“I have a kid…” he groaned between panting breaths. “A girl…she has…no one…fuck, no…”
I released my grip on the piano wire with my left hand and shoved myself backward with my feet, letting his head drop to the snow as the wire slipped from around his hand and neck. Blood seeped from the area where the wire had entered his skin near his jugular but not in a grand enough stream to make me think I’d severed it. It didn’t matter. The skin exposure from the cut through his clothing and the blood pouring from his stomach were more than enough to kill him.
His words felt like a stab to my own gut.
Erik tried to roll to the side, but he couldn’t manage it. He struggled to pull the knife from his body as I stood a few feet away, watching him bleed to death. I should have stepped in and ended him faster, but I couldn’t quite bring myself to do it. The wounds he had suffered were the end of him. It wasn’t as if there were any emergency medical personnel coming.
He turned his glazed eyes to look up at me, and his mouth opened to form additional words, but nothing intelligible came out. I crouched to keep low to the ground and caught my breath as his blood puddled below him. He choked out a couple more breaths before lying still.
Where’s his daughter?
The thought rumbled through my brain, but I had no way of knowing. I could only hope she was with someone who would care for her because her father wasn’t coming home. It was the price he paid for being a part of this. It was the price any of us could pay.
Not me.
I looked into the dim red light at the top of Dytalov’s goggles, knowing there was a room filled with people watching me right now. They could see my face through his camera and his through mine. If I could have seen them, I would have witnessed the passing of large bundles of cash back and forth as losers forked over their money to the gloating winners.
I glared at the light, wanting to give them all the finger, but I couldn’t do that without removing the mittens. I had to be content with a look. It was only three hours into the game, and half of the players were gone. If I kept up the pace, I could be sleeping with Raine again tonight.
A tiny voice inside of me—one that sounded like Raine—told me I should regret what I had just done. The same voice tried to tell me what I was doing was wrong. I had no argument against it, but I couldn’t bring myself to feel any remorse either.
My resolve was set. At least for now, the blood on my hands was of no consequence.
It had been an hour since I had killed Erik Dytalov, and I hadn’t seen either Arden or Hunter. A few minutes ago, there had been two more gunshots coming from the west. I was no gun expert, but I was fairly certain the shots had been from handguns, not Arden’s sniper rifle or AR. I’d pinpointed the direction from where the sounds had originated, and I was heading that way.
Reaching up with both hands, I pulled myself to the top of a ridge and looked over cautiously. A dark shape below lay on the ground, face down. From the size of him, I knew it was Hunter. He looked dead, but I wasn’t taking any chances. I approached slowly with the piano wire wrapped around my covered fists. As far as I could see, the huge lump of a body wasn’t moving at all, but possum tactics were common in tournaments, and I wasn’t stupid enough to make any assumptions.
I looped the wire in one hand, the circle large enough to slip over Hunter’s head, if necessary. In the other hand, I gripped Reaper’s bloody brass knuckles. Slowly and quietly, I approached the mound lying on its face on top of the ice-covered rock. When I got close enough, I could see a neat bullet hole in the back of Hunter’s head. His face was nothing more than a mess in the snow.
In his bare hand, he held his gun. Kneeling, I reached for it, but his skin was practically grafted to the handle. I could have pulled it away from him, ripping skin from his dead flesh in the process, but I didn’t. I dropped his hand and the weapon back to the snow.
I was better off with what I had.
I looked up, wondering where that bastard of a sniper was and if he was still looking down on this spot. The only way I would have found out was if I heard the shot before I died. I paused just a little longer than I should have, testing him or myself; I wasn’t sure. In the end, it didn’t matter. No shot rang out.
“Just you and me, Arden,” I whispered into the icy wind.
Exhaustion was setting in. As much as I wanted to push on, I was too fucking cold.
This should have been over by now.
I had no idea where Arden was, and I could only hope he didn’t know where I was either, or rather, that he didn’t figure it out before I found him. Every time I stepped out from the cover of a ridge, I tensed and waited for a shot to ring out.
Maybe he’s dead already.
It was an errant thought, and one I discounted immediately. If he was dead, they’d know from his camera and would send the helicopter for me. Since I didn’t hear any helicopter, he was definitely still alive. I’d just have to keep looking.
Time was running out.
Most of the day had passed, and the sun was low on the horizon. The only saving grace was the time of year—there would be no sunset or darkness in this part of the world. That wouldn’t stop the already icy temperature from dropping significantly. I wasn’t sure how much longer I’d be able to fight in the cold as the wind picked up and my rations depleted. Unlike other terrains, there was no vegetation or animals to eat. Maybe I could have traveled all the way to the bottom of the mountain and tried my luck at fishing, but the amount of energy I would spend in the process wouldn’t make it worth the effort.
There was also no real place to make a shelter on the rock and ice ridges of Mount Windsor, which meant I had to keep moving. The only thing that kept me from panicking was the knowledge that Arden would be in the same predicament. Unlike me, he hadn’t played in the games before and wouldn’t be as adept at adapting to the environment. My chances of surviving in the open were better than his.
Don’t underestimate anyone.
If the dude could handle being tied up in the desert as a POW, maybe he’d be just fine out here in the cold. I certainly couldn’t count on him freezing to death. If he did, I’d still be stuck here until morning. The helicopter wouldn’t come looking for me with winds this strong.
Gotta find him.
I hauled myself over another ridge and stood on top of it. It was a stupid place to be, but it gave me a much better vantage point. If Arden was anywhere near me, I might be able to locate him before he got a shot off.
Nothing.
I crouched and placed my hand on the top of the ridge, gauging the distance to the flat ground below. I inhaled and then jumped…
…just as the shot rang out.
Startled, I landed awkwardly on my shoulder but still managed to roll effectively and get myself on my feet. Without thought, I ran to the far ridge for cover as another shot pierced the ground near my feet, throwing shards of ice into the air and back toward the ridge from where I had just jumped.
He’s in front of me.
I ducked, trying to keep my head low and in front of my chest, and zigzagged to impede Arden’s aim. I heard another shot but didn’t see where it hit. I only knew it hadn’t hit me. Leaping my final stride, I slammed into the side of the ridge and dropped low.
Glancing up the side of the rock, I couldn’t see any dark shape that would indicate Arden’s location. This was good because it meant he probably couldn’t see me either. However, it also meant I still didn’t know exactly where he was.
No time to waste.
I headed up the mountain, and my boots crunched in the icy layer on top of the snow. It was steeper and more difficult to make progress as the terrain turned from ice, dirt, and rock to ice, rock, and snow. I trudged on as quickly as I could, always looking up and over my shoulder for any sign of my opponent.
The higher I went, the deeper the snow became. I had on proper boots to keep myself from sinking too much, but it made the trek much more difficult. I was panting and st
arting to sweat, which was a bad combination. I had to slow down to keep from overexerting myself.
I reached the top of the high ridge and clambered over another outcropping of rocks and snow. My foot slipped a little. The snow here wasn’t as packed as the ice farther down. It was grainy powder, and there were dark patches of rock jutting out all around me. I took another tentative step, and the powdery snow gave way and rolled down the ridge, taking a few rocks with it. As I watched, chunks of snow rolled out of sight around the rocks before I could pull my foot back and find another place to stand.
Fuck.
I reclaimed my footing and held on with both hands as I steadied myself. A few more ice-covered rocks rolled down the mountainside below me as I took a deep breath and pulled. My muscles strained to lift my weight up and over the ledge.
Keeping low, I scuttled over the small, flat shelf and up against the ridge. There was another ledge above me, offering cover from the higher points of the mountain. I didn’t think Arden was much higher than I was and began to look all around.
Still nothing but precarious rocks and frozen terrain.
I shivered, grabbed a handful of macadamia nuts from my pockets, and started up and over the next ledge. The snowpack was even more unstable as I went higher, and I kept close to the top of the ridge, hanging onto the established rock as I crawled up the mountainside.
I reached the top of the southern edge of Mount Windsor. Looking north, there was a deep gorge of smooth snow separating the south and north sides of the island. The cliffs heading down were extremely steep, and there was no way to safely head down from where I was.
I could see the entire island around me, all the way down to the Arctic Ocean. White snow, grey ice, and brilliant turquoise water looked so peaceful from my vantage point, I could almost forget the bloodshed that had already occurred in this remote, serene location. I couldn’t spend any time enjoying the scenery though—I had to keep moving.
I walked slowly on top of the precarious edge of the ridge, looking all around me as I did. My feet slipped a couple of times, and I watched the loosened snow form small mounds and roll down the mountain face. Up ahead of me was a large standing of rocks, and I headed toward it.
Crouching in a crevice, I paused to catch my breath. I was taking too many breaks, wasting time, but the wind was starting to penetrate the layers of clothing covering me and was even beginning to sneak into the gap at the bottom of my face mask.
I tucked the mask’s edges a little deeper into the neckline of my parka, making sure there was still plenty of room for my moist breath between my mouth and the fabric, taking care to avoid getting any part of my clothing wet.
My fingers were sore from the intense climb. I spent a couple minutes flexing them and making sure I hadn’t hurt myself. I wasn’t sure if I would even be able to tell; the frigid temperatures often masked injuries. I could barely feel the place on my leg where Arden’s bullet had grazed it earlier in the day.
Out of the corner of my eye, a dark shape caught my attention.
I had no doubt who it was, and my heart rate increased as I watched Arden make his way over the top of the ridge two hundred yards from where I remained hidden between the rocks. The assault rifle was slung over his shoulder and held in one hand as he used the other to steady his passage across the unstable rocks. He looked back and forth down the side of the cliff as if he was searching for a way down.
It was the best chance I’d had all day.
I backed through the rock formation, keeping my eye on him the whole time. I couldn’t risk losing sight of him. Slipping to just over the edge of the ridge, I held on with my hands as I moved from right to left across the narrow ledge, counting the hand-over-hand motions until I reached two hundred. Flexing, I brought myself high enough to peer over the ledge but had to quickly drop down again, careful not to make a sound as I did.
He was right in front of me.
I closed my eyes and counted to five, breathing deeply to center myself. Bending my knee, I found a stable rock ready to take my weight, and then launched myself to the top of the ridge.
Arden turned toward the sound, but I was already jumping down on top of him. He tried to swing the AR in front of him as we collided, but the shot he fired went far off to my right. We landed in the snow with him on his back and me straddling him.
My first punch went straight into his chest, the second into the side of his head. I could have gone for the piano wire at my waist, or even the Busse I’d taken from Dytalov’s body, but I didn’t. I wanted to hit him. In that instant, I blamed him for everything that had occurred over the last month.
Arden was as slippery as the ice near the shoreline. Every punch I threw at him made contact but not in a vital place. He had one hand on my chest, grasping at the front of my parka. The AR was still gripped in his other hand, but he couldn’t maneuver it into position to fire.
He could, however, hit me with it, which is exactly what he did.
In the back of my head, I registered how good a hit it was. It takes a lot of strength to hit someone from a supine position, and he managed a sharp blow into my hip with the barrel of the weapon. It jarred me, and I started to fall to the side. Grabbing for his face, I tore off the mask protecting him from the wind as he shoved upward with both hands on my chest, and we rolled right into the base of the ridge.
We were both on our sides, each of us fighting to get on top of the other. I was bigger than he and more muscled, but he still managed to keep me at bay. He jammed the AR up against my side, and I barely managed to shove it away before he fired.
The blast went into the rock, showering us both with debris. The noise made my ears ring, and my body reacted by sending blood pounding through my head. My vision blurred, and I could feel my grip on him beginning to slip. As I ran out of options, I slammed my forehead into his.
It wasn’t as sharp a blow with all the cold-weather padding we each wore, but it was enough to send him to his back. The rifle fired off into the rock again, and the whole mountain rumbled in protest.
Arden pulled his legs up and jabbed at my abdomen with both feet. The blow wasn’t enough to knock the wind out of me, but his momentum was enough to send him rolling out of my reach. He was on his feet before I could do the same. By the time I had taken two steps closer to him, he was over the edge of the cliff.
I looked over the ledge and watched him slide down the steep incline through the snow. He was only barely in control of his descent and nearly hit an outcrop of rocks, but he had achieved his objective—to get the fuck away from me. Distance was his only advantage.
“Pussy,” I mumbled down the slope. “You think that’s going to save you?”
Speaking the words just made the answer obvious to me—yeah, that could save him. I had very few options in front of me: head down the mountain after him; look for a better way down; let him get away and start all over again.
“Fuck it,” I grumbled. I knelt near the ledge and launched myself over. I had to catch up to him before he found a stable place to regroup and properly aim.
Rocks and snow cascaded down the cliff along with me. I ran parallel to the snow as it broke away, keeping myself to the edge of the small snowslide. Arden was far below me, trying to slow his descent and get his footing. As the sliding snow stopped, I turned and began to gain on him quickly, pulling the garrote from the loop at my belt as I descended upon him.
Arden stopped, placed his foot against a rock jutting out from the snow, and wheeled about. The AR came up to his shoulder, and I could see directly down the barrel.
I leapt into the air, heard the shot, and felt the impact against my side. The Kevlar stopped it from entering my body, but the blow put me off balance. I careened into Arden’s side, grabbed hold of his arm, and we both began to roll down the mountain as snow slid around us.
With a grunt, my body stopped abruptly as I hit a patch of rocks. Arden’s fist was in my face a second later, and as I lay stunned, he brought the rifl
e up to my face. We were too close for him to use such a long weapon effectively. I punched his arm as he tried to get the rifle in position and pulled up my knee to slam into his side at the same time. The blast rang through my ears as the bullet hit the rock next to me.
We struggled to make contact with each other and with the rifle itself, but neither of us was able to get the advantage. I took a couple blows from the barrel of the weapon and also landed a few into Arden’s side and face. He took every hit with barely a grunt.
Desperate to gain advantage, I let go of the rifle and grabbed hold of the piano wire with both hands. I looped it over his head and pulled his face to my chest with the garrote. I couldn’t get it around the front of his neck, but he was at least unable to move enough to bring the rifle into position.
Growling, Arden swung the AR around and fired three shots in quick succession into the rock right below my face. He couldn’t have actually been trying to hit me, but I knew immediately what he was trying to accomplish.
It worked, too.
My head throbbed as the blast so close to my ear left me deaf. I couldn’t hear anything, but I could feel the ground beneath me as it rumbled.
A dozen things seemed to happen at once.
Flashes from Arden’s weapon were followed by a shower of snow and rock right above my head. I blinked, but all I could see was Arden’s body as a wall of snow slammed into his back and sent him flying over the top of me along with a wave of snow. My body twisted, and my legs were shoved up into my chest. I rolled backward and grabbed hold of the rock before I went over the edge.
There was nothing to see but white. It spun around and covered me as snow invaded my mask and filled my mouth. I felt the pressure against my body, my arms feeling like they were about to rip from their sockets. If I let go, I was going to be buried in the avalanche, just like Arden already was.