Read The Unnamed (The Unnamed Duology #1) Page 2

3: Dangerous

  The daylight comes fast as the Runner sleeps, and he wakes up earlier than anyone else. He makes his way up to the room with the treadmills, pulling his jacket on. He can hear the rain pounding on the roof.

  It’s going to be a miserable day of running, he thinks to himself.

  Turning on the treadmill, he starts at a good pace, clicking it up as he goes. He tries not to wander off in thought as he runs on the track, but the outcome is inevitable, especially with the dangerous thoughts that arise.

  Would he win if he made it to the last round of the Competitions? The Runner thinks he would, considering the effort he puts in each day. He’ll definitely get a Name, and he knows it. He’s better than most of the people he runs against.

  Soon other Runners wake up and they begin to run. The Runner laps almost half of them as they run around the room.

  “How do you do that?” A girl Runner asks, her hands behind her head to help her breathe.

  “Do what?” The Runner smiles confidently. The girl is pretty with her brown hair and tan skin. He notes that she’s not built to be a Runner.

  “That. You lapped all of us. Like, twice.”

  The Runner shrugs and gives a soft chuckle.

  “I don’t know. I just love to run.”

  The days pass by slowly, the Runners’ Master giving him little tips for next year’s Competition. He will be participating in that race, after turning eighteen in August. The one for this year is in the middle of October, when it’s cool enough outside for the first Competition.

  The Elite Leader always talks to the Runner as if he wants him to know more about what’s going on, especially about the notes that go between him and Mortimer the Elite Solver, but he knows he can’t do that. He doesn’t have that kind of power. No one does.

  The day of the Competitions comes, and the Runners gather around the flat screen above some treadmills in the Runner’s Building. A few of them dragged out some stools so they can sit. It’s one of the only days that the different Paths and Sections can rest from their work schedule.

  The many emblems pass by on the screen with music blaring over the speakers around the room. The Runner smiles as the other Runners around him let out a loud cry as their blue emblem passes over the screen.

  “Hello, and welcome to this years’ Competition,” the Elite Leader smiles to the camera. “I am the Elite Leader, and I will be announcing the Builders’ Competition this year. Sections, as you know, you are only permitted to watch your Section’s Competition, unless your Masters ask you if you want to watch the Competitions with them. There will be no work today, as well as for the next week due to the competitions.”

  “Thank you, Elite Leader Thomas,” A man, another Leader, says, flashing a smile at the camera. “And now for the channel tuning list.”

  Numbers and emblems scroll across that page, and one of the Runners that will be competing next year stands up to change it to the appropriate channel.

  “Welcome Runners! Here you will watch your childhood friends compete for their Names, and their lives.

  “The rules: They must complete the course. They must finish in the top ten to receive a Name and a permanent Title. They must go gracefully if they finish below Tenth. Those ten have to compete in the next race,” the large man, another Leader, croaks as he sits behind his desk. “Our goal is to create Elites, the best-of-the-best in the World, the Planet, and the Base. Without them, we would not have the life we have today.”

  They introduce each of the contestants, giving them numbers, though everyone in the Runner’s Building know exactly who they are. They had grown up with them. The numbers merely help with identification and cheering.

  The competing Runners all line up at the starting line, nervous energy around them as they stand alone on the dirt road on the far side of the World. A bang goes off and they take off. The course is long, as always, and they have to hold up. A few of them shoot ahead while a few stagger behind. Half way into it, a handful of people are jogging slowly, barely able to keep up. In front, there are a few going head to head.

  And then there’s number forty-seven. He’s hauling butt in the very front, kicking up dirt. He knows he’ll win.

  And he does.

  The race finishes and number forty-seven cries tears of joy.

  I’m going to be him next year, the Runner thinks.

  They’re marched up on stage, one by one to receive a name. His name is now Stark.

  Once the top ten are named, the Newly Unnamed step up onto the stage.

  “The Unnamed,” the Announcer proclaims.

  A girl in the front looks into the camera with fire in her eyes. She had finished eleventh. She places her fist over her heart, and the others do the same. The announcer seems flustered by this and the Guards rush in quickly to take them away to who-knows-where.

  Everyone in the room cheers for their friends, but the Runner stares at the screen, watching the girl with red hair disappear from sight.

  For once, he lets himself think dangerously. He wonders who she is, and why she did that.

  She’s dangerous. He tells himself.

  And that intrigues him.

  4: Stark

  For the next three days, the Runner watches as the Newly Named try to hide their strengths. The Runner has concluded over the years that the Simulated Races play with all of your weaknesses if the players can identify what they are. They also knock out the strengths. So the Newly Named Runners try to conceal them, although most times they slip through and are noticed.

  That’s the real game once getting into that room for three days. Hiding what you’re good at. Especially when you have to train, stretch, and warm up in that room with everyone watching.

  The Runner lists off all that he is good at. Breath control. Long distance. Focus.

  Next all the things he isn’t so good at. He’s clumsy. His mind, although he’s good at focusing during a run, is prone to wander off to dangerous thoughts.

  But who’s going to list that as a weakness?

  Stark, he notices, isn’t as careful as he should be with hiding his strengths. From what the Runner has gathered, he doesn’t have very many flaws in his running. The only thing he can pick out is that Stark the Runner has trouble focusing on what he’s doing. He keeps looking around at the other Runners, and it’s not to pick them apart and try to figure out their strengths and their weaknesses either. He’s just plain distracted.

  The Runner shakes his head at this.

  I’m not going to do that, he tells himself.

  All of the people he grew up with sit around him, talking about the other Runners and guessing their flaws and perfections. A few of them run on the treadmills, trying to stay in shape.

  The Runner looks back at the screen, reminding himself that this is a time of rest, and that he already ran eight miles this morning on the machines. No matter how much he loves it, he’s making himself rest. Even the most hard-working people need relax sometimes, and this is his time.

  The next day rolls around, and the Competitors enter in each other’s strengths and weaknesses. Then they are sent out to wait in a hall together. Some of them rest on the floor while some stretch and others jog in place or up and down the floor. A few of them pray and others sit with their eyes closed, trying to calm their nerves. For some of them, the chance to be in the top five is their life’s works. For others, the Number One spot is what they aim for. Always.

  In Tenth, a girl rises as her name is called. Rachel. She enters into a room and the cameras switch on inside, showing how big the space is. The vision is limited and the pictures come out green, letting us know all the power is off in the room at the moment. They’re generating a track.

  The cameras pick up on her shallow breathing as she tries to get it under control.

  “Here we go, Rachel,” she tells herself and smiles at her new name.

  There’s a loud sound as the room switches on. The walls show a dense jungle and a straight p
ath to the end. Her weakness was clumsiness and she’s afraid of the dark (who knew that could be counted as a weakness?), while her strengths were short distance runs and breath control. Bright light streams through the leaves as she looks around, mesmerized.

  The Runner remembers her from when he first was placed in the Runner’s Building. She didn’t talk to him much, and everyone knew that she was afraid of the dark. She always had to have a light on. Eventually, someone started turning it off after she fell asleep, and the Runner was glad someone actually did that. He couldn’t sleep well with it on.

  She kneels down in her running position and takes a deep breath.

  A loud bang goes off, signaling the start of her time, and she takes off down the path, kicking up dirt and swatting at leaves as they hang in her way. She crosses the finish line, another bang erupting through the room, and the simulation disappears. A door opens in front of her and she steps through, panting.

  Her run is shorter than the rest as they go up through the rankings. The Elites have a special formula that gives out points instead of time for this round, since it’s supposed to be an equal playing field. Nobody in the World knows what it is, aside from the Elites, making the competitions even more exciting and unexpected.

  One year, a male got through to the top five because he got two points higher than the sixth place. The sixth place had a short run and the fifth had the longest one out of the competition. The Runner always thought it was because of how he executed the run, however he did it.

  Stark is called and he slowly gets up, his face hard. He pulls his hoodie down off of his blonde hair and steps inside of the room, his figure glowing green on the screen. The Runner’s Building is quiet as they watch their friend look around the room.

  “It’s always harder for the first place,” Stark mumbles, barely audible. “It’s always harder.”

  The Runner looks at the boy funny.

  What is he talking about?

  The room comes to life. He stands in a hallway that is about two inches wider than his frame on either side. The walls are white and the tile on the floor looks slick. The lights above him flicker slightly every so often. He takes a breath and places a hand on either side of the wall as he slides down into position. His eyes are determined as he slips off his jacket and sets it behind him, the blue emblem facing the ceiling. Stark seems to be getting ready for something that isn’t right outside him, that isn’t the race, but something inside of him, as if he’s fighting a war in his heart.

  Bang.

  The Runner stares open-mouthed as Stark hesitates.

  That could cost him the race. He could lose everything.

  Stark takes off running after the painfully still moment at full speed, his arms bumping and brushing against the walls. He stares at the finish line far away as his shoes slap on the tile and the sound of his elbows hitting the walls echo down the hallway.

  The finish line is coming up fast now, and Stark starts to—

  “He’s slowing down!” A girl cries from the back, pushing forward.

  Everyone stares at the screen in disbelief as he stops short, just before the finish line. His toes almost touch the black and white line.

  The Runner’s Building is silent as he turns around and looks at one of the cameras floating behind him. He breathes in and out twice, and then places his fist over his heart, just as the redheaded girl did four days before.

  Stark turns back towards the finish line and takes a step. The lights cut out.

  “What’s happening?” A boy Runner the same age as the Runner asks, alarmed by the unusualness of what just happened, both the fist over the heart and the black out. There aren’t even any green figures on the screen to give off the image of Stark the Runner.

  Suddenly, it flashes to the Elite Leader. He smiles broadly, assuring the people watching that nothing has happened.

  “That’s all for the Runner’s Category this evening!” He chuckles. “We shall have the Placing Ceremony tonight around sundown. Please join us on your channel to watch your friends walk across the stage. Thank you, and have an amazing day inside the World!”

  Before the television shuts off, the Runner notices panic in the Elite Leaders’ eyes.

  + + +

  “Hello, Runner,” His Master says, shifting his hands around each other nervously. “Have you decided to watch the Ceremonies with me?”

  The Runner looks at him as he stands in the center of the living room, the television laced with white noise. He has so many questions, but...

  He realizes he can’t ask any of them.

  Elite Solver Mortimer turns to the white couch, watching the gray screen shuffle pixel colors around on its surface.

  “Why did you come here, Runner?” He asks quietly. “I know it’s not because you wanted to watch the Ceremonies.”

  The Runner stays silent, not knowing whether or not to ask the questions burning in his brain and on his tongue.

  Don’t speak unless you are spoken to...

  Mortimer the Solver, his Master, turns around and looks at the Runner expectantly, waiting for an answer.

  The Runner looks into the old man’s eyes. They plead for him not to say anything, not to ask anything, not to give any hints that he thinks something is wrong.

  The boy’s heart yearns for freedom as he shakes his head and looks at the screen.

  Freedom.

  What is it?

  “I did want to watch the Ceremonies...”

  “Oh, good!” The Master exclaims, clapping his hands together. “We have only a few more hours. Would you like something to drink, Runner?”

  “Drink...?”

  The Master looks at him.

  “Yes, Runner. A beverage you sip that comes in the form of a liquid. Which kind would you like?” He asks, opening the white fridge and bending down to peer inside. “I have orange, apple-but I don’t think you’ll like those. Oh, don’t look at me like that. I can be hospitable. It just so happens I don’t have any Servants today, and no one wanted to watch the Competitions with me.” He brings out a glass filled with orange liquid. “Orange juice it is. Come here, Runner. Don’t be shy.”

  The Runner does as he’s told and stands before the old man, watching as he pours the juice into two clear glass cups and take a drink from one.

  “Come on. Take that one,” he says, motioning to the other cup.

  The Runner hesitantly reaches out and wraps his hand around the cup, lifting it up to his nose to sniff it.

  “It’s orange juice, Runner.” The Master shakes his head and chuckles to himself. “Thought you’d like something other than water.”

  The Runner nods and looks at the bubbles forming on the sides of the circle of water on top.

  “Well, drink up!” The Elite Solver laughs and walks around the island counter, heading back to the couch. He sits down and looks back at the Runner. “Come sit.”

  The Runner takes a sip and the acidic taste dances on his tongue. He decides he likes orange juice, though he’ll probably never taste it again.

  He makes his way over to the couch and sits at the opposite end of the Master.

  “Who do you think will get first?” He asks, flipping the television channels and landing on a pair of Actors performing on a black stage. “I think it’ll be that boy, Gerold. He seemed pretty strong in his performance.”

  The Runner nods and takes another sip of the juice.

  “Oh, for goodness sake, boy! You can talk!” He laughs out loud and smiles at the Runner. “I’m allowing you to.”

  The Runner looks at Mortimer the Elite Solver carefully and eventually decides to believe him.

  “Rachel,” the Runner says, his voice quieter than he intended. He clears his throat. “Rachel. The first girl that went.”

  “Ah,” The Elite Solver nods his head and looks at the screen. “She was strong as well. Her course was rather short. I think she might come in second.” He takes a drink. “What about that Stark boy?”
>
  The Runner shakes his head and looks up at his Master, alarmed that maybe he wasn’t supposed to respond to that question, but the old man just nods, waiting for his answer.

  “He hesitated,” The Runner says. “And then he...”

  “Yes,” Mortimer the Elite Solver says, finishing off his drink. His voice goes down to the level just above a whisper. “One day I might tell you about it, Runner. But not today. Not this moment. One day though. One day...”

  The Master stands up, taking both his and the Runner’s glasses and placing them in the marble sink, humming softly to himself.

  The hours drag on as they wait for the Placing Ceremony, but it finally comes on, the same intro as the first day, telling them which channels to turn to.

  “I assume you want to watch the Runner’s Category,” his Master smiles.

  The Runner looks at him and shrugs.

  Mortimer the Elite Solver chuckles and switches to the Runner’s channel.

  The Leader that is in charge of the Runner Category flashes onto the screen with a bright smile, announcing the start of the awards. After giving a brief overview of the day, excluding what happened with Stark, the screen changes to an Announcer at a podium, her smile almost nervous underneath the lights that come on during the night time and the lights they turn on for the cameras.

  “Hello Runners and Elites! My name is Karen the Announcer, and I will be giving out the points and placement of our competitors. The top five will move on to the next round.”

  She opens an envelope and reads the placements.

  “I will start with the Fifth Place and work my way up. They will then be awarded their official Title, having a solid job inside of the World. For the ones who do not receive a Title, you will go back to working for your Elite Master, under no Title, and you can raise a family.

  “And now, for Fifth Place... with two-hundred points... Gerold.”

  “Shoot,” the Runner hears his Master say. “I really wanted him to win.”

  “Congratulations, Gerold. You are now titled as Gerold the Runner.”

  He walks off, and she works her way up the list.

  “And for First Place, with three-hundred points, is... Rachel!”

  The Runner smiles as she bounds happily up the steps and onto the stage.

  “You are now Titled as Rachel the Runner.” She leaves the stage and Karen the Announcer turns back to the camera. “The top five are being taken off to the Elite Runner’s Mansion for a good meal and a good-night’s sleep for the Last Competition tomorrow: the Elite Race.

  “And now for sixth place and down. As I call you, line up on the stage.

  “Sixth: Harmony.

  “Seventh: William.

  “Eighth: Carly.

  “Ninth: Daniel.

  “Tenth...” She hesitates, reading frantically. She looks up at the camera and takes a breath. “This year, there will be no Tenth Place. Stark has gone against the rules, and has been stripped of his Name. He is now one of the Unnamed.

  “Thank you for joining us in this years’ Competition. Next years competitors, work hard and you will make it to the spots that Rachel, Thomas, Harold, Michael, and Gerold have made it to. It is a great honor to go against the Elites of our World. Without these Competitions, our World would be corrupt. There would be no happiness, and there would be no order. Thank you, and tune in tomorrow to watch the Top Five in go head-to-head with the Elite Runner.”

  The program ends with the anthem of the World and the quick flashes of each emblem.

  Mortimer the Elite Solver turns to the Runner.

  “Are you coming to watch tomorrow?” He asks him, and the Runner looks at the old man, still confused about the days’ events.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Alright then,” The Master says and turns back to the television, switching the channels. “Thanks for watching with me then. Don’t forget to train for a little bit.”

  The Runner nods as he walks out of the mansion. He begins to jog along the inside of the walls of the World, running his hand along its smooth surface. Questions buzz around in his head, questions he can’t ask. He has to get them out before he returns to his bed for the night, and to do that, he needs to run.

  Rain still falls from the sky, only getting heavier. It could be a hurricane on its way. The puddles are about ankle-deep now as he runs along, but he doesn’t care. He’ll take a shower before sleeping anyway.

  He decides to call it a night and sprints to the blue Runner’s Building, when he hears voices above the rain.

  “You idiot! You were one place away from making it. You could have beaten the Elite!”

  The Runner slows down to a jog, listening carefully.

  “Hey, I never said I was perfect-”

  “Yeah? Well you said you never lose!” It’s a male voice. “Geeze, Harmony! You had one job!”

  “I said I’m sorry-”

  “Sorry isn’t good enough.”

  The Runner hears a pair of footsteps recede. The girl, Harmony, who had received Sixth Place, is now in the Runner’s sight. She’s soaking wet and her body is tense with anger.

  “Are you okay?” The Runner asks as he gets closer to her.

  She jumps, startled. Her big, brown eyes stare at him, reflecting her fear. She turns and runs the other way, and the Runner is left alone.

  5: the Elite Runner

  The Runner watches as the sunrise drifts upward in the sky. He’s sitting on a stool by the window Harmony had been near. It’s in between two of the treadmills on the left side of the building, the machine not yet on because everyone is asleep.

  “What’s happening?” He mumbles to himself. Curious thoughts rage in his brain and he can’t seem to rid of them. He had fallen asleep with them and woke up to their voices prying at his consciousness. He even had a dream that the girl with red hair was standing before him. He desperately wants to know what’s going on.

  There’s a set of footsteps making their way up to the room the Runner sits in. He gets a burst of energy and bolts out the front door and into the rain, not wanting to see anyone until he sorts out his thoughts and reasons with his questions. The walkways and roads collect water, slowly but steadily rising higher as he jogs along. The Runner doesn’t think he could face anyone without examining every little unnecessary thing and talking when he isn’t supposed to.

  The Runner is soaked to the bone by the time he circles all the way around the World, the city he calls home. When he comes close to reaching the Runner’s building, he sees the Runners in his building step outside to observe the weather, squinting at the sky as if they can’t believe their eyes at the falling rain. They’ve definitely seen it before; it’s just still raining, is all, that’s the part deemed preposterous—the sky can’t hold that much water in its clouds.  

  “Where’d you go?” One of the bigger guys snorts, giving the Runner a shove as he trudges inside, water dripping everywhere and making the floor slick. He keeps his mouth shut as he walks across the room to the television screen, his eyes adjusting to the sharp bright glow it gives off, waiting for the Competitions to begin. He plops down in a chair and glues his eyes to the screen, isolating himself from everyone else until it starts. Soon, he’ll have to run for his Name, and he’d like to pick up any and all things that could get him ahead in the race. He ponders over this until the television flickers, keeping his curiosities at bay for the time being. But he knew they’d come flooding back the moment the distraction dissipates. 

  The Competition’s introduction music blares from the television’s side speakers and everyone lazily takes a seat or they stand around the back of the sitters. Today would be the last of the Competitions: the Elite Round, and the Runner wanted to pay attention to all the details, just in case. 

  The present Elite Runner is only a few years older than the Runner. In fact, he even remembers him, although be it faintly. The young Elite never talked to the Runner, but then again the Runner never really talk
ed to anyone either. He recalls Blaise the Elite Runner as someone who was hard working and talented.

  One of the Titled, a Leader, lower than the Elite but higher than the Runner himself, appears on the screen to list the different channels of the Categories, and it takes a moment for one of the boys of the group sharing the squat Runner’s Building to reach the Runners channel.

  Their emblem, the same one they wear on their jackets, appears as the music blares over the speakers again.

  “Hello again, and welcome to the final round of the Competitions.” The red-headed Leader smiles against the blue background, her teeth perfectly straight and gleaming as she places a stack of papers onto the flat black surface in front of her. “I am Tali the Leader. The last of the Runners, Rachel, Thomas, Herold, Michael, and Gerold, will be going up against Blaise the Elite Runner. He is one of the two in the Runners category to beat the Elite before him. He has been in office for two years now, and he has been preparing for this moment all year. Let’s take a look at the competition.

  “Rachel, who had a surprising three-hundred-flat result and surprised all of us with First, after coming in ninth place and almost becoming an Unnamed forever. It’s been a long time since anyone has scored that high on the second round. The Elites think she has a great possibility of beating the Elite Runner this year; in fact, I bet they’re making wages over her future success.

  “Thomas came in Second with a two-fifty after finishing third in the first race. The Elites think he might finish third again, although one of his weaknesses is breath control.

  “Herold and Michael had a one-point difference, Herold coming in Third. These two have fought neck and neck in each competition so far. The Elites don’t think there will be any jumps between them, but they definitely have insight to say that it will be Michael to come before Herold due to his desire for revenge, as we saw earlier in this Competition.

  “Gerold showed promise early on in his race yesterday, but his score of two-hundred points really dragged him down. The Elites hope for a jump in his ranking because of the promise he holds.

  “And now we begin the last of the Competitions. Right now, the five Runners are warming up at the starting line, waiting anxiously on the track at the east side of the World, psyching themselves up and out for the upcoming race that’ll define their future. The Elite Runner will arrive in ten minutes. Stay tuned.”

  The camera pans over the five runners as they stretch and jog in circles nervously, answering to questions asked to them and about them as if they were celebrities. They, for the most part, are, considering they’re on the verge of greatness; not just anyone competes against the Elites. 

  The camera turns again, showing Rachel sitting on the turf inside of the track and picking at it calmly, something in her eyes like dread. The Runner watches her curiously. She looks like she doesn’t have a worry in the world besides that, but if it weren’t for her eyes, the Runner would say she knows she’s won.

  In comes the Elite Runner, Blaise. His tan body is pure muscle and his glistening head is bald, probably to diminish wind resistance. He’s dressed in black spandex, the emblem of the Runners plastered onto his back, the black material of his tank-top stretching across his body and threatening to snap as he flexes. He wears a smirk on his face and he walks like he’s king of the world. He must know pride is something frowned upon, but he wears it like it’s the most expensive jewelry.

  Blaise the Elite Runner strides up to the starting line, standing in the center of the Runner’s spots. They all stare at him in awe, as if he were a dignitary—which he is. He’s the best of the best when it comes to the Runners Category—at least for the time being. He has to defend his Title and stay an Elite if he doesn’t want to become one of the Unnamed.

  Rachel is the last one to her lane, her eyes like lasers as the track before her becomes her main point of focus. The track is four miles long, wrapping around back to where it started. Because of this factor, the Runners are all able to merge into one lane and are not required to stay in their own.

  The Announcer standing to the side lifts his gun to the sky, ready to begin the race as the cameras do one last sweep of the Competitors. 

  They crouch down low and try to calm themselves down while attempting to manage their breathing. They’ll need every breath they can get. 

  Bang.

  They sprint.

  Rachel is in front, Blaise right behind her, taking it easy as the wind presses against the girl’s body. Soon enough, they’re three miles in and Rachel hasn’t budged. The other four are falling behind a bit, with Gerold a few paces directly behind the Elite and gaining ever so slowly. There’s this hope in Rachel’s eyes as she catches sight of the checkered finish line with the blue emblem in the center.

  It fades away as Blaise darts in front of her, crossing the line before she can.

  Bang.

  Rachel holds her sides and shakes her head, kicking the dirt as her eyes fill with tears and she breathes heavily. She could have been the first female Elite Runner.

  Blaise runs around whooping and congratulating himself as he weaves through the other Competitors. He halts in front of Rachel as she crosses her arms and sets her jaw. It’s not hard to miss the wishful thinking in her eyes. She wanted his spot.

  “I bet you wish you were Unnamed,” Blaise smiles.

  Rachel glares at him and storms away down the length of the track.

  Karen the Announcer from last night walks into view to talk to Blaise.

  “Congratulations on keeping your Elite title. How was the Competition this year?”

  “Too easy,” Blaise the Elite Runner laughs. “She was doing all the work! Give me something challenging next year. Make me run for my life. For my name. Make. Me. Scared.”

  He struts away with a smile on his face as Karen the Announcer turns back to the camera.

  “Here comes Rachel the Runner,” she announces as the girl trudges closer, her head down. “Runner Rachel, how does it feel to be so close to the top, and have it ripped away at the last second?”

  Rachel’s eyes snap up to her and she gives her a disgusted look. It was a rude question.

  After a moment, she looks at the camera, the microphone inches from her mouth awaiting her response. She sucks in a deep breath. Her blue eyes are filled with tears and her face shows the struggle of keeping them where they are.

  She opens her mouth to speak.

  “I did my best. My best wasn’t good enough. And now I am Unnamed.”

  “Unnamed? No, Runner Rachel—”

  “I am Unnamed. My title is dead.”

  Blood and gore from her head splashes onto the camera just after she brings her fist to her chest, and everyone begins to panic. The Runner’s building becomes electric with screams and shouts and someone throws up.

  The Runner sits, frozen in place, and watches as the cameras shut off abruptly. As the white fuzz makes its way across the screen. As the deafening buzz of white noise drones out the panic in the room.

  The Runner sits still, his eyes glued to the screen and his heart pounding in his chest.

  Something in his head tells him this isn’t real. It tells him this is all a dream. That none of this is happening.

  But he knows it’s real. It’s happening.

  And something terrible is going on that nobody knows about.

  6: the Message

  The year passes by slowly as the tragedy and shock of that years Competition fades away. The three people that had put their fists over their hearts soon were gone from people’s memory, either by choice or by distracting their thoughts away from them.

  The Runner never forgets though, whether it is out of curiosity or because he was scared about this year’s Competition. His Competition.

  Mortimer the Elite Solver does his best to hide his concern for the Runner. He gives him as much advise as he can, and makes sure to remind him multiple times about being careful when approached by someone, whether it
’s one of his friends or a complete stranger. Be careful, he would always say in a quiet tone, as if someone could hear him. Just do what you’re told.

  The Runner trains hard and always gets home sore and exhausted from the days’ training. Mortimer the Elite Solver is really pushing him.

  He had been right about the hurricane. It came and everyone had to take cover underground. Luckily, the World’s building structures were built to handle the Earth’s storms, and not much is ruined inside the walls. Everything was cleaned up when the storm was surely gone and it all went back to normal.

  Now, it’s only a month until the Competitions. The Runner watches everyone practicing and working as he runs around the world. Two laps and then he has to take a message to the Elite Leader from the Elite Solver.

  The ground is hot and dry, as they’re going through a drought this year, a big contrast to last year’s hurricane. Luckily, the Keepers always keep on top of their jobs, or else the people inside the World would die from thirst and starvation.

  The Runner’s mind drifts back to the previous years’ Competition, his stomach turning over in his body as he thinks about Rachel. Whatever it was that happened...

  He shakes his head as he makes his way to Mortimer the Elite Solver’s mansion.

  “Here’s the message, Runner,” The old man stands up to hand the boy the envelope. “Don’t let anyone see it.”

  He nods at the strange sentence and takes the paper in his hands, tucking it inside of his jacket.

  “And Runner?”

  “Yes, Master?”

  “Run. As if it was for your life.”

  He sprints to the large building and enters through the big black door. He waits patiently in the doorway as he shuts it behind him, the cool air of the Elite mansion a relief to his skin.

  The Elite Leader walks from a room to the right and looks up, startled. His face shifts to show panic and worry as the Runner pulls out the envelope.

  “Runner,” He says, taking in a breath of air. “Come with me.”

  The Runner follows him up to his office and is told to sit down. He obeys, knowing that the Elite Leader really doesn’t mind him sitting.

  He hands him the latter and the Leader takes it hesitantly. He opens it slowly and pulls out the white piece of paper with black scribbling on it. It shakes in his hand as he reads the words spread out across the width, as if the paper was to burst into flames at any second.

  “Runner,” the Elite Leader says shakily. He places the paper onto his desk, his eyes never leaving it. “Did Mortimer tell you about this?”

  “No, sir.”

  The Elite nods and looks around the room, as if there were eyes watching him. He stands and opens the door, walking out into the hallway before it and looking left and right before coming back into the room and locking the door behind him.

  The Runner begins to feel himself panic. Did he do something? Did he say something wrong? Did he fail a test?

       He stands up immediately and the Elite Leader walks around him and back over to his desk, still standing. He looks down at the paper like it’s a dead animal that was brutally mutilated.

  What is on the paper? The Runner finds himself wondering. What can be on there that is so bad it has the Elite Leader worrying?

  “Runner,” the Elite Leader stares down at his desk intently. “Runner, I have to tell you this. I don’t want you getting sucked up into all of this mess...

  “But I do want you to help me fix the problem.”

  “Sir?”

  The Elite Leader is looking at him now, watching him.

  “Runner, what I am about to tell you is top-secret. Only the Elites know about it. We’ve known about it for quite some time now. We didn’t know it would escalate that quickly at the Competitions...”

  “Sir, I don’t understand...”

  “Of course you don’t,” the Elite Leader says quietly as he makes his way back to his desk. “That’s why I’m telling you.

  “Runner, there is a resistance forming outside the World, outside the cities located on this Earth. They’ve been growing and growing, recruiting more and more people. We don’t know how and we don’t know why they’re doing what they’re doing, nor where. All we know is that last year in the Competitions, three of the Categories were infested with them. The Solvers, Swimmers, and, as you know, the Runners. Your category was the only one where a death occurred. All of the others resulted in missing teenagers. We have no clue who is one of us and who is one of them anymore.”

  The Runner thinks back to the Competitions, Rachel, Stark, and the redhead shuffling through his memories.

  “How do you know that I’m...”

  “Because you follow orders, unlike them. Runner, I’m asking you to go undercover to help us bring them down.”

  “What?” The Runner asks, stunned. He’s breathless. Speechless. He can’t do this.

  “Runner, it’ll save people—”

  “I can’t,” the Runner starts shaking his head and backing up toward the door. He’s scared. He can’t do this. He never wanted to. He has to go through the Competitions. He has to earn a name. He can’t risk his life in something the Elites aren’t even sure of. He can’t do it.

  “Runner, I’m not ordering you to.”

  “Good,” the Runner snaps, startling even himself. Adrenaline pumps through his system, making his hands shake and his body tingle. “Because I’m not going to.”

  He unlocks the door and opens it.

  “Okay,” the Elite Leader says, and the Runner stops to turn and listen. “But if you change your mind, I’ll be here.”

  The Runner has no response as he makes his way down all the stairs and out into the dry summer day. He leans up against the left pillar at the top of the steps outside the house, the marble surprisingly cool against his forehead.  He hits it with his palm, trying to find a way to let the emotions out.

  He just talked back to the Elite Leader, the highest position of all the Elites. Will he be in trouble later?

  He takes off, jumping over all the steps and lands on the cracked ground. He can feel the heat radiating from the cement with each step he takes.

  Rolling up the sleeves on his jacket, he makes his way around the world before returning to Mortimer the Elite Solver’s mansion.

  “You don’t have a message from him?” The old man asks as the Runner steps into his dining room. “I’m sure he would—”

  The Elite Solver stops his sentence short, seeing the anger and confusion in the Runner’s eyes. His own go wide and he looks around, his Servants busy with their work.

  “Come with me, Runner.”

  “Where are we going?” The Runner asks, trying to hide his emotions from the man who practically raised him.

  Mortimer doesn’t answer as he walks briskly down the stairs across the entryway. They lead to his basement.

  He waits for the Runner to step through into the darkness to close the hatch. Darkness swallows the two of them whole.

  The Runner feels blind. He doesn’t move, afraid something bad might happen. Is this his punishment for disobeying an Elite? But he never said he had to do anything. He never ordered the Runner to go and be a spy.

  A single light bulb flashes on and the room fills with light. There are papers strewn everywhere on the long desk curling around each of the walls. There is a single chair in the center of the room with wheels on it, and a stool by the stairs. Every five feet, there’s a single lamp to add more light to the papers on the desk. The walls and floor are cement and unpainted.

  Mortimer the Elite Solver moves around the room, shuffling through papers and moving them from one side of the surface to the other, looking for something.

  “Sit on the stool, Runner.”

  The Runner obeys immediately, afraid he really is in trouble.

  The Elite Solver stops searching through the papers suddenly, and turns around quicker than his body looks like it can.

  “You’re wonder
ing why we’re down here,” he says matter-of-factly. “And I am going to tell you.”

  The Runner nods, not taking his eyes off of the Elite Solver. The Elites have the power to make you Unnamed.

  The Runner just hopes that today isn’t his day to become one.

  “How much do you know?” Mortimer asks quietly. “How much did the Elite Leader tell you?”

  “There’s a resistance. That’s the reason why Rachel the Runner died last year...”

  Mortimer the Elite Solver nods and looks at a paper behind him. He picks it up and turns back to the Runner, taking a few steps from the table.

  “I was going to tell you closer to the competitions, but now that you know...” Mortimer the Solver pauses and looks the Runner in the eye. “There’s only a month left until the Competitions. I’m sure I know what the Elite Leader asked you. He asked you to go undercover, am I right?”

  The Runner nods, and Mortimer the Elite Solver stands up straight, glancing back down at the paper.

  “The Elites have decided to pass my solution through. That solution is to send one person in each category into the Unnamed territory.”

  “But no one knows where that is,” the Runner says.

  “That’s the tricky part, Runner. That’s where my plan breaks its perfection. Of course, I use that term lightly,” he chuckles and clears his throat. Each Elite nominated their servants that were old enough to compete into each category. The one with the most votes in each one would be sent to be temporarily Unnamed.

  “There was a tie in the Runners category. We looked at stats and compared them, as well as how well we think they would do at their Competitions this year.”

  He hands the paper to the Runner.

  “And you won.”

  The Runner stares at the paper. Rules of the Unnamed, it read at the top of the page in bold letters.

  “I’ll be an... Unnamed?” The Runner asks quietly, his nightmare coming true. “I... I don’t...”

  “Runner,” Mortimer grabs the boy by his shoulders, and he looks up from the paper, fear in his eyes. “Don’t be afraid. It’s just for a month. No one will know that you were an Unnamed when the Competitions roll around.”

  “But the location of the Unnamed...”

  “You can find it. I know you can.”

  “But the weather...”

  “Don’t worry about it. You can outrun anything.”

  “But...”

  “Runner,” Mortimer says. “We need you to do this.”

  The Runner looks back down at the paper, the black letters taunting him. He thinks about his time in the World.

  “Could I die?”

  Mortimer the Elite Solver is silent.

  “I could die, couldn’t I?”

  “You’re smarter than that, Runner.”

  The Runner takes a shaky breath.

  “Can I think about it?”

  Mortimer takes a step backwards and nods.

  “You have until tomorrow, Runner.”

  The Runner nods and folds the paper carefully, placing it in his jacket pocket. He feels like the Runner’s emblem is suddenly heavy on his back as he thinks of what he would leave behind, should he say yes.

  “Don’t tell a soul, Runner.”

  He nods and heads up the stairs.

  Jogging around the world once more, he thinks about the decision he has to make, as well as how many laps he’s done today around the city.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he sees someone fall from behind a building. Her hair is strewn across the cement and she lays still. He rushes over to help her up and to see if she’s okay.

  When he rolls her over, he sees her big, brown eyes open and lifeless.

  Red blood starts to pool around them.

  Harmony is dead.

  The Runner cries out for help, and soon there are dozens of people around him and asking him questions. An Elite Doctor shows up and carries her off, other Doctors trailing behind. An Enforcer starts to ask questions, questions the Runner can’t answer. Soon he gives up and lets the Runner go.

  The Runner sprints straight for Mortimer the Elite Solver’s mansion. He bursts in, making the old man jump at his table and his servants all turn to face him. Blood weighed heavy on his black jacket, though no one that sees it can say that it’s blood.

  “Runner—”

  “Another girl is dead, Master.”

  Mortimer’s face goes pale and he stands himself up from his chair at the table calmly.

  “I assume you’ve made a decision then, Runner.”

  “Yes. But there’s one thing I want to change about it.”

  “And what would that be?” Mortimer the Elite Solver pries.

  “They’re inside the World. So why not try and find them in here, rather than out there?”

  His Master smiles.

  “I knew you’d come around.”

 

  7: Pay Attention

  “How will I know who’s an Unnamed and who’s not?”

  Mortimer the Elite Solver looks at the Runner thoughtfully. They are back inside the basement, every light on and reflecting off the papers on the long table around the room.

  “What’s the one difference about someone who is Unnamed, and someone who only has a Title?” The Master asks, leaning back on the hard surface behind him.

  The Runner looks at him in thought.

  Someone who has only a Title will do everything they can to make sure they receive a Name. If they don’t, then they will become an Unnamed.

  “The Titles listen and obey.”

  “Right,” Mortimer the Elite Solver smiles. “So you just have to look for someone who does the opposite.”

  The Runner nods. “When would there be a chance for that? The Elite Runner shows up maybe once every other month, if that, and he doesn’t do much instructing or helping, either.”

  “Then you have to go beyond that,” the old man strokes his beard with his fingers. “Look for small things. Littering, rudeness... things like that, Runner. I promise you’ll find them. You just have to pay attention.”

  The Runner nods, a crease forming in between his eyebrows as they furrow. He tries to recall the little things from the past. He thinks of Runners slacking off and not running as much as they need to, and not much else. He groans in frustration and puts his head in his hands. He’s still not sure if he wants to do this.

  “What if I fail?” He asks. “Will I get a Name anyway?”

  “You’re not guaranteed a Name, no,” the Elite chuckles. “But you can still race and run for your Name.”

  “And what if I fail that? What if I really do end up in the Unnamed territory?”

  “That won’t happen, Runner.”

  “But what if it does, Master? What if it does?”

  The Elite Solver chews on his cheeks as he thinks, watching the Runner as his eyes fill with fear and doubt.

  “Then you find out what you can, and you come back here with everything. I will alert the other Elites if—if that happens, Runner, and they will let you in the gates as if you had ran to the Planet to give them a message. You can work for me then, just as you always have.”

  The Runner nods his head, feeling slightly better about his options. One way or the other, he won’t be thrown out of the World.

  “What do I do when I find one?” The Runner asks.

  “You follow them. Befriend them. Find a way to infiltrate the system. And remember, Runner,” the old man says in a quieter tone. “Once this is all over, no one else will have to die.”

  + + +

  The Elite Solver released him to look for the Unnamed. He can’t stop thinking about the girl, Harmony, and her lifeless body. How her blood just started pooling around them.

  He starts watching people. How they act and react to their surroundings, what they do as they walk down the street, what kind of vibe their body gives off.

  He does this for three days, but he doesn’t see anybody.

 
Twenty-seven more days, he thinks to himself.

  Someone bumps into the Runner, making him stumble out of his steady jog. He looks over his shoulder to see a boy running in the opposite direction of him.

  He has dark blonde hair and green eyes that seem to be filled with anger as he looks at the Runner over his own shoulder.

  This takes the Runner off guard as he watches the boy run in the opposite direction. He slows and stops, watching the boy get away.

  The Runner recognizes him. He’ll be in the Competitions this year against him.

  The boy disappears from sight, around a large red building—the Elite Leader’s Building.

  And the Runner follows.

  The boy stands against the wall, as if he was waiting for the Runner to follow him. The Runner stops as he reaches the boy, who looks up at him.

  “You ran into me,” the Runner says, not knowing exactly what to say.

  “Sorry,” the boy smirks. “You’re the guy who found Harmony dead, aren’t you?”

  The Runner takes a step back. “Yeah. What’s it to you?”

  “Did you see who killed her?” He asks, something strange playing in his eyes.

  The Runner shakes his head. “No. I didn’t even know she was… dead until I ran over.”

  The boy nods and turns to walk away.

  “Wait,” the Runner calls, stopping the boy. He doesn’t know what he’s going to say next.

  “What?”

  “Why do you want to know?”

  Is this strange behavior? Does this count? The Runner finds himself thinking.

  The boy hesitates and huffs a single chuckle as a smirk appears for a moment on his face.

  “Just pay attention to what’s going on inside of here. Once you do that, you’ll understand.”

  But I do understand, the Runner thinks.

  “Why? What’s going on?”

  The boy shakes his head and smiles. “You saw the competitions last year. You tell me.”

  “Are you a part of that?” The Runner asks suddenly.

  The boy just smiles before he disappears behind the other side of the mansion.

  The Runner sprints behind him, watching as the boy sprints down the long path of the sidewalks.

  The Runner isn’t going to let him go that easily.

  He runs after him, jumping over potholes and large cracks in the cement. The boy runs fast, but not faster than the Runner can.

  They had ran all of the way to the other side of the world when the boy suddenly stops and turns around, the Runner almost crashing into him.

  “You’re fast,” he smiles as he tries to catch his breath.

  The Runner feels uneasy as the boy looks at him.

  “What is it that’s going on?” The Runner asks, his heart pounding, but not entirely from running. This could be it. This could be the moment of truth.

  The boy stands straight and chuckles, the sound deep and throaty.

  “Why are you so curious all of a sudden?” He asks.

  The Runner hesitates, thinking of what to say next.

  “I’m concerned,” he says, trying to make it sound convincing.

  The boy laughs and nods his head. “Well of course you’re concerned. You don’t want to die either, am I right?” He looks behind him, not waiting for a response. “You have to show me that you’re trustworthy enough to know. I can’t have a snitch on my team.”

  “Team?”

  The boy shakes his head ruefully.

  “Look. If you want to know what’s going on, show me that I can trust that you won’t tell the first person that asks.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” The Runner asks. “I’m the first person to ask what’s going on.”

  The boy shakes his head, laughing again. “Trust me, you aren’t.”

  “Then why me?”

  “Because you’re fast. And we need fast.”

  “For what? The Competitions?”

  He shakes his head, as if to wave off the subject. “Meet me at the Competition track tomorrow at noon, if you can get away from your Master. From there, I will send you on your first mission. I’ll give you three of them. If you fail only one of them, call our deal off.”

  “What deal?”

  “The deal we made the second you started following me. You don’t tell anyone, and I let you in on the Secret.” The boy looks around the area quickly and then back at the Runner. “I’ve got to go. But for now, just pay attention.”

  “To what?” The Runner calls as the boy takes off.

  He doesn’t answer and the Runner stands alone, thoughts swimming all through his head.

  Pay attention to what?

  8: Gun-Point

  The Runner watches the clock as it makes its way around to noon.

  The sun shines down onto him as he runs, the heat almost seeming to increase through his jacket. Good thing he brought a water bottle with him.

  The Runner steps onto the tan competition track and looks around for the boy he had seen the previous night. He waits for a few minutes, absentmindedly drinking water as the day grows hotter.

  There’s a loud bang behind him.

  The Runner turns around, startled.

  The boy stands behind him, a gun raised and pointed at the Runner.

  “Run!” The boy shouts across the empty space between them.

  “What?!” The Runner exclaims. “Are you going to shoot me?”

  “Not if you run!” He yells, shooting the gun in the air as a warning shot. “Run around the track until I say stop.”

  The Runner takes off at half speed, looking over his shoulder at the boy.

  This is insane!

  “Faster!” The boy calls, shooting again, and this time the bullet hits the dirt on the inside of the loop close to the runner. “Run faster!”

  The Runner writes the boy off as crazy and starts to sprint. He has to do this. He has to do this to learn about the Unnamed. To save the people in the cities.

  Close to the spot he started, he begins to slow down.

  “Keep going!” The boy shouts, shooting in the air again.

  The Runner keeps running.

  Why is he doing this to me?

  He goes around the first curve and onto the second straightaway. The sun beats down onto him and he can feel sweat trickling down every part of him, especially where his jacket sits.

  He arrives to the next curve and makes his way to the first straightaway. It’s where he begun; where the boy stands.

  His eyes go wide at the scene before him.

  The boy stands with the gun aimed at the Runner’s head.

  “Stop,” he says quietly, and the Runner halts.

  The boy’s hand is steady as he holds the weapon at arms-length at the Runner.

  Is he going to shoot me? The Runner thinks in a panicked thought.

  “You,” the boy says. He lowers the gun. “Had the lowest time I’ve ever seen when you were running just now.”

  He tucks the gun into the back of his pants and covers it with his Runner’s Jacket.

  The Runner tries to breathe slowly and catch his breath.

  “I think you’ve passed the first test.”

  “What? That was a test?”

  The boy smiles. “Yep. Only two more and then you can know the secrets of my team.”

  He starts to walk away, leaving the Runner chugging down the water he had brought with him.

  “Wait!” The Runner calls. “What are they?”

  The boy turns back around and walks backwards. “You’ll see. Just pay attention.”

  “Pay attention to what?” The Runner cries in frustration.

  “Everything.”

  The boy turns and sprints back towards civilization.

  + + +

  “He held you at gun-point?” Mortimer the Elite Solver paces the room. “Runner, if you don’t want to do this anymore, you don’t have to. I won’t have you risking your life—”
/>
  “You knew from the beginning there was a possibility I could die.”

  The Runner’s heart races in his chest as he realizes he interrupted his master. He waits for a scolding that never comes.

  “Yes, but from weather and… not from the Unnamed themselves.”

  “They shot that girl on camera last year, Master,” the Runner says. “They would have no problem killing me if they could kill one of their own that easily.”

  The old Elite shakes his head and sits in the seat in the center of the room. The basement has only gotten messier since twenty-four hours ago when the Runner had been inside of it.

  “I’m going to find these people. There doesn’t have to be any more killing. I will find them, and I will bring them down.”

  The Elite Solver sighs and looks at the Runner with sad, glossy eyes. He had always considered the Runner as one of his own. He never married and never had children. He was always too busy for anyone to be in his life. But now that he’s old and frail and doesn’t know when his last day will come, he’s grown a soft spot for the Runner. He’s the only family he knows.

  Mortimer the Elite Solver stands slowly and forces himself to look at in the Runner’s eyes. He places a hand on the boy’s shoulder, not believing it’s been thirteen years since the day he chose him from a lineup.

  “Just keep me updated, Runner,” the old man says softly, and makes his way up the stairs.

  The Runner follows him and heads back into the World.

  Twenty-six more days, the Runner thinks to himself, reminding him he has to work quickly with the challenges and that he can’t fail. The World, the people inside of it are counting on him, whether they know it or not.

  He wonders if the people of the Planet and the Base are doing the same thing. They are their own governments, but they run the exact same way as the World does. Could there be other people who are doing exactly what he is doing here? Are they trying to take down the Unnamed that are infiltrating the system and killing people?

  The Runner jogs alongside the impossibly tall walls of the World, wondering what lays beyond the cement and metal and beyond the three little civilizations. Is there anything else?

  He looks around as he runs. There are people wandering around outside and chatting about the Competitions. There are other people working on projects or on buildings that need to be repaired or painted.

  The Runner watches as a kid walks by, purposely dropping a crumpled-up paper on the ground. He’s not too far from the Runner, but he doesn’t notice him.

  Could he be one of the Unnamed? The Runner thinks as he slows to a stop.

  He watches as the boy disappears from sight. He wears the emblem of a solver, a quill feather and ink that had once been used for writing inside of a tan circle.

  The Runner walks over, looking around to make sure no one is watching, and picks up the paper. He uncrumples it.

  The Elites will fall.

  The Runners heart starts to pound harder as he reads the words. He crumples the paper back up and tucks it into his jacket pocket, feeling as if he carries the weight of the world.

  The Elites will fall… He tells himself, feeling as if it is a warning.

  Maybe he has to work quicker than anyone thought he’d have to.

  It’s time to find the Unnamed.

  9: Counting Down

  The number twenty-five is on the Runner’s mind as his eyes open before they’re supposed to. Everyone is still asleep, but his mind is on overdrive. The events of the past few days, of the past year run through his head like he had been running for his life yesterday.

  He slips down the top bunk and gets dressed, throwing his just-cleaned-yesterday jacket on and his shoes that are starting to smell.

  The day is just beginning, the sun not even over the horizon yet as he takes off into the darkness that is starting to ebb away.

  So many emotions play in his heart as he laps the World once, twice… Why him? Why does he have to be the one to take the Unnamed rebellion/revolution group? He saw what happened to Rachel last year, and there’s no telling where Stark disappeared to. If they can do that to their own people, who knows what they are able to do to the people they’re against? The people like the Runner?

  Today’s training is rough on the Runner. His mind isn’t focused on what is going on outside of him, let alone what he is doing. Thoughts lead him astray and his pacing slows every so often. Mortimer the Elite Solver has to scold him a few times to snap the boy out of it, which he never had to do before.

  The Runner doesn’t see the boy all day, even as he runs errands and messages for the Elite Solver, which take him literally everywhere inside of the World.

  He climbs in his bed, both mentally and physically exhausted. The obsession over what he needs to do next before the Competitions in twenty-five days has strained him.

  He has no trouble falling asleep.

  The next morning, he wakes up at the right time and gets to exercise with the rest of the Runners in his building. He still runs ahead and laps everyone, but not as much as before all of the things with the Unnamed revolution happened. He pushes himself harder and harder as he sprints, making himself even more tired than he should be after a warm-up.

  Mortimer gives him several messages to deliver, and he runs across the hot, cracked pavement and through the still, dry air. His jacket clings to him as if he’d been drenched with water.

  Twenty-four, he thinks to himself as he makes his last stop.

  The Runner has trouble sleeping after his head hits the pillow. Soon he is dreaming. It’s not a pleasant dream, no. He relives the death of Harmony, of Rachel, except that he’s standing before them, like how the boy had been standing when he made the Runner run on the track. The only difference is, is that in the dream, the Runner was the one that pulled the trigger.

  He wakes up in cold sweat, well before daybreak and goes to sit on the stool by the window Harmony had been at the night he first saw her.

  The night sky is like a dark blue blanket and the stars remind the Runner of little spots of light. The way the sparkle and twinkle remind him of the camera flashes at the Competitions.

  He stays like that until dawn, the sun breaking him from his thoughts.

  Twenty-three.

  The Runner hears other Runners start to wake up and shuffle around. He goes into the small kitchen that branches off of the big bedroom for the Runners and heats up some extra eggs that had been left over from yesterday.

  The taste of the eggs makes him cringe as he swallows, but he knows he has to eat. If he doesn’t he can’t build muscle properly and he will pass out in the middle of his training.

  After warm-ups, the Runner heads over to his Master’s house. Mortimer has only three messages for him to take, one to the Elite Builder, one to the Elite Chef, and the other to the Elite Leader. The trips to the first two go smoothly, and he’s in and out quicker than he’s ever been. It’s the path to the Elite Leader that became problematic.

  He runs into the boy.

  He’s leaning up against the wall of the Elite Leader’s mansion, candy on a stick hanging out of his mouth as he watches the Runner slow to a stop. The message inside of his jacket suddenly feels heavy, and he doesn’t want the boy to know he has it. Who knows what the paper could hold?

  The boy bites his candy and drops the paper stick on the ground, not bothering to throw it in the trashcan about five feet away. He walks towards the Runner, looking back and forth at his surroundings as if he’s afraid someone will see him.

  “You ready for test number two?” He smiles.

  The Runner looks around as well, suddenly paranoid, and nods. “What is it?”

  “Paying attention,” the boy chuckles and starts to walk away.

  “To what?” The Runner calls, his feet planted on the ground. “What do I have to pay attention to?”

  The boy turns around but keeps walking in the same direction. “Follow me and I?
??ll show you.”

  The Runner hesitates as the envelope starts to burn in his pocket. What if he didn’t deliver it? Would they understand this? Would they let him off the hook this one time?

  He takes one more glance at the mansion before trotting off after the boy, hoping nothing will happen to him later.

  They run all the way back to the track, and the Runner slows down as they arrive. Dozens of people line the inside and the outside of the ring, shouting and clapping. He recognizes a handful of them, but the rest are all wearing different colored jackets with different emblems on the back. There aren’t’ just runners here. It’s every single one of the Categories.

  “What’s going on?” The Runner asks over the chaos to the boy.

  “Today is the day of the week when most of us get off from our training and whatnot early, and we all come here.”

  “You know all of these people?” The Runner is in shock as the boy nods his head. Who has time between training and errands being run to make friends? To know people?

  “This is your second challenge,” the boy says as they reach the grass in the center of the ring. “Paying attention. I want to know three things about each person that runs down the straightaway. Tell me their weakness, their strength, and how to beat them.”

  The Runner nods and makes his way to the front of the crowd, the boy following close behind. A boy walks up to the number one on the track and lunges, ready to run. The emblem on his back is red. He’s a Leader, not a Runner.

  “He’s not a Runner,” The Runner tells the boy. “He doesn’t know how to run properly.”

  The boy takes off and starts swinging his arms to help with momentum. The Runner watches as he breathes in his nose and out his mouth.

  “He has good breath control though,” the Runner says as the Leader sprints across the line at the end of the straightaway.

  “How can you defeat him?” The boy asks, crossing his arms.

  “Just run faster than he can,” the Runner smirks.

  The boy nods and looks at the next person that’s running.

  Three more people go, and the Runner answers all three of the boy’s questions accurately. At least he seems satisfied with the answers, anyway.

  And then a familiar face steps onto the track.

  Stark.

  The Runner catches his breath as he lays eyes on the boy’s face. He had thought he was gone. He thought that Stark had ended up as Rachel had.

  “What’s he doing here?” The Runner asks in awe.

  “What’s his flaw?” The boy asks, making the Runner tear his eyes away.

  “He… he gets distracted easily.”

  “Not when the distance is short,” the boy corrects. “Watch.”

  Stark takes off, and in a moment it seems, he’s across the finish line. The Runner can barely make his mind work as the cheer swell around him.

  “There’s nothing wrong with him,” the Runner says, gaping. “He’s the perfect Runner.”

  “No such thing,” the boy snorts. “He has a flaw, just like everyone. His strengths are breathing techniques, pacing, and he does whatever else right. His flaw though… I know you know what it is.”

  “Um…” The Runner tries to save face. He needs to get this information from the boy. Without it, he could possibly die at the next Competition, if they’re going to do what he thinks they’re going to do…

  He thinks back to the Competition the previous year. Stark pulled ahead for first in the first round, and then hesitated in the second one.

  “He hesitated…” the Runner mumbles.

  “Bingo,” the boy says. “That’s why he threw the entire Competition last year.”

  The Runner watches as Stark high-fives someone and pulls his black hoodie over his head. It almost seems too big, the hood casting a shadow on his face so that he’s almost unrecognizable.

  “How do you beat him?” The boy asks, looking down at his watch and pressing a button. Had he been timing Stark?

  “Don’t hesitate,” the Runner says simply.

  “Good. Now go do it.”

  “Wha—”

  The boy pushes the Runner out onto the track and the crowd erupts in applause and cheers. He hesitates before walking to the number one painted onto the track. It’s only a straightaway. He knows he’s best at distance, but the straightaway should be a piece of cake. After all, he has been running his entire life.

  He crouches down low and takes a breath.

  “Whenever you’re ready, kid,” he hears a girl say. She’s holding a stopwatch. “You’re the last one to run. Try to beat Stark’s time.”

  So she knows him too? He wonders.

  He closes his eyes and clears his mind. When he opens them back up, he looks down the track at the horizontal line crossing every lane. The noise dies down around him as he focuses. This could be it. This could be his chance of learning the secrets of the Unnamed.

  He takes one more breath and pushes off.

  In a moment that seems faster than a blink, his run is over and he stops, the people around the track’s voices increasing once again as he slips out of his zone. He turns to look at the boy, who presses a button on his watch and looks up at him.

  He walks back over to the boy as he receives a handful of pats on the back and the boy nods.

  “Congratulations. You passed the second test,” he says, his face serious. “You beat him.”

  With that, the leaves the Runner in the group of awed faces that overheard the conversation.

  He beat Stark.

  Does that mean he can beat the Elite Runner?

  10: The Unnamed

  That night, the Runner’s awoken by someone lightly shaking his shoulder. He jumps up to come face to face with the boy in the darkness. The boy puts a finger to his mouth to make sure the Runner stays quiet. He waves the Runner down to the ground and whispers quietly to follow him.

  The Runner slips on his jacket and his socks and shoes. He trots after the boy as he heads upstairs. He follows him to the front door of the Runner’s building, and out into the hot night. They make their way around back and the boy stops, glancing to his right.

  “Straight that way, past the Leader’s Building and the Builder’s Building, there’s a clear shot to exit the World,” the boy says, pointing with his left hand.

  “We’re not going to try to leave, are we?” The Runner asks, trying to keep his voice low.

  “That’s exactly what we’re doing, Runner,” the boy smirks. “Test number three. Let’s see how well you can lie.”

  “Wait,” the Runner grabs the boys’ arm as he starts to walk away. “That could result in death.”

  “So could not doing what I tell you to,” the boy snaps.

  The Runner lets go, his eyes going wide as he realizes who this boy is.

  “You’re the one who killed Harmony,” he whispers, taking a step back. “It was you, wasn’t it?”

  The boy shakes his head and sighs as he looks back at the Runner. “I did what I had to do. It was best for the team. She failed.”

  “So did Stark. You didn’t shoot him.”

  “That’s because he’s one of the leaders of—” The boy groans in frustration and waves it off as he starts to walk away toward the exit.

  “Leaders?” The Runner asks, following after him. Anger is boiling inside of him as he stares at the guy that killed Harmony. Did he kill Rachel too?

  The Runner clenches his fists, fighting hard to control himself. The last thing he needs is to lose it and blow everything he’s putting the Elites through, not to mention himself.

  “You know what, Runner?” The boy says, almost as frustrated as the Runner is. “If you want to know these things so bad, why don’t you just do what I tell you instead of protesting? Huh?”

  The Runner wants to say something else, but he can’t. He’ll ruin everything. So instead, he nods and tries to breathe as he lets the boy lead him to the wall. It sta
nds so tall that it makes the Runner feel like a tiny ant.

  A pair of guards stand on either side of the door, emblems of the Protectors placed on their sleeves and on the back of their jacket. It’s a dark green circle with a tan shield in the center of it. Their eyes follow the two Runners as they approach, the boy seeming more confident than the Runner.

  “We need to leave the World,” the boy says, nodding as if he’s waiting for the guards to open up the doors.

  “What for?” The Protector on the right barks. The Runner can tell that he’s only a title. He’s too young to be one of the Named.

  The boy turns to the Runner. He smiles crookedly at him, waiting for the Runner to say something smart, something that will trick the guards into thinking they really do have something to attend to.

  He shoves his hands in his jacket pockets, and something crinkles. The letter. The Runner never took the Elite Leader the message from Mortimer the Solver.

  “I—I have a message,” the Runner stutters. “It’s for… the Base. From my Master.”

  “Let me see that,” the guard on the left chimes in. The Runner notes that he could definitely be one of the Named. He seems old enough to be.

  “Uh—I can’t. You see, my master’s an Elite—”

  “So is everybody’s, kid,” the older Protector slurs irritably as he reaches for the letter in the Runner’s hand.

  “No—I’m taking it to the Elite Leader at the Base,” he says, and swallows nervously. “No one else can touch it. See, I have proof that I am who I say I am,” the Runner turns so that the guards can see the red wing on his right sleeve. “You know what this means. It means that I run for the Elite Leader too. And you know not many people do that.”

  The boy’s eyebrows perk up as he turns back around to face the guards. The older one stares at the red wing, trying to figure out what exactly is going on. Finally, he nods.

  “Alright. But if you’re up to no good, you guys are going to be the ones getting shot.”

  The sentence sends chills down the Runner’s back as the guards turn around to pull the levers that sit behind them. They are old and rusty with a red plastic grip on the end of it. When they reach up to pull the sticks of metal down, it takes a lot of effort, and the Runner can see why they’re so hesitant to open it.

  The doors open with a loud screeching noise, splitting the entire wall into two. The halves slide into the cement beside it, which the Runner guesses is hollow in order for them to fit in, and they disappear. As soon as the last inch is hidden, there is a loud bang, signaling that the walls have stopped moving.

  The Protectors turn back around, and the younger one wiping his forehead, which is already covered in sweat. The levers are down and the gates are open.

  The Runner has been outside of the World once. He actually did take a message to the Base, but he didn’t see any other civilization that would spark curiosity in him. It was also so long ago… he barely even remembers what it was like outside of the wall.

  But he sees it now. The moon shines through the open gate as if it were mocking the sun, calling to the Runner to leave the world behind and explore all that its pale light touches. The dry ground spreads for as far as the Runner can see, and the way the moonlight shines off of it makes him stop and stare. It’s like something out of a dream.

  “Have a safe trip,” the man breathes and swings his arms to tell them they can leave now.

  The boy salutes the man, almost sarcastically and starts to run through the opening. The Runner nods to the guards and follows close behind the boy. The gate starts to close and the Runner turns to watch over his shoulder, still pumping his legs and his arms. They seem to close quicker than when they opened, and make a louder bang as they collide, shaking the walls of the World. Dust and dirt fall from the top of the door and the Runner turns back around just as the boy takes a sharp left turn.

  He’s running fast, but not so fast as to where the Runner can’t keep up. The air is dry and still hot, even though it’s in the middle of the night. Dust flies up into their faces as a warm wind flies over the land and presses against their bodies.

  Suddenly, the boy stops. The Runner follows suit.

  They’re out in the middle of nowhere, the World out of sight and neither the Base nor the Planet protrudes over the curve of the land as the Runner looks around. They’re completely alone and everything is silent. If anything would happen to the Runner, no one would know, unless another Runner comes across him, but deliveries to and from the cities is rare.

  “Congratulations, Runner,” the boy says, smirking. “You passed the third test.”

  The boy holds out his hand for the Runner to shake it, so he does. The Runner looks around suspiciously for anyone with a weapon or a gun, or for anyone period.

  “Call me Three,” the boy says.

  “Why three?” The Runner asks, thinking the name is ironic because it’s the same amount of tests he had to take to be able to follow him out into the middle of nowhere in a drought.

  “Because I’m third in command,” he says, moving dirt with his foot. It makes a loud scratching noise as he does. “Welcome to the Unnamed territory.”

  “This?” The Runner asks, a little disappointed. He imagined more… life. More people.

  Three laughs and shakes his head, taking two steps back. He leans down and brushes something off, a plank of wood—a door. It’s a door made of boards of wood laid side-by-side.

  He sticks his fingers in one of the crevices and pulls up, the door responding automatically. Three lets it fall to the other side at the Runner’s feet, dirt and dust rising up from the ground. The Runner looks into the opening and sees nothing but darkness.

  “What’s down there?” He asks as Three stands up.

  “Paradise,” Three says and walks over to the Runner. “Or at least the kind of paradise I’d want to live in if I were you. Newbies first.”

  The Runner looks at Three, who eagerly awaits for the Runner to approach the hole in the ground.

  He takes a few steps to where he stands just on the edge. The Runner can still see nothing as he peers down at it.

  Three shoves him and he tumbles into the darkness.

  There’s a bizarre second of free-fall before the ground meets him, roughly smacking into his back and forcing the air from his lungs. Three lands upright beside him after the door above them slams shut. The Runner looks over at him and sees he’s holding a thick rope once his eyes adjust. Three smiles at him and shrugs, and then walks over to the right and ties the rope to something heavy.

  The Runner is in a small room with tunnels to his left and his right, and another one rests in front of him. All three of them are dark, and a dim, flickering light illuminates the back wall as it turns another corner.

  “That tunnel,” Three starts to explain, pointing to the tunnel to their left as the Runner stands up. “Goes to the World.”

  “Where does it come out?” The Runner asks.

  “At the Runner’s building and the Builder’s building.”

  “Why didn’t we just come here from there instead of going through the gates?”

  “Because then I wouldn’t have been able to see if you could pull off the lie,” Three says simply. “Okay, and the one to your right goes to the Base, and the one in front goes to the Planet.”

  “Why do you need these tunnels?” The Runner asks.

  “Easy transportation. We only meet down here at night and we have to be back by morning so they don’t know we’re missing. They already have enough suspicion that we’re inside of the cities.”

  “Well, they have good reasons too, considering what happened last year at the Competitions.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s what happens. We needed to kick it up a notch and Rachel gave us her consent that if she received any less than first place to shoot her.”

  “Why would she do that?”

  “To show the Elites what they’re doing to us.” r />
  “They aren’t killing people!” The Runner bursts, his voice echoing down the hallways.

  “It’s pretty much what they’re doing, Runner. Do you know what happens to the Unnamed after they’re proclaimed as Unnamed?” Three asks. “They kick them out of the city and leave them to this world out here. They leave them to fend for themselves. They leave them to die.”

  The Runner crosses his arms in stubbornness and leans backwards, waiting for Three to say more. He doesn’t.

  Three turns around and presses a spot on the wall. A square of it slides backwards, reminding the Runner of a button, and the wall opposite of the alleyway that leads to the Planet slides up into the wall above it. Another path appears, but is lit with bright lights that hang from the ceiling. The lights hurt the Runner’s eyes as its waves reach his pupils.

  He follows behind Three as he marches down the hallway. These walls are made of dirt and the ceiling and floor are made of light gray concrete. The walls absorb the sounds of their footsteps as they make their way past them. Every so often, the Runner sees a pipe poking through the dirt and then disappearing back into it.

  “How did all of this get here?” The Runner asks.

  “Someone built it,” Three snaps. “It’s been here for a long time. There’s a name etched into a wall, but the name could be anyone’s, not just the person that built this.”

  The Runner nods and looks around. Sleep is starting to call to him, but he can’t go to sleep. Not yet. Not until the Unnamed secrets are exposed. He has so much to tell Mortimer the Elite Solver and the Elite Leader about what he’s learned so far, but he has to know more. They can’t stop the Unnamed with the little amount of information he knows as long as the information he doesn’t know outweighs it.

  “Here we are, Runner,” Three sighs as they reach a brown blanket being used as a door. It’s torn and tattered and has some patches on it, and it’s hung by a single string strung across the small opening behind it. “Welcome to your new home.”

  Three pulls aside the blanket and the Runner looks out onto a whole new world.

  There are houses and shops, and people walking around as if they hadn’t been proclaimed as and Unnamed. He sees people trading things for food and children—children—running around on the cement ground. The ceiling stands high above the boys, high above the small underground city. Big lights hang from it, lighting up the entire area. He can see the edge of some fields as he peers around the left side of the doorway.

  “How big is this place?” The Runner gapes.

  “Oh about a mile or two. Or more. I don’t know and I don’t really care.” Three steps out into the new world. The scent of wet dirt and baked goods fill the Runner’s nostrils as he walks farther into the city. “Follow me.”

  The Runner obeys, overwhelmed with the sheer shock of the reality he’s been thrown into. He looks around for emblems, and finds none.

  None until they reach the other side of the underground city.

  Clusters of emblems on people backs stick out like a sore thumb here. The people wearing them, who are about the Runner’s age, are huddled over each other in two different circles. Three walks in between both of them with his hands tucked behind his back. His feet make a tapping sound as he walks backwards three steps before planting his feet.

  “Attention!” He barks, and the people with the emblems jump up, startled. They turn to him, not noticing the Runner, who is standing only a few feet from the back of the crowd. “We have a new Runner in the place of Rachel.”

  The kids cheer and the Runner feels a pang of guilt in his stomach. He’s taking Rachel’s spot. If she would have won last year, there would be no worries in who would take her spot… but because she didn’t, the Elites are still the Elites and the Unnamed are still the Unnamed. Nothing has changed, and that’s what the Runner is helping preserve.

  The sea of people seems to split for him to get through as he walks up to Three. They clap and Three nods to silence them.

  “He beat Stark,” Three says, smiling. “I’m hoping he can beat the Elite Runner this year.”

  “Not unless one of us do it first,” a boy says, snickering.

  Three rolls his eyes and shifts his weight. “Who wants to give the new Runner the tour of the place?”

  “I’ll do it,” a familiar voice says.

  The Runner looks in the direction of the voice and sees the girl that had talked to him last year about his running. The one that asked how he ran so fast.

  “Alright then,” Three smiles and waves his hands. “Go back to what you all were doing.”

  “Well now we lost a player,” a boy whines.

  “Ay,” Three says, sounding jokingly offended. “Y’all are playing football right? I’m so in…”

  The Runner turns to look at the girl, who smiles at him.

  “Fancy seeing you down here,” she says.

  “Same to you,” the Runner shrugs, not knowing what to say.

  She laughs at his awkwardness.

  “So you’re supposed to give me a tour?” He says, blushing a little bit. He’s more or less glad the blood rushing to his face is less noticeable on his skin tone.

  The girl nods, her long straight hair shaking.

  She shows him the market area, where people trade things for other things or for food. That’s in the center of the city. On the outer parts are the houses where families stay. The Runner learns that there aren’t very many due to high fatality out here after the age of forty. There are a lot of illnesses that get passed around, and most of them are deadly, so the Unnamed try to keep as clean as possible.

  The hospital is in the market, and is bigger than most houses because of the ability of the viruses to spread quickly.

  She shows him the fields, where people that had grown up as Farmers work. That’s where the city gets most of their food. The rest is brought back with the Unnamed Chefs through their passageways under the World, the Base, and the Planet.

  “That’s pretty much it,” the girl says, glancing at the watch on her wrist. “You should get back. We all should, in fact. It’s almost sunrise.”

  “I don’t know how,” the Runner says.

  “Don’t worry, we’ll all leave together. We usually do that.” She starts to walk to the back of the city again, where they had started the tour. “You’ll just have to keep up with us.”

  The Runner nods as she starts to jog. He matches her pace easily and they reach the place where the Unnamed were playing a game of some sort with an oddly shaped ball. It’s not unnatural for the Runner to not know what it is, because it’s not his category, but he feels like he should know it to fit in with these people.

  “Hey, Three, it’s time,” the girl says.

  Three looks at her and nods, catching the ball and holding it underneath his arm. He waves over his team and tells them to grab what they brought because it’s time to go back into their cities.

  When the kids finally get everything, they walk out in a big blob back into the tunnels. They’re completely silent, only the sounds of their feet hitting the ground below them can be heard.

  The Runner watches as the wall goes up and the kids split up into the three tunnels without a word. He follows behind the girl as they go through the left one. No one says a word as the torches on the walls become plentiful and as they start to spread out. They die out eventually, and the Runner almost trips over a set of stairs.

  There’s a small crack of light that starts to exponentially increase as the girl opens up a door. The Runner realizes of the group has disappeared.

  He follows the girl and the pack of people as they step out into a small dark room. Another door opens and the Runner sees the kitchen inside the Runner’s building.

  “Welcome back,” Three slaps the Runner on the shoulder as they step out of the closet and back into the place the Runner knows best.

  Home.

  11: Lights

  “Underground tunnels?”
The Master says in disbelief. “What was down there? And where is it?”

  “There’s a passageway outside of the fencing,” the Runner says hastily, grabbing a large paper and a pencil. He starts to draw the World, a big round circle in the center of the page. Then he draws the gate and the Runner’s building he lives in. “There’s an entrance out here,” he says as he draws a little ‘x’. “It’s a hole in the dirt. And in that room, at first, there are three hallways, all leading to the other cities. And then there’s one that opens up back here,” he draws a solid line. “And that turns this way and, and that way.”

  The pencil makes a soft sound as it glides across the paper where the Runner makes it go. He finally finishes the line and draws the underground city, a big oval.

  “This is where they stay. It’s an underground city, and people of all sorts live down here. It’s amazing, actually.”

  “And dangerous,” the Master sighs as he leans on the table with the Runner. The basement around them has seemed to grow smaller with each visit. “How many people are down there?”

  “I don’t know,” the Runner admits. “A lot, though.”

  “How many would be able to rebel, to fight back?”

  “Most of them. They’d make a heck of an army.” The Runner looks up and then back down at his drawing, picking up the pencil again as Mortimer the Elite Solver sighs heavily. “And there’s another entrance in the Runner’s building. It leads back to the entrance outside the fence.”

  “Do you know how long we… I have to tell the other Elites.”

  “No!” The Runner cries. “Not yet! I need to figure out more before we alert anybody. Please don’t tell anyone.”

  Mortimer the Elite Solver looks at the Runner with wide eyes. Not from shock or with anger, but with confusion that slowly turns into understanding.

  He laughs and shakes his head, looking down at the map. “What do you know?” He says, picking up the paper and bringing it closer to his face. “The Servant teaching the Master. Who would have thought?”

  + + +

  The Runner had missed the morning warm up, so he decides to run around the World once more. He’s lost count of how many times he’s done it the past year, but he knows he’s been doing it a lot lately. The thoughts about the two girls that died have weighed on him tremendously, and he just couldn’t seem to shake it. The difference between then and now is that he has even more questions than before.

  People all around him are running back and forth from house to house, walking from building to building, baking, building, solving, thinking, doing what they need to do, doing what they’re supposed to do.

  The Runner feels a sudden pang of loss as he looks out at them, the steady breathing of his voice drowning out their sounds, their laughter, their voices.

  Twenty-two.

  The Runner picks up speed at the sound of the number that rings inside of his head. He moves his head forward, but not quick enough. He slams into another boy, knocking him to the ground. The Runner falls beside him and is on his feet before anyone can say anything. He reaches out to help the boy up, when his heart skips a beat. He knows this kid.

  The kid that dropped the note.

  The Elites will fall…

  The boy shoves his hand away and helps himself up.

  “Watch where you’re going, dim-wit,” he spits, dusting off his jacket with the Solver’s emblem plastered on the back.

  “Sorry,” the Runner mutters, his brain spinning. “Hey, did you drop that paper a few days ago?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Move out of my way.”

  “The paper—the one that said—” the Runner digs in his pocket, hearing the crumpling of the paper in his jacket pocket. He hadn’t taken it out. He’d forgotten about it. “This one. It says the Elites will—”

  “Shut up!” The boy says, punching the Runner in the gut with more force than the Runner thought he was able to. “What are you, a brainless builder? Come here.”

  The boy starts to walk and the Runner follows behind eagerly. Would he tell him more? Would he answer his questions?

  They make their way in between two buildings, a green Farmer’s building and an orange Announcer’s building. The evening’s sun casts weird shadows on the ground as the boy slinks into it, looking around to make sure no one’s listening.

  When the Runner catches up, the boy turns around with a gun in his hand, pointing it at the Runner’s chest.

  “Whoa—”

  “Who have you told about it? Did you tell them who I was? What we’re doing?” The young Solver growls.

  “No.” The Runner says, more calmly than he expected as the lie slides through his teeth. “No, I haven’t. If you don’t mind, please put that thing away. I’ve already had to be at gun-point with Three.”

  “You met Three?” The boy asks, slowly bringing the gun down.

  The Runner feels relief run through him, even though the lie he just told sticks in his mind. He had told someone, but he can’t tell the boy that. Anyone that. He has to keep it secret from everyone.

  The Runner nods in response. “What did you mean by ‘the Elites will fall’?”

  The boy tucks the gun into his pants and eyes the Runner suspiciously. “How much do you know?”

  “Three took me down to the underground city.”

  The boy nods and runs his fingers through his stiff, black hair. “Alright, Runner.” He holds his hand out for the Runner to shake. “I’m Two.”

  “Does everyone have a number?” The Runner asks, taking his hand and shaking it.

  Two laughs and shakes his head, his brown eyes lighting up. “No, just the leaders or commanders or whatever. There’s a bunch of us. One for every Category. ‘Course, the Leader’s is number One. They’re the ones that battle the Elite Leader, who runs the cities, so they’re the most important. Solvers are the next important, and I’m the leader of that team.”

  “Team?” The Runner asks, remembering Three saying about a team by accident once. “What team? Why do you have teams? Is it for the Competitions?”

  “So full of questions,” Two says, smirking. “That’s a little dangerous in a place like this, ya’ know.”

  The Runner sighs quietly, realizing he just might not get what he thought he would out of this guy. He nods and hardens his face, just as he always has.

  The young Solver laughs and slaps the Runner on the shoulder. “I’m just messin’ with ya’, Newbie. I’ll answer your questions. After all, if you made it to the Unnamed territory and down into the Underground tunnels, mean’s you’re ready to know about the teams.”

  The Runner nods and the boy looks around.

  “We have to go into the tunnels though to talk about it safely. Never know who’s listenin’.”

  The Runner nods.

  “What you doin’ right now? Will you get a penalty for leavin’ your duties here?” The Solver asks quietly.

  The Runner shakes his head and Two nods in response. “Alright. Well. Looks like we’re goin’ down the rabbit hole in the Builder’s buildin’,” he smiles and starts to walk toward the ever-growing-taller building with the Runner in tow.

  The Builders are a strange bunch, always fixing and improving something. They almost don’t ever seem to rest, so the Runner thinks, and he wonders what they do for their competitions. Do they build houses in a certain amount of time, or do they have to repair something by a certain date?

  The Runner knows that some of the Categories have to work for many days before the Competitions on some of their projects, like the Farmers who work all year round to produce the best crops. Everything else about the other Categories’ Competitions is a blur to the Runner. Running has been his life, and Running will be how he goes out, and he knows almost nothing aside from that.

  They get strange stares as they walk up to the front of the building. The Runner pulls his hood up, as if it would make him invisible as they walk inside without a k
nock.

  Everyone seems to look up from their jobs, whether it be hammering nails or standing just below the ceiling on a ladder. One of them nods to Three and turns back into the room. He shouts, “Don’t stop! Only Twenty-two days until the next Competition!”

  Two leads the Runner down into the basement, which is set up just like the Runner’s sleeping area. Three story beds, gray cement walls… There’s even a little kitchen branching off of the bedroom like the one in his building.

  There’s a small closet at the end of the kitchen, unlike the Runner’s building, and Two opens it, revealing a small door that could be mistaken for just another set of floor panels if you didn’t know what you were looking at.

  He opens it up and light falls upon a set of stairs leading down into the hallways. Two lifts a finger to his lips, telling the Runner to be silent as they descend.

  The Runner tries to memorize the paths back to the little room he’d fallen in the first time he’d been in here to write down on the map he made for Mortimer the Elite Solver. He finds it fascinating, really, but he knows the potential dangers that lurk within each person that joins the Unnamed.

  They reach the room and Two presses the wall in the same spot Three had been his first visit there, one of the bricks sliding back to make a small hole almost.

  The door opens up, but all of the lights are off.

  “Shh,” Two hisses to the Runner, and the Runner gets the sudden feeling something isn’t right by the way things are going.

  Two makes his way back to the Runner, who is standing still in confusion, not completely afraid yet.

  “Someone has been down here, and they turned off the lights. This never happens. The lights only go out if something isn’t right.”

  The Runner nods, although Two can’t really see him. He follows him down into the dark hallway, whose lights suddenly flicker on and the sound of low humming comes from the bulbs. Two stops suddenly, the Runner almost crashing into him.

  Then the Runner hears the clicking of shoes that don’t seem to belong to the world down here. And by the look on Two’s face, they don’t.

  12: One

  “We were informed about this place earlier by one of our sources. Came down to check it out, is all. You found nothing?” A voice says, the Runner recognizing it as the Elite Leader.

  The Runner feels all of the blood drain from his face. He’s the source.

  “Come on,” Two whispers and takes off down the tunnel to the World. He stops at the entrance and touches the black bricks that make up the walls. Three of the bricks scoot back noisily, and three walls slide down from the ceiling, cutting the Runner and Two off from the black square room as they squat in the tunnel that leads back to the World.

  “We need to find One. Now.”

  “Who’s One?” The Runner whispers back. Two looks at him in the dim lighting of the hallway and then rushes past him without responding.

  The Runner glances back once more at the door that cut them off from the voices before running after Two. Had Mortimer the Elite Solver told the Leader about the map the Runner had drawn? He had asked him not to tell anyone, not until…

  The Runner groans as he rounds a corner with Two. Eventually, they reach the Runner’s Building and they burst through the door located in the basement where everyone sleeps. It’s hidden behind the bed closest to the back wall and the color helps it blend in with the rest of the gray walls, making it even harder to notice.

  He follows Two up into the main part of the building where the Runners do their warm-ups and their self-training, and out into the society. Everyone seems so busy, what with everyone rushing back and forth for training and to fulfill their Master’s wishes. The Runner wonders if the Elite Solver wishes he were there to run his errands for him.

  They take a hard left and run towards the Leader’s Building. Two opens the door hastily and badges in. There are only three people in the room, despite the twenty round tables scatted inside its four walls.

  There are two boys and one girl sitting down at the table halfway across the room, and they all look up from their paper pads and documents.

  “One,” Two says abruptly, breathing hard. “We have a problem.”

  The three of them look back and forth at each other, as if pondering if one should respond. The girl clears her throat and stands up, flattening out her red pencil skirt and matching blazer with the Leader’s emblem on the back of it, a black circle with a red silhouette of a man on it.

  “Alright,” she says calmly, but her eyes reflect something like worry as she walks toward the boys standing in the doorway. “Follow me.”

  One walks down the stairs to their basement, the same arrangement as the Runner and Builder’s Building. She sits on the bottom bunk of the bed farthest away from the stairs and laces her fingers together. The boy’s sit in the one opposite of her, Two’s face hard and like a statue.

  “Someone is down there,” he says quietly, and One looks down and swallows spit in her mouth as she nods. “I don’t know who, but someone is. Someone ratted us out, and now we gotta hide.”

  “No,” One says, her eyes sharp and focused on Two like an eagle that has spotted its prey. “No. No more hiding. This Competition, we’re going all out.”

  “But they know where we are now—”

  “Did you close off the tunnels?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Then good. Where is everyone else?” She asks, her back straight and her blue eyes focused on Two’s.

  “I don’t know,” Two says. “I think they might have used the back escape route. That, or they took off down the tunnels, which is highly unlikely because they know better than to leave them open.”

  One nods, keeping her eyes on Two still. “We’ll hide out in the tunnels, and we’ll stay quiet. Make sure, if you find them, that they know that. I need silence down there. And on the surface, we’ll have to settle down and stop recruiting people for the time being. Give it ten days. After that, we can start it up again, but we’ll only have about five more to actually recruit before the cut off. After that, we’ll need to condition the new Unnamed troops and get them ready for the Competitions.”

  Two nods. “Yes ma’am.”

  One brushes her long black hair over her shoulder and finally looks at the Runner. “Who is this?”

  “A new recruit. Three took him down there and told him stuff, and I was gonna take him down and help answer some questions and start conditioning him, and that’s when we heard the voices in the tunnel.”

  One nods and purses her lips. Her bangs hang just below her eyebrows, making her blue eyes pop. “What tests did he give you?”

  Two looks at the Runner expectantly.

  “He made me run while he held a gun up to me and shot at me,” the Runner nearly laughs at how ridiculous it was. “And then he had me race Stark—”

  “Did you win?” One asks with a slight sparkle of excitement in her eyes that doesn’t trickle down into her sharp voice.

  The Runner nods.

  “Good. You’re one of the only ones. Actually, the only one…” she seems to ponder this for a moment, biting her cheek before sitting straight again and looking the Runner head-on. “Anything else?”

  “He made me lie to the guards to get to the Unnamed territory.”

  “And I take it you managed to do that successfully, considering he took you down there,” she says, and the Runner nods again. “Alright then. Two, head out and find the rest of the Unnamed and tell them what I told you today. Runner, go back to your Master and train. I will send Three to find you if there is any news, or if I need you to train a certain way. I promise that they will help you with the Competitions. Just… don’t throw the stupid race like Stark did. I told him it wasn’t a good idea, that it would just raise suspicion… and now look at us. People infiltrating our home…” she sighs and places her hands back over her crossed legs. “You two are dismissed. I will see you in ten days’ time.”


  With that, she stands and waits for the boys to head up the stairs.

  13: Training

  “Did you send someone down there?” The Runner asks as he walks up to Mortimer the Elite Solver at his desk. The old man looks up at him with tired, watery eyes.

  “No, Runner.” He breathes softly and places his head in his hand. “No I didn’t.”

  “Then why was the Elite Leader down there? Why was he in the tunnels?”

  The old man runs his hand over his long white beard and sighs heavily again. His face is riddled with trouble, making him look his age, making him look frail. “I told him about it.”

  “What? You said you wouldn’t—”

  “I know, Runner. But I had to.” Mortimer runs his hand over his face, his eyes looking somewhere far into the distance past the Runner, almost into a different world. “Someone else died.”

  “From what?”

  “Gunshot. A boy with a gun walked through town and caused a ruckus with another boy… he shot him without a second glance, Runner. The boy died right there… a Gardener. The boy with the gun disappeared before anyone could catch a glimpse of him.

  “Runner, I had to tell someone. We can’t keep living like this. I’m sorry. I didn’t know that he would go down into the tunnels.”

  The Runner stares at the man, not knowing what to say, not knowing if he should say anything. They’re out in the open and anyone would be able to hear them if they’re shouting. He could get in trouble for even approaching the Elite without having a plausible cause related to his job.

  He shakes his head and takes a step back, feeling the knot in his stomach grow.

  “Runner, I’m sorry.”

  The Runner closes his eyes and bounces on the balls of his feet, thinking. He tells himself it’s alright, that he’ll find the guy and he’ll tell him what happened.

  But he can’t do that without blowing his cover.

  “Master,” the Runner says finally, looking up at the white-haired man sitting at the desk in front of him. “They’re laying low for the next ten days. They said that gives five days for training for the competitions, and I’m going to be one of the ones inside it for them, if I play my cards right.

  “I need to train hard. Harder than I’ve ever trained before. And I need you to help me with it, because I can only do so much.” The Runner shrugs as he sticks his hands in his jacket pocket.

  “You still want my help?” The Elite solver asks, finally looking the Runner in the eye. A glint of hope in the old mans’ eyes takes the Runner by surprise. “After what I’ve done?”

  The Runner nods. “You’re my Master. I couldn’t really say no to that.”

  The Elite Solver chuckles sadly. “Well you could, but the way the system is set up today, you’d be punished for going against my orders. But good job trying to make me feel better.”

  + + +

  The Runner runs. It’s what he had been assigned to do since the day he was given his category. He’s never felt more fatigued, more exhausted, more mentally and physically weary until he feels the ultimate training of Mortimer the Elite Solver.

  Treadmill, stretching, water break, more treadmill, squats, crunches, sit-ups, treadmill, core training, push-ups, more of the treadmill, and a couple more water breaks. He lies on the ground after finishing a set of one hundred sit-ups, just trying to breathe. The sweat on his body is so thick that with every move he makes he feels it dripping off his dark skin and feels as a breeze hits it with every swing of his arm. His muscles cry out for sleep, for relaxation, but he has fifty more push-ups, another mile to run, and dinner to eat.

  “Ready?” Mortimer smiles as he leans over the boy.

  The Runner shakes his head no and the Elite laughs, holding a hand out to help him up.

  “It’s okay, Runner, it’ll get better.” Mortimer slaps him on the back, sweat clinging to every part of the Runner’s jacket as the sleeves slip down his arms.

  “Can I take off the jacket?” The Runner asks, tugging at the zipper as he waits for an answer. The heat inside of the material is making him uncomfortable and making him even more tired than he should be.

  Mortimer the Elite Solver looks at him for a moment, pausing before answering. “Yes. But don’t tell anyone I let you.”

  The Runner smiles a bit through the soreness and the pain his body feels, and pulls down the zipper. A cool wave of air washes over him as he peels it from his body and sets it over the treadmill. His bare chest feels cold, suddenly, never like this unless it’s to take a shower, which he desperately needs.

  “Okay,” the Runner breathes, taking a swig of his water. “I’m ready to keep going.”

  His Master nods and points to the floor. “Fifty.”

  With each drop, the Runner’s arms scream out, but he knows it will help him. To run, your body has to be fit, doesn’t matter where. You need every muscle to run, every ounce of power you can muster up in the ripped body of a Runner.

  And that’s why the Runner Category is the greatest, and the most respected, next to the Leader and Solver.

  The Runner stands up, his legs wobbling slightly as he tries to control his breathing. He steps onto the treadmill and turns it on.

  Presses the button that makes it faster.

  Faster.

  “That’s good, Runner,” the Elite says as he walks up to the side of the machine. “You can stop the pacing here.”

  The Runner shakes his head and presses down harder on the button. “I need to push myself. I need to train harder than anyone else.”

  “If you push yourself any more, you’ll break,” the Elite Solver says as he presses the down button. It does nothing as the Runner picks up speed. “Runner, slow down.”

  “I can’t.”

  “You need to, Runner.”

  Faster.

  “I have to do this.”

  “Runner!” Mortimer shouts over the boy’s protests, and the Runner stops pressing the button.

  He falls.

  The treadmill meets his body, his face, and he hits the floor, landing on his ankle. He cries out and rolls onto his back. The sound of the treadmill stopping makes the room falls quiet as the Runner sits up to inspect his ankle.

  “Are you alright?” Mortimer says, rushing over to the boy.

  The Runner nods. “Yeah, yeah.”

  He tries to stand up, and there’s a sharp pain from his ankle.

  “Alright, that’s enough for today,” the Elite Solver says, grabbing the jacket from the treadmill and walking back over to the Runner.

  “No, no I can still—agh,” the Runner gasps, trying to walk.

  Mortimer shakes his head and hands the boy the jacket. “Go get some rest and something to eat, Runner. We’ll train tomorrow, and make sure you ice your ankle and an ice bath.”

  The Runner starts to protest, but the Master holds his hand up, silencing him. “Go, Runner. We’ll train more tomorrow. Get some rest.”

  The Runner tries to run home, but his ankle and muscles scream for him to lay down on the ground, so he ends up limping back to the Runner’s building. He slips into the shower in the bathroom branching off to the side and then into bed. He falls asleep immediately, ready for the next day to begin so he can keep training.