Page 42 of Rogue Games

Nobody knows how fast we need to be moving to complete the rest of the course in the allocated time.

All we can do is push as hard as we can and worry about it at the end.

Ahead of me, I hear a loud groan, and my heart sinks, knowing we’ve met our next challenge. Two wolves stand at the top of a ridge and cover their faces with their hands. Knowing I’m not going to like what I see, it’s a struggle to motivate my tired body to put one foot in front of the other.

“No way. No fucking way am I crossing that. It won’t hold my weight,” one argues. It seems we’ve reached the canyon. A snicker from the wolf on the left suggests the massive wolf at his shoulder might not be wrong.

“I’ve never been so happy to be the runt of the litter.”

With that, the slimmer wolf shimmies down the slope to the canyon’s edge, where two heavy ropes span the huge gap. They swing slowly, to and fro. I doubt Dean is evil enough to send us across if it’s the death trap it appears to be from here, but it’s enough to make anyone’s stomach flip. It’s a long way down.

Wyatt hits the top of the hill just as I start my descent toward the bridge. “Ah shit. I hate heights.” He curses as soon as he spots what awaits him.

The lake glistens off to our right in the distance, it’s possible there’s another way down over there, and an easier way across, but none of us knows the territory. Maybe we get down and there’s no other way to get over but to swim, and no way back up on the far side.

And we don’t have any time to waste.

Swallowing a chuckle, I watch as the brothers in front of us turn and grimace. It looks like we’re not the only ones dreading this. There’s a strange kind of camaraderie that you build when you suffer together. I wouldn’t go as far as to say we’re trauma bonding, but maybe by the end of the games, that’s what it will be.

If this is round one, I dread to think what else is in store for those who get through.

As I tiptoe closer to the edge, my stomach lurches at the massive drop. One of the other wolves nudges me gently with his shoulder. When I look up, his expression is kind, and he extends a hand to me to shake.

“I admire what you’re doing. Don’t listen to Samuel. He’s not alpha material. He won’t be around for long.”

When I look to the far side of the canyon, Samuel is just stepping off the bridge to safety. With a cocky salute to the brothers, and a last hate-filled glare at me, he turns and jogs into the overgrowth beyond.

“I hate that guy,” Wyatt mutters, breathing hard as he comes up behind me, watching Samuel disappear into the distance. “Okay, come on, let’s get this over with.”

We watch with amusement as the two brothers try to cross the bridge together. The rope bounces and sways wildly as they make their way across, and with a silent look, Wyatt and I agree to go one at a time instead.

“You go first,” I say. “And don’t wait for me when you get to the other side.” Wyatt sighs but nods. I know he’s been holding back, wanting to keep me in his sights in case anyone else gives me trouble. “Nobody else is going to give me shit. And if they do, I promise, I won’t engage. I don’t have the energy anymore.”

There’s no point in both of us missing the cut. I’m pushing myself hard as it is, whereas Wyatt is coasting along. He’s taking a calculated risk that he’s doing enough to stay in the top half of the racers. But if he can go faster, and ensure he stays in the competition, he needs to do it.

“Fine.” Wyatt pales as he puts one foot onto the rope but makes the fatal mistake of looking down. “Fuck. Fuuck.” With shaky legs, he starts to make his way across to the far side. This is his worst nightmare, but he keeps putting one foot in front of the other, and my heart swells with pride.

“You’ve got this!” I shout over at him, but all he does is extend the middle finger of his left hand while keeping his white-knuckle grip on the rope.

“You’re nearly there!” I’m pumped he’s made it most of the way across without stopping. His pace is steady. If you didn’t know him, you’d never guess he was terrified.

That is, until he roars, “Fuck off, Jamie. You’re distracting me!” back over his shoulder.

The brothers give us one last wave before turning and racing off ahead. I hope they make it through to the next round. They seem like good people.

I’m laughing, enjoying this moment with my brother amidst the seriousness of what we’re doing here when he finally reaches the other side and falls to his knees on the grass.

“Your turn, sis,” he calls as he climbs to his feet unsteadily and wipes his sweaty brow with the back of his hand.

“Don’t worry. Heights don’t bother me,” I say cockily, gripping the rope with both hands and stepping out onto the swaying bridge. “Go, Wyatt. I don’t want to listen to you moaning if you miss the cut off because you waited for me.”

Reluctantly, Wyatt edges away, walking backward. He watches until I get to the middle and am on the homeward stretch before he nods, throws me a salute, and melts into the forest beyond.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I mutter to myself, abandoning the pretence of not being scared to death as soon as Wyatt’s left. “Fucking Dean Reynolds trying to fucking torture me.”

What kind of maniac would send anyone across this death trap? The man is clearly a sadist.

The wind is picking up, the sunny skies of earlier are now grey and heavy, with full clouds preparing to dump their loads. The chill in the air tells of the coming showers, and I can’t wait to get back to a warm shower and a cosy bed.

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