I open my eyes to the sound of groaning metal. A steel door creaks open, light floods the room, and I realize I've fallen asleep. I jump to my feet, awake, alert, ready to fight.

I stand there and see that Flo is already on her feet, fists clenched, looking at our new guests. There, at the entrance, are dozens of slaverunners, wearing their face masks and each carrying a black uniform in their arms. They march into the room, and as they do, the dozens of kids slowly get to their feet in every direction. They all know what's coming. The time has come.

A loud buzzer sounds, and whoever's left sleeping gets to their feet. One slaverunner marches up to each kid, and several of them approach us. One marches right up to me, and shoves into my hands a black bundle of clothing. I look down at it, surprised.

"Your uniform," Charlie explains.

Flo, standing a few feet away, says, "Put it on. Over your clothes. If you don't, they'll beat you down."

I hold mine up, wondering how one size fits all, then realize it is made of a flexible, spandex-like material. It is supposed to be tight.

They've handed me a set of pants, and a jacket. It is all black, and tight, except for the jacket, which is thickly padded, like a military uniform. he jacket has is a bright-yellow X across it. Like a target. This does not bode well. At least it will keep me warm.

I reach down and slide the pants on over my boots, over my pants, then put the shirt and jacket on and zip it up. Mine is tight and snug, and actually feels good. The thick padding hugs me, and I feel like a warrior going into battle. All around me, all the other kids put them on, too. The whole room, dressed in tight black uniforms with yellow Xs across our chests. We are all walking targets.

I make sure Bree does the same, and help Logan into his. I'm thrilled to see that Logan is better; the medicine worked. His skin color has returned, his eyes are bright, and he is able to get on his own feet. He hobbles, but not as badly.

"Whatever you gave me worked," he says to me. "Thank you."

"Thank Flo," I say. "I didn't do much."

"Thank you, Flo," he says to her.

She turns and looks at him, unsmiling.

"Don't thank me yet," Flo says. "You'll be dead soon enough."

Just like Flo. Refusing to drop her edge, even for a second.

A slaverunner gets behind me and prods me hard in the small of my back, making me stumble forward. All of us are prodded, and we begin to march for the exit. Finally, we are leaving this place. A part of me hopes I never return.

Bree, Ben, Logan, Charlie and Flo march beside me in the winding subway tunnels. The six of us make our way with the dozens of other kids through the cold and dark tunnels, our footsteps echoing. I feel like I am marching helplessly towards my fate. I wish there was something I could do. Anything. I need to think of a strategy, some sort of plan. I don't want Bree separated for me. Or Ben. Or Logan.

"Once we get out there, we should act like a team," I say to everyone, including Charlie and Flo. "Stick together. No matter what. If anyone attacks us, we can watch each other's backs. Bree, do you hear me? I want you close to me. By my side, no matter what."

Bree looks up and nods, and I can see the fear in her eyes.

"That won't last," Flo says. "You'll see, once you're out there. It won't work. It's every man for himself. I'm not watching after you guys. I'm watching after myself. And Charlie."

Her eyes and jaw harden, defiant. I don't know what to say.

"Does that mean we're enemies?" I ask her.

"I like you," she says. "All of you. But I'm out to win. To survive. Not for you to live. Not at my expense. And not at Charlie's. I don't want to kill you. And I owe you a favor. So I'll give you one good piece of advice: stay away from me. Far away."

We turn the corner, and before us, the tunnel floods with sunlight. An exit to outdoors. A cold wind slaps me in the face, and I hear the muted shouts of a mob.

I am shoved hard one last time and we all go stumbling out of the train tunnel, into the outdoors. I squint at the blinding light, and the cold stings my face. Still, it is good to be outside, to be out of that dark tunnel, and to have fresh air.

My senses are assaulted by so many things at once. The air is filled with the cheers and screams of what seems like thousands of people. I pry open my eyes and see we are on a wide, dirt road, and on either side, behind a fence guarded by slaverunners, stand hundreds of mob members, biovictims, jeering at us. They are dressed in rags, and their faces are mutilated. Mutants, grotesque people. They raise their fists and snarl, and the excitement in the air is palpable.

My heart is pounding in anticipation as we go. The slaverunners poke and prod, and one jabs me hard in my ribs with the butt of his gun. It is cold out, but not as cold as the day before. In fact, it is quite warm for a winter day. I'm thrilled to see that the snow has virtually melted, and at least my uniform is keeping me warm. I feel snug and secure in it, sheltered from the elements, and its hard plastic padding makes me feel invincible. I feel like wheeling around and cracking the slaverunner hard across the face, stealing his gun, mowing them down, and making a run for it.

But I know if I do that, Bree, Ben, Logan and the others won't get far. I look around and see dozens of slaverunners trained on us, their guns at their hips. It would be a massacre.

We clear a small hill, and as we stand at the top, the vista is spread out before me. I see, in the distance, the arena to which we are being lead.

My heart stops at the daunting site: thousands of crowd members are spread out around a huge, circular canyon, cliffs dropping off hundreds of feet. The canyon is spanned by four rope bridges, spaced out evenly in the circle, and all leading to a small, circular piece of land in the canyon's center. This round, circular stretch of land, maybe a hundred yards wide, is connected to the mainland only by the four rope bridges. Otherwise, there is a steep plummet off the edge.

The spectators cheer wildly at the site of us coming over the hill.

My throat goes dry as I realize where they're taking us. They're going to prod us over a bridge, onto that circular piece of land in the middle. Once we're on it, there'll be no way off without crossing one of those four bridges back to the mainland. The drop-off is hundreds of feet deep. It is like a vast canyon, except with a large piece of land in its center.

This doesn't bode well. We will all be stuck together on that small landmass and forced to fight each other to the death, or fight each other to cross one of the bridges to get back to the mainland. Otherwise, there is no way out.

It is a cruel set up for an arena. All your opponents have to do is push you off the edge, and you're dead. It leaves no room for error. None at all. And I don't like heights.

Not to mention, no one's given us any weapons. What is it they'll expect us to do: fight to the death with our bare hands?

I gulp, worrying for Bree, for Logan, for Ben, even for Charlie. I'm not worried for Flo. Somehow, I feel she's invincible.

The suspense builds as we are marched closer, and the crowd roars louder. As we get within feet of it, approach one of the bridges, a narrow rope bridge only a few feet wide, I can see over the edge. The drop-off is dizzying, at least a hundred feet. One slip will mean instant death.

"Brooke, I'm scared," Bree says beside me. She is looking out over the edge, and I grab her by the shoulder and pull her close.

"Don't look," I say. "Just follow me. Stay close. You'll be okay."

A slaverunner prods me hard in the back, making me stumble, and this time, I've had enough: my reflexes kick in and I wheel around and shove him back. Immediately, another slaverunner steps up and backhands me hard across the face, then a third one shoves me again. I get the picture. I stop resisting, and continue forward with the others.

"You're wasting your energy," Flo chides.

She's right. I need to focus. I continue with the others, like sheep, as they prod us all onto one of the rope bridges. It sags and sways as they do, and I find myself grabbing on to the rope railing.

The crowd cheers as we all step foot on the bridge, herded towards the land mass in the center. I try not to look over the edge as the rope swings; it feels too flimsy to hold us. I reach down and hold Bree's hand, and she dutifully holds my hand and the railing. Logan is limping, and Ben, behind me, to his credit, helps prop him. It is big of him to overcome his jealousy to help him. It's strange: only a few days ago, those two were rivals. Now, they are helping each other.

Behind us, Flo walks, so stable that she doesn't even need to hold the railing. She reaches out with one hand and grabs the back of Charlie's shirt, by the neck, guiding him. She reminds me of a wolf, holding a pup in its mouth. Her game face is on, wearing a steely look of death, and I fear for anyone who gets in her way.

I step onto the land mass with relief, happy to be off the flimsy bridge. We are all herded towards the center of it. It is wider here than I thought, spanning about fifty yards at its widest. But dozens and dozens of kids are herded onto it, and soon it gets crowded. Everyone naturally flocks towards the center, as far away from the edges as they can get. The slaverunners, finished, turn and march across the bridge, back to the mainland. As they do, the crowd cheers again. Now we are alone out here.

We all stand here, dozens of us, huddled together in the center of this land mass, all nervous, unsure what to do.

Just as I'm wondering what will happen next, the crowd quiets. A path parts in the mob, and a group of slaverunners comes forward, bearing on their shoulders a huge, golden throne, borne by rods. On the throne sits a single man, with long hair, falling down to his shoulders. A long scar runs from the corner of his lip to his chin, making him look like he's scowling. He stands and holds out his arms: he is huge, muscular, wearing a sleeveless vest, even in this cold. He looks like a mountain. I can't tell his ethnicity: maybe a cross between Native American and Hispanic. He's one of the fiercest looking men I've ever seen.

As he stands, the thousands of mutants fall silent. It is obvious that he is the leader.

"Brothers and sisters, I present to you our newest batch of contestants!" he bellows out in his low voice.

The crowd goes crazy. They stand before a metal railing, waist high, at the edge of the canyon, and bang on it. A loud noise rises up, and I see that each of them holds a rock, which they bang on the metal.

The leader holds up his arms again, and the crowd quiets.

"There are two ways to victory, contestants," he says to us. "One is to make it back to the mainland. If you can cross a bridge and come back here, you will be safe forever. The other, of course, is to be the last one standing."

The crowd roars.

The kids around me all turn, looking at the bridges or summing each other up, jittery. It is like being in a corral of horses before a storm.

The leader throws his arms wide one last time:

"Let the death games begin!"

The crowd, screaming, bangs its rocks on the rail.

I run through in my mind Flo's words. Stay away from the bridges. Stay close to the center. Nothing is what it seems.

Now I have a better idea of what she's saying. But is it true advice? Or was she just lying to me to have an advantage?

Before I can figure it out, before I can strategize, suddenly, all hell breaks loose.

I feel something hard hit me on the side of my arm, and I wheel around to see that the hundreds of spectators are throwing rocks at us. Luckily, they're far enough away that most of them miss. But a lot of rocks are landing close, and a second rock hits my leg. It hurts like hell.

Panic ensues. All around me, the dozens of kids gathered in the center begin to sprint for the bridges. They take off in all four directions, for the four equally spaced bridges around the circle, and I spot Bree begin to run with them. I reach out and grab her.

"No," I say. "Stay here."

I can see on Ben's face that he wants to run for it, too.

"But you heard him!" Ben says frantically. "We have to make it to the mainland. We have to beat the others!"

"No!" I yell back. I look over and see Flo standing still in the center, holding Charlie by the shoulders. I hope she knows what she's doing.

"But the rocks!" Logan yells, dodging one that narrowly misses his head.

Before I can respond, suddenly, I'm tackled hard from behind, and find my face planting on the ground.

I spin over to find one of the teenagers on top of me. He holds a rock up high over his head, a large, sharp rock, and begins to bring it down for my face. It is the boy from last night. The one that wanted to sleep with Bree.

He has me pinned down, and I can't react in time. I flinch, as he brings it down.

Suddenly, right before he kills me, he stops in midair. His eyes open wide, frozen, and he collapses, limp, to the side.

I look over, and see a sharp rock jutting out the back of his neck, blood oozing from it.

I look up, and see Flo standing over him, scowling down.

"Now we're even," she snaps.

I can't believe it: she has just saved my life.

All around me in the chaos, not only are kids running for the bridges, not only are rocks flying in every direction, but also a group of kids has decided on another strategy: to kill the others.

I see one kid grab another from behind, and hurl him over the edge of the cliff. I hear him scream as he goes flying over, shrieking to his death. This same kid is grabbed from behind by another, and hurled himself. With another shriek, he plummets.

On the far side of the circle, I see another kid attacking others from behind; he kicks one hard in the back and sends him over the edge.

Another kid grabs a rock and smashes another kid in the back of the head. He collapses.

Now I realize that Flo was right. Stay in the center. Far from the edge. It makes sense. But why not run for the bridge?

I look over and see Flo lying face first on the ground, holding Charlie down. Before I can figure out why, another rock whizzes by my head, and I turn and realize the crowd has circled around, found a place that is in closer range. Now, tons of rocks hurl by us.

"Get down!" I scream at the others.

Bree is slow to react, so I reach out and grab her and pull her down in the dirt. It is lucky timing: a rock whizzes by where her head was moments ago. Logan grabs Ben and pulls him down, saving him, too, from a large rock aimed at his head.

I look up and see that one of the mercenary kids, having just hurled another kid off the cliff, turns and sets his sights on us, in the center. He charges, and I see he has his sights set on Bree.

I don't wait. Even though rocks are whizzing overhead, I grab a large rock, stand, and charge him. I want to meet him mid-charge, before he gets anywhere near Bree. We charge each other, head on, and he swings his rock right for my face. I duck, and at the same time, smash my rock into his gut.

He drops to his knees and I smash his nose, breaking it. He collapses.

I feel footsteps charging me from behind, and realize, too late, that I left my back exposed. I turn just in time to see another one charging me and about to bring a rock down on the back of my head. I can't react in time.

Suddenly, I hear a whizzing noise, and just as I prepare for the blow, instead I see the boy fall beside me. I look over and see Bree standing there, and realize she has thrown a rock with perfect aim, and hit him square in the head. It was a hell of a throw, and she saved my life. I'm impressed.

I run back over to Bree and hit the ground beside her.

The spectators cheer and scream, as they continue to throw rocks our way. Their scream morphs into an excited roar, and I look up and see the first group of kids has reached one of the bridges. A dozen of them stampede one of the rope bridges, all charging at once. They run across it single file. Soon they are halfway across, the bridge swaying wildly.

At the midway point, one of them gets the idea to attack the others; he grabs one kid from behind and throws him off the bridge. He plunges to his death, screaming. The bully grabs another one and tries to throw him - but this kid grabs the edge of the railing as he goes over, then reaches up and grabs the bully's ankle and yanks him off with him. Together, the two of them go plunging down, screaming, to their deaths.

The dozen or so kids left on the bridge continue to run across it, getting close to the other side, to freedom. The spectators throw rocks like crazy, now aiming at them. One kid gets hit so hard that he loses his balance and falls plunging off the bridge.

But the others are making good time, and it looks like they're going to make it. I can't believe it was that easy. Was Flo wrong? Should we have went with them?

Then, everything changes. The crowd parts way as a group of slaverunners marches up, holding torches. Without hesitating, they hurry forward and set the rope bridge on fire. They then hurl the torches to the far side of the bridge, setting it on fire from both sides.

In moments, the rope bridge, destabilized, on fire from all directions, swings erratically. It is horrific. There is nowhere for these kids to go. Flames rise in both directions, and some of the kids are already on fire themselves. They scream and yell, trying to get the fire out, running over each other. But it is useless.

One of them jumps off the bridge, choosing suicide. Others try to put out the flames, but suddenly, the bridge collapses. The 10 or so of them left go plunging, all in flames, all screeching, down to their deaths.

The crowd cheers like crazy.

Flo was right. Her advice saved our lives.

I look over at the other three bridges, and now I wonder. A dozen kids are already charging onto one of the other bridges. They race onto it, stumbling over themselves, seeing who can get there quick enough.

But as they are halfway across, something goes horribly wrong. The ground is slipping away where the bridge was attached to the landmass. Roots and dirt go crumbling, then suddenly, one of the two ropes snaps.

The bridge swings wildly side to side and the kids all screech as they try to hold on. A few of them fall off.

Then, the other rope snaps. The bridge, attached only by the far side, goes swinging wildly, heading towards the cliff wall. Whichever kids manage to hang on go flying at full speed, smacking right into the wall. It is a horrific sound of breaking bone.

They drop like flies, plunging to their deaths, no one left.

All that remains of the bridge is a long line of rope, attached at the far end, going straight down the cliff. The crowd roars.

I look over at the other two bridges and wonder what could be in store. As I watch, a dozen kids race onto it, running at full speed, trying to cross. But they have just witnessed what happened on the other two bridges, and now they're not so sure - they hesitate, stopping halfway, debating whether to go back. Some of them rush forward, stampeding the others, while others try to run back.

On the mainland, suddenly, the crowd parts and two slaverunners step forward with huge machetes. They raise them high, the crowd egging them on, and the kids on the bridge open their eyes wide in fear. They turn and try to make it back.

But it's too late: the slaverunners bring down their machetes, cut the ropes. The bridge plummets and swings. All the kids go hurling and screaming, plunging to their deaths as the rope smashes into the rock wall of the land mass.

I turn away from the grisly sight. Aside from our small group, huddled on the floor in the center of the land mass, I look around and see there are now only about fifty of us left. The others lie on the ground, too, some covering their heads, all doing our best to avoid the hurling rocks. We all look over at the remaining bridge. It is our only way out. But it looks too good to be true. None of us seem to want to try. It is just another cruel trick? Do they want to see us all dead? Is there really no other way out?

The crowd cheers, and I see a huge, satisfied smile on the face of their leader. I wish I could kill them all.

"Is that bridge a trick?" I ask Flo, who's lying a few feet away from me.

"What do you think?" she snaps back, cynical.

Of course, I know the answer myself. It can't be that easy. Or could it? Maybe it's some sort of sick reverse psychology.

Apparently, several of the other kids have the same idea. They suddenly jump to their feet and race for the final bridge. There must be ten of them, brave souls. They race for it at full speed, one of them tackling the other from behind as they go, apparently still thinking that killing each other off is the way to go. Another punches the other, and one throws another off the cliff.

The others continue to run, hit the bridge single file, and I'm shocked as I see them race across it easily, making good time. There's nothing wrong with this bridge, and I'm kicking myself now. It looks like they will make it. They were the brave ones, the ones willing to risk when others weren't - and they are being rewarded for it.

Then, everything goes wrong. The kids are only feet away from the mainland, when they all stop. I can't understand why; they stand there, frozen, as if glued to the bridge.

As I look closely, as I hear their screams, I realize what has happened: thousands of small blades popped up from the bridge, through their feet, through their hands on the railings. The kids are pierced with knives, blood gushing from them as they are literally stuck to the bridge. I am so grateful we didn't go for it.

I swallow hard, and look around. There are only about forty of us left. All the bridges are gone, and the crowd is screaming like crazy.

"KILL! KILL!" the crowd chants at us.

I look at our opponents, and they look back. At the same time, it seems to dawn on everybody that the only way left is to kill each other.

A wild look starts to come on the faces of the survivors, as I see them getting ready, grabbing rocks, preparing to fight. Then, it happens. Seemingly all at once, the forty or so kids jump to their feet, and charge each other. The crowd goes wild.

I jump to my feet, sheltering Bree, as kids charge and hand-to-hand fighting erupts all around us. I watch Flo step up, take a rock, and smash a boy in the face right before he can hit Charlie. Then Charlie reaches down, grabs a rock, and chucks it at a tall boy racing towards Flo. It is a perfect strike, right between the legs, and the boy drops to his knees, groaning. In the distance, I see a boy pick up a girl over his head, race towards the edge, and hurl her off the cliff. She goes down screaming.

The crowd is screaming like wild.

I suddenly feel someone approaching me from behind, and I turn and spot it just in time. A large boy charges and jumps up on my back. But I bend over as he does, and in one smooth motion, flip him. He lands flat on his back, the wind knocked out of him. I step up and kick him hard once in the face, knocking him out.

I see Ben tackled hard from behind, driven to the ground; Logan, beside him, reaches around and elbows the attacker in the back of the head, knocking him off Ben.

But then Logan himself is kicked, right in the ribs, and he keels over. A second boy jumps on Logan, pinning him down.

Bree picks up a huge rock and brings it down on the back of Logan's attacker. He rolls off of him. I'm surprised by Bree's fierceness.

Logan rolls onto his back. He breaks free of his second attacker, knees him in the gut, and throws him off. He then manages to reach around and grab him in a chokehold, choking him until he passes out.

Dozens more of kids are fighting all around us, and many more are racing our way. Rocks are still hurling through the air, and a rock from a spectator hits a kid hard in the temple, knocking him out. The crowd screams like wild.

I realize quickly that this is a no-win proposition. We can't survive long like this. Soon, we'll all be dead. There has to be another way out. There has to be. There has to be a way to reach the mainland without killing each other.

I look again at the four downed bridges, studying them - and suddenly, I see a pattern. Two of them - the way they collapsed. One was severed from our side, the rope still attached at the mainland, and one was severed from the mainland, the rope still attached to our land mass. The rope dangles straight down, like a ladder down to hell. I get an idea.

"FOLLOW ME!" I scream to the others. "I see a way out!"

"What are you talking about?" Flo screams.

But there is no time to explain. I grab Bree and sprint for one of the downed bridges. Logan hobbles behind me, Ben helping him, and Flo reluctantly prods Charlie, and they follow me, too.

"You better know what you're doing," Flo warns.

The six of us race towards one of the collapsed bridges, dodging flying rocks and other kids. Luckily, the kids are preoccupied with each other - but I do get hit hard by a rock, in my hip. It hurts like hell.

As I reach the precipice I hit the ground and slide my body right to the edge. I look straight down, and see the two ropes, dangling straight down, all the way to the bottom of the canyon, a good hundred feet below. Heights. I hate heights. But I take a deep breath and force myself to look. They cut the ropes on the mainland, but they are still holding here. I test them, yanking hard. They don't give.

I look over, to the far side of the canyon, and look at the other destroyed bridge. The ropes gave way on our end, but not on the far side. We could climb down her and climb on up on the other side.

I turn and see that some of the other kids notice us and head our direction. Rocks whiz by my head and I know we have to act quickly.

Flo looks over the edge, too, seeing what I'm thinking.

"So, we can climb down," she says. "Then what? That doesn't get us out."

"They had to design this arena with a way out," I say. "Otherwise it wouldn't be a game. Don't you see? It's all a game to them. We just have to figure out how to break the code. This whole place was designed with a way to get to the other side. These two bridges, they collapse in two different directions. There's a reason. It left a way out. We can climb down this rope, and climb up the other."

"That's crazy," Flo says. "What if they cut the rope on our way up?"

"Or what if one of the kids cuts it on our way down?" Ben asks.

"That's the chance we have to take," I say. "I don't think they will. The other kids want a way out, too. And the gamemakers - don't you see? They want survivors. They want to prolong this. We are their entertainment."

The other kids are charging, getting closer know. They know something is up.

"We have no time to lose," I say. "I'll go last and guard our backs. Bree, you go first. Then Charlie."

I grab Bree, pull her over, position her so she'll go down feet first, hold her hand, and make sure she grabs firmly on the ropes.

She looks back up at me, eyes wide in fear.

"I'm scared," she says.

"Don't be scared," I assure her. "You'll be fine. Now go!"

Bree hangs there, frozen in fear. I am sweating: I don't know what to do.

Suddenly, Charlie appears. He slides over to her and looks at her sweetly.

"It's okay," he says. "I'll go with you. Just follow me. We can do it together. One rung at a time."

Bree seems to relax as Charlie climbs down with her. They start to climb down together, and I am relieved.

Next, I prod Logan to go, then Ben.

Flo finally seems to be on board - but she stops and looks back over her shoulder. Several kids are running for us, now just twenty yards away. She reaches down, grabs a rock, and throws it at one of them. She hits him, and he goes down. But the others still charge.

"What about the rest of them?" she asks.

"Go," I say. "Watch over them. I've got this."

She looks at me with something like admiration, then, she surprises me. For the first time ever, she smiles.

"You're not half bad," she says.

Before I can thank her for the closest she'll probably ever come to a compliment, she gets on the rope and begins to quickly descend.

I turn just in time: two kids are charging right at me. One of them lowers his head, and I can see he is aiming to tackle me, to drive me off the edge.

I force myself to stay disciplined, relaxed. I wait. Just like my dad taught me.

Then, at the last second, I squat all the way as far down as I can, ducking under him, and as he is about to hit me, I spring up, using his momentum to throw him over my shoulder. His momentum carries him flying over the edge. He plummets down, screaming.

I can't react fast enough, though, for the other one. He tackles me, driving me down to the ground hard. He has me right at the edge, and before I can react, he reaches over and chokes me, holding my head backwards over the cliff. I look over and see nothing but a sharp plummet between me and the canyon below. He has all the leverage. I have none.

I'm slipping and sliding, about to go over. He grimaces down, flashing his orange teeth. I realize that he will kill me. This is how I will die.

I'm running out of air, and quickly sliding of the edge, and I have few options. I realize I have to make one last desperate move.

I reach back, over the edge, and just manage to grab, with one hand, a huge root, sticking out the side of the cliff. I wrap my legs around his waist, then slide my body backwards, over the edge of the cliff, grasping the root for dear life. I pray it holds.

I swing over the edge hard, taking him with me. I let go of my legs and he goes flying, screaming, plummeting head over heel down to his death.

The root is quickly giving way, dirt flying everywhere; I manage to swing around just in time and grab the edge of the rope ladder. As I do, the root gives way. Another second and I would've been dead.

I hurry down the rope ladder, and as I do, I feel something hard hit me on the shoulder. I turn and see the spectators are going crazy, hurling rocks at all of us as we climb down. Another rock hits me hard in the back, and each one hurts more than the next. I just hope and pray that Bree can hang on.

I am about halfway down the cliff when I feel the rope move. I look up and see a group of kids at the top, watching us, getting the same idea. They get onto the rope and begin to climb down, too. I was right: they didn't cut it. They wanted out, too. I just hope the rope can hold us all.

I look down and see the others have already reached the canyon floor. I move double time, and scramble down to the bottom. There is a ten foot drop down to the ground, and I hesitate for a moment. I know this is going to hurt.

I let go. I fall through the air and hit the dirt hard. It hurts, but I am ok.

The others are down there, waiting for me. They all made it safely.

"Let's go, move!" I yell, and we sprint across the canyon floor, running for the rope dangling down the cliff on the far side. Stones hail down on us, but we are moving fast and they mostly miss.

It is odd being down here - like being in the bowels of the earth. I look up and see the steep cliffs on either side, and I realize what a huge climb it will be to get back up. I hope and pray that this works.

I reach the other dangling rope bridge, and stop and look straight up. It hangs straight down the cliff. I yank hard on it. It's sturdy.

"It's risky," Flo says, breathing hard as she comes up beside me. "They might cut it, when we're halfway up. Or burn it. Our shower us with rocks. Or anything."

"I don't think they will," I answer, facing her, catching my breath, too. "I think a part of them wants us to make it. After all, they need entertainment for tomorrow."

She looks up, unsure, as the others catch up beside us.

"Besides," I add, "we have no choice."

I reach down, grab Bree, and hoist her up onto the rope. "Climb," I say.

Flo grabs Charlie, and the two of them climb up together.

Next comes Logan, then Ben.

Flo pauses. She turns and I turn with her to see what she's watching. A dozen kids are finishing their descent down the other rope, copying my strategy. They are charging right for us.

"Go," I say to Flo. "Protect them. I've got the rear."

Flo gives me a look of approval, then grabs the rope and scrambles up. I climb up right after her.

As I do, one of the kids below reaches up and grabs my ankle. A lanky teenager with broad shoulders, she yanks hard and pulls me down, keeping me from climbing. My hands are getting tired, palms burning into the ropes, and in a desperate effort to shake her off, I wind up with my other foot and kick her hard in the face.

It is a perfect strike, right on her nose. She lets go, and I continue to climb, as fast as I can.

I make good time, catching up to the others, and soon we are halfway up the cliff. I can hardly believe it: my plan is really working. For the first time I wonder if we just might make it.

And then come the rocks. We are all halfway up when rocks begin to hail down all around us. The spectators throw them like crazy, and now they come straight down at us, like missiles. They weren't letting us go: they were just waiting until we got closer.

I cover my head, as the others do the same, and do my best to withstand the torrent of missiles. I look down and see several kids climbing up the rope behind me - and I watch as one of them gets hit by a particularly large rock, right in the head. She loses her grip and goes tumbling, end over end, landing flat on the ground below. She is dead.

My heart floods with panic. We can't just stay here.

"Move!" I yell up.

We all start moving again, climbing up, despite the rocks. They come down hard, bouncing off my arms and shoulders.

I hear a cry, and look up and see Charlie lose his grip. He falls from the rope, goes tumbling through the air. Flo reaches out to grab him, but it happens so fast, she just misses his grip.

Instinctively, I reach out. As he goes flying past, somehow I am able to grab hold of his shirt. I grab hard and hold him by one hand, dangling in the air. I swing him over, bring him back to the rope, and he grabs on, behind me.

I breathe deep with relief: I have just saved him from instant death. I look up and see the visible relief on Flo's face, too, and the gratitude.

But there is no time to think about it: we are under fire, and we all continue to climb our way straight up. Somehow, we slog our way through the stones. We are close, just feet from the top, when the crowd parts ways and a slaverunner steps forward with a machete. He raises it high, and I can see he is aiming to bring it down on the rope.

My heart floods with panic. If he cuts it, we will all be dead.

I move quick. I reach into my back pocket, take out the knife that I found. I figure now is the time to use it.

I grab the rope with one hand, lean back, and throw it with everything I have.

It flies through the air, end over end, straight up. It is a perfect strike.

The knife lodges in the slaverunner's forehead, and he goes limp and falls off the edge of the cliff, hurling past us to his death.

The spectators love this. They cheer like mad as we continue up the ladder. Bree reaches land first. Then Logan, then Ben, then Flo, then Charlie. Then me. I collapse on the ground, exhausted, every muscle in my body about to give out, hardly able to catch my breath. I can't believe it. We made it. We really made it.

The spectators stand back, part ways as the leader appears, carried forward on his throne. He sits there, looking down at us all. He stares for a long time, and the crowd quiets. I wonder if he's going to have us killed.

Suddenly, he breaks into a wide grin. That is when I know that we have made it. We have survived the first day.

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