Arena Two. Morgan Rice

painful to the touch, but I force my hand all the way, trying to grab a small chunk of ice as we go. We are going too fast, though, and it’s hard to grab one. I keep missing by a few inches.

      Finally, after a minute agony, I catch one. I lift my hand, shaking from the cold, rush over, and hand the ice to Bree.

      She takes it, wide-eyed.

      “Hold this,” I say.

      I go back and take the other bandage, the bloody one, and wrap the ice in it. I hand it to Bree.

      “Hold this against her wound.”

      I am hoping it will help numb her pain, maybe stop the swelling.

      I turn my attention back to the river and look around, on all sides, as the morning becomes increasingly bright. We are racing farther and farther north, and I’m relieved to see no signs of the slaverunners anywhere. I hear no engines and detect no movement on either side of the river. The silence is, in fact, ominous. Are they waiting for us?

      I come up to the passenger seat, beside Logan, and glance down at the gas tank. Less than a quarter tank. It doesn’t bode well.

      “Maybe they’re gone,” I venture. “Maybe they turned back, gave up the search.”

      “Don’t count on it,” he says.

      As if on cue, suddenly, I hear the roar of an engine. My heart stops. It is a sound I’d recognize anywhere in the world: their engine.

      I turn to the back of the boat and look out at the horizon: sure enough, there, about a mile away, are the slaverunners. They are racing towards us. I watch them come, feeling helpless. We are nearly out of ammo, and they are well-equipped and well manned, with tons of weapons and ammunition. We don’t stand a chance if we fight them, and we don’t stand a chance of outrunning them: they are already closing in. We can’t try to hide again, either.

      We have no choice but to confront them. And that would be a losing battle. It is like a death sentence racing towards us on the horizon.

      “Maybe we should surrender!” Ben yells out, looking back, terrified.

      “Never,” I say.

      I can’t imagine becoming their prisoner again.

      “If I go down, it’s as a dead man,” Logan echoes.

      I try to think, pressing my mind for any solution.

      “Can’t you go any faster!?” I press Logan, as I watch them close the gap.

      “I’m going as fast as I can!” he shouts back, over the roar of the engine.

      I don’t know what else to do. I feel so helpless. Rose is awake now, wailing again, and Penelope barks. I feel as if the whole world is closing in on me. If I don’t think quick, come up with some solution, we will all be dead in minutes.