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Her breath wheezed as she ran, keeping the rising sun on her right. The barking of the bloodhounds erupted behind her. The fence blossomed in front of her, and just as she wrapped the fingers of her left hand around the links the rope snaked around her right foot and yanked backwards.
“Well you almost made it, but I’m afraid this is your third offense so it’s to the arena you will go. You might have a chance to win, Lexa. After all being a murder gives you previous experience,” said the marshal. The Deputy came over and slapped the cuffs on her wrists, and shackled her ankles as another deputy drove up in an armored truck. The two men hauled her up and threw her into the back of the truck. The sun disappeared with the slamming of the door.
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Lexa sat where they had deposited her, naked, in a tiled window less room. Nineteen other women, just as filthy as her, also sat on the tiled floor. Water doused them from spigots in the ceiling, nearly drowning them. It turned off, and a man followed by some guards walked in.
“I am Warden Thomas, welcome to the bowels of the arena. You are encouraged to exercise, eat well, and train. The further you get in the tournament, the closer to freedom, and the better your equipment. The rules are simple respect the guards, and only kill on the field of combat.”
The guards distributed the same un-dyed sleeveless shirts, and long pants. The prisoners were then hauled to the next room and fitted for cleats, before they were led barefoot to a long bunk room.
“Get settled in, you have a month before your tournament,” said the Warden.
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Lexa walked around the gymnasium shared by all the competitors, watching the others lift weights and spar. She stopped and hefted a practice sword from the rack, put it back and picked up a dual-blade quarter staff. She turned and stood in line for the sparring mat. Her bunk mate came up behind her.
“Hey Anya, want to be allies? At least until the final rounds?” said Lexa.
Anya grunted, and Lexa stepped into the practice ring. Her opponent pierced at her with a spear. She blocked, circled, and pulled her opponent’s feet out from under her. The clock on the wall chimed for dinner, and all the inmates left the gym.
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The lights flicked on, and blankets were ripped off of inmates.
“Get up, you lazy sods. Today is the opening ceremony. Get up! Showers and breakfast await you,” said the head guard. Lexa rolled out of her bunk and faced Anya.
“What was your second offense, Anya?”
“Poaching, what was yours?”
“I robbed a convenience store,” said Lexa.
They both got up and followed their unit out of the cell.
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The crowd roared as the two units were led out the tunnel. Lexa searched the stands, all the faces jeered, and all the arms shook fists. Her eyes finally located her, sitting midway up.
“Who is it that you’re looking for Lexa?” said Anya.
“I’m not looking because I found her, my wife. I didn’t think she’d come.”
“Oh, and why is that?”
“She cheated on me, and I cut the bastard’s dick off and stuffed it down his throat.”
The sand crunched under their feet. A trumpet blast silenced the crowed, and the President stepped up to the podium above the field.
“Welcome to the ninety-ninth Vernal Women’s Gladiator Tournament. These that stand before you are all third time offenders, murders, thieves, and rapists. Only one will win her freedom. The rest, well we all know what happens to them.” The crowd chuckles and grins.
“Let the games begin.”
Carts filled with weapons were brought in front of them. Lexa grabbed the quarter staff. As soon as the women were armed, the guards withdrew, and the fight began.
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Lexa surveyed the survivors of the first match, all twelve of them. The bunks of the dead in the barrack were stripped.
“You alright there, Anya?”
“Yeah, just bruises and this gash on my arm; you?”
“Same except for this cut on my thigh. I think we have the morning off tomorrow.”
“Nope, I heard the head guard say that the casualty rate was so high today that they’re going to combine our cell with two others for tomorrow’s match,” said Anya.
Several guards walked in leading several inmates with new unit shirts, carrying bedding.
“Well ladies, you’re in luck. We brought you some new friends. Play nice now. Lights out in 5,” said the head guard. There was a scramble for the new girls to take bunks. A kid, long-haired and scrawny, jumped into the top bunk next to Lexa’s.
“How old are you, girl?” said Lexa.
“Eighteen, and my name isn’t girl; it’s Ontari,” she said. Ontari threw her sheets down and slid under the blanket.
“Well you’re still just a kid to me. I had a girl of my own. She would’ve been seventeen this summer.”
“I ain’t your kid, and I ain’t looking for any favors, old woman. Just stay outta my way,” said Ontari. She rolled over and the lights went off.
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The sun glared down causing the blades of her staff to reflect orange. She ripped the tip of the left one out of her last opponent’s chest and turned to face the President; the blood oozing down to her hand. Anya stood to her right, and Ontari knelt clutching her side with her left arm and her sword with the other.
“You have done well. Tonight rest well, for tomorrow it is a fight to the death. The winner takes all,” said the President. The last part was nearly indistinguishable from the roar of the crowd. Guards came and led them down the tunnel but into a different hallway. They were told to strip and then were shoved into individual cells. Lexa turned to inspect hers. A shower, toilet, a sink, and on the bed a clean set of clothes completed the inventory.
She was laying on the bed after the shower when they brought in her last meal and her wife.
“Clarke, what are you doing here?”
“I’m your wife Lexa, and you could die tomorrow.”
“So, that wouldn’t change your life. I haven’t been part of it since Kayla,” she said.
“I know, and I’m sorry I blamed you. But I hadn’t been in love with you since, well, before she died, and I think you didn’t love me either.”
“I didn’t love you? I killed the man that you took to our bed while I was in jail for the robbery that I was doing to get the money to try to save our daughter. I loved you both, hell Clarke, if that’s not love, I don’t know what is. But I don’t want you here. Leave the food, and just go already. Even better, don’t bother coming tomorrow. Win or lose, I don’t ever want to see you again.”
Lexa lay awake; she had eaten the food after Clarke left. It tasted like ash. The clothes itched. She stared into the dark. Anya and her whore were still going at it, moaning and gasping. The longer they go at it, the more tired she’ll be tomorrow.
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She opened her mouth sucking at the air. Ontari stood over her, Anya’s body oozing blood into the sand. Her own blood pooling beneath her, the crowd sounded far away as if at the end of a tunnel.
“Finish it girl,” she said. Ontari stared down, raised her sword and then lowered it.
“I can’t.”
“Just stab down girl, I’m tired of living and you have your whole life before you.”
“I’m tired of killing.”
“Just one more Ontari, and then never again, please, kill me,” said Lexa.
Ontari fell to her knees, lifted her sword point first over Lexa’s chest, the blade trembled reflecting mini rainbows.