Get away from the body, his mind screamed at him. Wait! Get the gun.

He splashed his way toward the body and fished the gun from the water where it floated nearby, anchored into position by a canvas strap. The kid wasn’t wearing a helmet. Why wasn’t he wearing a helmet? Without the extra protection, maybe William’s first defensive strike wouldn’t have made a difference. The kid was probably fueled by enough adrenaline to push through the pain.

It was a small miracle that the kid wasn’t equipped properly. His visor would have caught the whole fight on camera for review later. Either way, he needed to get some distance between himself and the body. Assuming one of the spectator cams didn’t catch the scene, they’d assume the enemy team took his life.

As he followed the kid’s fading footprints in the snow, up the slight hill and into the safety of the shrouded trees, he checked the gun. The battery pack was empty; probably the reason why the kid was using the gun like a club. He’d have to refill his digital ammo at a charging station, or borrow some from one his team mates. He flicked the gun on to test the electrical components. The gun hissed and shocked him. He turned the gun off before the charge could melt the casing. His weapon was useless for long range, and the damage was too severe to bother with repairs, not that he knew much about that sort of thing. He knew enough to know that the only thing the gun was good for was as a club, at least until he found something better.

He wasn’t sure what he was going to do. Everything was so mixed up that he couldn’t begin to make sense of it all. He needed time to think. He tripped over an exposed tree root and cursed. He was worn out. His body hurt. He was cold. He was pretty sure he was coming down with the flu. He felt his head to confirm. He felt cool and sweaty. He supposed now wasn’t the best time to be checking for that sort of thing.

The roots turned out to be legs that were firmly attached to a student in a white and gold uniform. Her helmet sat on her lap, the visor smashed. If it weren’t for the blood that ran down the side of her head, soaking through the white of her uniform, he’d have thought she was sleeping. “Score one for the good guys,” William said and searched her for something useful. Her gun was nowhere to be found.

“Get away from her, you monster!” He was knocked to his back as the gun uppercut him.

She hesitated before checking on her squad mate. She shook her. “Wake up, May! WAKE UP!”

“She’s dead,” William said. He got to his feet and signaled for her to calm down, that he meant no harm. “I don’t know what’s going on. I just found her like this.”

“Back off!” She yelled and fired her gun. He wasn’t wearing the pulse gear that would have made her energy shots count. A body shot would have taken him out of the game, but was worth fewer points. Players aiming for leaderboard rankings loved their headshots.

She emptied her charges. She couldn’t compute that her shots weren’t connecting and that maybe by trying again and again, that one of the shots would make a difference. It didn’t matter in the end. Another uniform, white and gold, squad III struck her down from behind. Bludgeoning her over and over until her screams gurgled into quiet.

Her own team mate killed her.

“Get away from me,” William said, his voice too dry to get the words out in any dignified way. He ran. What else was he supposed to do? It’s not like he could have helped her. Not now at least.

Sun burst through the overcast just as he cleared the forest and slid into the clearing. He was too exposed out in the open, but his hunters were more experienced with the wooded terrain. Gasping for air, he saw that his pursuer lingered along the edge of the forest. His stalking suggested that he wasn’t in any hurry. Sooner or later, he’d catch up and finish the job.

There was something of a twitch in the way the guy moved, like his body wasn’t quite under his control. He stared down William, ready to lunge after him as soon as… as soon as what? William didn’t know what was stopping the guy from chasing after him. Whatever it was didn’t matter. William ran. If he found the wall, he could find his way to the gate. The gate wouldn’t save him, technically, but he might be able to call for help.

“Think William,” he shouted to himself and slapped the side of his head, frustrated with his mental fog. He fancied himself a bit of a games expert. He liked to think he knew every nook and cranny of the fields and could, with some degree of accuracy, predict how well individual players would perform. His real predicting prowess was for Squad VII, where he’d pretty much always be right. Right now, his field knowledge wasn’t helping. He wasn’t in the rock canyon with the ravine, that much he was sure of. The other arena was pretty barren, often used for extreme survivalist scenarios. He couldn’t remember where in the map the creak ran. It was rare that water was used for combat purposes within the games, so he didn’t pay it much mind. In this situation, knowing where it was would have helped.

He trudged through the clearing, risking a glance every now again to the competitor who watched from the other side. It was like the guy was saying he didn’t even need to bother following the tree line to close the distance. Sooner or later, William was going to need to go back into the forest. Clear patches weren’t common in the arena. There were clearings at the entrances, and the creek’s path was clear of trees. In the spring, the creek would surge, tripling in size, taking everything in its path with it. But the flow of water wound this way and that across the arena, forking in a couple of sections. Following the water would not take him to either exit.

Crap. Did he need to get to his team’s exit to escape? Would it matter? The situation was insane. No one should be expected to not freak out under the circumstances.

By the time he reached the end of the clearing, the animal that stalked him from the other side had disappeared into the forest. It was only a matter of time before the guy found him. He picked up the pace, opting to travel away from the creek. At least if he found the wall, he could follow it to the gate.

He ran through the forest. He stifled screams when branches caught him, or he tripped over his own feet. He had to settle into a slower pace, especially as the density of the trees thickened. It wasn’t long before he was sure that he was wandering in circles, having been thrown off track by having to work around awkward edges and sudden drops where the earth had caved in because of some animal’s abandoned burrow.

The height of the trees blocked the faces in the sky. Every chance he thought he could take, he risked a look to see what news the sky would bring. One by one, faces dimmed but he wasn’t sure who was winning. Did winning matter if their own team was turning on them?

He saw the gate through the clearing and ran for it. To hell if anyone was chasing him! They wouldn’t let that psycho kill him so close to home. They’d have to step in and put that animal down. The arc was made of stone, a semi-circle that looked like it might continue underground if it had the chance. The steel doors behind the arc were closed.

He pounded on the access panel’s access button and waited for the digital screen to activate. The screen read:

Victory conditions: team wipe out

Game ranking: Tier 1

Conditions: Not met

Nothing else. No way to call for help. No way to leave the arena.

“HELP!” William screamed at the door. “They’re killing each other!” Someone had to be watching the door. Someone in the security office was bound to come to help.

He pound on the door. “Let me in!” Some part of him refused to say the key phrase: I forfeit. Forfeiting meant he had failed somehow. Failed the game. Failed his team. Failed himself. The thought of giving up made him nauseous. These were extreme circumstances and not at all in the spirit of the games. His fists were numb with his desperation. He wasn’t giving up! He wanted to live!

A chime sounded across the area signaling that victory had been reach. “Victory: Squad IV” the female automated voice called.