Page 54 of War Games

Alaugh breaks through my unconsciousness, and I force my eyes open despite the fogginess clouding my mind. My head pounds, and there’s no telling just how long I’ve been out cold. A flash of red cuts through my grogginess, and I try to focus on the room around me, but the splashing sounds make it hard to concentrate.

What the fuck is going on?

I come in and out of consciousness, my body determined to give in to the dizziness, but I’m not having it. Whatever the fuck is going on here, I’m not about to succumb to it. I’m not dying today, nor am I about to die barely halfway through the games. I’m no runner-up, and I’m sure as fuck not the type to get participation awards. I win. I’ve always won, and today isn’t going to be any different.

Focusing on the red blob until it finally begins to take form, I see a woman with blazing red hair, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out this is Gasoline—the woman Eagle warned me about. This is exactly what she did to her, and while Eagle was lucky enough to escape with her life, she was left with deep scars. Despite everything I did to Eagle, it was Gasoline who terrified her, and that speaks volumes.

I watch the older woman for a moment, trying to make sense of everything around me. I’m still in my little suite at the holiday resort, sitting in one of the chairs by the dining table, and as she goes around the small suite, the smell of gasoline assaults my senses.

My brows furrow, and I blink through the fogginess, realizing that she’s dousing the suite and preparing for one hell of a blaze.

Panic soars through my chest, and the reality of my situation sobers me. She’s going to burn me alive, just as she tried to do to Eagle. Only this time, she’s already had a failed attempt, so I can guarantee she learned from her mistakes. She doesn’t intend to fail twice.

I’m fucked.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

I have to get out of here.

As the woman circles the suite, murmuring to herself, I pull against my heavy limbs, quickly realizing just how dire my situation is. I’m not only chained to a chair, but the chair has also been chained to the heavy table, leaving me no hope of escape.

I pull at my bound wrists and ankles, my heart booming loudly in my ears. The headache is intense, and the fogginess threatens to knock me out again, but I do everything in my power to keep myself from failing. My wrists quickly turn bloody from the way I pull at my binds, and after trying for much longer than I should, I realize just how hopeless this is.

I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to die right here in this chair, burned alive. If I’m lucky, the smoke inhalation will kill me first, and if I’m not . . . I guess I’m about to discover how it feels to have your flesh burn right off your body.

“Ahhh, well look who decided to join the party,” Gasoline chimes as she glances up from dousing the couch in gas. “I was worried you were never going to come to, and that just doesn’t seem like any fun. What’s the point of burning someone alive if they’re not even conscious enough to hear their screams?”

Holy fucking shit. This woman is batshit crazy.

She moves on from the living room, leaving a thick trail of gas as she struts through the small kitchen, making sure she doesn’t miss even an inch of the suite. “You know, it was appallingly easy to track you down,” she tells me. “At first, I thought you were going to be a threat. Your name has this whole stigma about it, and I foolishly believed it to be true. Yet here you are, taken down without even the hint of a fight. Kinda disappointing actually.”

I clench my jaw, not willing to give her the satisfaction of seeing my fear, but my lack of response doesn’t seem to bother her. Hell, she doesn’t even look at me as she continues with her little taunts.

“I’ve been tracking you for days, and if it weren’t for that dumbass Boneyard Slayer shooting up that other place, I probably wouldn’t have found you at all, so you have him to thank for your untimely death,” she explains. “Though I have to admit, you let me down.”

I can’t help the scoff that tears out of my mouth. “Oh please. Tell me how exactly I managed to do that.”

“Ahhhh, Princess Barbie finally joins the conversation.” The redhead claps her hands before turning her wicked stare on me, only after dealing with the lethal one of Reaper’s, hers is nothing but child’s play. “I wanted to see how the elite live, steal your tricks of the trade, and gather what information you’d been able to find on the other contenders, but it’s become more than clear that you have nothing, and instead of spending your time doing recon, you’ve been too busy getting your rocks off with Reaper. You’re pathetic, not even a hint of a trace on the other contenders, just some whore bitch, waiting around like a sitting duck, just begging to be picked off. You’re so fucking pathetic, you didn’t even see me coming.”

I roll my eyes and instantly regret it as the subtle movement does nothing but make my headache that much worse. “That’s where you’re wrong,” I tell her. “But it’s not my fault you just have no idea where to look. I know every detail about every last contender. I know where they’re staying, where they go for lunch, and when they took their last shit. I know everything about you, bitch. I know how you killed your whole family, burned them alive, and then went fucking crazy. You’ve spent more time in mental hospitals than out of them.”

Gasoline roars in anger, and it’s clear she doesn’t appreciate being insulted, but honestly, I couldn’t give a shit. It’s not as though sweet-talking her and being her best friend is somehow going to get me out of here.

“Shut your fucking mouth,” she snaps, throwing the gas at me, drenching me from head to toe. She steps right into me, holds the gas can above my head, and begins to pour it over my hair, letting it cover my face in some bullshit attempt at trying to waterboard me. “Say what you want, but it won’t fucking matter when I’m through with you.”

I sputter over the gas pouring down my face, and I’m grateful when the can runs empty. She huffs and throws it aside, but one thing is for sure, I’m not just screwed, I’m completely fucked.

“Don’t mind me,” she says, patting down my pockets and grinning to herself as she finds exactly what she’s looking for. She digs into my pocket and pulls out the stack of eight IDs I’ve been collecting over the past two weeks. “Oh my, you really have been busy. Perhaps I underestimated you after all. Guess that really doesn’t matter now.”

She slides the stack into her back pocket before continuing to pat me down until she finds mine. I’ve kept it separate this whole time. “Ahh, here we go,” she chimes as she holds up the little identification card. “Kienna James. Hmm, I took you as a Jessa or a Katie, something a little streamline for a streamlined bitch like you.”

The sound of my legal name on her tongue is worse than the thought of being burned alive. I have to clench my jaw to not take the bait, despite how it has my stomach clenching in agony.

“You know, this is the one mistake I made with Eagle,” she tells me. “I was going to go back for her ID after she was dead, but the bitch got loose and escaped. Even if she had escaped, she would have been as good as dead without her ID. Just like you are now.”

“You’re a fucking joke,” I tell her. “Your mistake wasn’t just not taking her ID, it was assuming it would still be there after her body burned. What kind of dumbass are you?”

She clenches her jaw. “Call me a dumbass all you want, but you’re the one doused in gasoline and chained to a fucking chair,” she tells me before turning her back and making her way to the door. “See you in hell, bitch.”

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