METAL BONES

Copyright © 2020 by KATHLEEN CONTINE

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, laces, events and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Printed in the United States of America

Cover Design and formatting: J.M. Ivie

ISBN: 978-1-7342316-0-1

First edition: March 2020

10  9  8  7  6  5  4  3  2  1

To Virginia

1

THWAP THWAP THWAP.

Leo Spearman’s hair stood on end at the sound of rain hitting metal. It dripped off the side and pooled in the grass, soaking into his shoes. His drenched, ashy hair stuck to his skin as he stood outside his father’s old spaceship, watching his brother, Gaeth, hug his mother goodbye. Not one friendly face was visible among the crowd of townspeople surrounding them.

The downpour intensified as Gaeth pick up the mud-caked suitcases, but his mom pulled him back into a hug. She immediately withdrew with a yelp and Leo knew she must’ve been poked by a piece of metal sticking out of Gaeth’s arm. Gaeth pulled his sleeve down so no one would notice, but it was too late.

“Get that thing out of here!” someone from the crowd yelled.

Leo tried his best to ignore them. He jogged to his mother and brother, the water soaking through his shoes, and grabbed one of Gaeth’s suitcases.

“Mom, it’s okay.” Gaeth patted her on the back.

“I shouldn’t have agreed to this. We should have found a different way,” she said through tears.

Leo brought the suitcase to the ship where their father waited. He stared at Leo with sad eyes and let out a long sigh.

“You seem alright for someone who won’t see your son again,” Leo said, crossing his arms.

“Don’t make this harder than it is,” his father replied without glancing his way. “I’m glad they agreed to let you take Gaeth. I can’t imagine a skinny nineteen-year-old on a freighter by himself.”

“He’d be terrified. Of course I’m taking him,” Leo said. “If I had my way, he wouldn’t be going at all. I always thought it was a bad idea.”

Was it him, or was the crowd moving in closer? The quicker they got off Earth, the sooner they could get Gaeth away from all these people. Leo’s stomach turned as he thought about how they spat on Gaeth as a child and ran from him as if he were a monster. If it had stopped when they grew older maybe they could have stayed on Earth. It wasn’t Gaeth’s fault he was sick, after all.

Leo’s father motioned to the townspeople. “Do you see everyone out here, gawking?”

They all stared at Gaeth like predators ready to strike.

“If Gaeth stayed, who knows what they might do to him. I don’t want him to go through any more pain.”

Leo looked away. He knew his father was right, but he didn’t want to admit it.

“I don’t want him to be in pain either,” Leo said.

“Then help him.”

Gaeth finally wrestled himself free of his mother’s grip and walked toward them. His clothes had soaked through, and his wavy brown hair slicked down across his forehead. His green eyes widened with worry as he glanced frantically at the crowd who had started up a chant.

“Hell no! Hell no! Robot kid has got to go!”

The rain poured down; the thwap sound Leo hated so much grew more irritating. Gaeth stood in front of their father. “Bye, Dad,” he said quickly.

Their father hugged Gaeth, and even though he wasn’t making any noise, his quiet shaking screamed louder than any wail could have.

“Get a move on already,” a man’s angry voice carried above the others. “I haven’t got all day.”

Leo flipped the man off, to which his mother scolded him. “Leo, what did I tell you about talking to anyone but us when we’re doing this? Act like a twenty-one-year-old for gosh sakes.”

“They shouldn’t be saying those things.”

“Hey Leo, you forgot to pack this in case your brother gets a loose screw on the way over.” Through the rain, someone threw a small object. It smacked Leo in the chest and splashed in the mud at his feet.

He picked it up and wiped the grime off. A screwdriver. Leo didn’t care who threw it or who said the joke; he sprinted at the crowd, not knowing what he would do when he got there. A bloody nose or two, at least. The crowd cheering drowned out his parents’ shouts as he collided with a man. The people nearby gave them room as they sent mud in all directions.

Leo threw his fist into the man’s face. Anything resembling flesh he wanted to destroy. The crowd around them erupted, Leo managing to land a few solid punches before several hands grabbed him and threw him back toward the ship.

“You could infect me, you contagious freak,” the man Leo attacked shouted, a trace of blood dripping from his nose.

“Don’t insult my brother then, asshole,” Leo shouted back. He walked back to the ship, where his family talked low among themselves.

“Send it to Oblurn already!” The crowd rushed toward Leo’s family. Out of the corner of his eye, Leo spotted someone holding a metal bat.

Leo ran toward the ship as his parents rushed Gaeth aboard. The crowd closed in, jostling Leo every which way as they shouted in unison, “Hey, hey! Ho, ho! Robot kid has got to go!”

A policeman managed to grab Leo and push him through.

His father grabbed him and shoved him up the ramp. “Take care of your brother and send us a message to let us know you’re okay.”

Leo fell back into the ship, where Gaeth already sat in the copilot seat. The crowd surrounded them, banging their fists on the hull, still chanting.

Leo sat in his own seat. He watched through the window as the same policeman lead his parents through the crowd, stopping a safe distance away. Leo’s heart sank for his brother. He knew he would be coming back, but Gaeth? How could Gaeth possibly feel right now, knowing this would be the last time he’d see them?

Gaeth had thrown his bags in the back with the cargo. Leo shivered in the cold, the dim lights not helping their spirits. He didn’t know what to say as he sat in his own chair. The rain slid down the large front window as he went through the routine checklist he kept between the seats. Outside the police shouted at the crowd to back away.

“Fuel tanks?”

Gaeth checked the gage. “Check.”

Leo took his time checking it off the list. “Escape pod?”

“Still there,” Gaeth said.

Leo rechecked it, even more slowly. “Emergency thrusters?”

“Leo, just let me do it.” Gaeth’s voice shook as he said it, his face remaining solemn. He grabbed the checklist and finished the routine in less than a minute, not paying attention to Leo. After shoving it back between the seats, Gaeth sat back in his chair and sighed.

Leo carefully turned the ship around, the crowd now running away from the heat of the engines. His back pushed into the seat as the darkness of space filled the window. After a few moments, they were operating in silence except for the occasional beeping.

The ship’s computer buzzed. “Please enter coordinates.”

Leo glanced at Gaeth, still searching for words of comfort before typing in Oblurn’s location. There had to be something to make him feel better. But what do you say to someone being sent away from their planet for something they can’t control?

“Setting course for Oblurn,” the computer chimed.

Gaeth remained silent. Leo put the ship on autopilot and leaned back in his seat. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Stiff, cold.” Gaeth paused, not able to say the words. He eventually forced them out, “Wishing I could stay home.” His voice was barely above a whisper.

“I wish we could go back,” Leo said.

“So we’re really doing this.” It wasn’t a question, more of an accusation. He kept his eyes forward, playing with a loose thread on his chair.

“You saw the crowd. If you stayed home, it would only be a matter of time before they made you leave anyway.” Leo realized it wasn’t the right thing to say. “Think about it like going away to camp, except in space.”

“Yeah, a camp I can never come back from, and no one can visit.” Gaeth sighed. “And if you go, everyone thinks you’re some sort of monster. I’m surprised you aren’t afraid of catching Steel Elbow.”

“If I did, we’d be stuck in Oblurn together. Wouldn’t that be fun?” Leo snuck a glance at Gaeth, who rolled his eyes. If he could get him to laugh a little, it would be a small victory. “If it’s so bad and you don’t think you can stay there, we’ll figure something out. It’s the best thing for you, though.”

“Best thing for everyone back home,” Gaeth muttered, pushing the heat button on his seat. “Why aren’t you worried you’ll catch Steel Elbow?”

Leo thought for a moment. It was true he should be scared of his brother. After Gaeth had given their neighbor Steel Elbow, all their friends had turned on him. But the way the crowd had treated Gaeth, Leo didn’t want to leave him.

“If I caught your virus and it meant we were going to live together for the rest of our lives, then I’d be okay with that. It’s what family does,” Leo said.

“But I could cover everything sticking out of my skin like I have, and no one would be any the wiser. I could build a house in the countryside in the middle of nowhere, and no one would bother me. The only reason I have to leave is that everyone found out about it.”

“How about this: if we both agree it’s so bad you can’t live there without being miserable, I’ll take you away from there.”

Gaeth faced Leo for the first time since they took off. “You better not be joking.”

“Why would I joke about something like that?” Leo shot Gaeth a look that said I’m serious.

“You swear?”

“I’ll even help you build a house in the countryside.”

Gaeth held up his pinky finger. “You have to pinky promise.”

“Gaeth, I promise I’ll do it.”

“No. You need to pinky promise.” Gaeth wouldn’t break eye contact.

Leo exhaled. “Fine.” They wrapped their pinky fingers and shook them up and down. Gaeth nodded, sitting back in his seat, happier than before.

It was rare Gaeth smiled and it made Leo happy whenever he did. His heart sank as he realized it might be the last one he’d ever see. He didn’t want to get Gaeth’s hopes up, but if he could keep him in a good mood until they got to Oblurn, then he would at least keep his word to his parents.

2

THERE COULD NEVER BE a more perfect day to practice killing.

Tank snuck through the trees; he knew where to step, making as little sound as possible. His green scales helped him blend in, but he was always paranoid about being sighted. A stick broke behind him. He tucked his tail in, trying to make himself smaller. It was hard given his size, but he might be able to catch his target off guard. Whatever was walking through the woods wasn’t trying to be quiet.

Ducking behind a rock, he pulled out his blaster from the holster around his waist and waited. A few more seconds and it would walk right by him. Three. Two. One.

Baring his fangs, Tank jumped out with a roar, pinning the creature down with a clawed hand, the other shoving his blaster under its neck.

“Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! I thought we agreed we weren’t using blasters.” The creature desperately tried to escape his grasp.

“Naf, if you keep stomping around like that, you don’t have a chance at winning the Ceremony.” Tank climbed off to let him up.

“Let’s be honest, I’m not winning the Ceremony. I can’t even aim a blaster.”

Nature had been unkind to Naf. Instead of the typical dark green scales Sovichs usually had, Naf had been born with bright orange ones. And while Tank always towered over his friends, Naf barely reached his elbow. The other Sovichs had picked on Naf since the day they started talking. Perhaps that was why Tank found himself always trying to help Naf out. If he could help Naf stick up for himself, then maybe he wouldn’t be picked on so much.

Because of Naf’s size, it gave him low odds of winning the Ceremony, so the older Sovichs hadn’t tried to train him. Tank knew the older Sovichs were right, but he didn’t want Naf to be hard on himself.

“If you keep thinking that way, you won’t be,” he said. “We’ve been practicing long enough, let’s head back.”

Tank led the way through the forest along the worn-out path. It had been there for as long as he could remember. He would live here if he were allowed. He loved how dark it stayed underneath the trees no matter how bright it was outside. The sun poked through, giving them enough light to find their way, but the air was still cool.

They came to a small river. The bridge running across it had collapsed long ago, the splintered wood thrown in a pile on the bank. Tank heard time and time again it would be fixed, but it never had been. The only safe way to get across now were by stones jutting out of the water. Tank took a running start and skipped from one rock to the other, landing on the other side. He waved to Naf, who focused on his feet.

“Come on, Naf!” Tank shouted across the river.

“Why don’t I just go around?” Naf shouted back.

“It’s faster this way. You can’t walk around it forever.”

Naf shot him a stare.

“Just do it how I did it,” Tank said.

“I’m going around.” Naf backed away.

“I’m leaving without you then.” Tank turned around, walking away from the river. “I’ll see you when you get back to the village.”

“Hey! That’s not fair. Wait a second, Tank.”

There was a yelp and a splash as Naf tumbled into the water. He grabbed a rock and clung on, yelling Tank’s name until he finally came back.

Tank reached in and yanked Naf out by his neck. “What will you do when the Ceremony starts? I can’t save you then,” he said with a hint of annoyance. “It’s everyone for themselves.”

He helped Naf the rest of the way across the river, and they made their way to the path toward the helibikes.

“You’d save me if you needed to,” Naf said, shaking the water off and getting Tank so wet he might as well have fallen in the river too. “If it were between me and the necklace, what would you choose?”

Tank thought for a moment. If he were honest with himself, he would have no problem shooting Naf in the face to win the Ceremony. He had been training for it for so long he wasn’t about to let anyone take it from him. Of course, he would never tell Naf. What if he did and Naf tried to kill him when the Ceremony started? Don’t kid yourself. That would never happen.

Tank went for the diplomatic option. “It’s meager chances we’ll both be fighting for the necklace at the end, Naf.”

“Pretend for a second, somehow, out of sheer luck, we manage to make it to the end. It’s you, me, and the necklace. What do you choose?”

“I can’t tell if you’re being serious or not. Is this how you deal with nerves?” Tank asked.

Naf groaned. “Just answer already.”

Tank sighed. “The whole reason I’ve been training for this is so I might have a chance to find my father.”

“So that means you’d pick your dad over me?”

Tank stopped and turned around to face him. “Naf, I don’t mind helping you practice for the Ceremony, but you have to think about what you’re saying. I haven’t heard from my father in years—he could be dead. But if I win the Ceremony and leave the village, maybe I can find him and bring him back. If it means having to punch you in the snout to do it, then I will.”

Tank turned and kept walking down the path, not bothering to wait for Naf’s response. He shouldn’t have said anything. If Naf wanted to strategize, then he just figured out if he needed to worry about Tank or not. But after a few moments, Naf caught up.

“If it were between you and winning the Ceremony, I think I would let you win.” He stared up at Tank expectantly. “Let’s be honest, there isn’t a reason for me to leave the village. I couldn’t tell you the first thing about surviving on my own. I can’t even cross the river without needing you to come save me.”

“Are you trying to make a pact with me?” Tank asked, tilting his head.

He’d heard of others making pacts before the Ceremony, promising they wouldn’t kill each other until they were the only ones left. It was a good strategy until you realized your friend might betray you, and Tank wasn’t about to take any chances.

“You’ve helped me a lot with training when no one else would. No, I’m just saying if we’re the only two left, then I’ll give it to you because you want to find your dad so badly,” Naf said, putting his hands up in defense.

“Naf, when the Ceremony starts, it’s every Sovich for himself. You can’t let your emotions get in the way. That’s how you lose,” Tank said. “Even when the Ceremony is over, you shouldn’t feel bad. This is what we’ve been training to do for years. We all know what we’re getting into.”

“I’ll still feel bad if I kill you,” Naf said.

“Well, you won’t have to worry about that happening because you aren’t a good hunter and you aren’t good with a blaster, so dream on.” Tank was getting more uncomfortable the longer this conversation went on. “And I helped you train because everyone should have a fighting chance going into the Ceremony.”

“Who trained you?” Naf asked.

Tank paused for a moment. “No one. They thought I was too weak to train. I had to learn it all on my own.”

They came into the clearing, where their bikes waited, and stopped and bowed.

“Make sure you thank your bike before getting on it, Naf,” Tank said.

“Thank you for your aid,” Naf said as he mounted his helibike.

Tank sighed as he climbed on his own helibike. Naf always forgot to thank the technology they used.

Tank held on to the metal handlebars as he settled into the seat, his feet resting on both sides. It took them a moment to power up, but the wheels spun faster, perpendicular with the ground, sending leaves flying in all directions. Soon they hovered a few feet off the ground. Tank sped off toward their village without another word, Naf trailing behind him. The cold wind blew against his scales, refreshing after sitting in one place all morning. He darted in and out of the trees, the sun becoming brighter as they got closer to the forest’s edge.

“Be careful!” Naf yelled.

Tank laughed. “Lighten up, would you?” He pushed his helibike faster. It groaned under strain, but he pulled away from Naf toward the opening of the trees. They shot out of the forest, slowing as they passed under the wooden gate of their village.

Several fires had already been lit, and the smell of cooked meat wafted through the air. A group of younger Sovichs wrestled nearby but stopped as Tank and Naf approached. Others walked out of their mud huts to see who was back, but Naf and Tank kept flying forward. They passed the wooden platform in the center of the village. Tank glanced at the flagpole sticking up from its center. No flag. They were free from a long speech today.

Several Sovichs stood in their path and Tank slammed on the breaks, stopping just before hitting them. The largest one gave his bike a small kick.

“If you hit me with that piece of junk, I would beat you so hard, you’d sleep through the Ceremony,” he said.

“Shut up, Roaz,” Tank spat.

“Yeah. We don’t need to hear it from you,” Naf chimed in.

Roaz stared at Naf for a moment before erupting in laughter. “Kargul, Thorn, are you hearing this?” He wiped a tear from his eye.

They continued laughing, the other Sovichs around them watching to see what would happen. Kargul approached Naf, whose grip tightened on his handlebars.

“Easy to talk tough when Tank is here, isn’t it Naf?” He grabbed Naf by the neck, pulled him off his bike, and forced him on the ground where he swiftly kicked him in the side. Naf let out a yelp of pain as Roaz and Thorn laughed harder. “You’ll be the first one to go when the Ceremony starts.”

With a snarl, Tank leaped off his bike onto Kargul’s back, clawing at every inch of scales he could dig in to. Claws dug into Tank’s shoulder, and someone dragged him away. He turned to look for the culprit only to be met with a blaster inches from his face. Roaz smirked.

Before he could say anything, several older Sovichs ran over. They pushed everyone apart, scowling at each of them.

“The Ceremony hasn’t even started, and you’re acting like this? I thought you were better than this,” one of them said.

“They started it,” Thorn said.

“And I’m finishing it,” the Sovich said. “If Prylek saw you all fighting you would be beaten. Tank and Naf get on your bikes. You other three be on your way. Roaz, you know better than to have your blaster out in the middle of the village. The Ceremony is tomorrow and you’re already trying to kill each other.”

Tank and Naf slowly got on their bikes and rode away. Tank smiled to himself at the sound of the Sovich’s voice yelling that followed him and Naf all the way to his house.

They pulled up next to Tank’s hut, dismounted, bowed, and went inside.

“Tank, I thought you’d be back later.” A female Sovich sat at the table. She had a blaster in one hand and a spoon in the other. The liquid dripped down her chin as she ate from a large metal bowl.

“You should have told me you were going to visit today, Mom.” Tank sighed. “We got back early. We’ve had enough training for the Ceremony today.”

“Naf have some food.” She motioned to the bowl.

Naf sat across from her with his own spoon, shoveling the food into his mouth. Half of it splashed onto the table.

“You’ll do fine.” She put her spoon down, wiping her mouth with the back of her claw. “Your father won when he entered.”

“Where did they send him?” Tank asked, edging closer to her, his tail twitching back and forth.

“They never told me.” She stood and put her scaly hands on his shoulders. “I hate thinking about what might have happened to your father.”

“Mom, it’s been years.”

“Don’t say that.” She held him firmly. “He’s out there somewhere, he just doesn’t have a way to get in contact with us. If you win, you’ll have the necklace and you’ll be able to leave the forest. You can go find him.” She shook Tank slightly. “If you win, promise me you’ll send me a message when they send you away.”

“Of course I’ll send you a message.” They were the exact same words his father had said to them the day before he won. They were told he had been sent on his mission without a chance to say goodbye. Tank’s mother hadn’t been the same since. If he won, he would get a message to her somehow.

“Good.” She smiled, her fangs showing in the light. “I’m going home. I’ll see you off tomorrow. If there’s a speech come get me.”

“The flag is down, so you don’t have to worry.” Tank waved his hand.

Naf was still shoveling food in his mouth. Tank walked over to where he kept his blasters, eyeing them carefully. If he were going to win the Ceremony, he would need his best weapons.

He thanked the one he used that morning and put it on the shelf, inspecting the others. That one was too slow. This one didn’t fit in his holster the right way. He hadn’t used that one enough to determine if he liked it yet. There were so many variables that could sway the turn of events. His tail flicked back and forth.

“How many are you taking to the Ceremony?” Naf asked.

“Two,” Tank said, rubbing his chin. “But whenever I look at them, each one has something wrong with it.”

“Well, think about what you like about them and pick that way.”

Tank sighed and examined the blasters again. The one he used that morning had never steered him wrong. He grabbed it and put it in his holster before eyeing the others. There were so many things he didn’t like, it was hard to pick something he did. The slow one was easy to hold, but if he needed it in a pinch, he would be dead. The one that didn’t fit right in his holster was a good shot, but if he couldn’t pull it out right away, he wouldn’t win.

That left his new blaster he didn’t have much experience with. He picked it up, flipping it over a few times. It was light, but not too light. He held it up to the ceiling to get a better view. If he could practice with it one more time, he would be more confident in his choice. His body still ached from practicing with Naf that morning, but if it gave him an edge, he would do it.

“I’m going to take this in the forest and practice some more. I just want to make sure it’s the right one.” He put it in his other holster and walked out of the hut. Just as he reached the helibike, a loud horn sounded from the center of the village. A flag slowly rose from the platform, causing Sovichs to flock to it. Some walked out from their huts, others flew through the gate on their helibikes.

If he could sneak out through the commotion, then maybe he could make it to the forest on foot. If anyone found out Tank purposely missed a speech, he would be in huge trouble. Perhaps he’d even be taken out of the Ceremony, but this was for his father, he had to do it. Tank started toward the gate when a clawed hand gripped his shoulder.

“Some people are saying Prylek is starting the Ceremony now,” Naf whispered. “And whatever you have on you is what you have to use as your weapon. All I have is my spoon.”

The horn still rang over the village, calling everyone to the center like bees to honey.

“He wouldn’t do that. He’s been our leader for so long, he wouldn’t change the rule now.”

They elbowed their way to the front of the emerging crowd. Some Sovichs desperately whispered to each other; others scanned the group to find their loved ones. The horn stopped abruptly, and a large, hunched-over, dark blue Sovich with saggy scales walked onto the platform.

The crowd erupted into cheers before he waved for them to quiet. “Thank you, my family.”

Tank once asked his mother why he hadn’t passed his position on to a younger Sovich, to which she replied no one dared to challenge him. He was too powerful.

Prylek continued, “I am so happy to see all your smiling faces, especially the younger ones who have come of age to take place in the Ceremony. For some of you, it will be the last time you spend the day with your family and see our beautiful planet of Whukogantu, for others, you might be lucky enough to escape with your life.”

The crowd stayed silent as they hung onto his every word. He walked back and forth on the platform, his gaze lingering on each of them in turn.

“But we must not dwell on that. For we must honor those who came before us. Those who found this land we walk on, those who had to survive when all seemed lost. They fought for their freedom with nothing but their claws and teeth.”

He stopped in front of Tank, his gray eyes boring into him.

“I noticed today that the Sovichs who are taking place in the Ceremony were fighting in the middle of the village.”A stiff wind traveled throughout the crowd as Prylek snarled.“It seems you have all been trained so well you can’t wait to kill each other tomorrow.”

Tank held his breath as Prylek held his gaze.

“Which is why the Ceremony will commence now. Whatever you possess at this moment are your weapons. The guards will take you to your starting positions.”

The crowd erupted in protest, but Prylek held his hand up. “How can we honor our forefathers if we do not try to live as they have lived? They couldn’t prepare. They fought for this forest with the weapons they had at their disposal, and they were still triumphant. The rules of the Ceremony are simple.”

Prylek paced back and forth on the platform.

“Make it to the center of the forest from your starting position before any of the other contestants and reach the necklace.” Prylek held up a crystal dangling on the end of a rope. “This will allow the winner to leave the forest and go on their pilgrimage. The winners before you have gone on theirs and found honor and meaning to their life. I hope the winner of the Ceremony can do so as well. To prove that you are strong like the Sovich before you, you must kill whoever you come into contact with.Good luck to all of you.”

A covered metal carriage with two guards walking on both sides rolled into the village. Its ramp slammed into the dirt, causing several nearby Sovichs to flinch.

One of the guards stepped forward. “I will now call out the names of the Sovichs who will partake in the Ceremony.”

“First is Thorn.”

Thorn, pushed on by his mother, moved forward. He thanked the guard and boarded to polite applause.

“Second is Kargul.”

Kargul rushed forward with a shout, knocking several others out of the way before making it to the ramp. He waved to the crowd before entering.

“Third is Naf.”

Snickers followed Naf as he walked to the carriage. He didn’t bother facing the crowd.

“Fourth is Roaz.”

Roaz marched through the crowd, nodding to others as they gave him room. When he made it to the carriage, he gave a flourishing bow, which several people clapped to, and then disappeared in the darkness after Naf.

“Lastly, we have Tank.”

Tank held his chin up as he strode toward the carriage. Sovichs stared at him as he walked by, someone patted him on the back, and his mother’s muffled voice barely registered in his ears.

“Good luck, Tank!”

He forgot to wave.

X

TANK’S EYES NEVER ADJUSTED to the dark, and with every bounce, Naf kept shouldering him. The stuffy air didn’t help the situation, and the presence of the other Sovichs made it tense and awkward. What do you say to someone when you’ve been training to kill them for the last year?

“So how have you all been?” Roaz said from the corner.

“Could be better,” Kargul answered.

“Ready to be crushed?” Roaz replied. Whatever air had been in the carriage before disappeared, replaced by nothing but the cold realization of what they were about to do.

Tank breathed deeply. He could do this; he would do this. Naf bumped into his shoulder again, and he couldn’t help thinking these might be the last moments they spent together as friends. After all these years, they had to be okay with ending the other’s life. They had to forget all the good times they spent together. He shook the thought away.

“So what weapons were you all carrying when Prylek said the Ceremony was today?” Thorn asked. Tank scoffed under his breath. It was a silly question to ask. Who would reveal what weapon they would be using?

“Tank has two blasters,” Naf said.

“Wow, I thought you and Tank were best friends,” Roaz said.

“We’re in the Ceremony now,” Naf said with a note of finality.

Tank’s heart stopped. They were all thinking the same thing. Tank had a massive target on his back.

“Too bad the Ceremony hasn’t started already, huh Tank?” Thorn said.

A ball of rage settled in Tank’s chest. If Naf hadn’t opened his stupid mouth, they’d think he was starting on the same playing field as them.

Tank spat. “Naf has a spoon.”

The rattle of the carriage came to a sudden stop. The ramp slammed down as a guard stood in the doorway, arms crossed.

“Tank, this is where you get off.”

As Tank went to the door, the others stared at him, trying to get a good view of his face.

“Better watch out, Tank,” Kargul called out.

In one motion, Tank pulled out his blaster and aimed into the carriage. Everyone ducked, and someone let out a scream.

Tank smirked. “Better watch out for me.” He walked to the guard, who motioned him to get closer so the others wouldn’t overhear.

“Tank, this is your starting point. You’re not allowed to move until the flash goes up in the sky. Good luck.” The guard climbed back in the carriage, and it drove away.

Tank stood there, taking his surroundings in. He had never been this far into the woods before. The sun was high above the trees, but his eyes had trouble adjusting to the darkness. His heart beat faster as the silence settled in, his hands going to his blasters every so often to make sure they were still there. He took one more deep breath.

I can win . . . right?

Thank you for reading the first two chapters of Metal Bones. I hope you enjoyed reading them as much as I did writing them! If you’d like to continue the adventure with Leo, Gaeth, and Tank, you can click the link below.

mybook.to/MetalBones

HAPPY READING,

Kathleen