*
Ben looked out over the sands. It was the first time he had ever seen a person die, or, in this case, murdered. It was a helpless feeling watching this man, Perry, die without being able to do anything about it—without being able to help him. It was a senseless death of a fellow human being committed by a psychotic egomaniac. And even though Ben trained hard in swording and fought mock battles, he never thought of it as actual training to kill someone—it was merely a spectator sport. And when he watched movies on the viewer, he knew death was merely a pretense. But the actual experience of watching someone die, because of political reasons or greed made Ben angry. And where was the sense of it? Here was a man, like all the living, who had an entire world revolving around him with friends, family, acquaintances, fellow employers, (fellow rebels), and fellow cityites. And he certainly had enemies—one who had now taken his life. He had likes and dislikes, and pleasures and displeasures. And all of this and more made life for him worth living, but now it was gone. He was the nucleus of his world and when he died, an entire world vanished with him. Where was the sense in this murder?
"Such a sad loss," boomed Hurd's voice over the speakers.
The tall blond woman, whose name was Dahms, looked up at the girders and shook her head. "You’re a sick man, Hurd,” she stated calmly.
"No need for insults," came Hurd's voice. "But then I guess I should expect it of rebels. I haven't met one of you yet who isn't rude and insulting in the heart, mind, spirit, and speech." It sounded like he was becoming upset, but then calmed himself. "Enough of that," he said. "Let me remind you one more time, if you want to step out of the run, this is your last chance."
Ben knew that the choice to leave the run had been taken from him, so he watched the tall blond woman and the others waiting to see who would have enough sense to decide the pit would be better. But he was disappointed, none of them moved toward the door with the exit sign. Ben thought their decision was unwise. In the pit there would always be possibilities, but if you die today, then there is none.
"Very well," continued Hurd, "Keep in mind if you make it successfully through the run, you will be given your freedom. Now, let the run begin."
Ben had been told that the part about being freed was a lie. A sales woman at the clothing store gave Ben the complete history of the run. There were only two men who had ever made it to the end, and they were sent to the city prison. The woman stated that at least it was better than being sent to the crystal mine where the prisoners had little food to eat, and improper clothing to protect them against the bitter-cold, Arian air. Most of the prisoners never lasted more than two months.
Ben examined the other runners. All were wearing tight fitting leather shorts and running shoes with black socks protruding half way up their calves. He noticed they had all chosen a short sword, which hung in a scabbard from their waists and a dagger which was strapped to their legs. They were bare from the waist up with the exception of the tall blond woman who was wearing a midriff leather top.
When Ben had been given a choice of weapons he, like the others, had chosen the short sword, which rested in its scabbard on his right hip, but instead of a dagger, he chose another sword. It was eight inches longer and narrower than the short sword and was only one and a half inches wide at the hilt tapering to a point. It rested in its scabbard on his left hip.
"A crappy way to die," said Sam to no one in particular.
Gaal looked at him. "You got that right," he said. There was a glare in his eyes as he looked at the spot where Perry had moments before sunk beneath the surface of the sand. "Maybe I should choose the pit. That way, at least, I would have a chance to get back here and rip Hurd's heart out."
"I'll second that," said Harold.
Then why don’t you, thought Ben. I will certainly applaud your decision. Finally Ben ignored the other runners as they began to talk about Hurd and what they would like to do to him, or how senseless it was for a man to die for no reason. He walked over to Perry's tracks and started toward the safety chamber. At first he walked slowly, but then lengthened his stride, all the while following Perry's tracks and keeping the spot, where Perry had disappeared, in sight—the spot where the tracks stopped. Half way there he turned his head to the left, and over his shoulder he could see that Dahms had fallen in behind him and then the others behind her.
As he approached the indentation in the sand he came to a halt and then dropped to his knees. The other runners stopped beside him. "I don't suppose it would do any good to try to get him out?" he asked in a rather rhetorical tone. "He's been under for at least five minutes."
"There’s no way we can help him," said Gaal. “For a sink trap to pull with that kind of suction it has to be at least thirty feet deep.
Dahms stepped beside Ben. “Damn,” she said looking into the depression in the sand.
“Yeah,” agreed Ben.
Chapter Thirty-Two