Ben retrieved an energy bar, sat on the couch and started eating it. Gaal pushed a button on the water dispenser, retrieved a bottled-water, and started drinking it. Dahms stood looking out the window, and Sam stepped up to the counter and pulled a cigar out of a box.
“These are damned expensive cigars,” said Sam, “but they’re not Mithians. You know, a blackened, Mithian cigar is the most exhilarating, legal, non-narcotic, stimulant in the galaxy, and right now, after all the crap we’ve been through, I’d like nothing more than to rest my weary bones while sipping on a drink and watching a movie on the screen. And then I’d light up a Mith, take a deep drag, inhaling and then exhaling, letting the smoke curl slowly through my nostrils and into the air. “Damn,” he blurted out, “Right now I’d give my left testicle for a Mithian cigar.”
“You shouldn’t have said that,” said Ben. “You know how crazy Hurd is, and you know how he likes the ‘left’ of anything,—he might take you up on your proposal.”
“I hope he’s not that crazy,” said Sam. He struck a match.
Ben grimaced. “Would you mind not smoking that it here?” he asked.
“You worried about your health? We probably won’t make it through the next zone.”
“Maybe living on Ar you haven’t heard—the medical profession has a cure for lung cancer or for any cancer. So it’s not my health I’m worried about. I just don’t like the smell of those things, and I don’t like breathing the smoke.”
“Okay,” said Sam. “But I don’t want to wait.” He went to the door, hit the palm lock, and as the door opened he stepped outside lighting his cigar as he went.
Dahms retrieved an energy bar and started eating it.
The three of them remained silent for several minutes—they were too physically tired, too mentally exhausted, and too depressed about the deaths of their fellow runners to say anything.
Finally, Gaal put his empty bottle in the holder on the arm of his chair. "Only one more Zone," he stated. "And even then, according to your information, we won’t be free."
“Don’t be so sure,” said Dahms.
Ben knew it was about time to leave the safety chamber, so he stood up and looked at Dahms, and said, “You keep making references to our getting out of this place. Would you mind being a little more specific?”
Dahms put her fingers to her lips. “Not now,” she said. “We don’t want Hurd to know any more than he needs to.”
“Yeah,” said Ben.
Just then the soft, feminine voice told them it was time to leave and the door opened.
Sam was about ten meters from the chamber. When he saw them coming out the door. He stomped his cigar in the dirt and motioned them over. As they formed a group he said, “I was just thinking about the time I stole twenty-two Mithian Cigars out of Hurd’s desk. You know Mithian Cigars, being shipped from another planet many light years away, are extremely expensive and very difficult to acquire, and when I learned that Hurd had purchased two dozen of them, it became my duty to liberate this most precious commodity from this tyrant. And believe me I had no compunctions about doing it. As it turned out, it was easier than I thought. I waited until Hurd was in a council meeting, then I sent a phony memo to Hurd’s secretary—sending her on a wild goose chase. I slipped into his office, confiscated the remaining cigars, and slipped out.
“That was you,” said Dahms. It was the first time since Ben had met her that she laughed. “That’s great,” she said, as she continued to chuckle.
“Hurd was furious,” said Sam. “For weeks he stomped around different floors of the tower, questioning everybody in sight, but he never found out who did it.
“Before I die,” he said, “I’m going to tell that bastard it was me who took his cigars. And if I don’t make it through the next zone I’m going to yell it up at the rafters. But if I die too quickly, and don’t have time, and if one of you should make it through, please tell him it was me, okay?”
“It’ll be my pleasure,” said Dahms as she turned and started up the path.
When they topped the small hill, they came to a halt and searched ahead for the last obstacle. Whatever this monstrosity was, it was so deadly they had to keep it locked behind a barrier. A short distance ahead of them was a tall transparent wall, at least forty feet high with a sliding door, and on the other side was a dirty, brown path leading straight across the last zone to another door, which was the exit from the “Run.”
This section was flat and nearly barren with no bushes, no grass, and nothing to slow them down when they made their run for the door. All appeared safe, until they looked to the far right where a single tree rose from the barren land. Its trunk seemed short in relation to its wide-spreading, gnarled branches, which ran parallel to the ground and radiated out nearly forty feet. A purplish fruit was hanging from the smaller limbs. Beneath the tree lie six Toral napping in the shade.
"I should have known the last zone would be impossible," said Gaal. "Hurd's not going to give anyone a sporting chance."
“Yes, but we know that two runners made it.”
“It seems to me,” said Ben, “there must have been three, and while the toral were tearing one of the runners apart the other two made it to the door.”
“Probably right,” said Dahms. “My information never told me how they got across this zone.”
“That has to be right,” said Sam. “So, I see it like this. When we go through the door we'll run as fast as we can for the exit." He pointed across the zone to the last door. "When the lead Toral overtakes us, I'll turn and stand my ground, delaying him as long as possible. That should give the three of you enough time to make it through the door."
"Impossible," whispered Gaal. "They'll attack all of us."
"The leader always attacks first," said Sam. "The rest of the pack may be as much as two or three seconds behind. That should give you enough time to make the last twenty or thirty yards."
Dahms stood silent.
Gaal looked at the Toral. "I know why you have chosen Dahms to get through to the door," he said. "But why me? Why not you?"
"You can run faster," said Sam. “And that gives you a better chance."
"I don't think so," said Gaal.
"What do you mean you don't think so? You have longer legs and I've seen you run."
"That's not what I mean."
"What do you mean then?"
Gaal frowned. "It’s simple—if you go down, we go down together."
Sam was quick to retort. "Save that sentimental slop for your girlfriend," he snorted. "This is not a matter for phony heroism. This is about life or death. Your life." He stopped ranting, and said, "Life or death. You have to realize that we're soldiers in combat. And one of us has to get through." He looked at Dahms, smiled an insidious smile and tugged at his mustache. "Get through to Hurd for the rest of us. Do you understand?"
"Yes," said Gaal.
"If I were the fastest runner here, I wouldn't hesitate. I have a great desire to get my hands around Hurd's throat. But I’m not the fastest. Do you understand? Do it for the runners. Do it for the people."
“What about me?” asked Dahms.
Sam gave her a puzzled look. “What about you?”
“Do you think I can run faster than you?”
“Women are usually slower than men, but you have long legs, and I’ve seen you run, so I would say we’re about the same. But if you think I would let a woman stay behind and die for me, then I can tell you that you’re wrong, and that you don’t know me very well.”
“Oh, I know you,” she answered.
Sam looked at Ben. “And you, . . . you don’t even belong here. You’re not even a part of this rebellion.”
“I am now,” said Ben.
“I’m glad to hear you say that, and I hope you mean it. I hope you bring Hurd down and bring him down hard. But for you to do that you have to get out of here. And I’m fairly sure that you’re the fastest runner of the four of us.”
“
Whatever you say,” said Ben knowing he wasn’t going to leave a fellow combatant behind to die.
“Anything else?” asked Sam.
No one said anything.
"Good, then let's go." Sam started toward the door. “The only thing I regret, and the only thing that makes me angry is that I won’t get to see Hurd and his evil empire crumble upon its corrupt foundation and fall to the pits of hell.
Sam hit the palm switch and as soon as the door slid open the four of them started running. Ben was in the lead, and Dahms quickly passed Sam, but Gaal was steadily overtaking her. Sam fell a full second behind, then two, then three.
They had gone about forty yards before the leader of the Toral looked up. He snorted angrily and in an instant was on his feet. Quickly he was running in great strides across the barren ground, digging talons into the sandy soil, and throwing it into the air as he ran. Dust clouded the air and trailed as he quickly sped toward the humans.
The other five Toral jumped to their feet and began the chase.
Ben, Sam, Dahms, and Gaal ran another twenty-five yards before the lead Toral came bearing down on the trailer. It was then that Sam whirled around and jumped to one side striking out with his sword. He raked one edge of it across the beast's forearm.
The beast hadn’t anticipated Sam turning and attacking. He ran three strides past Sam before he halted and turned. He rose up on his hind legs and bellowed out a base growl. It was so loud it shook the ground.
The other Toral stopped thirty yards back and waited for their leader.
The lead Toral dropped down with the intent of springing forward and striking with his huge paw in anticipation that his foe would turn and flee.
But instead of jumping back, Sam held his ground, and then the unexpected happened. Ben suddenly appeared out of the dust. And closed with the beast. This surprise tactic threw the beast into a quandary. And it was just enough of a split-second pause to give Ben the advantage. He stepped in ran the point of his sword into the beast's chest and drove it to the hilt.
The beast staggered back, and then slowly collapsed as if in slow motion. His knees buckled against his will. His head dropped toward his chest, and in a languid motion he laid down in the dirt.
“What the hell are you doing here!?” yelled Sam. “We had a plan.”
“That was your plan, not mine,” said Ben as he stood holding his short sword in his hand.
Sam looked around, expecting to see Gaal and Dahms exiting the door to freedom, but instead he saw them standing not more than ten feet behind him. “What the hell, doesn’t anyone follow orders?”
Dahms ran over to him and grabbed Sam’s hand. "It wasn't supposed to happen this way," she said. "We were supposed to have had a little help. I don’t know what happened."
"There's no help now," said Sam. “You should have run for the door like I told you.”
*