the wind of the blade passing as he sailed past the top of his head. Onoch has left himself exposed and Wilson acted, slicing down on Onoch‘s sword arm, cleaving it cleanly from the body. Onoch seemed not to notice, driving his shield into Wilson‘s head, knocking him off balance. He came again, slamming the shield into Wilson who fought to regain his senses. Wilson averted a third strike by rolling to the ground out of immediate danger.

Onoch did not slow. Wilson stood, breaking into a run away from his crazed opponent. No blood poured from the gaping hole where his arm had been. Wilson was sweating profusely and beginning to tire. Onoch looked fresh except for the flaps of hanging skin that had held his elbow. Wilson assumed a fighting stance and let Onoch come to him. As Onoch was about to strike a blow with the shield, Wilson dove to the ground as he sliced at Onoch‘s leg. Releasing the sword immediately, Wilson rolled out from under Onoch as his shield came crashing down near his leg. Scampering out of harm‘s way, Wilson couldn‘t help but admire the fight left in Onoch. Limping toward him with a missing arm, and a sword hanging from a nearly severed ankle, Onoch was beginning to look like Frankenstein.

As Onoch advanced, a small amount of blood began to drip from the wound on his arm. Throwing his shield toward Wilson, Onoch stooped to pull the sword from his foot. There was blood on the sword and the arm was beginning trickle blood. Wilson could sense Onoch‘s desperation. A fighter often became the most dangerous when faced with desperation.

381 Onoch charged as best he could on the mangled foot, striking blade on blade with Wilson. Wilson held his sword in the arched pommel of his, as he lashed out, striking Onoch in the face, twice in rapid succession. Onoch twisted his sword, tugging is free, striking at Wilson with a thrust that narrowly missed his midsection. Sword free, Wilson took a hack at Onoch knee, burying his sword in the side of his leg. Wilson ran for the weapon‘s rack, grabbing a great sword. As he turned, he saw there was no hurry.

Onoch tumbled onto his back, his sword thrown into the air. The sword in his leg bounced free as Onoch slammed into the rock. Wilson approached cautiously. Onoch was laughing.

―Jakuta, I have lived for ages with the memory of that day; that look of doom and sadness on your face when I took your wife‘s life. You sought to undo what our ancestors had created and I could not allow that.‖

Wilson spoke but it was Jakuta‘s words that came from his mouth.

―So you chose the coward‘s path, using an innocent woman as bait, killing her when your plan failed. You have killed millions of innocent creatures, in the name of your misguided faith. I can only hope that the Jarn expunge you from the Hall of Archives and that your name never be spoken again.‖

Onoch gasped in pain as his nerves and tissue came to life.

―Just end it, Jakuta.‖

―Oh, I will, Onoch,‖ said Jakuta/Wilson as he stood tall, sword in hand. He swung the sword in a powerful, arcing stroke, cleaving Onoch‘s right leg cleanly off. Onoch screamed in pain. Kicking the other leg clear, Wilson did the same to his left leg. Onoch lost consciousness. As Wilson waited for Onoch to regain consciousness, he walked around, kicking dragging the

382 arm out straight. Onoch‘s fluttered as he began to come around. He came fully awake, screaming for Jakuta/Wilson to end it. He begged him to end it.

―Did you ask my wife to beg for you to end it?‖ shouted Jakuta-Wilson.

Onoch didn‘t answer. Jakuta raised the great sword in the air, aiming to cleave the arm at the shoulder. Instead he dropped the sword and began to walk toward Kalahn.

―To continue would make me no better than he. It is over. He will die when he is ready to die.‖ Wilson staggered as he felt a heat surge through his body. As the heat began to subside he heard a faint voice.

―I will be forever in your debt, Wilson Collins.‖

As the voice faded, Wilson felt a surge of memories flood into his mind. His past, kept from him for years, came back to him, overwhelming him with emotion. He dropped to a knee as he began to sob.

Onoch died a few moments later, bringing to an end, a long, dark chapter in the endless lives of the Jarn. To them, it would resemble a tiny spec of time in their infinite lives, but to those planets and creatures that Onoch had brutalized, their suffering would end.

Kalahn ordered the evacuation of the Proving Grounds. The planet would be sterilized and eventually seeded with new life.

―You have earned your wishes but before I grant them, I must question your reasoning for returning the earth to the way it was prior to Zemith‘s arrival. Is your planet not in a better state?‖

383 ―Perhaps but it is not for the Jarn to play god. The state of the world is the result of the deteriorating human condition. Mankind has the ability to save itself. I intend to give them that chance. The world is in a sorry state. By granting my wish, you will restore order. To my people, that will be a blessing.‖

―What of your two remaining wishes?‖

―Before I request my wishes, I have a sneaking suspicion that a Jarn by the name of Zalmay is on our planet.‖

―Zalmay is not Jarn but a Jarn inhabited his body for a period of time. It was required for study. We have done it on many planets to better understand the inner workings of a creature. Even the Jarn have limitations. The Jarn that inhabited Zalmay was a hunter. He was searching for a creature named Abigor. To my knowledge, he was never found. It is difficult to hide from the Jarn. Jakuta was the first. Abigor may be the second, although he has no reason to run.‖

―Has the earth been restored and my friends returned?‖

―All your wishes have been granted. Now, what of the last two wishes?‖

―In one year‘s time, I wish to return to the Proving Grounds with one hundred people from every country on Earth. A committee will be formed to determine who will come and I assure you, it will be a true cross-section of our population. When we arrive, I will ask you to transform the planet to our specifications over a seven day period. Everyone arriving that day will be spiritually cleansed. Our new planet shall be named Eden. It will be the paradise once lost, now reborn. Eden will represent a new beginning for the human race.‖

―I shall agree to this,‖ said Kalahn. ―This leaves you with one wish.‖

384 Wilson leaned forward and whispered his wish into Kalahn‘s ear. As Wilson pulled away, Kalahn laughed, ―In a lifetime that is unending, it is rare that I am surprised. That is indeed a wonderful wish . . .

Book Two Wilson hoisted the small stack of eight foot long, two by fours onto his right shoulder. As he walked up the sloped driveway toward front of the house, he caught a glimpse of Tamihana waving from the kitchen window. His face erupted into a broad smile as he waved back with his free hand. Tami returned a smile before fading into the shadows of the kitchen.

At the far end of the universe, on a small planet known as Gateway, Jakuta stood atop a gentle rise in the center of a ring

385 of massive stones. The ring of stones was surrounded by a ring of tall, white birch trees. Both rings ended at the top of the rise where Jakuta currently stood. The rise led to ten steps which ended at two large gates, each mounted to a pillar of polished marble. The gates were crafted from golden stone, a mineral found deep beneath the surface of Gateway. They were crafted in a fashion similar that of a wrought iron gate, allowing a visitor to see beyond the gate, if, in fact, there was something to see beyond the gate. The gates led to the Gleam, a place of worship considered one of the holiest places in the Jarn universe. Only the Almighty Shrine on the Jarn home planet held greater significance. For those with the ability to open the gates, an opportunity to link with the creator, albeit briefly, was offered, if the creator of all that is, chose to allow it. Jakuta was one such individual. He had been to the Gleam twice in his long lifetime. His first trip was to seek comfort for the loss of his wife and the betrayal of Onoch. The creator had indeed provided him with comfort. He also provided him with instructions. Vanish. Nearly two millennium later, Jakuta returned to the Gleam. He was once again granted an audience with the mind of the creator. Once again, he received instructions. He was also given a glimpse of the future of the Jarn, the universe and mankind. Now, as he approached the gates for a third time, he sensed it would be the last time. Jakuta placed a hand on the right pillar, activating the right gate. He moved to the left pillar, placing his hand against it, activating the left gate. Activating the gate was the easy part. Standing before the gates, awaiting entry was the difficult part. Three earth days passed before the gates finally opened. Jakuta stepped forward and was bathed immediately in a soft, warm light. He drew a slow, deep breath, 386 closing his eyes, allowing himself to bask in the glory of the Almighty. He would not speak. It was not allowed. No one spoke to the Almighty. Only those chosen would hear the words of the Almighty. Jakuta was chosen. For the third time, he received the words of the Almighty. Few things touched his soul after all he had seen in his lifetime, yet the tears poured freely down his cheeks.

Forthcoming The Gate

387

Good and evil; two opposing forces, forged in that instant that modern thinkers have named creation, destined to provide balance and counterbalance to an ever expanding universe. The human mind; a masterful creation of unimaginable complexity, the depth of which, we have only scratched. Planet earth; young by the standards of the universe, and at four billion years of age, it is an adolescent in comparison to the universe itself, which is five times that. Humans are theory specialists. As we continue to evolve and learn, old theories are replaced by new theories. Outer space garners nearly as much exploration as inner space, yet it is inner space wherein lies our answers.

Day One

Timothy Leary, leader of the acid generation, dubbed the ‗Galileo of Consciousness‘ was indeed the genius many had thought him to be. His public displays of erratic behaviour attracted negativity, the press and the police. He was ridiculed chastised and berated as much as one man could possibly endure in his lifetime, yet through it all, he pursued his dream. Dr. Garth London, who had earned his PHD at the University of California at Berkley, was Leary‘s social opposite. Quiet, reserved and determined, London followed Leary‘s work very closely. Together, the two men had collaborated on seventeen different projects, many of which were funded by, and 388 conducted at, Harvard University. Leary‘s work has been well publicized and has served as a basis for countless subsequent projects. Dr. London died in the spring of 2003, nearly eight years after the death of Leary. London‘s wife had died in childbirth, forty five years earlier. He had never remarried. London‘s only child, Gavin, had vanished at age twenty-two during a university trip to Portugal. He had no living relatives and few friends. The executor to his will, Gordon Hewitt, had served as London‘s lawyer for thirty-nine years, and was London‘s closest friend, although the two never golfed or socialized. Dr. Garth London was a kind, charming man. He donated generously to a variety of charities during his lifetime, a passion that would continue after his death. A trust fund of thirty million dollars had been established in his wife‘s name. Forty-five long years had passed since her untimely death, but his love for her had never diminished. The money he had raised would continue to fund their favourite charities for years to come. Unlike Leary, who loved the limelight, London worked in a private lab funded with his own money. The lab was lavish, stocked with the best equipment, millions of dollars could buy. The government monitored his activities closely. Over the years, he had become obsessed with his work, rarely leaving the property. His work was a project was named The Gate. Within hours of London‘s death, a team of federal agents swarmed the compound that served as his lab and his living quarters. Search warrants were issued and the property was placed in a state of total lockdown. For three days, the FBI team downloaded data, removed sensitive equipment and isolated unknown chemicals for further analysis. Everything was

389 earmarked for a government lab at the North Island Navy Base west of San Diego. Field agent Cal Brooks was the agent in charge of the operation at London‘s lab. His instructions had been simple. Remove everything from the lab and have it transported to San Diego. All hard drives were to be cloned to ensure data retrieval should London have installed fail safes designed to prevent file downloads. Once the lab was emptied, it was to be destroyed. Parker Fieldstone, a former employee of Intellisec, a forensics investigation firm specializing in communication, sat at his desk, analysing the data from London‘s phone records, as well as his data transfers. He was good at what he did. The government recognized his skills and offered him a salary double what Intellisec had been paying him. James Hunter, chairman of the board for Intellisec, had been quick to match the government‘s offer. After a visit from Homeland Security, the offer was withdrawn. Mr. Hunter was reminded to never bite the hand that fed him. What Parker lacked in athletic abilities, woman skills and personal hygiene, he well made up for in IQ. He currently resided in a furnished apartment on the North Island Base, compliments of the government. It was sparsely furnished in a design he called military scary, but it was a big step up from living with his mom and dad. Parker had been granted a window of twenty-four hours to file a report. This case was time sensitive. Homeland Security required locations of anyone Garth London had called in the past two weeks as well as a list of IP addresses to which any data transmissions may have been sent. The twenty four hour window would not be necessary. Only one phone call had been made. The number was 011 -51-1-446-4912. In a matter of minutes, Parker had ascertained the number to be that of the 390 Canadian Embassy in Lima, Peru. The number was a direct line to the administration department. Having completed part one of his assignment, Parker turned his attention to data transfers. Seven files had been sent from London‘s location, one a day for the seven days leading up to his death. Each data packet had a different destination. Parker logged the IP addresses and began a routine search for specific locations. Within the hour, he had completed the second phase of his assignment. Data transmissions had been received in London, Paris, New York, Tokyo, Ottawa, Cairo, and Calcutta. Each of the seven files was precisely 17.3 megabytes in size. Parker had been in the business long enough to know that you never assume anything. It would be easy to assume that the seven files were identical and that there was a reason for sending the same file to seven different locations. It was also easy to assume that six of the seven files were decoys, designed to slow down an investigation, buying the recipient of the seventh document time to secure it. That was of no concern to Parker. His contribution to this assignment ended with his report, which would be ready within the hour. Cal Brooks watched as the last of the glass vials were loaded into heavily insulated storage units for transport. Remaining was an assortment of plants, herbs and tablets, presumably LSD related. At forty-seven years of age, Cal had finally landed an assignment that intrigued him. London was a genius, who was rumoured to have been working on a cutting- edge project. Cal had flown under the upper management level radar for most of his career. Two advancements in twenty years had proved somewhat disappointing but unlike many of his co- workers who had advanced their careers, he had a great family life, something he would never trade. His degree in chemistry 391 had always served as his backup plan, should things unravel in the agency, but it never happened. It wasn‘t that Brooks was a lacklustre agent, quite the opposite actually. His downside was his inability to promote himself to his superiors. It was fate that had propelled him into this situation. Link Davenport had been selected for the assignment, but an unfortunate encounter with a drunk driver left him with a badly broken leg and an extended hospital stay. Homeland Security required an agent with experience and a background in chemistry for this project. Cal was now their man. Luckily, the assignment did not involve relocation, as many did. He would remain where he was, with his family. Ruggedly handsome with sandy brown hair that had failed to recede, dark brown eyes and the physique of a UFC fighter, Cal enjoyed his morning visits to the bathroom mirror. Years earlier, he had preferred to fog up the mirror with a hot shower to hide the paunch that had sprouted from his midsection. Two and a half years of a healthy diet and a solid workout regiment had transformed their life. Cal‘s wife Kelly had joined her husband in the life changing plan. Gone was the ice cream, the TV dinners and the beer, replaced by yogurt, nuts, fruit and low cal sorbet. Nights sitting around watching television, snacking on junk food became nights filled with trips to the gym, walks around the neighbourhood and bike excursions to the four corners of San Diego. Their two sons, Kyle and Jerome, flatly refused anything to do with diet change, but they both enjoyed the gym, the walks and the bike rides. ―Any thoughts,‖ asked Lamar Jinkerson, the head of the team removing the chemicals. ―Heya Jinks,‖ he said. ―Further analysis will be needed but it appears to be all the ingredients to manufacture LSD or

392 Ayahuasca brew. From what I have heard about Mr. London, I‘m sure both will be genetically altered.‖ ―We are about fifteen minutes from meltdown,‖ said Jinks referring to the destruction of the property once everything was removed. Cal was impressed with the lab, as he knew he would be. The file on Mr. London, which Cal had read only once, was thick, encompassed three full file drawers. Garth London was a meticulous, sociophobic, obsessive-compulsive genius with an unlimited budget. Within ten minutes, all but a few items had been removed from the lab. The house had been completely stripped and coated with a flammable solvent. The burn crew, as they were called, were infiltrating the lab as Cal was leaving. Leaving evidence of an accelerant was of no concern to the Homeland boys. Leaving no evidence was their only concern. Cal was nearly halfway to the Naval base when he heard the first of many sirens. The burn crew, had on occasion in the past, created a fire much larger than necessary, destroying adjacent homes and property in the process. There was a name for it: collateral damage.

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