

The Unnamed

By K. Weikel

Copyright © 2015 by K Weikel

Cover art by K. Weikel

Smashwords

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Praise for The Unnamed

"Interesting concept. I really want to explore this world further."

-Finn O'Connor from Kitchener, Ontario, Canada

"...It does have me asking why on a lot of things... I'm glad your main character is in the dark. I like him and don't want him getting sucked into something that gets people killed."

-Kevin Bender from Maysville, Oklahoma

"...I ATE UP the dialogue. It was engaging, and realistic. And this plot sounds INTERESTING...."

-Snicker Sneebee, Author of The Duplicate

"Very very interesting and cool concept."

-Christian Edwards, Author of Skyfall

For my parents and my family.

The Unnamed
1: the Title

"Runner," he hears. "Come here. I have another message for you to take."

The boy, the age of seventeen, sprints from his post at the table, where he had been taking a break from training, his skin still glistening with sweat. He's tall and has incredibly dark skin, and his hair hangs down to his shoulders in long dreads. Not ideal for his Category, but it doesn't slow him down.

The old man of fifty-seven folds a paper and slides it into an envelope, sealing it.

"I don't want anybody seeing this, you understand? It needs to go to the Elite Leader. You know where he is."

"Yes, Master," the Runner says politely, nodding his head. "Is there anything you want me to tell him?"

"Yes. Tell him that this is urgent, and I need his response right away," the old man says in his deep, raspy voice. "I want you to stay in the building with him as he writes his letter back. If he asks why you have not left, tell him it really is extremely urgent."

"Yes, Master."

The Master hands the white envelope to the Runner and watches as he runs out the door.

"One more year until that boy earns his name. He deserves it."

The Runner sprints out of the building, and splashes into a puddle that swallows his foot whole. It's raining outside.

Rain is never a good thing.

The Runner pulls his black hooded jacket up over his head to block the falling water and slides the envelope between the Runner's regulatory jacket and his blue shirt.

Black and blue for the Runners—it's mandatory.

The rain only gets heavier as his legs take him farther from the white mansion and to the big red one on the other side of the city. It's a five-story building with a big arch in the front. Columns run along under the roof that hangs over the outer walls like a hat. The doors are grand and black underneath the main red arch of the building. Red roses line the perimeter and every window give away that all of the lights are on inside.

The Runner jogs up the narrow steps to the front door, skipping every other step. He takes off his jacket and shakes it out, all of the water falling off of it easily, thanks to the water-resistant material. In his hand he holds the envelope, careful not to crease it as he slides the jacket back on. Without this jacket, he wouldn't be allowed to receive his name when he turned eighteen next year, and that is something he definitely looks forward to.

He opens the big, black door and steps into the beautiful room that lies behind it. An elephantine chandelier hangs from the ceiling above the center of the room three stories up and two white marble staircases wind their way to the second floor. A red carpet is draped like a runway over each step, and the rug on the floor looks like the rare red velvet the Runner has only heard about. He knows it's not real velvet, though. The Elite Leader had told him it wasn't on one of his runs.

Everything inside is white and red, a contrast to the black and red on the outside of the building.

The Runner waits by the doors, knowing what he needed to do, having done it multiple times before.

"Runner!" the Elite Leader claps once joyfully as he walks down the stairs to greet his guest. "Welcome! It seems as if I haven't seen you in ages."

The Runner nods politely, knowing he's not allowed to say anything but what he came here to say.

"What does Elite Solver Mortimer have for me today? Or is it from a different housing unit?"

"My Master has told me to bring you this," the Runner says, holding out the white envelope. "He wanted me to say that this is urgent, and that he needs you to respond right away."

The Elite Leader looks genuinely concerned as he opens the letter. He begins to read as he waves at the Runner to follow him to his office. He leads him up three stories, going through an open arch at the top of the stairs on the first floor, and through a long hallway that leads to another set of staircases much like the first ones to the third floor. The Runner follows him all the way to his office and stands in the doorway as the Elite Leader sits down and rubs his chin with his fingers in frustration.

"Do you know about this, Runner?"

The Runner shakes his head. If he speaks of something other then what he was told, there could be serious consequences.

The Elite Leader sighs and looks at him with worn eyes.

"Of course you don't," the Elite Leader mumbles heavily, leaning back in his chair and running his hands over his face. He sighs loudly. "It seems as though your Master has discovered something. Something big."

The Runner just stares politely, listening to a conversation he could die for. All he could do was not think about it and not dream about it to keep his life safe.

"I know you're worried about what I'm saying," the Elite Leader sighs, leaning forward to pick the paper up again. "You don't want to get in trouble. But don't worry, you're with me. And as long as you're with me, and delivering to me, then you're safe. Just don't go mouthing off about the conversations you have with the Elite Leader."

The Runner nods.

"That means you can speak," the man chuckles.

The Runner stares at him.

"Yes sir," the Runner finally croaks, his body tensing up.

"It's a start," the Leader smirks, rereading the letter. "Runner, if I may, I'd like to ask you something." He pauses, waiting for a response that, of course, never comes. "If you held the fate of the world in your hands, and you gain knowledge on a choice that could disembody and destroy that world, but could possibly make it better, would you make the choice to go through with it?"

The Runners heart race picks up speed.

Is this a test?

"Sir, I think the way things are now is the perfect balance of life and death."

"Oh don't give me that," the Elite Leader growls, placing his elbows on his desk. "You were raised to say that, no matter what you think about this world. Tell me your honest opinion. I promise I won't tell anyone. Besides, I'm the highest of the Elites."

The Elites.

The Title sends chills and fear coursing through the Runner's body. They are the best of the best of each category in the World, the Base, and the Planet, and live to be the best at what they were raised to do. After all, there can only be one champion of each category in each city.

"I think the way things are now is the perfect balance of life and death."

The Elite Leader sighs, giving up.

"Alright, Runner. Let me write your letter," he says as he takes out a pen and paper.

The rain was still falling by the time the Runner made it back to his Master's mansion. Pools of water had accumulated in the streets in the time he spent in the Leader's mansion.

The Runner shakes off the water from his clothes and walks inside. His Master is still sitting at the table, tapping away on the screen of his large computer that draped across it like a blanket. The surface blinks and flickers as he edits and moves things around, calculating and pondering. It's thin and rollable; most of the existing computers like it are smaller, about the size of a hand. He gets the biggest one because he is the Elite Solver. He solves problems the city faces and tells the Elite Leader what the best solution is.

The old man looks up and adjusts his glasses before taking the envelope the Runner offers. He opens it up and scratches the white beard that hides his neck from view, a crease forming between his bushy eyebrows.

"You may go now, Runner," he says absentmindedly. "I don't need you anymore today."

The Runner nods respectfully and sprints out the door. He runs across the busy streets filled with people and into one of the housings for the Runners. The Runner's Building.

Treadmills line the inside walls and boys and girls of all ages occupy every one of them. A few do squats in the corner, strengthening their legs and challenging each other. This is what they do in their free time, aside from rest. They don't know much else besides running and winning, the government and it's laws, and exercising. There isn't much else to do as a Runner.

The Runner walks down the stairs in the front of the room to the Beds. Bunks stacked three stories high are crammed in together all around the basement area. Some Runners are sleeping, while others workout in silence.

The Runner takes off his jacket, identical to everyone else's. The only exception is for the red wing on the right sleeve. That means he's one of the Elite Leader's Runners. Mortimer the Elite Solver shares him with the Elite Leader because it's no doubt he's one of the best Runners in the World, the city he lives in.

The jacket has an emblem on the back of a black outlined foot with a pair of wings encircled by the color blue, symbolizing he is a Runner. The Elites chose this Path for him when he was five, and he was taken from his parents and set in this place. He's always been naturally good at running and he never had to try as hard as anyone else. He gains muscle easily and had figured out the proper breathing technique while in motion long ago. He knows he's the best, and that secures his confidence in gaining the Title of Elite next year.

The Runner climbs into the very top bunk on one of the outer beds and stares at the ceiling hanging two feet above his face. He thinks of the Competitions. There is one for every Category and those who participate are ranked as they compete against one another. For the Runners, the top ten are placed in a room together for three days to learn each other's strengths and weaknesses. Once the time is up, they each get called up to race, and the ones with the fastest times make it into the top five. They top five then go to the last stage: the Elite Race.

For this one, it's good to have advantages, and to know what they are because you go up against the Elite, who's life is dedicated to his or her Category, and that Category alone. No matter how old the Elites are, years on end they've beaten people to keep their position. Beating the Elite would make the old Elite retire (or go off to their death) and make the new winner the next Elite. This had only happened three times since this structuring system had been around. This problem was fixed when the first Elite died unexpectedly in Year Ninety of the New World, and they just brought the next best thing: the Second Place. Now they compete yearly.

Eventually, the Runner falls asleep, but not before asking himself a dangerous question.

What had the Master told the Elite Leader about?

2: the Competitions

The Runner wakes up to the sound of stomping above him. It's routine for them to run every morning before going to work, but why didn't anyone wake him up? Normally, somebody does.

He twists around and makes his way down the long ladder from the top of the bed. His feet touch the cool floor and it sends shivers through his muscle tissue.

A few stretches here and there, and he's upstairs before the other Runners can finish.

The rest are running in circles around the room and jumping over the moving treadmills. Some of the younger Runners try to leap over them, accidentally catching their foot on the tack and falling to the ground.

He remembers when he did that the first time. Someone told him to jump higher.

If he had any flaws while running, it was agility. He has the speed, the stamina, the breath control, and he knew exactly how to angle his body to get to where he needed to go as quick as he could, but not the agility.

He's more clumsy than anything, to be honest. His feet are too big and his legs are too muscular to have complete control while even walking. All he knows is put one foot in front of the other as fast as he can to get him where he needs to be.

He joins in with the group, running for a good hour or so, and they all stop. Some are breathless and some are pumped up, ready to begin the day.

The Runner heads back down to the Beds to get his jacket and change his clothes. Blue shirt, black pants, blue shoes, black jacket. The way it's always been.

One year until, if he makes at least the top ten, he will earn a name and a place in this world. If he makes it in the top five, he could be given a bigger Title, a more important title, than the Runner.

He likes the idea of being someone important, rather than just another Runner or Title.

The Runner smiles to himself. He knows he has a good chance in winning the whole thing. He's worked harder than anyone else in his category.

Shaking his head, he suppresses the feeling of pride. It's a scary trait to have now. It's frowned upon.

The Runner steps outside, the water still falling from the sky in little droplets, hitting his jacket softly. It's going to get heavier as the day passes, and the Runner knows it. It always happens.

As he sprints alongside the wall surrounding the World, he runs his hand along it. It's made of solid cement, with the toughest metal as a skeleton so it stays up. The Builders are trying to create a roof for the World to keep the weather from destroying the city.

The World is the city that lies inside of these walls. It's one of the biggest cities, and, for all the Runner knows, it's one of the last ones. There's the World, which he lives in now, the Planet, and the Base. In between those cities is a vast spanse of land, ranging from rugged and dry to rainy and tropical.

The people of the World, Planet, and Base don't live out in the open because of the weather. It became so terrible one day in the past, throwing multiple tornados, tsunamis, lightning storms, hurricanes, and any other kind of natural disaster you can think of.

The Runner just hopes that the rain doesn't bring a hurricane.

Reaching his Master's gossamer white steps to his mansion, he pulls his hood down.

Mortimer the Elite Solvers' mansion is all white, with gray colors interwoven into the marble slabs on the floor and the arches. The windows are lit up in the dim light of the morning, his other Servants and Trainee's awake and working.

The Runner opens the door and steps into the cool of the building. Elite Solver Mortimer isn't sitting at his desk; instead, he's walking up to the runner with a slight smile on his old face.

"Hello, Runner," he nods.

The Runner looks at him strangely. He never talks to him so casually like this. The Master is usually at his desk, writing or reading, and he barely even glances up at the Runner when he speaks to him.

"Hello, Master," the Runner says hesitantly. He takes the Master's speech as an opportunity to speak freely, although he knows the freedom will be cut short.

Do not speak unless you are told to. The instructions given to him and drilled into his head since he was a toddler replayed in his head. Do what you are told.

"Come," his Master says, motioning to the table he always sits at and walking to it. The Runner follows cautiously.

"Sit down, Runner," The Master says again, and when he notices the Runner's unsureness, he chuckles. "Don't worry. This isn't a test. I have a few things to discuss with you about the Competitions."

The Runner eventually sits, his eyes on the Master at all times, looking for something to tell him not to do it. He can see nothing in the old, wrinkled man's eyes. His white beard is combed neatly and it brushes his chest gently as he looks about the room. His eyes are a dull blue color, giving him a magical look to the Runner. The Master's body is old and fragile, but when he walks, he walks with such power, such grace, that it seems as if he is thirty years younger than he looks.

He stops to stand at the other end of the table.

"Runner," the Elite Solver. "As you may know, the Competitions for your age group are coming up soon. You have less than a year until it's your turn to take the risk and run against everyone that you've known your entire short life. Of course, and you know this as well, if you fail to place in the top ten, you will be Unnamed. Now, the Unnamed, no one knows what happens to them exactly. There are just some things in this world that are better left unknown.

"When I went in to choose my new Servants, after the ones I'd had went through their Competitions and either failed or succeeded, I was the first to choose. The order the Elites choose in is based on how successful their Servants did in the Competitions of that year.

"I had six of mine make it into the top five in six of the many categories. That's what bumped me to the top.

"They brought in the little five year olds that had just turned and lined them up in a row. I was really good at picking out the successful ones.

"You all had no training whatsoever, because you had just been assigned to your Category. You all wore your new shirts proudly, but you, Runner, you were beaming. You looked like you loved where you were placed.

"So that was that. I chose you and four other children. I really wanted to choose another Runner, of course, because it's one of my favorite Categories to train. You are all so dedicated...

"But, as you know, I couldn't do that. Only the Elite Runner can choose more than one Runner, like I can choose two children from my Category: Solvers.

"You worked the hardest of any of the Servants I've ever had, and that's a good quality to have, considering it's a winning quality, and you need to win to become one of the Named.

"Now onto the subject of the Competitions," The Master says, giving the Runner a slight smile and beginning to pace at the end of the table. "There are many Categories, but you will only compete in one of those. The first of your races will include everyone in both your age group and your Category. It's not going to be an easy race, and you're going to have to train hard for it, if you don't want to become an Unnamed.

"Once you find out your placement, which I'm sure you'll finish in the top five, at least, you will receive a name and be shuffled off into the room with the other nine competitors where you will learn all of their secrets, not by asking, but by watching. They will stretch, warm up, and practice in that room that you all will be shut into for three days' time.

"I advise you not to show your strengths in front of them and to get to know them, because once the three days are up, you will be sent to a room where you will evaluate each competitor that you had spent the last three days with. The questions will ask you what they are good at and what they are bad at. Once finished with that, you will be taken to a hallway to wait. You can do whatever you want in that hallway as long as you don't leave or break any rules.

"Once it's your turn, you will go into the room. It will be simulated to rid of your strengths and your weaknesses, creating an even playing field, since none of your opponents will be equally matched as you, due to other Masters training them.

"When you finish, you will not know what place you are in. The results will be announced live, and you will be brought onto stage one at a time, receiving your Title. The ones who do not make the top five will be sent back out into the World, and will live as Servants to their Masters for the rest of their lives.

"Now this is where it gets tricky, Runner," The old man says as he stops to lean on the table, looking directly at the boy in the jacket. "Make the top five, and you will go head-to-head against the Elite Runner.

"I know you know all of this. You watch the Competitions every year, and I'm sure you stare at it wide-eyed, just waiting for your turn to earn a Name and a Title."

The Master pauses for a moment, thinking to himself.

"Runner," He says. "Do you plan on making it to Number One?"

The Runner looks at him. That's all he's ever wanted to do. That's all anyone should ever want to do. It's the purpose of the Competitions, isn't it? To be Number One and be the Elite for your Category. To win and represent your Category well by bringing in your beliefs and your ideas.

Right?

"Yes, Master. I've always dreamed of it."

The old Elite Solver looks perplexed, his brow furrowing as he nods.

"All right. Well, once the race starts, there's no going back. The Elite Runner will do everything in his power to stay an Elite, especially this one...

"If you do beat the Elite Runner in some way, you will be awarded and you will receive his mansion. He will retire, and you will take his place.

"Now, Runner," The old man walks around the length of the table and stands beside the boy, his old face grave. "I need you to know something. The Elite of the Runner Category... He's the second to replace an Elite by winning. He's been up there for only two years, and he won't give up without a fight. So if you decide you really want to go for the Number One spot and force him to retire... that is your decision."

His decision?

Something inside of the Runner aches. Giving a flawed human being—any flawed human being the right to their own decision and free will is what created wars and rebellions back then. How can he make his own decision if he's never really made on his whole life? He makes the decision to get up in the morning and to warm up, and he makes the decision to do his job, but those things are necessary if he doesn't want to become one of the Unnamed.

His Master must see the thoughts in the Runners' eyes, and he places his hands on the boys' shoulders to assure him.

"It's okay to decide for yourself," he whispers encouragingly. "Sometimes it's the only option you have."

\+ + +

The Master released the Runner from work for the day to think about everything.

Of course I'm going to do it, the Runner thinks to himself as he jogs along the wall of the World. I haven't trained my entire life to throw it all away at the last second.

The Elite Runner is whom the Runner always dreamed about going up against. He loves running. It's his life.

The Runner wants to be the best. He wants to talk when he's not supposed to and express what he thinks, though the thought scares him half to death.

He would have to give his all.

He will go against the Elite Runner. He just has to get past all of the other Runners first.

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 from each other. 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. The fact that they're also playing against those they grew up with hinders them completely if people remember them.

That's the reason why the Runner doesn't have actual friends. Just acquaintances that know his face. The only problem is that they know he's fast.

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.

The people he grew up with sit around the screen, talking about the competing Runners and weighing their flaws and perfections. A few of them run on the treadmills, trying to stay in shape while they have these days off.

The Runner returns his focus to 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 hates 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 into a small device much like the Elite Solver's tablet. Then they are sent out to wait in a hall together. Some of them rest on the floor while others stretch and jog in place or down the hall. 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, showing how big the empty space is. The vision is limited and the pictures come out green-tinted, letting the viewers know all the power is off in the room for now. 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 path 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 his 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 it. 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 stares at the boy, a funny feeling twisting in his gut.

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 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 checkered line. His toes almost touch the black and white squares, his body shaking.

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 Leader's 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, amused.

"Yes, Runner. A beverage you can sip because it comes in the form of a liquid. Which kind would you like?" he chuckles, 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 sip 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 for a change."

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 believes him. He's too jolly to be mean. Always has been, but it seems like today, he's taken a stop up on the happy stairs.

"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, and it finally comes on with 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 glances over and shrugs, slightly worried the gesture might have been too informal. Nevertheless, Mortimer the Elite Solver nods 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 flick on during the night time at the track as well as the lights they turn on for the cameras.

"Hello Runners and Elites! I am 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 as she works her way up the list.

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

The Runner smiles as he watches her bound happily up the steps and onto the stage.

"You are now Titled as Rachel the Runner."

She exits 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 year's Competition. Next year's 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 inquires, and the Runner looks at the old man, still confused about the day's 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 standing near. It's placed between two of the treadmills along the left side of the building, the machine silent with sleep.

"What's happening?" He mumbles to himself. Curious thoughts wrestle 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.

There's a set of footsteps making their way up to the large room the Runner occupies. 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 can face anyone without examining every little unnecessary thing and talking when he isn't supposed to. There's so much crowding his brain to do so.

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 the Runner's Building, he sees the Runners 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 knows they'd come flooding back the moment the distraction dissipates.

The Competition's introduction music blares from the television's side speakers and everyone hastily takes a seat or finds a place to stand. Today would be the last of the Competitions: the Elite Rounds, 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 talked to anyone, either. He recalls Blaise the Elite Runner as someone who was hard-working and talented. He earned the spot fair and square.

One of the Titled, a Leader, lower than the Elite but higher than the Runner himself, appears on the screen to list the channels for each Category, and it takes a moment for one of the boys in 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 and this run will be quite a distance.

"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 questions asked to and about them by other Leaders 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 to ever exist.

Blaise the Elite Runner strides up to the starting line, standing in the middle lane on the track. The Runners 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 after the start 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 all the oxygen 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 instead. 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 gives her a disgusted look. It was a rude question.

After a moment, she looks at the camera, the microphone inches from her mouth as it awaits 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 year's 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 distraction and eventual forgetfulness. The Runner never forgets though, whether it is out of curiosity or because he was scared about this year's upcoming 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 returns home sore and exhausted from the day's 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 made to handle the Earth's storms, and not much was ruined inside the walls. Everything was cleaned up when the storm was surely gone and it all went back to normal, the Builders working on things that had received damage.

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 year's 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 command 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 short 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 Leader 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, refusing to have a seat. 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 man 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 last year..."

"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 remaining 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 Titled 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 not..."

"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.

He's risking his life by refusing.

"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 the long paths of 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 sprints his way around the World before returning to his Master'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 the doorway and into the darkness to close the hatch. Blackness 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 the Elite Leader 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 made of 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 wondering 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? He's always favored you... we were afraid he'd say something."

"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. 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. Should he not make it out of this predicament.

"Don't tell a soul, Runner."

He nods and heads up the stairs, his throat taut with emotion.

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 to weaken the blow of the heavy subject. He could die.

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 asking him questions. An Elite Doctor shows up and carries her off, other Doctors trailing behind, buzzing with nervous energy. An Enforcer starts to ask questions, questions the Runner can't answer. Soon he gives up and lets the Runner go.

He can't help but blame the Unnamed.

They did this.

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 glances over at the Runner, the wheels turning in his head. They are back inside the basement, every light on and reflecting off the papers on the long table around the room. It almost gives the Runner a headache, but he's too anxious and worried about what's to come to let it reach him.

"What's the one difference between someone who is Unnamed and someone who has a Title?" his Master asks, leaning back on the hard surface behind him.

"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. So the Titles listen and obey, whereas the Unnamed don't mind being listed as an Unnamed."

"Right," Mortimer the Elite Solver smiles. "So you just have to look for someone who is going against what is to be expected."

The Runner nods, swallowing his emotions. "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. Because of that, we all have free reign and don't actually have any rules to follow." He bites his tongue, afraid he crossed a line. He knows Mortimer the Elite Solver is more lenient when it comes to correct speech towards authority, but he still doesn't want to slack off in his politeness, just in case he becomes too lax with his speaking around Elites. He could lose everything if he strikes the wrong nerve.

"Then you have to go beyond that," the old man strokes his beard with his fingers, ignoring everything the Runner is worrying about. "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 between his eyebrows as they furrow. He tries to recall the little things from the past, shoving aside his concerns. He thinks of Runners slacking off and not training as much as they need to and not much else. Groaning in frustration, he places his head in his hands, nearly defeated. He's still not sure if he wants to do this. The Runner could lose his life.

"What if I fail?" he asks in a slur, placing his head on a fist, unable to look up at his Master. "Will I get a Name anyway?"

"You're not guaranteed a Name, no," the Elite chuckles somberly, attempting to wave away his own worries, but they stick in his irises like flies on a wall. "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 Runner realizes he's trembling, the fear inside winning the war of keeping it hidden. Tears press against the back of his eyes, the salty water stinging them. He swallows the ball in his throat, making his throat ache.

The Elite Solver chews on his cheek as he processes something, watching the Runner as the inklings of fear and doubt begin to saturate his face. His wrinkles seem to deepen and his face seems to grow older as the Runner watches him shift his weight. His heart sinks. Does Elite Solver Mortimer think the Runner won't make it out of this alive, either?

"Then you find out everything you can about them and you come back here. I will alert the other Elites if—if that happens, Runner, and they will let you through 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, and you will never have to fear the Unnamed's wrath. I will protect you as if you were my own."

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. Either way, however, he could possibly die.

And that's the kind of danger that doesn't excite him.

Yet he feels obligated to take up the task.

"What do I do when I find one?" the Runner exhales, running a hand through his hair.

"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 die at the hands of the Unnamed."

\+ + +

The Elite Solver released him to look for the rebellion group. 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 bodies give off. He does this for three days, but he doesn't notice anything out of the ordinary.

Twenty-seven more days, he thinks to himself, ticking away the days he has left until his own Competitions.

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 at full speed. He has dark blonde hair and green eyes that seem to be filled with anger as he peers at the Runner over his own shoulder. This takes the Runner off guard as the boy turns around and pulls his hood over his head, blue emblem in full view. The Runner slows and stops, watching the boy get smaller with distance.

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.

He breaks into a sprint and comes to a sudden stop, nearly tripping over himself. The boy leans casually against the wall, as if he knew and was waiting for the Runner to follow him. He smiles a mischievous grin.

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

"Sorry," the boy shrugs. "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, the Runner feeling stupid and like he'd been caught doing something wrong. Which, if this boy was a part of the rebellion, he had.

"Wait," the Runner calls, stopping the boy. He doesn't know what he'll going to say next. He panics.

"What?"

"Why did you want to know?"

Is this strange behavior? Does this count? the Runner finds himself wondering.

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 argues internally. "Why? What's going on?"

The boy shakes his head and smiles. "You saw the Competitions last year. You tell me."

"Did you have a hand in that?" the Runner asks suddenly.

The boy only smiles before he disappears behind the other side of the mansion. The Runner sprints after him, watching as the boy runs down the long path of the sidewalks.

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

He takes off after him, jumping over potholes and large cracks in the cement. The boy runs fast, but not faster than the Runner can. He's the best, and he knows it.

They make it all 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 him over, struggling to breathe normally, whereas the Runner's is only slightly quicker.

"What is it that's going on?" the Runner asks, his heart pounding, but not from running. This could be it. This could be the moment of truth. Maybe he wouldn't have to go 'undercover'. Maybe this boy would tell him everything, right now.

But that's never the case, is it?

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

"Why are you so curious all of a sudden?" he asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

The Runner hesitates, scrambling for something to say next.

"I'm concerned," he offers, 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, our deal is 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 glances around the area quickly and then turns back to the Runner. "I've got to go. But for now, just pay attention."

"To what?" the Runner calls as the boy takes off once again. He doesn't answer and the Runner stands alone, thoughts swarming like bees inside his skull.

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. Did he stand him up?

There's a loud bang behind him.

The Runner turns around, startled, water from his bottle sloshing onto his face. His heart kick-starts and dread clings to his veins. What is this about?

The boy he was supposed to meet stands a good distance away, a gun raised and pointed at the Runner.

"Run!" the boy shouts across the empty space between them, the weapon in his hand smoking.

"What?!" the Runner exclaims. "Are you going to shoot me?"

"Not if you run!" He responds, shooting the gun in the air again 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, not trusting he won't shoot. Do they know about what the Elites set up? Does he know the Runner is going to be reporting everything back to Mortimer the Elite Solver?

This is insane!

"Faster!" the boy shouts, shooting again, and this time the bullet hits the dirt on the inside of the loop close to the Runner. He lets out a small cry, losing his rhythm. "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 his body, 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 toward the Runner.

Is he really 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 as if no one's life was on the line. "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, clasping his hands tightly together. "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 the twenty-four hours ago the Runner had been here.

"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, 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 lock eyes with the Runner. 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. He thought he had so much potential, and he was right. This boy could save so many lives if all goes according to plan.

"Just keep me updated, Runner," the old man says softly before making 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 the Unnamed will throw at him and that he can't fail. The World, the people inside the city 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 glances 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. Others are training. All is normal.

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 the boy doesn't notice him.

Could he be one of the Unnamed? The Runner wonders 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. His hood is pulled up over his head.

The Runner walks over, glancing 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 the first thing on the Runner's mind as his eyes open before they're supposed to. Everyone is still asleep while his mind is on overdrive. The events of the past few days, of the past year run through his head just like he had been running for his life yesterday.

He slips down from 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 on 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 has to do. 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 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 outside 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 becomes 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 because of the situation?

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 random people from every single one of the Categories.

"What's going on?" The Runner asks over the chaos to the boy.

"Today is the day when we all 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," he tells the boy. "He doesn't know how to run properly."

The Leader 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," 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 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 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 believes 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 hesitates..." 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 thinks.

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 the zone. He turns to look at the boy putting him through these tests, who presses a button on his watch and glances up at him, an impressed glint in his eye. The Runner walks back over to the boy as he receives a handful of pats on the back from those just here for fun and the other boy nods.

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

With that, he leaves the Runner in the group of awed faces that overheard the conversation, not quite understanding what's happening, but not quite caring either. They have no idea what he's doing, that he's manipulating one of the rebels to get into the rebellion. Guilt drips into his stomach.

He beat Stark.

Does that mean he can outrun the Elite Runner, too?

10: The Unnamed

That night, the Runner's awakened by someone lightly shaking his shoulder. He jumps up, startled to come face to face with the boy that had "tested" him before in the darkness. The boy lifts 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, stepping lightly over worn-out running shoes littering the floor.

The Runner slips on his jacket and his socks and shoes, and 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, a sticky sweat forming under the fabric he always wears. 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, danger playing in his eyes. "Test number three. Let's see how well you can lie."

"Wait," the Runner grabs the boy's 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. That can't be an option. The Runner needs to succeed to save people.

"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 back in bad taste, 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 stands 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 to hide his fidgeting, 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 here, too. And you know not many people do that."

The rebel 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 only 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 flings 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. More... anything.

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 hatch made of boards of wood tied side-by-side.

He sticks his fingers in one of the crevices and pulls upward, 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 as its hinges creak and moan. 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 him to approach the hole in the ground. He takes a few steps to where he stands just on the edge, toes dangling over. The Runner can still see nothing but black as he peers down into it, a long rope dangling from the wooden door.

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 the 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; loose enough so that if anyone tugs at the door, it'll open.

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."

"They aren't killing people!" the Runner bursts, his voice echoing down the hallways.

"Actually, it is 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. 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. Cringing, he follows behind Three as he marches down the hallway, the doorway closing moments later with a grating sound. 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?"

"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 them."

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's 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. "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 an Unnamed. He sees people trading things for food and children—children—running around on the cement ground, laughing with glee. 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. It's definitely larger than two miles wide. "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 there. 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 it... 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, even if these people don't know it.

The sea of people seems to split for him to walk through as he shuffles 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 offers, 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 most of the group has disappeared.

He follows the girl and the pack of people remaining as they step out into a small dark room. Another door opens and the Runner sees the kitchen inside his 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 Elite Solver asks in disbelief. "What was down there? And where is it?"

"There's a passageway outside of the fencing," the Runner explains hastily, grabbing a large paper and a pencil. He starts to draw the World, a big round circle on the left-hand side 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' outside the wall. "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 against 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 missed the morning warm-ups, 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 can't seem to shake it. The only 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 attention forward, but not quick enough to dodge the person in front of him. 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 goin', 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 demands, 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, rubbing his stomach. 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 it means 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 knock.

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 into the first time he'd been in here. Writing it down on the map he made for Mortimer the Elite Solver would probably be helpful to the Elites. 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 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 somethin' 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 toward the Leader's Building. Two opens the door hastily and barges in. There are only three people in the room, despite the twenty round tables scatted inside its four walls. Two boys and one girl are sitting at the table halfway across the room, each glancing 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 Runner and Two sit in the one opposite of her, Two's face hard and like a statue.

"Someone is down there," he says quietly. At this, One's eyes widen and she looks down and swallows spit in her mouth, nodding. "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. It didn't seem like the intruders found anyone."

One nods, keeping her eyes on Two still. "We'll hide out in the tunnels since they're closed off and we'll stay quiet. Make sure, if you find the rest, that they know that. I need absolute 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, surprised by his Servant's change of character.

"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? Who? The Elite Leader? 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 to investigate."

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 man's 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 a breeze hits it with every swing of his arm, chilling him. His muscles cry out for sleep, for relaxation, but he has fifty more push-ups, another mile to run, and dinner to eat. The training might seem rigorous, but he's used to pushing his body to its limits.

"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. You need every muscle to run, every ounce of power you can muster up in a 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 take 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.

14: the Last

The Runner's body screams bloody murder as he sits up in his bed. He tells himself he shouldn't have pushed as hard as he had, but he knows he has to. If he wants to live—if he wants others to live, he has to win this race. He needs to stay on the good side of the Unnamed.

Too bad he only has nine days to do so.

Training is long, hard—tedious. Each night he goes home and falls right asleep, even when it's too early for lights out and voices ring all through the building. He can feel his muscles growing as the number of days shrinks. Eight... seven... six...

His ankle gets better. Mortimer has one of the young Doctors he trains to create a drug that will help heal him faster than normal. To the Runner's luck, it works, and he can't feel the pain any longer. And so he pushes.

Five... four...

Three.

Two. Two days until training for the Competitions by the Unnamed. The Runner heads to Mortimer's mansion, ready to begin the day. The sun beats down, hotter than ever, and the Runner feels as if his skin is melting off his face as he jogs over the steaming cement.

"Hey," the Runner hears, making him turn around and jog backwards. Three walks up to him hastily, looking around, almost paranoid. The Runner stops jogging and lets the boy catch up to him, awaiting some news or update on the Unnamed. The concerned look... is it because of the Runner?

His anxiety spikes.

"Hey, they found some of us... just a few hours ago..." the boy huffs. "And in two days, we're supposed to start our training... One says to stay low and not talk to anyone outside of your Category and to not go to any other building... in two days, the Runners will all meet at the track, just like they have always done for the Competition. The last five days of training. And, dude... you're our last hope for the Runners Category."

"What do you mean?" the Runner asks, alarmed.

"I mean we're two of the only Runners left, and no one is as fast as you are."

"Wait—what...? I don't—"

Suddenly, he understands.

They want him to beat the Elite Runner in fourteen days.

The moment he's been waiting for his entire life, training for with every breath he breathes, suddenly seems daunting, suddenly seems impossible.

Even to someone like the Runner.

15: Questions

Self-doubt tries to creep into the Runner's mind the day after running into the boy, but he blocks it out, letting the pounding of his feet, the pumping of the blood through his veins, and the dripping of his sweat take up all of the space in his head. Nothing can stop him, even the pressure coming from the physical fatigue that weighs down on every part of him.

"Come here, Runner," Mortimer says as he sits on a stool in the center of the room with the workout equipment. Heavers, Runners, and all of the other physically inclined categories that serve the Elite train in this room on their free time.

The Runner stops the treadmill, anxious to see his distance and time. He tries to focus on what's happening before him, what the old man is saying. He knows it's important—he can just feel it.

"I need to talk to you." Elite Solver Mortimer runs his hand over his face, his exhaustion showing in his worn face. "Thirteen days until you go up against the Elite Runner. I want to let you know that I believe in you and that I know you can make it all the way. I know you won't get lower than Second place in the Final Race.

"But I have a feeling you will get First, and that worries me."

"Worries you?" the Runner asks, knowing he won't punish him for speaking out of turn. Not like the other Elites. Not since her decided to agree on infiltrating the Unnamed. The Runner just doesn't understand... What's so dangerous about the Elite Runner? What could he do to him?

"The Elites don't always play fair, Runner," the Elite Solver says, moving his hands as he talks. His pale eyes are locked on the Runner's, letting him know he is completely serious, that this isn't a joke or a test. "Dishonest people get what they want through manipulation and cheating. I am warning you that he will cheat somehow. Just be careful when you're getting ready to run. Be careful this whole week... You'd be amazed at how much power we have as Elites."

The Runner wipes the sweat from his forehead and leans forward. "What are you talking about?"

Mortimer the Elite Solver shakes his head slowly and closes his eyes. "You wouldn't understand just yet. Just know that we have power to spare and blind eyes are turned when we go against our morals. Know that we could take your life with one word, and no one would blink once it's happened."

The Runner feels his heart pound in his chest. "The Elite Runner won't try to kill me—would he?" He feels himself start to panic, a slight, tingling sensation floating from his core and to his fingertips. When the old man doesn't answer, the Runner repeats the question, the words almost coming out as a whisper.

"Then what am I supposed to do?" the Runner asks, suddenly feeling scared. The self-doubt finally sinks into his brain and he places his head in his hands. "If I don't win, the Unnamed will still be here... and if I do, I could die?"

Mortimer the Elite Solver looks over to his left, lost in thought.

"Master...?" the Runner asks.

The old man sighs. "Just be ready for it, Runner. This is your decision. And it's not a definite—but it's plausible..."

They sit in the room, silence settling down on them like a blanket tossed into the air and gripped again by gravity.

The Runner wants to win the race, but he doesn't want to die. Would the Elite Runner kill him if he beats him, or if her believes he will? And is his life worth all the freedom, all the righteousness that could happen because of him? Would the world be different if he died?

Death, he thinks to himself, shaking his head. What a scary thing to try to comprehend... He looks down at his hands and flexes them slowly. Should I do it? Should I run? Is it worth it?

"Yes," he says aloud, startling the Elite Solver. "It's worth it. I'm going to run, no matter the cost. I'm ready to continue my training."

\+ + +

He pushes himself to his limits, and when he gets home, he falls right asleep once again. His mind wanders and enters into a dreamland, filled with Runners on a track.

It's Competition Day.

There's a loud bang, and the people crouched beside the Runner—lined up beside the Runner—start sprinting. The Runner hesitates, not realizing that sound was for him to run too. He starts to kick himself mentally as he breaks out into a full sprint.

His body starts to hurt and scream with each step. He loses ground second by second.

A gunshot.

The Runner falls to the ground, rolling in pain as he grips the back of his shoulder. Someone had shot him, someone who is now standing above him.

The Elite Runner. His face seems different in the shadow his head creates against the sun as he stares down at the boy, emotionless.

"You can't beat me," he says, and lifts his arm up a hair, barrel to the Runner's head.

He pulls the trigger.

The Runner jerks awake, hitting his head on the ceiling just above him. He stifles a cry and lays back down, his pulse racing and his heart jackhammering inside of his ribcage. He tries to slow his breathing and calm down, telling himself that it was just a dream, that he let paranoia get to him before going to sleep.

But now he feels like he should steer clear of the Elite Runner—and possibly all of the Elites. What if they're all planning to kill him, and that's why they sent him in with the Unnamed? What if they were afraid he would beat the present Elite Runner, and now they're trying to eliminate him? What if the Unnamed isn't even real—it's just a hoax created by the government to remove the Runner from the picture?

Outrageous thoughts and questions run through the Runner's brain, not letting him fall back asleep until the last one is asked.

He feels his brain slipping into unconsciousness and his eyes fall heavy with sleep. He reminds himself that there's more training tomorrow, that he'll need all of his strength.

The Runner finally gives in and drifts off to sleep after the shocking nightmare has worn off. One question still echoes in his thoughts and saves itself in the back of his mind for later.

Why did you ever want to be an Elite?
16: One Condition

The Runner wakes up, his stomach growling more than he had ever thought possible. He immediately gets up and scarfs down whatever is placed in the refrigerator in the kitchen.

After that, he showers and starts his daily warm-up. Six days until the Competitions, and he still doesn't feel like he's strong enough yet. He wants to beat the Elite Runner—it's one of his top priorities, it has been since he first became a Runner. It's one of those things that everyone strives for, no matter what Category you are in. But with everything going on in the Runner's life, it's like he's hit a brick wall. He doesn't know how to get past it. If he races the Elite Runner and wins, he could end up dead. If he doesn't win, he would be one of the Unnamed forever.

The world outside is hot and sticky, and the scorching the air makes it hard for the Runner to breathe as he runs to his Master's mansion, moving his legs faster than a run. He sprints. Whether or not it's a good idea, he weaves his way in between the buildings, sucking in deep, hot breaths. Sweat begins to drip from his face and onto the ground, the jacket covering his skin soaked. He runs up the steps, skipping a step each time as he ascends higher and higher. The doors open easily as he runs in and stops in the doorway, jogging in place. His mouth is dry and his throat stings, but he can't stop. He needs to keep going. He can't give up yet. He can't stop running until Competition day.

Twelve more days.

Mortimer walks up to the Runner quickly, and tells him to stop jogging.

"I can't," the Runner says quietly, afraid someone might hear him talking back. "I have to keep training."

"Which is what we're about to go do. First, you need water and a towel. Come, come."

Mortimer the Elite Solver waves the Runner in the direction of the kitchen. The Runner follows him silently, his muscles crying out for rest.

They stop at the sink as Mortimer grabs a cup and fills it with clear water from the smaller faucet on the right hand side of the large sink. The Runner takes a few sips before he starts to stretch lightly, alternating between the two for about five quiet minutes. A girl walks up to the old man and hands him a small paper filled with pencil marks and words the Runner can't read from where he stands. The Elite Solver looks it over carefully, seeming to forget the world around him. He finally nods and hands the paper back to the girl.

"It's good," he says, nodding again. "Just make sure you have the right measurements to build it the day of the Competitions. And remember that there are going to be people around you building other things as well. Do it quick but right. You don't want to waste the first round. It only gets harder from there."

The girl nods, smiling. Her Builder's jacket stands out against her ivory skin as the Runner tries to figure out what she's building, just to keep his mind off of what is to come of his future.

"Did you get your instructions from the envelope this morning?" The Elite Solver asks her, seeming as if he had forgotten the Runner was even there.

"Yes, sir," she says timidly with a shy smile. "I'm almost done with the training. My hour for working on this sketch is almost up, and I just wanted to show you what I'd come up with so far."

"It's truly amazing. You'll do great in the First Trial, just don't let anyone get in your head, alright, Builder? Others in your Category tend to be overly cocky."

She giggles and nods in understanding. "Okay. Thank you, Master. I'll go finish my list now."

"You do that. And don't strain yourself—or hurt yourself. I'd hate to see you as an Unnamed."

Her smile falls a little at the last word, but she nods and quickly gets it back before turning away from Mortimer and the Runner.

"List?" the Runner asks. He had never gotten a list. Or an envelope. Thinking about it makes him want one, actually, and he feels a small prickle of jealousy in his chest. He knows he shouldn't be jealous, that it was just a list in an envelope, but it makes him feel different or something.  
The Elite Solver looks at him and nods with a slight smile.

"Yes. Unlike you, I train the rest of my Servants through notes and envelops. Not many of them need physical training, and not many more need motivation. The ones that do are the ones that I train a few times a week, if they need it."

"So why do you constantly train me?"

"Because you want this more than anyone, and if I'm not careful, if you're not careful, Runner, then you could seriously injure yourself."

"But I am being careful, Master—"

"Not careful enough. Constantly pushing your body twenty-four-seven is never a good thing. If you keep doing that, your body will break. It will give up on you when you need it the most."

"But I know what my body can handle."

"Runner." Mortimer the Elite Solver's voice slips out of his mouth with an edge to it. The Runner could get into trouble for saying what he is. His Master has that power—and apparently power to spare, according to what he had said the other day.

The Runner closes his mouth and nods, knowing that he'll still push his body to its limits day by day until he feels as if he can go against the Elite Runner and win. The only flaw with that plan is how to get away before something bad happens to him.

\+ + +

The Runner's body is sorer than ever as he tries to jog home, still trying to push his body to the limits. Walking to him feels like giving up.

The stars overhead and the almost full moon in the sky help him see when the streetlights are spread too far apart. There's nothing but the sound of his own two feet thumping on the broken cement and the heaving of his breaths.

He makes it to the Runner's Building without running into anything, although he had felt like he would, and slips into the shower once again after eating some leftover ham somebody had cooked in the little spare time they had.

Suddenly, he hears banging coming from the door that leads to the Unnamed territory. The Runner feels everything inside of him jump as he spins around towards the noise. It happens again, this time louder.

He stands in the doorway of the kitchen, not knowing what to do. Should he go over there and open it up? Should he leave it alone? What if they're in danger? What if it's the government?

Nevertheless, his feet start to move towards the gray door, banging vibrating it and making it look like it will come off its hinges at any moment. Is the door locked? Can it be locked from the outside? Or maybe it's broken. Could something be wrong with the door?

The Runner glances around before reaching the door. No one else is down here, and, from the looks of it, no one is above either.

He reaches for the silver knob and slowly twists it. It's hard to pull the cement slab open, as if it had been stuck together with incredibly strong glue.

A man comes stumbling out with a girl's arm gripped tightly in his right hand.  
The girl that had shown the Runner around the Unnamed's village.

The man sizes the Runner up with a scowl plastered on his face. "Oh, it's you," he growls, his voice deep and gruff. "Just lock that door behind me, would you?"

The words are kind but his tone is not.

The girl flashes the Runner a sideways glance as she tries to break away from the man's strong grip.

"Where are you taking her?" The Runner asks as he begins to pull her away. She almost trips over her own feet and the Runner wants to help her get away suddenly. "Where are you going?"

"That's none of you business, kid," the man snaps, and turns to go up the stairs to the upper level.

"I just want—"

"Kid, let me do my job."

He starts to climb up the stairs and the Runner follows him, asking questions and ignoring the threat of punishment for talking back.

"What did she do?"

"She's one of the Unnamed, and she needs to be punished." The man pushes his way out of the front doors and into the moonlight. The Runner follows him out, feeling as if he needs to save her. He doesn't know where this sudden burst of courage comes from, but it makes his heart pound with nervousness about what might happen to him.

"But she's a Runner. She can't be one of the Unnamed," the Runner says, trying to act as if he knows nothing.

"Really, kid? You're going to play stupid?" The man asks, almost humorously. "Alright, fine. I'm taking her to be tried in court. It's either thirty lashes across the back with a whip or death. And I suggest that unless you want to take that punishment upon yourself, you shut your trap and go back to what you were doing."

The Runner doesn't know what else to do. Obviously, this man knows more about the Runner than he thought. But the Runner doesn't know what else to do besides act like he doesn't understand or know what is going on.

"I think you have the wrong girl."

The man laughs incredulously, running his left hand through his hair absentmindedly. "Oh my—wow."

"And I want you to let her go."

At this, the girl stops struggling and the man bursts out laughing, a loud, throaty laugh. "You've got to be kidding me."

"I'm not. She isn't one of the Unnamed."

"Uh-huh," the man laughs in disbelief at what is happening. "So what I'm hearing is you want to take the place for her punishment."

"I don't want anything to happen but for you to let go of her right now."

The man's face grows red with anger, but the Runner presses on, his brain working on overtime and unable to think of the consequences of what his vocal cords let past his lips.

"Or you'll do what?" The man asks, his voice seeming to get lower with each word. "Kill me? Tell on me? I'm pretty sure I have more dirt on you than anyone else you know."

"And I'm sure you don't," the Runner challenges. "Now let her go."

The man stands looking at the Runner for a moment.

And then he lets go.

There's a moment of breathing, a moment of relief.

"Okay. Fine, you win, Runner," he smiles a cruel smile.

He lunges forward, sending the Runner crashing into the ground, spots all over his vision. He tries to catch his breath, but the man has one fist after another on the Runner's face.

The man pulls him back up onto his feet, the Runner's legs crying out from underneath the sudden weight.

"Walk!" he yells in the Runner's ear. He can feel blood dripping from his nose and his eye swelling up. What had he gotten himself into?

He finds his feet. His tired, numb feet. His muscles are sore, his body is tired.

"Go!" the man screams at the girl, and she starts to walk away, her eyes stuck on the Runner in confusion, in disbelief.

They walk past her, the man's arm pushing and pulling the Runner in every which way. He jerks his arm forward and backwards, making the sockets even worse than before.

They make it to the Elite Leader's mansion, the red and black blending in with the darkening night. The pillars and rivets on the house seem to cast eerie glows in the growing sunlight as they walk up and the man shoves his way through the door with the Runner in tow.

The Elite Leader is at the foot of the stairs, confused, as the man throws the Runner on the ground, the tile hitting the side of his face. A headache crushes through his skull, and he tries to sit up. He's so tired... So sore...

Master was right, he thinks to himself.

"Why did you bring me the Runner?" The Elite Leader asks, the shock evident in his words. "I thought you were bringing the girl that was beneath the city."

"He decided to take the punishment in her place," the man says, stepping on the Runner's back and making it harder for him to breathe.

"How noble," the Elite coos as he squats down beside the fallen Runner. "But nobility won't get you anywhere inside this city, boy, especially when you're trying to defend the Unnamed. You're supposed to be against them, remember?"

The Runner sucks in a deep breath, thinking of his response. He finally finds it.

"The Unnamed is all based on trust," he starts. "Well, how to get in is—could you please get off of me?" He twists around painfully and looks up at the man above him. He sighs and removes his foot, the Runner's body able to move freely as he sits up, everything aching.

"I've earned their trust. Now I'm just trying to get answers. And killing that girl or torturing her would just fire them up and shut them off even more than they already are. If you did that, I couldn't supply you with any inside knowledge. They're staying low. They're waiting to train all of their new recruits until the week before—until tomorrow morning." The sudden realization of how close the Competitions are sends a wave of nausea through the Runner's body.

"So do you have anything for me then? Besides the Competition? Where are you meeting? How many of them are there? When can we strike?"

The Runner shakes his head. A fire ignites behind the Elite Leader's eyes, and he grabs the front of the Runner's shirt as he speaks, his voice low and threatening.

"Do you know what this could do to us, boy? Do you know what people are going through just for this? You weren't assigned to this to keep the Elites in the dark."

"But I have to," the Runner says, his body suddenly cold from the absence of his jacket. "Once I beat the Elite Runner, I'll tell you everything, I promise. Just give me time."

"Once you—boy, you're aiming high."

"You're the one that had so much belief in me in the beginning," the Runner says, trying to keep his voice calm. "Just let me do this my way. I can't be controlled by anyone to do this how I am. It won't work that way. I have to have my own reasons and motivation. I promise you'll be out of the dark soon."

"Then it's a deal," the Leader says, holding out his hand for the Runner to shake. "But under one condition. It's more like a bet, really, but... I'd say it's more of a condition because I say it is."

"And what is that?" the Runner asks, hesitating before taking his hand and shaking it back.

"If you don't beat the Elite Leader, you won't make it off of that track alive."

17: Push

The Runner stumbles as the man shoves him out the door. He stops himself, grabbing on to a pillar for balance just before he tumbles down the stairs. The Elite Leader steps into the doorway and nods to the Runner, no emotions present on his stone-cold face nor in his momentarily blank eyes.

"We have a deal, Runner. Don't break it. I'll be watching you."

The Runner nods in response. With a loud bang, the Runner is cut off from their intimidating glares. Adrenaline pumps through his veins, making his limbs shake. He needs to run; he doesn't care about how sore his body is, how tired his brain is. He starts to sprint. The walls of the World flash by him as he makes his way around, shoving everything down inside of him as he tries to work out the tangles in his brain. The Runner blocks out all sounds and all sights. He tries to clear his mind, to do away with the growing guilt inside of him, this sudden desperation clawing up his esophagus to help the enemy. He knows these people now. The girl, One, Two, Three... there are children in the Unnamed. Surely the government won't punish everyone involved, right? They wouldn't—would they?

The Runner shuts his eyes. He needs to calm down. These things can be thought about later. If anything comes up, maybe he can negotiate.

Or not.

Don't speak unless spoken to... he reminds himself.

"Hey," the Runner hears. He shakes his head and moves faster, his body crying out for him to stop. He tries to shut out the voice that follows him along the wall, not wanting any part of anything after the Elite Leader's deal. Sleep is all he wants.

"Hey."

The voice is right beside him, angry, confused. He turns to look at where it's coming from. It's the girl he had saved.

"What?" he growls, wishing she would just go away and leave him alone. He doesn't want to talk.

"What was that about back there?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," the Runner says quietly, trying to run faster than her. It's working, and she's struggling to keep up with him. He can hear the exasperation in her voice.

"That man. He seemed to know you. Who is he?"

"That's the first time I've ever seen him," the Runner admits.

"You're a sweatin' liar," she spits between breaths. "He was so casual to you... he would have shot your head off for talking to him like that if you weren't important or something. If the Unnamed finds out you're in cahoots with—"

"I'm not!" The Runner shouts in frustration. He pulls forward and leaves her in the dust, letting the lie settle upon her shoulders as she breathes in the air around her.

"I'm going to find out your secret, Runner," she says aloud, but the Runner is too far gone to hear. "The time for lies is over."

\+ + +

The Runner's eyes open. The plain ceiling above the top bunk stares back at him, too close for comfort. He feels so drowsy, so tired. He's never wanted to go back to sleep this badly. But he sits up anyway and makes his way to the floor. He finds some eggs in the kitchen's fridge and scrambles them as he fries up some bacon. Finishing it off, the Runner makes his way upstairs, the smell of food and soap from his shower the night before mixing as he stops at the top.

Watching all of the Runners stretching in the upper part of the building, the threat the Elite Leader had given him weighs on him heavier and heavier as he realizes he has to beat all of them too. The people he grew up with.

Another reminder strikes his heart.

Today is the day training starts. Especially for the Unnamed.

"Alright," a voice overpowers all the rest, making it fall silent. The Runner looks across the room.

Blaise the Elite Runner.

His tan skin seems to glow in the dim lighting and his hair has grown out, almost reaching his shoulders. The sun has bleached it a light blonde, curls making it look thicker than it probably is in actuality.

"I've come to give you advice and an option," he says as the Runners seventeen and under are shooed out of the room to do their training outside or to go ahead and head to their Master's mansions.

The room falls silent as the fifty-something Runners in this Runner's Building look at him, ready to soak up knowledge. A few girls giggle, the ones that have crushes on Blaise, and he smirks, ready to give his speech.

"As you know, there are multiple Runner Buildings here in this world. With fifty or more Runners in each, you have more competition than with the family around you. Beat them all, and you could take my seat." Something dangerous flashes in his eyes, and the Runner is taken aback for a moment. "Or you can lose and become an Unnamed."

Whispers buzz through the crowd like flies, but the Runner stares at Blaise, his brain trying to push away self-doubt, the one thing that could get him in trouble in the races.

Blaise scans over the crowd, his eyes falling upon the Runner. Something inside of them makes the Runner feel a bit scared of the guy, something threatening.

The Elite Runner starts talking again. "So, today, you can either choose to train with your Masters, or go to the track with a few other runners around the World. I might just stop by and check on your progress."

"Wouldn't that be cheating?" the Runner hears from his right. Another boy is standing and watching the Elite, unafraid to ask the questions everyone else thinks.

The Elite Runner chuckles and shakes his head. "No," he says. "It'd be cheating if I tried to hinder you from behind able to run the races, though."

The boy nods, probably wondering if the last statement was a threat or not.

"I'll take your choices as you walk out the door so we can keep tabs on you and make sure you're doing what you need to be doing. There are pens and papers with numbers over there on that table," he points to his left to a table that hadn't been there before he showed up, "for you to write down your choice. Once you do that, hand me the paper, take the number, and you are free to go."

The Runners take that as a dismissal and they all make their way over to the table. The Runner grabs a pen and writes down TRACK in bold letters, picking up the number 270. He makes his way over to Blaise and hands him the paper. Blaise stares at him hard for a moment, as if trying to pinpoint who he is.

"Do I know you, Runner?" the Elite Runner asks, attitude snapping each word like a whip. The Runner shakes his head and starts to walk out the door. Blaise chuckles to himself. "It's not good to lie, Runner."

The Runner is out the door before he can finish his sentence.

He makes his way to the track, sprinting as fast as he can. Waiting there are the other Runners he recognizes from the rebellion--tons of them. The Runner's eyes fall upon Three, who stands with his arms crossed and facing him. He jogs up to the boy and Three nods.

"You ready for today, Runner?"

The Runner nods. "I guess I won't get any readier."

"That's my guy," Three laughs and slaps the Runner on the back. "You know, I wanna give you a name. Of course, you probably wouldn't want that. I'd call you Foot or something," he laughs.

"What?" The Runner asks, not getting the joke.

"You know—cuz... cuz you use your feet to—to run? No? Okay, okay fine. But that's what I'd call ya."

"Hey, Three," a voice calls. The girl the Runner had come across the night before. Guilt sinks in his stomach. Maybe he shouldn't have yelled.

She walks up, her eyes ready to pry as they question what she sees of the Runner.

"Guess what happened last night?" she says, her tone flat and accusational as it drops a decibel. "I headed down into the tunnels like One said I should to make sure everything is how it should be, and then one of the Elite Leader's goons showed up and was just about ready to cut my head off."

Three shakes his head. "Great. That means they're still down there."

"Yeah, but do you know why I'm alive?" She answers before he gets the chance. "This shmuck right here got in the crossfire. Course I only lived because the goon recognized him or something."

Three looks at him questioningly. "Is that true? He recognized you?"

"Yeah. It's like they were best buddies or something."

Three takes a step back from him and the Runner shakes his head. "I didn't know who he was. I still don't even know who he is." The Runner is glad he doesn't have to lie about that. The man's name is still a mystery to him, and he's kind of glad about it. Any more lies and he's sure he'll go insane. "He just has me mistaken for someone else, I guess."

"Uh-huh," Three says. "Well, if you say he doesn't know you, then I guess he doesn't know you. I'll take your word on it. But so-help-me," he growls, getting in the Runner's face. "If you're lyin', you won't make it out of that race alive."

Great, the Runner thinks. More people that want to kill me.

He nods his head slowly in agreement, swallowing the fear that's begun to swell. "So how are we going to do this?"

"We're going to run," Three smiles and laughs. "Nah, but we're gonna get into a group, all of us, and we're going tor train on one side of the track while the other team is on the other side.

"But we only have—what—two... three Runners left, you said?" the Runner asks, looking around in case someone is eavesdropping.

Three seems to be reminded of this fact and his face falls. "Yeah. Well, fine. We're gonna be split into groups anyway, because that's how these things work, and we'll just have to find time away from it to work on what we need to work on."

The Runner nods, and the girl watches the Runner dubiously. "Can I talk to you for a sec, Three?"

They walk to the side, leaving the Runner behind. The crowd swells in front of him and seems to be splitting up into groups already, paying no mind to the Runner. He doesn't know how long he stands there watching the two of them, but he begins to stretch, and the two Unnamed Runners jog back over.

"Alright," Three says, looking at the girl with a sarcastic facial expression. "We go in Group Two. Just try and run as many times as you can. Don't go full speed. Then people will start learning your actual patterns and will start trying to figure out how to beat you. Remember that not everyone here is a part of us and to keep everything on the down-low. Everyone will be running at their full potential. Try out some of their techniques; it might just help you in the long run." He laughs again at his forced humor. "No? You don't get the joke? Alright, y'all suck. Let's go."

The trio walk over to Group Two and slide themselves into the crowd. The two groups finally separate, Group One walking to the other side of the track. The Runner's group splits up on either side of the lanes and lines up on both sides.

"Who's first?" A boy calls out, leaning forward to look down his row.

"I'll go!" Three calls. He looks up at the Runner and nods, as if to make him run with him.

"Me too!" The girl calls from farther up the row.

The Runner takes a deep breath and shakes his head as he watches them leave the row opposite of him and walk to the starting line.

"I'll go too," the Runner says reluctantly and follows them.

They all line up, four more spots to the left of the Runner open. They fill up quickly as another girl and three more guys line up.

"Go!" The boy that had spoken up first shouts.

They all break out into a sprint, the Runner pulling ahead easily. He reminds himself to slow down, and his legs pump a little slower. The girl directly to his left sprints past him only by an inch or two. He fights the urge to pass her.

Save it for the race, he reminds himself.

He settles for second place, and the girl shouts and laughs.

Another loud laugh booms. It doesn't belong to the crowd around the Runner.

People turn around to look, and there stands the Elite Runner. "You all just got beat by a girl!" He holds his sides as he laughs.

The Runner feels anger splinter inside of him at the Elite Runner's laughter.

"I'm going again," the Runner growls. Three's hand is on him before he can head back to the starting line.

"Watch it, Runner," he warns. "He's just trying to get under your skin. Under all of our skins."

The Runner shakes his head. "I'm running again. I have to win once."

Three sighs and nods. "Alright. Once."

The Runner nods and jogs back to the starting line, every one but the last runway filled. He steps on the number seven and crouches down.

"Go!" the same boy shouts.

The Runner takes off full speed, leaving everyone else in the dust. He's across the finish line well before anyone else, granted it being only short distance. He looks over at Blaise as soon as he stops, hoping his gaze isn't threatening at all.

The Elite Runner wears his cocky smirk and his arms across his chest. He walks up to the Runner, reaching him as soon as everyone else crosses the finish line on the straightaway. Everyone seems to look at the two of them nervously.

"I'd like to see you do that in long distance," Blaise says, his smile amused and his eyes filled with a challenge.

"Come back in about thirty minutes and you will," the boy who keeps calling out 'go' says as he runs up to the Elite Runner. He seems star-struck. "You can watch all of us do that."

"Sounds good," the Elite Runner says, not taking his eyes from the Runner. "I'll see you in thirty minutes, Runner."

With that, he turns and walks away.

The Runner and the girl and Three run as many times as they can before they switch to long distance, where they will each go once around the four-mile long track. Every time they hit the round of the track, another seven will go. Both groups will be going at the same time, and there will be at least twelve people running at once.

It's about to get hectic out there.

"Go!"

The Runner is in the first group of seven. He tries to stay neutral and not pull forward, but it's hard. He doesn't want his muscles getting used to this pace.

So he pulls forward.

He almost catches up to the group in front of him as he reaches the end of his turn. He goes three more times, getting closer and closer to the seven in front of him.

And then Blaise shows up.

His head is shaved and he wears the Elite Runner Jacket. It's bright gold with the blue emblem on the back. He smirks as the Runner's eyes meet his.

The Elite Runner walks up to Group Two and stops just before them, all of their Runners halting to listen. Group One keeps running, hoping the Elite would go over and talk to them next.

"Hello again, fellow Runners," he laughs. "I'm here to race. I want to choose my competition, so everyone off the track. Even them." He points to Group One.

Someone calls for them to get off the track, and they eventually obey.

"Good."

The Elite Runner sets the gold bag he holds down onto the brown grass and strides over to the track, his cleats digging into it.

"This track is four miles long. I'm surprised everyone's still holding up," he smiles and steps into the middle lane, number four. "You." He points to a girl. "And you." A guy. "You." Girl. "You." Guy. "You." Another guy. "You." One more girl. "And you."

His finger lands on the Runner, and a smirk brings one corner of his mouth upwards.

The Runner steps forward, his heart pounding. His body is growing tired, but he can beat the Elite Runner. He knows he can.

He glances at Three, who shakes his head. The boy's eyes are hard and he glares at the Elite with hatred, an indirect warning to the Runner about the Elite.

The Runner takes his place right next to the Elite and crouches down, ready to take him head-on.

"Get ready, Runner," Elite Runner Blaise says quietly and only to the Runner. "You're about to experience what losing feels like."

The Runner doesn't respond. He clears his head. He can do this. Show the Elite what he's made of, and maybe he can knock the pride out of him.

"Go!"

They all take off, their cleats helping them push forward. The Runner starts to catch up to the Elite, leaving the other five Runners behind. He's in the middle of the gap the Elite Runner has left between him and the rest of the Runners as they round the first curve.

One mile down. Three to go.

The Runner controls his breathing, letting the pounding of his feet create a rhythm in his head. He doesn't seem to move from his spot except maybe a little as the five Runners behind him seem to get farther away. If this is anything like the competitions—

But it's not, he reminds himself.

He pushes harder. His body is ready for this.

The distance begins to slowly close as he makes his way toward the Elite. The gold jacket almost seems to be blinding in the hot sunlight of the day, while the Runner's jacket sticks to his skin, the wind from running is like a miracle to the heat around him.

Two miles down.

He can hardly hear the cheering as he races by Group One. He's so close to the Elite. He could reach forward and grab his hoodie if he wanted to.

Before he knows it, there's only one mile left.

He pushes harder than he's ever pushed before. The distance closes faster than he thought, and he passes the Elite.

Blaise cries out in shock, but picks up his pace immediately. They're side by side, the finish line in sight. Blaise laughs as he pulls ahead.

The Runner finds the rest of his energy, and, at the last moment, crosses the finish line before the Elite Runner.

He has won.

18: Sleep

The entire track falls silent. The Elite Runner breathes hard, not from fatigue, but from anger. His face is red, not from running, but from fury.

The Runner stares at him, unable to find words. He had made a big mistake. If the Runner had a chance on the day of the Competitions, he definitely won't now. Mortimer the Elite Solver's warnings echo in his mind, telling him about the power the Elites hold and about how Blaise won't play fair.

"You're a cheat," the Elite growls under his breath as he tries to calm himself down. "That's the only reason why you beat me."

The Runner says nothing, afraid that, if he does, he'd be killed right then and there by the hands of the Elite Runner. He keeps his mouth shut and his jaw taught, just as he'd been raised to do from such a young age.

Blaise's scowl suddenly breaks out in a white-toothed grin, sending the Runner's adrenaline pumping a whole new wave through his veins. He knows what's about to come next isn't good.

"Race me again," the Elite says quietly. "Race me again, Runner. See if you can beat me for a second time."

The Runner looks around. His eyes stop on Three, who shakes his head slightly, fear raging in his eyes.

"No," The Runner says and turns around, starting to walk away, back to the Runner's Building. He wants to be alone. He wants to be away from all these people, away from the Elite surging with power and overconfidence standing before him.

He doesn't get three steps before Blaise the Elite Runner opens his mouth once again.

"Are you presenting yourself as a coward, Runner?"

The Runner stops in his tracks, clenching his fists and relaxing them, breathing in and out slowly. He feels the sting of his words bruise his pride, but he can't do this. If he races again, everyone will be watching him, evaluating him. He can't risk another race and have his competition learning what he's doing wrong before the Competitions even begin. He has to walk away. There's no other choice.

"And this is why you'll never be an Elite," Blaise continues. "This is why, come Competition day, you'll be one of the Unnamed. You'll. Be. Dead."

He lets out a laugh as the Runner continues to breathe in and out slowly, trying to control his temper.

"Unnamed. A loser for the rest of your life."

The Runner starts to bounce on the balls of his feet and starts to walk again. He needs to get away. Needs to escape these words before...

"Just like that girl, Rachel, the one that died."

The Runner whips around and strides up to the Elite. Before Blaise can move from his spot, the Runner strikes him down with his fist, blood flying from The Elite's mouth.

The Elite Runner falls to the ground and wipes the blood from his chin. He chuckles, the sound seeming out of place.

The Runner stands above him, huffing. He realizes what he just did and turns back around, mortified. What could this do to him? What would the other Elites do once they find out what he did to the Elite Runner?

He begins to jog away.

"Hey, Runner!" The fallen Elite calls as the Runner gets farther and farther away. "You can hide all you want from me, but you can't run. I'll get you back for this Runner, if it's the last thing I do. I'll break you and your cheetah-legs. Don't be surprised if you wake up and they're missing."

The Runner stumbles a bit at that threat, and then picks up his speed, his heart racing faster than he ever has himself. Could the Elite Runner really take his legs? Is that possible?

The Runner doesn't know, doesn't want to care right now. He just keeps running.

\+ + +

The Runner, after showering, lies in his bed and stares at the blank grayness above him that makes up the ceiling, his mind wandering to places it shouldn't be.

He jumps at every sound that echoes through the room, paranoid it's the Elite Runner ready to attack him, to kill him. Needless to say, he doesn't get any sleep that night.

He drags his feet as he runs this morning, the sun just breaking and sending its waves of heat crushing down on the Runner's lungs. When he reaches the mansion of his Master, he pushes them open tiredly and walks in. Mortimer the Elite Solver greets him immediately, and his face twists into a look of concern.

"Are you okay, Runner?" He asks, placing his hands on the Runner's shoulders. The extra weight makes the Runner almost fall over. He hadn't realized just how tired he was until now, now that he's standing still.

"Come, sit," the Elite says as he starts to pull the Runner to the couch. The Runner refuses, shakes his head.

"I can't. I have to train... I have to..."

A big yawn escapes from his mouth and he shakes his head, blinks his eyes. He needs to wake up. His stomach growls.

"No, you are going to sit down. Come on."

Mortimer the Elite Solver leads the Runner to the kitchen and sits him at the small island in the center of it. The Runner places his head on his arms and closes his eyes, even though he tells himself to stay awake. He's just so tired...

Mortimer sets a glass of orange juice on the counter in front of the Runner, and his eyes open slightly. They adjust to the lighting and focus on the glass. He tells himself to sit up, but he can't. Exhaustion has fallen onto his shoulders, and he can't get rid of it.

"Drink up."

The Runner tries to sit up, and when he does, his head moves to the side and he leans it on his fist to keep it upright.

"How much sleep did you get?" Mortimer asks as more of his Servants come in, ready to start their training.

"None," the Runner slurs.

The Elite Solver scoffs amusingly. "You know better, Runner."

"I know..." the Runner says, picking up the cold glass. "I just... the Elite Runner came to the track and wanted to race me..."

"What happened?" The old man asks, curiosity and worry filling his eyes.

"I beat him."

They were silent for a few moments. Mortimer stares at the Runner as he twists the glass around on the countertop. Sleep sloshes around in the Runner's head, thinning his worry about the Competitions, and, for a moment, he forgets about it as he watches the juice in the glass slosh around.

"Runner, don't go back to that track. Don't leave this house," Mortimer says suddenly, pushing himself from the island.

"What—why?" The Runner asks, his brain suddenly working a bit better as adrenaline starts to make its way to the rest of him.

"Because. You'll be at a disadvantage now that everyone has seen you run."

"Not everyone—"

"Most everyone. They'll pinpoint your weaknesses and strengths easier now that they've seen you run. Don't leave and definitely don't go to that track. I can protect you from Blaise here, but I can't protect you if you go there."

The Runner looks down at the counter, guilt outweighing the sleepiness pulling down on every part of him. Did he put Mortimer the Elite Solver in danger? Would the Elite Runner even do anything? By the way Mortimer is acting, it seems as if he would, but what if he's just bluffing?

"Go get some rest. We can train later. Just go sleep."

The Runner nods, unable to argue as hunger blossoms slightly inside of him as well.

The Elite Solver tells the Runner where to lay down, which is in a small room to the side of the kitchen so he can make sure the Runner is safe. Once the Runner touches the mattress, he closes his eyes, and he is fast asleep.

There's a loud thumping coming from the window in the room.

The Runner jerks awake and looks over. How long had he been out?

He wipes the sleep from his eyes as another set of banging rattles the window. When he looks up, there is nothing there.

He stands up and walks over.

There's nothing at the window.

Suddenly, glass shatters everywhere. Blood drains from the Runner's shoulder, and he cries out. Mortimer the Elite Solver is by his side in an instant. He had heard the banging and came to investigate.

Mortimer leans over the Runner and glances out the window once. With a scowl, he turns to the bedside table and pulls open a drawer. He grabs something inside and holds it out at arms-length through the window.

The Runner looks up to see him holding a gun.

He pulls the trigger and a big bang echoes through the air. There's a cry of agony, and Mortimer the Elite Solver kneels beside the Runner for a moment.

"Stay here," he says quietly, and then heads out the door.

The Runner tries to sit up, his shoulder on fire. He tries to breathe normally, finding it hard to even do that.

The Elite Solver reappears with the gun and places it back into the drawer he had pulled it from. He turns back around to face the Runner.

"This is going to hurt," he says.

Before the Runner can ask anything, the Elite Solver starts to dig for the bullet. The Runner cries out and pulls away, but is unable to. The Elite Solver has his grip on him.

The Runner doesn't feel the bullet leave his shoulder, but he feels the sting from the Elite Solver's fingers. The Runner lies on his back and breathes, the pain spreading to every inch of his body. The adrenaline pumping through him is keeping him wide-awake now.

"Okay," the Elite Solver says, standing up and wiping his hands on a towel. "That was one of Blaise's henchmen." He spits the word as he looks out the window and then back at the Runner. "The Elite Runner, any Elite for that matter, get antsy and paranoid around this time of year. It's why we're so inclined to watch the Competitions. We don't want to lose our spots as Elites. Because after being an Elite, there is death. No Unnamed. No Named. Just death waiting for us around the corner."

The Elite Solver looks down at the towel as he sets it aside.

"I'm old enough to die, Runner," he says sadly, and the Runner takes a deep breath. He sits up on the floor with a grunt. "Someone might take my place this year, and it might just be one of the Unnamed."

"I won't... I won't let that happen," the Runner breathes.

Mortimer chuckles. "You're in the wrong category to make sure, Runner." He looks out the window once again and then continues talking. "There are Solvers with new ideas and different approaches to problems we're facing. The simulation we go into will determine which idea works best... Last year I was almost beaten. The boy only had one hundred less deaths than I did. Of course, you have no idea what I'm talking about because you're a Runner and not a Solver... Just... be careful, Runner. I won't be around forever to protect you."

The Runner looks at the old man for a moment. The day Mortimer dies, the day he's not an Elite anymore... that's a day the Runner doesn't want to see.

The Elite Solver reaches down to help the Runner stand up. He stifles a scream as he finds his feet and leans against the wall. He covers his right shoulder with his left hand, pressing against it to stop the bleeding. The Elite Solver puts his arm around the boy and helps him walk out of the room and into the kitchen, where he will tend his wounds.

The Runner promises himself something. If Mortimer the Elite solver, his Master, if he doesn't make it past the last stage in the Competitions, if he comes in second, he will find a way to keep him alive. He will keep him inside of the city, no matter the cost. This man is too kind, too gentle to die. He doesn't deserve it.

And the Runner knows it.

He just simply won't let it happen.
19: Hatred

Mortimer the Elite Solver walks into the room the Runner sleeps in to wake him up. A light layer of sweat has formed on his forehead as he tosses and turns beneath the sheets. The Elite reaches down to gently shake him, when he hears the click of a gun.

"Don't move," he hears.

The old man looks up to see a girl standing before him, aiming the gun at his chest.

"What are you doing?" Mortimer croaks, moving his hands up to show he's not a threat. The girl keeps the gun trained on him, her other hand hidden behind her back.

"Why didn't he come back to the Runner's Building last night?" She asks, her voice razor sharp. "And why did that man know his name, the one working for the Elite Leader?"

"I'm not sure I know what you're talking about," the Elite Solver tells her.

"Bull," she spits quietly. Her hand is pulled out from behind her back. It holds another gun, and she points it at the sleeping Runner. "Talk or one of you dies."

Mortimer takes a step forward to try and justify with her, try and persuade her to set the gun down, but she smirks and shakes her head.

"Don't even think about it, old man. I was taught well how to use these weapons."

The old man stops moving and swallows the saliva in his dry mouth. How would she know how to use a gun? No one aside from Elites have learned, unless...

"You're a part of the Unnamed," the Elite Solver concludes.

"Right-on," she smirks again. "We can cut right to the chase then. Talk."

"I don't know what you are talking about," The Elite Solver pleads.

"Don't play stupid with me, Solver," the girl snarls, waving the gun around. "Why did that man know him? And why was he acting like he knew him?"

"I'm sorry, I don't—"

Bang!

Blood seeps from the white fabric beneath the jacket with the Solver's symbol on it. The Runner jerks awake, adrenaline pumping through his body. He sees the old man fall to his knees and watches as his face drains of blood and he falls to the floor.

The Runner is awake and on his feet, and he kneels over the man, watching, waiting for the rise of his chest, for the intake of air through his mouth, through his nose, but neither come. He lay still on the wooden floor, eyes wide open and glossed over.

The Runner feels his heart ache and a sad, confused cry escapes his mouth. He just promised he wouldn't let this happen—and then it happens.

He turns to the person with a problem too big to handle without violence. The girl. The girl he had saved. She stands with one gun down at her side and the other one pointed at the Runner.

He has no words for her. He has no thought. She asks who he really is. What he's doing here. How the man knew who he was. What happened after he took the Runner away. He says nothing and she finally turns to leave, irritated and edgy. She glances once more back at the Runner, her eyes locking onto his for a moment. Something inside of them glimmers, catching the Runner off guard.

She tears her eyes away and heads off, leaving the Runner standing over Mortimer the Elite Solver's dead body as if to protect it.

He counts to thirty. Once he's sure she's long gone, he turns back around and kneels back down over the Solver. Gently, he closes the old man's eyes and feels a tear or two trickle down his cheek. He hates them. He hates the Unnamed, no matter how good their intentions are. And he will bring them down. He will get rid of them. Even if that means betraying them.

He trains. Harder than anyone else, harder than his Master would ever push him to. He's doing it for him, for the old man that raised him and taught him how to be a Runner. He needs to beat Blaise again. He feels it in every fiber of his being, in every sore muscle and every aching bone as the day approaches. Competition day.

The Unnamed leaves him alone. Or they try to. One day Three tries to come into Mortimer the Elite Solver's building, No one knows of his death yet. His body still lies on the mattress where the Runner had placed him. Everyone will know soon though, as soon as the day rolls around. The Runner has made plans to inform the Elite Leader about the death. He'll even tell him that the fault and the blame falls upon the Unnamed, that it was their fault. They're the reason why he's dead. He doesn't know how the Solvers will compete now, if they'll do it as they normally have without the pressure between the top spot and the Elite or if they'll do something entirely different.

The Runner counts his steps as he runs on the treadmill. Thirty three, thirty four, thirty five, thirty six... He goes on and on until his body starts to hurt. He steps off of the machine and onto the tile floor beneath it. The towel hanging around his neck is used to wipe the sweat dripping from his brow, and his jacket and shirt hanging on the handle of the treadmill is slipped on over his arms, bringing a sensation of warmth over the Runner. Outside, night is falling. Tomorrow is the day before the Competitions. Tomorrow he will tell the Elite Leader all about what happened what seems like so many days ago now.

The Runner makes his way to the front door and swings it open. He steps out into the warm night, his foot making a crunching sound as something is crushed beneath it. He looks down to see a small envelope, glowing white in the moonlight. Picking it up, he brings it to his face and sees that it is addressed to him. It says, To the Runner, the one that beat Blaise.

He rips it open carefully and glances at his surroundings. Inside, there is a single paper. He pulls it out and unfolds it, the paper loud against the quiet sounds of night.

Dear Runner,

Our apologies for your Master. We had no choice. There are certain suspicions about you that are just now showing up. Come to the tunnel at the Runner's Building to confirm that you are who you say you are, and that you are not a spy from the government or a blabbermouth telling important people what's going on down here. If you don't arrive, we will assume you are one of these and we will kill you. See you after sunset.

\- One.

The Runner looks up from the note, searching the street for whoever left it there for him to read. His heart beats nervously in his chest, but he concludes he will go. He can't get revenge if he dies by the hands of the ones he's trying to get back at.

Over the cracked pavement he jogs, finding his way to the Runner's Building in the dark, not wanting to waste any time. He's going to have to put his poker face on for this and act like he knows nothing. The Runner isn't a good liar, but he's gotten better trying to take down the Unnamed from the inside for the government. He just has to try not to trip over himself or change his story any.

The Runner takes a breath and tries to get his story straight as he reaches the door of the building. This is the tipping point for him. This determines if he can carry through with what he's been assigned to do by his Master and the government.

He heaves the door open, several Runners training or resting in the large upper room. Some turn and wave slightly at the Runner, smiling sheepishly.

The Runner walks in and down the stairs, where more Runners clean themselves up or eat. Some of them are just dozing off to sleep for the night.

The Runner makes his way to the door that hides the way to the Unnamed Territory and opens it up.

"What are you doing?" Someone asks him, but he doesn't turn around to answer. He just walks through and shuts the door behind him, the darkness of the tunnel falling over him like a wave. He walks down the blackened hallway, glad he remembers where he is and where to go.

He continues to walk as far as he can, until he hears voices talking amongst themselves. He takes a deep, shaky breath.

"Hello?" He calls, and everything goes silent. He hears the shuffling of feet. There's a small click as a light blinds the Runner. He stares past it, hoping he can see something, someone.

His eyes adjust and he makes out a silhouette standing beside the beam of light.

"Hello, Runner."

One.

The Runner shields his eyes to see the figure to the side of the light. All he can see is the outline of her.

"Hello, One," he says, his heart racing at the thought of lying to these people. They killed people without a second thought. They killed his Master.

A single flame ignites in him and he tries to suppress it, to keep from opening his mouth.

"I assume you've read the note?" She asks.

"You've assumed correctly," the Runner says, trying to keep an acidic tone from exiting his mouth. "You think I'm a spy?"

In the terrible lighting, he sees One's shoulders rise and fall once. "I never said that I thought you were. But other people are starting to talk. One of the Runners, well the one that is left aside from Three, she said the guy who was going to punish her recognized you."

The Runner shrugs. "I deliver messages from the Elite Solver to the Elite Leader on a daily basis. It's no surprise that he would recognize me, especially if he worked with the Elite Leader. That's where he was going to take her, after all."

"Uh-huh," One says slowly, and whispers start to echo in the hallway. "And how would you know where he would take her?"

"Like I said, I took messages to and from the Elite Solver and the Elite Leader. I've seen people taken from the streets and from their buildings and brought into the Elite Leader's mansion, and I've seen them be locked away. It didn't happen often, but it did happen," the Runner explains, telling the whole truth.

There's a slight pause and the room falls silent.

"Then tell me this," One continues, walking forward. The Runner can see the shape and the basic features of her face as she draws nearer. She stops right in front of him. "Do you hate the government? Do you want to bring them down? Because that's what this rebellion is for, that's what the Unnamed is rising up to do. So do you hate them?"

The Runner looks her dead in the eye, the light behind her blinding him. "Yes."

"Then you shouldn't care that we killed your Master, the Elite Solver, who is a part of said government?" She says this as more of a question, rather than a statement.

The Runner takes a deep breath before answering, careful not to show any anger through his body language, nor the words he uses.

"No," he says, the heart in his chest aching with each thump.

"Good." The Runner sees One smile. "Then you should have no problem killing Blaise, either."
20: Tomorrow

The Runner stares at One through the darkness. The feelings inside him swarm, making his stomach churn. His skin suddenly is rigid with goose bumps and his throat can't function correctly.

Kill Blaise?

"Am I right, Runner?" One says, trying to pry an answer out of him. "Because if I'm not, if you can't kill him, we might just make you drop first, am I clear?"

"So kill or be killed?" The Runner asks, his voice shaking with fear, with anger, with growing hatred for the Unnamed and its people. "That's what you're telling me to do?"

"Pretty much, Runner," One says, smiling through the darkness. "I mean, unless you beat him in the race..."

"Which I will," the Runner stresses. "I've already done it once."

"Beginner's luck," she says, her silhouette shifting her stance and poking her hip out. "He won't play fair now. You should have listened to Three, Runner. You should have kept your talent to yourself, because we're about ready to dispose of you."

"What are you talking about?" The Runner asks. "You only have one other runner."

"Yes, but she's willing to kill him because she knows she won't win. So if you don't, she will. And she will kill you both."

The Runner feels himself start to glare at One, and then he stops himself. He'll have to do what they want him to. He'll just have to win again to do it his way.

He swears it's the last thing he will do for the Unnamed. After that, there will be no more killing and no more rebellion. Everything will be back to normal and everyone can live normal lives again.

"Fine," the Runner says, his voice tight. He wants to say something else, but he saves it for another time.

"Good," One says and smiles. "Lights."

The Runner is once again in darkness, the sounds of shuffling feet all around him. He turns around and begins to head back to the World, to his home.

\+ + +

The Runner stops just before the gates to the outer world, the Unnamed territory. It seems like just last year he didn't have the weight of the world weighing on his shoulders. The full moon sends down a spotlight of pale light onto his body and onto his jacket. His hands find their way up to the top of the zipper, the metal cold. Slowly, he moves the piece of metal down the front, splitting the material into two. He pulls off the long-sleeved article of clothing, the wind cool against the sweat gathered on his arms from running around the World.

He pulls the jacket around to the front of him and runs his fingers over the red wing on one of the sleeves. He can feel mourning for his lost Master bubble up inside of him. He could have never had a better Elite watching over him.

"I'm sorry, Master," the Runner whispers, wishing Mortimer the Elite Solver is somewhere up above or around him to hear. "I've failed you."

He drops his jacket to the ground, a tear slowly dripping from his right eye. He made a promise to himself to keep his Master alive... but things happened so fast... he couldn't do anything to stop it, no matter how much he wishes he could.

He runs, leaving his jacket behind.

The night air is cold against his skin as it pulls at his shirt. He sprints at full speed around the World. He loses track of time, he loses all feeling, he goes numb.

He replays the situation over and over in his head. He was asleep. The girl had shot Mortimer the Elite Solver, and the sound of it woke him up. He remembers his shoulder as well. It hurt, but he had ignored it. So much was happening... And Mortimer said one of Blaise's henchmen had shot him in the arm, but no one knows how to use guns in the World, the Base, or the Planet. To his knowledge only the girl and Three know how. Maybe One and Two as well.

Then a thought strikes him, making his mourning waver to let a new tingling of panic wash through him as he slows to a complete stop. What if it was the Unnamed that was trying to kill him, and not Blaise?

The Runner finds himself circling around to grab his jacket and sprinting, not to the Runner's Building, but Blaise's mansion. It appears as he nears it, its walls a deep blue, the blue of the circle on the Runners' jacket. The door is solid black, almost seeming to disappear in the night and the shadow the moon creates upon it.

The Runner jumps onto the stairs, skipping at least three steps at a time. His fist bangs rapidly on the dark-painted wood. He counts to three before doing it again. Three more seconds later, he repeats the process once more.

The door swings open, a mad, cursing Blaise standing behind it and rubbing his eyes.

"Do you know how much I have to train...?" He stops as he looks up at the Runner. A smirk crosses his face. "Hello, Runner. Come to surrender?"

"Did you try to kill me a few nights ago?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Blaise scoffs. "What are you trying to accuse me of?"

"Did you or did you not try to kill me a few nights ago? Did you send someone to shoot me? And how did you know where I was?"

"Slow your roll, Runner," Blaise interrupts. "What are you accusing me of?"

"A few days ago, you threatened to cut off my legs. You said you'll break me. And then, the next day, there's someone rapping on my window and waving a gun around. I was shot in the shoulder. Don't tell me that wasn't you."

"Well poor, poor you. But I haven't tried to kill you. Not yet, anyway." A cat-like grin slips onto his face and there's a dark glint in his eye. "But I wish you luck. You'll need it with the way that I play, Runner."

With that, the black door shuts and the Runner is left alone in the darkness of night with his thoughts.

The Unnamed is the enemy, always has been, but this takes it to another level, unless Blaise the Elite Runner is lying, which is likely, but the Runner gets the vibe that he's telling the truth.

Tomorrow is the last day before the Competitions. The Runner has to watch his back and make sure he's not doing anything to alert the Unnamed, especially now. They'll kill him on the spot, and he knows it.

He makes a list in his head. First thing's first: beat Blaise. Second, take down the Unnamed. Hopefully he gets that far.

He runs back to the Runner's Building, laying his head down for the second-to-last time before he either dies or is eternally victorious.

\+ + +

He wakes up. The last day before the Competitions. This thought makes his heart palpitate, and he takes a deep breath to calm it down. It's the last day to train.

He gets up and scrambles four eggs for himself. He needs a large breakfast. He needs to make sure he has energy for both today and tomorrow, just in case. Just in case, what, the Runner has no idea, but he feels like he needs to eat until he's full.

After that, he stretches for a good length of time, making sure he doesn't overstretch. By then, his food has started to settle and he can move without feeling the fatigue from eating. He jogs around with the rest of the Runners, nervous glances flitting towards him as he runs at the back. He doesn't want to give anything else away to anyone else, so he's taking it easy. His Master would have wanted it that way.

They all finish their last lap, some out of breath from pushing themselves harder than ever, while the Runner breathes easily and jogs in place. He makes his way out the front door and into the World, ready to jog around a few more times.

By the time he makes it around once, he decides it's time to eat lunch. He has a big sandwich and a large glass of water, taking his time and trying to keep his wandering mind off of Mortimer the Elite Solver and the Unnamed. This is about him. This is the moment he's been waiting for his entire life, and he will beat Blaise, threatened or not.

He stretches a bit more and runs around the World three times more, making sure to stop by his Master's mansion at least once or twice to use the gym for his core and his arms. Running uses every muscle in your body, not just the legs.

And then night falls. The Runner makes his way back to the Runner's Building just in time for Pre-Competition Announcements. The volume is all the way up and every Runner in the building is standing or sitting before the screen on the wall.

The woman talks about the rules and the placing, the normal things they talk about every year. And then she tells her audience to report any strange activity from any of the opponents to the Elites so last year doesn't repeat itself. Then the screen is shut off and everyone heads off to bed. The Runner stays behind to stretch, and he feels someone else in the room with him.

He turns around to see the girl. The one that shot his Master.

She's standing against the back corner, her arms crossed as she looks at the Runner through slitted eyes.

"What?" He asks, done with her and the Unnamed. Yet something makes his skin tingle at the way she's looking at him.

She shakes her head. "Nothing," she says, making a face.

The Runner sighs and walks over to a clear spot, a ways away from the girl. He stretches for what seems like an hour, and she just stands there against the wall, watching him. When he finishes, he stands up and looks at her.

"What do you want?"

"The truth," she says simply, not moving from the dark corner.

"You know the truth," the Runner spits as he turns to go to the room with all of the bunk beds in it. He's tired and has a long day tomorrow. Long week.

"Maybe not the whole truth," she says, and he hears her move. There's the clicking of a gun and the Runner freezes, anger boiling deep inside of him, threatening to bubble over and explode through his mouth and his actions. He takes a breath and turns around slowly.

"You won't shoot me."

"Try me," she says. "I shot your precious Master."

The sentence sends a stake through the Runner's heart, but he bites back the sudden rage that sends adrenaline through his veins.

"Yeah, but you need me if you want your freedom."

"Says who?"

"Says the Unnamed," the Runner says, walking on thin ice.

"I could beat Blaise easily."

"Really?" The Runner scoffs, sending another wave of anger through him. "I've already beat him once."

"Doesn't mean you'll do it again."

"Still, it makes me desirable for the Unnamed to have on their side. And that's where I am. I'm not the enemy, Runner," he says to the girl. "We can work together."

A pang of guilt wrenches in his stomach as he realizes what he's doing, what he's saying. But he doesn't flinch, doesn't look away as she seems to consider it.

"Fine," she says. "But I will beat you in the last round, no tiesies."

The Runner nods. "Alright. We'll see who's better," he says, a smile playing on his lips at the challenge. It falls quickly as the guilt, the sadness, and the nervousness washes back over him. They both turn to the stairs and descend, tomorrow just around the corner.

This week will be for you, Master, the Runner thinks, just before sleep takes him over.

21: Day One

Happy Birthday to me, the Runner thinks as he stares at the ceiling, awake before the Elite Runner comes to get the eighteen year olds.

Then, the doors open. They're quiet, but the Runner jerks out of his stupor and looks over. Blaise stands in the doorway with his arms crossed as his minions sweep through the room and gently wake the eighteens. When they get to the Runner's bed, they flash a dim flashlight in his face. He obeys and gets down from the top bunk slowly, pulling the standard Runner Jacket over his nervous figure. Today is the day to make it or break it. He needs to come in towards the end in this first race. If he doesn't, everyone will be studying him like a Solver during a war. He needs to be smart about this, and he needs to watch out for Blaise and whatever he's going to do.

The Runner follows everyone out into the dawn, and they move like a pack of mules. The other Runners come together and they all start to jog to the other side of the World, the track. The Runner guesses this is their warm up, aside from whatever they do themselves and the first Competition.

Day starts to break as they reach the track, the Runner in the middle of the group. He watches people and tries to guess which ones will make it, tries to justify where he will be placed. But he knows it does nothing to do so. Strange things can happen out on that track.

He's reminded of last year.

The Unnamed is the enemy, he reminds himself as they jog on.

They do one lap around the track, and the Runner feels good when they stop. Blaise can't seem to keep his glaring stare off of the Runner, and the Runner tries not to let it get to him. It's day one. Make it or break it time.

There's a stage off to the side of the track, where the starting line is. A group of Leaders in their red jackets and red outfits scramble about as an Announcer takes her place behind the podium set on the right-hand side of the stage.

Someone holds a camera up to her as the group of Runners move around and stretch.

About half an hour later, they're moved to the starting line. The Runner jumps up and down in his spikes, making sure they work, even though he knows that they do. He bends down low, ready to run, the number on his blue muscle-shirt crinkling slightly. They were all allowed to take off their jackets, because of two reasons. One: if they become an Unnamed, they will not have a jacket. Two: it makes it easier to run if they don't have it on. The Runner is in the front, ready before everyone else as they pile on and get in one of the rows, ready to dart around whoever is in front of him.

There's a still as the Leaders talk into the camera, as the Announcers make their announcements. The Runner breathes.

Make it or break it, he thinks. This is for you, Master.

BANG!

The gun goes off and the Runner pulls ahead. A few other people shoot out in front of him as he slows down to run behind someone else, riding on the less-resistant wind flowing behind them. More and more people dart ahead, and the Runner is sure to count them. He's in sixth.

The girl passes him.

Seventh.

Another girl Runner, one whom he does not know.

Eighth.

They're halfway around the track, and all the Runner can hear is beating feet and heavy breathing. There are so many Runners... He almost feels bad for the ones who will lose.

He focuses on his breathing as Three passes him.

Ninth.

He needs to run.

Three-fourths of the way around the track, he passes the boy in front of him, making him eighth once again.

He can see the finish line now. It's just up ahead.

Suddenly, two more people file in front of him.

Eleventh.

He feels himself start to panic, but he calms himself down. He can't lose it now.

He pumps his arms and his legs even harder, pulling forward. The finish line is only a meter away, and he draws closer, closer.

He passes the finish line.

And the boy that had been in front of him.

Tenth.

He had made it.

He had passed the first day.

To the Runner's relief, nothing out-of-the-ordinary happened. He stands in line, ready to be Named. He gets a name...

Nothing has ever felt as good as when he steps onto that stage. The girl had been named Rose. Three had been given the name Jim.

And now it's the Runner's turn.

His heart pounds in his chest as he tries to hide his smile. He won't be just a Title anymore. He won't be just a category. He'll have a name. He will be one of the Named.

He stands by the Announcer's podium and fidgets with his number nervously. She holds out her hand for him to give it to her, and he does, a smile playing on his lips. The happiness he feels radiates outward as he watches her look down at the paper with all of the names on it.

"Congratulations for finishing in tenth place, Runner," the Announcer smiles. "Your name is now Daniel."

The Runner wants to jump up and down, laughing. He wants to hug the Announcer. His heart is filled with happiness and joy and he is overcome with his new name.

Daniel.

The name of the Runner.

Daniel.

He steps off stage, high-fiving Jim and Rose, feeling a bit strange to call them by a name now, and stands beside them, beaming.

"You seem happy," Rose says, something in her voice sounding off to the Runner.

He ignores it and watches as the Unnamed are declared Unnamed and as they walk off stage, some crying and some figures seeming broken in two at their back. Something inside hurts the Runner's heart, but he ignores it, overcome with selfish joy.

\+ + +

The Newly Named are led to the room they will stay in for the next three days. The door is locked behind them, and some of them stand around awkwardly while others plop down on a treadmill or a bed, resting their sore legs. Some are just overwhelmed by the First Race—shocked they had even made it this far.

And then night falls. All ten of the Newly Named Runners crawl into a bed and fall asleep almost immediately.

The Runner, still in shock he has a name, repeats his name over and over, as if it would disappear from his memory forever if he didn't.

Daniel, he thinks to himself. Daniel.

He feels something sad inside of him creep up. Thank you, Master, for all you've taught me. I hope you would have been proud of me today.

He rolls over onto his side and stares out into the room. It seems so strange to him that he's closer to the floor than usual. These aren't beds stacked on top of one another, but they are singles, like the ones inside his former Master's mansion.

Now it's time to beat Blaise the Elite Runner and knock him out of office, the Runner, Daniel thinks dangerously to himself. This is what I've always wanted, and nothing's going to get in my way.

22: Day Two

Daniel wakes up, his legs burning as if they were on fire. He looks down. Both of them. Charred. From his knee to his toe.

Had someone tried to set him on fire?

Daniel looks around the room furiously as he stands up. Each step sends pain coursing through his body. He makes his way to the bathroom, the burns on the bottom of his feet feeling like he's stepping on razor-blades.

He turns on the bath water, cold, and submerges his legs. He can't help but cry out as the cool water runs over them.

There's some shuffling in the room, and Rose pokes her head in. "Is everything—holy..."

She pushes herself the rest of the way in the room and kneels by the Runner sitting on the bathtub. "What happened?" She exclaims.

"I—don't know," Daniel gasps, the cold water running over his legs.

"How do you not—when did this happen?"

"I guess last night," Daniel says, touching his calf and then regretting it as a new wave of pain goes through him.

"And you didn't wake up?" She says, dumbfounded, and shakes her head quickly, standing up. "I'll go get help. Don't move."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Daniel mutters, looking down at his legs. Who would have done this? No one in here, surely. It could possibly have cost them the Competitions and they would be executed. The only person that the Runner can think of is...

Blaise.

Daniel groans in frustration as he looks over his charred and blistered legs. His feet aren't a natural color, and neither is anything above it up to his knee. He lets the hate for what Blaise has done fester inside of him while he waits.

A few minutes later, Rose is back with a doctor. How she got him to come in here without leaving the locked room, he doesn't know. Doesn't care. As long as he can race in three days, he'll be fine.

The doctor cleans up the wounds and tells him to stay off his feet for a good amount of time and to keep his socks and shoes off so it can get ample amounts of air. The Runner is upset at this at first, but still decides to run on his feet anyway.

After the doctor leaves, he's up on a treadmill, painfully, sluggishly moving along, and after just one minute, he has to sit down. It crushes him. He can't train while he waits for the next Competition.

So instead he watches. He needs to find everyone's weakness and then he needs to find their strengths. He will know what they are, and he will get into the Top Five in the next race. He knows he will. And he'll do it without cheating. Just observing. Memorizing. Repeating information to himself.

Bitterness starts to creep into his heart, but he ignores it. He needs to focus. Now more than ever. Now he has an even slimmer chance of becoming an Elite. It's make it or break it in two days, and he wants to make it. If he doesn't he'll have to kill Blaise. And if he doesn't kill Blaise, the Unnamed will kill him without a second thought. He'll be unnecessary for them to carry out their plans.

They want the Elites to fall. But Daniel has other plans for the Unnamed.

\+ + +

So far, he has learned half of the people in the rooms weaknesses and strengths and their names. Now he just has to make sure that he remembers which face goes with which name.

Natilda is terrible at distance, and she has breathing problems. It's amazing how she made it past the first day. Strange things sure do happen out on that track. But she's really good at staying focused, which helps her get to where she needs to go.

In contrast to her, Jeremiah is really good at long-distance. He's just really bad at finding a pace to stay at.

He could go on and on, but everyone is going to sleep. Another day gone by, and he's only just touched a treadmill.

Daniel rests his head in his hands, his back against the wall and his feet out in front of him, the blisters seeming to mock him.

"Hey," Jim says as he plops down next to Daniel. "Me and Rose are gonna watch out for you tonight, just in case."

"You need your strength," the Runner says acidly. "I can't beat Blaise now."

Jim shakes his head and laughs a bit. "I think you could beat that guy even if he chopped your legs clean off like he had threatened to do that day."

Daniel shakes his head. "I have no chance."

"Yeah you do," Jim says. "That ointment or whatever the doctor gave you should heal it by then. At least that's what Rose says."

"Yeah, well Rose is also the one that held me at gunpoint, so," Daniel says, resting his head against the wall behind him. "Her words don't hold much water to me."

Jim sighs and looks at Rose, who is starting to lay down on her own bed across the room. "Well, she means well. The Unnamed is everything to her," he says quietly so no one else can hear. They sit there for a moment in silence as everyone else talks around them, either to themselves or to each other.

"Well, I have first shift," Jim says, heaving himself off of the Runner's bed. "Don't roll onto the floor. I don't feel like picking you back up."

The Runner smiles slightly, but stops himself, remembering that Jim and Rose are a part the enemy to him, even if they don't know it.
23: Day Three

Daniel wakes up to the sound of chattering. Everyone has food out and is eating. Some others sleep in, probably having had a late night of workouts. That, or they just don't care about the next race. They're the ones that run to survive not to win.

Just as yesterday, there is a long table on the back wall, opposite of the one that leads to the bathroom, filled with breakfast foods. Daniel walks over to it, his feet feeling better and his stomach growling.

Rose comes up behind him and then beside him, slapping a few more eggs and another pancake onto her syrupy plate.

"We all got letters," she says quietly. "Apparently they do that every year, its just no one really knows about it back in the Buildings."

"Where are they?" Daniel asks, his feet starting to burn a bit from standing on them.

"At the end of the table," she says, pointing with her free hand. "They each had our names on it."

Daniel nods and decides to get it after he makes his food. Three pancakes and a steaming pile of eggs later, he walks over to the end of the table and sees the envelope with his name on it. He walks back over to the bed he had slept on, thankful he's not on his feet anymore, and he scarfs down the food, not realizing how hungry he actually was. He hadn't eaten very much yesterday because he felt bad asking someone to make him some food, so he sat and waited until he gathered enough courage to not cry out as he stepped on his feet.

He takes a moment after finishing the food, which tasted amazing, before he reaches down to pick up the envelope. He looks around to make sure he can open it.

Everyone else's lie open beside them, some of them looking down at it to read its contents as they chew. Some hold the envelope up, studying it. All their names are in thick black marker, each name seeming to be in a different font.

He looks at his name. It's in thin, red ink. The Runner takes the envelope between both hands and then runs a finger beneath the flap, the ripping sound setting his nerves on edge. There's something different about his letter than everyone else's. He can just feel it. Unless the government just decided not to pay attention to detail or they ran out of black ink, there's something different about his letter.

He slips his fingers in the opening and pulls out the envelope's contents. There are two notes inside.

Daniel looks around, just to make sure he's supposed to have two papers. Everyone else seems to as well, so what's so different about his envelope?

He looks down at the first letter. The writing is in black ink, but his name is in red. It's from Mortimer the Elite Solver. He feels a knot rise up in his throat as he begins to read.

Daniel,

I have written and rewritten this letter many times over, trying to find the right words. If you are receiving this letter, your life has just gotten a whole lot bigger. This means you placed in the first race. Congratulations. I always knew you could do it. I hope you know that I am back in my mansion cheering you on. I think this year is the year I will try to watch all of the races. Of course, I would miss some of my other Servants, but I will tune in on them to check up with how they are doing in their own Competitions.

I want to let you know, to reassure you that what you are doing for the World is a noble deed. It is hard to keep secrets in a world where there are none and where everything you do is controlled and carefully calculated. Never be afraid to stand up for what is right, Runner. Do that and you will always be right. Maybe not to everyone else, but if you stay true to who you are and what you believe, then you can grow older and live your life without guilt and without fear.

If I lose on the final day of the Competitions, I want you to know that you did great. Saying that beforehand sounds cliché and almost strange, but I do not have any doubts about you. I know you will be first place on the last day of Competitions, even if Blaise tries to cheat in any way. Honesty always makes it the farthest, or at least farther than a lie. But I must warn you, Blaise will do whatever it takes to win without killing you, and he is crafty and cunning. He is creative too, Runner, and you have best watch out for it. Surround yourself with people, with witnesses, just in case. He has never really liked you, Runner, not even when we were trying to decide on whom to send to infiltrate the Unnamed. He argued against you time and time again, afraid that the Unnamed would train you to be better than him. He should have known the only one making you better than him is you and I. You strengthen your character while I strengthen you physically.

And I must warn you, boy, that Blaise will be watching every move you make. No one else has beaten him in a practice race, and no one else is even close. He would not want to admit it, but you are a threat to him, the biggest one. Anything and everything you do will grind his nerves and you will be in the water with the sharks until you beat him and he retires.

If I do not see you again after the races, know that I was rooting for you the entire time, that I always have been, and that you are like a son to me and I love you. Stay true to you and Run. For your life. For your Name. I warn you, do not become an Unnamed, Runner, because you still can. They can still cast you out and you will actually become one. Be careful.

So just in case this is goodbye,

Mortimer the Elite Solver, Daniel's Master

Daniel stares down at the paper, at the place that's marked out, as well as the unfinished thought at the end of the paper. He died before he could finish the letter to Daniel. Below his Master's name, there is another group of words.

Died. Could not finish letter. Checked by Blaise.

The Runner stares at the words, a new hatred entering into his heart. He feels like there is so much hate inside of him for so many people... but he can't help it. These people are doing wrong inside the World and to other people.

Daniel wipes a tear away with the back of his hand, making sure no one sees him, especially Jim or Rose. If they did, they'd sniff out that he isn't one of them. He's supposed to not care about his Master, but he had felt as if the Elite had been a father to him.

He tucks the first letter back into the envelope, wondering what it is that had been said below the scribbles on the page. Obviously, it's something Blaise didn't like. He wonders if the Elite Solver was trying to warn him of something, like he knew something would happen to him.

The Runner looks at the next letter. It's not near as long. It's also from Blaise. The top part seems generic, worded like everyone gets that message. But the last part is in red ink, as if that's what was personalized about the message.

Congratulations, Newly Named Runner, for placing in the First Race. I'm sure you're ready for the next one, and I'm sure you're starting to list the strengths and weaknesses of people who you believe are a threat. I sure have.

Get plenty of rest and make sure you stay limber for the race, and don't be afraid to eat. You need your strength. I'll see half of your group and hopefully you on the Last Race.

Good luck.

Especially for you, Daniel the Runner. I'll see you on the track, should you still be able to breathe.

\- Blaise the Elite Runner.

Daniel folds the paper, his heart beating fast. He's got to run. He's gone a full day without it. He has to. It'll clear his mind and get his brain working, get his brain thinking.

He steps onto the treadmill, aware of all the eyes focused on him. He puts it on its lowest setting, his socked feet thumping on the track below him. He's aware of the growing pain on the bottoms of his feet, but he tries to stick it out for as long as he can. The doctor will be back during lunch to reapply the ointment he had put on his legs yesterday.

He doesn't go very fast, not fast at all. His muscles almost cry out in happiness from the feeling of running again. He's been doing it his whole life. Skipping it for a day is a strange sensation to him, to his body.

By the time he's sure his feet are bleeding, the doctor comes in and gives him a look that tells him to get off the treadmill and into his bed. He obeys, every eye in the room seeming to be watching him.

He sits down on the bed, the doctor asking him several questions. He answers each one truthfully, tucking the letters he had received beneath his pillow.

The ointment is cool as the man puts it on the Runner's calves, and it stings a bit. Once he's finished, he says goodbye and leaves the Newly Named to themselves. Jim grabs Daniel a lunch plate and sits next to him on the bed, smacking loudly as he eats his stuffed sandwich.

Daniel looks over at him. "Why are you being so nice to me?" He asks quietly. "I'm your competition."

Jim gives him a strange look, a piece of green lettuce falling out of his mouth. "Because we're on the same team." He swallows his bite and leans in to talk quietly.

The Runner feels a pang of guilt as he looks down at his sandwich. Am I really doing the right thing? He wonders.

Daniel shakes his head. Of course he is.

The rest of the day consists of learning more names and more strengths and weaknesses, and memorizing them. Everyone beings to lay down, along with the Runner, his legs feeling so much better than yesterday.

Tomorrow is the last day. And then to the Second Race.
24: Day Four

The Runner wakes with a start. Something isn't right.

He sits up in bed, hearing the lock on the door click. The door slowly opens.

Daniel lies back down, his eyes wide open, watching, waiting to see what will happen. A figure steps through the door, looking around in the dark for a moment. The Runner closes one eye, keeping the one sort of hidden from the figure by the pillow open to watch. Is this another one of Blaise's henchmen? The one that had burned Daniel?

The figure walks over to Daniel's bed, stopping just before it. The black hood pulled over his head hides most of his face, the Runner only able to see part of a smirk.

"No-good troublemaker," the figure says quietly.

It's not one of the henchmen.

It's Blaise, himself.

He lifts up a large object above his head, as if he was going to bring it down.

And then he does.

Daniel moves his feet fast enough, the weapon bouncing off the mattress and Blaise looking at the Runner in surprise. He had been expecting him to be asleep.

Daniel takes the moment and uses it to his advantage, jumping onto the man and pinning him to the ground. Blaise rolls over, throwing a punch that connects with the Runner's jaw. He cries out, hearing someone wake up.

"What's going on?" He hears.

"Jim!" The Runner calls. "Help! It's Blaise!"

Immediately, he feels the weight of the man teetering as Jim attacks him to try and get him off. Daniel punches Blaise in the stomach, he hopes, it being the only thing he can reach. He hears a loud crack of knuckles to a jaw, and Blaise is thrown off of his torso.

The Runner stands up, a few more people awake now from the commotion.

"What do you want, Blaise?" Jim asks acidly as Blaise stands up, wiping at the side of his mouth.

Daniel hears Blaise chuckle. "Him dead."

"Well that's not going to happen. Not with me around."

"Why? Because you're his buddy? His friend?" Blaise spits. "Trust me, you wouldn't be if you knew what I knew about him."

"Leave, Blaise," Daniel hears Rose say from behind him. "You're outnumbered."

Blaise laughs again. "The thing about being outnumbered, Rose," he says, reaching in his pocket for something. "Is that I'm an Elite. I didn't get to this position by being equally matched."

He pulls something out from his pocket and it clicks. A gun.

The trigger is pulled.

Someone shoves Daniel out of the way.

A cry of pain as the bullet collides with a body.

Rose.

Blaise curses under his breath as he tucks the gun back into his pocket. "You're lucky I only had one bullet, Daniel, or else everyone would be dead. All because of you."

With one last smile, white teeth glowing in the darkness, he turns to walk out the door, locking it behind him.

Daniel kneels down to where Rose had fallen. He feels around until he touches her arm. She winces.

"I'm okay," she says as Jim walks over and people start to whisper to each other. Some start to freak out, but Daniel ignores it. "He got my shoulder. I'll be fine for the race."

"Are you sure?" Jim asks her.

There's a slight pause. The Runner can feel her nodding, but she probably thinks they can't see her. "Yeah. Gosh, I hate that guy."

Jim chuckles. "Don't we all?"

"Why does this keep happening?" Daniel asks quietly.

"Because you're a threat to him," Jim says plainly. "And night time is the only time that the cameras aren't rolling. So Blaise could get away with murder and say it was a suicide. Just how it works."

After getting Rose back in bed and cleaned up, as well as removing the bullet, Jim and Daniel lay down for the rest of the time they're supposed to be asleep. But Daniel can't go back to sleep. Not after what happened.

How can a man be so paranoid about loss of power that he kills one of his own people?

\+ + +

To the Runner's relief, his legs are almost completely healed. His feet are even better, despite running on them for so long yesterday. He stretches. It makes his muscles feel good and loose, and he runs until lunchtime, where he scarfs down a sandwich in a corner, away from prying eyes and long, drawn-out questions from the Runners in the room. Jim tends to Rose, checking up on her often.

They would be good people if they weren't involved with the Unnamed. How many people have they killed? How many laws have they broken? Daniel shakes his head.

Nothing else strange or peculiar happens for the rest of the day. They all eat the dinner that suddenly appears on the table and go to sleep. Once again, Jim and Rose take shifts watching out for the Runner as he slips into a deep sleep, praying tomorrow goes as planned.

25: Day Five

Shortly after breakfast, Blaise's minions come to usher the Top Ten to the hallway they will wait in for the Second Race, the simulated one. Anything could be waiting for the Runner behind the door. One year there was a girl who was chased down by a deluge of water. She told someone she couldn't swim and they used that against her, even though it made her come in second. Another year, there was a boy whose finish line was at the top of a volcano that was about to erupt. He got there before the lava ever started spewing over the edge, but he still only got Fourth Place.

Anything could happen.

Everyone stands in line, Daniel stretching and jogging in place, his jacket seeming to bounce like an extra layer of skin around him. All he has to do is run straight, no matter what happens inside of there.

He hears the cameras around the hallway click on.

It's time.

"Daniel," one of the men calls him up. He had come in last place in the First Race. He gets to go first.

Daniel can't tell if this is a good thing or a bad thing.

He nods and walks over to the white door that stands in front of him. A shiver works its way down his spine as there's a sound like air being released from behind the door. It's air-locked.

"You can go in now," the gruff man to Daniel's left says, pulling the heavy door open. It scrapes along the floor and the hinges make a loud metallic screeching noise, making the Runner cringe and his heart rate pick up.

He reminds himself to breathe.

As he steps through the door, a chill sends goose bumps raising all over his skin. He has to run faster than he ever has, no matter what it is that he faces.

The room he's in is long, longer than he would have ever thought possible of a room, even though he's seen it on television for many years now. The end of it is enshrouded in darkness.

"Once you finish, exit out the first door you see. Someone will escort you to where you need to be," the big man says. "Good luck."

The door shuts, leaving Daniel in utter and uncomfortable darkness and silence. They're generating his track.

He starts to count the seconds to keep himself calm. Reaching thirty, he wonders what's taking so long.

And then the room springs to life.

Before him is a checkered line that says Begin on it. Around him are ruined trees and rusted buildings, looking as if it had been sitting there to rust for centuries. He hears animals roaming about and things moving over the grassy floor around him. His path is a narrow strip of dirt, and, from the feel of it, it's thick enough to easily push off of it with his shoes.

Bang!

Daniel takes off running, glad he didn't hesitate like Stark had last year. Had it only been last year?

At first, the run is easy. His feet seem to make no noise as the trees whip by him and dirt and dust stir in the air behind him. He looks at the path ahead of him, knowing it's too easy. He doesn't know how long he has to run for, but by the looks of it, it's a good distance. The longer runs take longer for obstacles to appear, Daniel has noticed over the years watching the Competitions. He's just trying not to worry about what's to come.

The sounds of the forest are barely heard over his breath as he tries to control it. The air seems a bit heavy, much like the weather throughout this year, but, instead of it being dry, it's more humid than anything. He really has to focus on his breathing if he wants to make a good time, or, well, if he wants to make it to First Place...

There's crackling up ahead, and a tree starts to lean over onto the Runner's path. He draws in a short breath and pedals his feet harder to get past it. His hands swat away falling leaves and branches as he ducks below the tree. One of the twigs still attached to it slaps him in the back of the calf, making it sting more than it should have. He sighs once and goes back to focusing on his breathing. Never before had the Runner's Competition had a tree almost fall onto them in the middle of their race. Daniel feels a prickle of fear to think of what else could happen.

Is Blaise setting up some of these obstacles? Daniel finds himself wondering. No one but the Elites know who it is that sets up this part of the Competition, and Daniel has a feeling that it's mostly Blaise the Elite Runner that comes up with these things, meaning things will probably happen that don't normally happen here.

The Runner clears his mind and readies himself for anything that might come his way.

It's only a few seconds before something else happens.

The earth starts quaking, animals crying out and moving around hurriedly. Daniel tries to keep his feet beneath him as he moves on, furrowing his brow to try and keep him concentrated. It's just a simulation, and nothing will deter him from getting higher than sixth place.

Just then, the ground before him splits into two.

It's perpendicular to his path as it spreads out, and it's maybe one hundred feet ahead of him, the Runner approaching fast. There's no way he could stop. He needs to jump over it, simulation or not.

He counts down as he draws nearer.

3... 2... 1...

He jumps.

Fire flares up on the other side just as he reaches the half point of the split in the ground. His eyes widen as he gets closer, not so worried about the crack in the earth now that he's almost over it, but for the red and orange flames that dance before him, taunting him. They seem to grow and thicken as he lands on the ground. He covers his face and pushes through it, the flames burning every inch of his skin.

Why does it hurt? He asks himself as he runs through it, crying aloud and sucking in dirt and ash floating in the air. It's supposed to only be a hologram...

He reaches the end of the flames, his dark skin even darker and bubbling around him. He breathes heavily, trying to regain some control over his lungs as he coughs, still pedaling hard over the dirt path.

The trees seem to squeeze together over the path, making the branches and bark scrape and slap at his now charred skin. He cries out as the blistering wounds open, the branches seeming to sharpen with every blow as the trees crowd the path. He can barely keep his eyes open and his legs start to go numb.

A tree falls into the path. Daniel leaps over it, the tip of his shoe catching on the upper part of it. He stumbles a little but regains his pace, the smell of burned flesh and hair circling him for a moment before he speeds up again. He just needs to make it to the finish line...

Another tree falls. Another. Then, they all seem to be coming down at once. The Runner ducks and leaps, using up all his strength. Then it begins to rain.

The rain is cold and heavy, and it weighs him down. He pushes through it, feeling his muscles wanting to lock up and find warmth. They begin to ache.

Daniel feels the earth shiver again and he stumbles, falling to the ground. He gets up, but his movements seem slow and clumsy. He feels as if he's not going to win.

Bang!

The Runner looks around as he picks his pace back up. He's not at the end. Why would he hear a gun shot?

Bang!

Something wizzes by the Runner's ear and adrenaline starts to wake up his tortured body. He looks around as another shot is sounded.

Bang!

There's a figure dressed in blue standing to the left of the path, right next to the finish line. Daniel feels his heart race quicken, and not from running. This is the end of the race.

Bang!

A bullet hits him in the hand and he cries out, still managing to sprint at full speed towards the black and white line on the ground. Blood drips from his wound.

Daniel looks up at the man in blue. This is real. This isn't just a simulation. That person is real. He's trying to kill me.

The Runner uses all of his strength that's left, alternating his feet as they collide with the ground one at a time. He lets out a cry as he plows into the man, both of them sailing over the line.

"Why are you trying to kill me?" The Runner shouts to the man, whose face is hidden by a black ski mask.

With that, the simulation flickers out, distracting Daniel for a moment. The man beneath him shoves him off as a door opens up. Daniel watches as the man gets away, slipping through the door. The Runner lies there for a moment, letting his brain catch up to everything he just went to.

The fire was real. The bullets were real. He looks at his hand, wincing at the pain that suddenly slams through his body. It had made a clean, bloody hole right through the center of it. He takes in a ragged breath as he tries to sit up, crying out as he does so. He finally finds the strength to stand up and limp out the door.

\+ + +

The hallway had led outside, where a poster on a pole says: Congratulations on finishing the Second Race! Wait here please.

So Daniel does as he is instructed to do, sitting down on the brownish grass and resting his head on the wall. His body is in so much pain... He tries to sleep, but it doesn't come. Instead, there is a constant aching in his bones and a steady burning with every breath he breathes. He thinks about giving up, about not even trying to beat Blaise the Elite Runner in the Final Race. It's not worth his life.

But even if he doesn't win, he'll die at the hands of the Unnamed.

Frustration takes him over and forms tears of hatred in his eyes. One rolls down his cheek, hot and moving over his face like a summer's breeze.

This Competition will be the end of him.

The door opens and someone steps out. The boy that came in ninth place. He pays no mind to the Runner and curls up into a ball on the other side of the sign.

A girl comes out, looking at the Runner funny for a moment before stretching out her body from her run.

And then Rose comes out.

"Okay, now I feel better having that out of my system," she smiles as she stretches her arms behind her. "How'd you do, D—holy—what in the World...?"

She bends down beside Daniel, who winces at her closeness. He wants her to go away, to leave him to his misery and his last thoughts.

"What happened?" She asks.

Daniel's frustration grows and he snaps, "It was real. Mine was real."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," the Runner breathes acidly. "That I ran through real fire. I was shot at by a real gun with real bullets," he winces as he lifts up his hand to show her, "and I could have really died."

"What the...?" Rose looks around at the other people. "Did none of you think to help him?"

The girl looks up for a moment and then back down, leaning forward to stretch her legs out.

Jim bursts through the opening door. He looks down at Rose with a smile before realizing what's happening. "What happened?"

Daniel, tired of explaining, only grunts and repositions himself. Rose decides to tell him what happened as the Runner closes his eyes and wills them away. He just wants to be left alone. Tomorrow is the last race and he doesn't stand a chance. He's too beat up and burned to win. The Unnamed will kill him without a second thought once he crosses that finish line behind the Elite Runner. He's done-for.

\+ + +

Eventually the Doctor arrived after one of Blaise's henchmen sent for him. He joked that Daniel attracted danger and trouble. It was a joke, yes, but Daniel took it to heart, bitterness feeding the flame inside of him.

The doctor used a stronger cream that would help him mostly heal overnight, but the Runner knows it won't help anything. The damage is done and there's no reversing it. If he doesn't die in his sleep from one of the henchmen then he'll surely die tomorrow.

What a silver lining, he tells himself sarcastically as he and the other nine Newly Named Runners stand behind the stage set up at the track, waiting to see their rankings.

"Hello Runners and Elites!" The Announcer from last year says into the microphone as she faces the cameras before her. "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, the Final Race!"

She opens an envelope, just like last year, and Daniel sees Rose tense up. She and Jim want to make it in the top five and have a chance to beat the Elite Runner. Between the two of them, the Unnamed would be in business, but they don't know what Daniel is really doing going into the next race, should he even place.

"I will start with Fifth Place and work my way up from there. These lucky Runners will officially earn their Title as a Runner, and will have a solid job inside of the World. For the ones who do not receive a Title, they will go back to working for their Elite Master, unless they are Mortimer's Servant, may he rest in piece. Those Named will be sorted out right after this Ceremony. Also, they will be able to raise a family and have no threat of becoming one of the Unnamed.

"And for fifth place... with two-hundred and three points... Jim!"

He leaps forward, heaving a sigh of relief as he shakes the Announcer's hand. "Congratulations, Jim. You are now Titled as Jim the Runner."

He walks off stage after nodding to her and stands at the front of the stage, smiling. He made it in.

Karen the Announcer makes it all the way to number three without calling Daniel or Rose. Five others stand beside them, trembling with nervousness and trying not to talk about anything. Don't speak unless spoken to.

Daniel feels only a bit of nervousness covered in a deluge of drowsiness. He's so tired... He wishes he could just lie down here and sleep.

"And for second place... with four-hundred points, our second highest score ever..."

Karen seems to take her sweet, ever-loving time announcing it, the words seeming to wake the Runner up for a moment as his heart pumps a bit of adrenaline into his system.

"Is..."

Daniel tries to stifle a groan as his annoyance level increases. He just wants to sleep.

"Rose!"

The Runner's heart falls as she gives him a cocky smile and struts onto the stage. That's it. The Runner lost. He's going to die.

He sits on the ground and buries his head in his hands. Take me now, he thinks. I've failed.

"Congratulations, Rose." Daniel can hear Karen the Announcer's voice echoing through the field. He just wants it to go away, he doesn't want to be here anymore. "You are now Titled as Rose the Runner."

The Runner's body hurts and he looks at his bandaged hand. Blood has soaked through, staining the white fabric red. He might as well be one of the Unnamed now... It's not like he has any purpose anymore.

"And for first place..."

Her voice seems to drag on again, the sound echoing in Daniel's mind.

"With four-hundred and fifty points..."

He can just hear her smile over the speakers. Why is she so happy? This race paved out the way for his doom. He's a walking corpse with burned flesh and a hole in his hand.

"This is our highest score since before Blaise the Elite Runner, who had acquired four-hundred and thirty points." Karen the Announcer takes a dramatic pause, making Daniel look up. Around him, the other Runners move or bounce awkwardly as if they have to use the bathroom.

"You watched in awe at this race. The norms of Race Simulations were surpassed and brought to life. This strong Runner, as I welcome him to the stage, is Named Daniel."

The Runner's heart skips a beat and his breath catches in his throat. Him? He got First?

He feels a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he stands up, the pain seeming to almost disintegrate as he walks up the stage to the clapping Announcer. He can barely hear her over the pounding of his heart as she congratulates him and gives him his Title. He looks up at the camera, his reflection staring back at him in the lens. He smiles.

He got First Place in the Second Race. Joy overwhelms him. At least until he looks down at Rose and Jim and out at the track. He'd have to race Blaise tomorrow. He has to stay at his mansion tonight.

He feels the color drain from his face. He'll be under the same roof as Blaise the Elite Runner, between the same walls. He looks down at his hands, his arms. Blaise is the one that did this to him.

Daniel is frozen in place, eventually told to get off and follow the rest of the Officially Titled Names.

To race tomorrow, to beat Blaise, to stay alive, Daniel will have to survive the night.
26: Blaise's Mansion

Jim, Rose, Daniel, and the other two Officially Named Runners follow a male Leader down to Blaise's mansion. It stands tall, seeming bigger than the night Daniel went to confront the Elite Runner. He feels a shiver slip down his shoulder blades as the sun begins to set.

The Leader in the front of the pack calmly walks up the steps and slips the doors open. The group of Runners behind him make their way into the room, looking exactly like Mortimer the Elite Solver and the Elite Leader's mansions, only in black and blue. Even the chandelier above them gives off a slight blue glow, making the black seem even blacker than black.

They line up, Daniel in the middle and Rose on his left while Jim is on his right. The other two Officially Named stand on either side of them.

"Elite Runner Blaise," the Leader calls up the stairs. There's the sound of a door opening and closing and the echoing of shoes touching the floor repetitively. Blaise comes into view at the top of the stairs, Daniel's heart racing at the thought of spending the night in the man's mansion. If he could do what he did while Daniel was in that building, he can only imagine what he can get away with in his own house.

Daniel shudders.

"Welcome," Blaise says sharply, his eyes darting over to Daniel coldly. "You've come a long way and being an Unnamed is no longer a threat to your future. However, I am."

Daniel watches as the man makes his way down the stairs, his frame seeming to grow as he nears. Haughtiness radiates from every inch of his skin as he reaches the floor and places his hands behind his back like a Protector, the people of the military for the World, Planet, and Base.

"You're going to spend the night here, as well as eat both dinner and breakfast. But I must warn you, my Chefs like me as an Elite Leader. They might accidently slip something into your food, so eat with caution." The smile he wears spreads guilefully as he says this. "Also, don't expect to sleep soundly tonight. My Protectors will not be guarding the mansion, so who knows what could crawl through your window or out from under your bed."

"Why are you doing this?" The girl on the other side of Jim asks, her hands held close to her chest and her lip quivering with fear.

Blaise laughs at her fear. "Because I don't lose. I never lose. I'm the only person on record that has made first place in all of my races."

"So then you shouldn't be worried about little old us then," Daniel hears Rose say, shifting her weight and crossing her arms. "None of us made it in first place in all of our races."

"True," the Elite Runner coos. "But I like pulling the strong from the weak." His eyes flit to Daniel, who feels his face grow hot.

"Dude, paranoia's got you bad," Jim says, smiling jokingly. "I can help you with that. You see, I've been a victim of paranoid fantasies as well and—"

Blaise interrupts Jim with a laugh. "Get back in line," he hisses suddenly, his face falling short of humor. "Another reason for this is so that I can catch the weasels before they destroy me. So if anyone here is part of the Unnamed Rebellion, speak now, or forever hold your peace."

No one says a word, no one moves a muscle. Daniel can feel his own fear bubble up from the depths of his stomach, as well as Rose's unsettled anger at the circumstances of the night and Jim's uncomfortableness at the situation happening before him.

"Okay, suit yourselves," Blaise smiles again, making Daniel's stomach twist into a knot. "It's time for dinner."

They follow the Elite Runner through the kitchen, where the Chefs look back and forth from what they're doing to the Officially Titled walking through. The room seems to be filled with fear, and not just from the five Runners.

"Sit," Blaise says as he makes his way to the end of the long table. The Runners all sit down, leaving at least one seat between each other on both sides of the table. Daniel goes to sit down, but Blaise stops him, saying, "Not you, Daniel the Runner. You sit opposite of me. Down there at the other end of the table, First."

He nods, adrenaline making his hands shake as he walks to the seat. The Runners all watch him, except for Rose, who looks beneath the table cloth, probably checking to see if anyone is under there that could harm her.

Once he sits in the chair, Blaise looks out over the five teenagers. "Bring in the food," he calls to his Chefs.

They scuffle out quickly and set the plates down hastily. The girl who places the plate in front of Daniel hesitates and almost drops the plate. She stands back up, her Chef's hat slipping down a bit and making a strand of blonde hair fall to her forehead. She gives him a slight smile and hurries out, as if the room were on fire.

"Eat," Blaise says, picking up his fork and shoveling food into his mouth. Daniel looks around at everyone else. They all stare down at their food, afraid to eat it and meet their fate.

The Runner's stomach growls.

He looks down at his own plate and sniffs it. It looks like spaghetti, but what if something else is in the mix other than noodles and sauce? He looks up one more time to see that the boy whose name he does not know is bravely eating his, trying not to look up at anyone else. Rose is twisting it around with her fork and looking at it curiously. Jim still hasn't moved, still staring at it, worry on his face.

Daniel looks down again and pulls the napkin out from under the plate to set it down in his lap. As he opens it, something blue catches his eye. He brings it down below the tables' top to see what it is.

They're words. Written in blue ink.

It's safe. You can eat. You have a lot of people counting on you, Daniel. Come to the kitchen once everyone is asleep tonight. It'll save your life.

Daniel looks up again, everyone still in the same position they were a moment ago. Blaise still digs into his food, almost finished.

Once again, he glances down at the words on the napkin, unsure on if they're true or not.

"Water!" Blaise suddenly shouts, wiping the sauce from his face with his arm. "Water now, Chefs!"

The Chefs reappear, carrying different shaped glasses. Each Runner gets a glass, and the same girl comes over to Daniel. She looks at him and nods toward the pasta.

"It's okay," she whispers. "I promise."

"Chef!" Blaise shouts, and the girl jumps, almost knocking over the water she was in the process of setting down. "Kitchen."

She nods and scurries out once again.

Blaise gives the Runner an evil stare. "What did she say, Runner?"

"Nothing," Daniel sputters.

"What did she say, Daniel the Runner?" Blaise's fist tightens around the glass he holds.

Daniel thinks fast. "The glass she gave me is leaky. That's what she said."

The cup in Blaise's hand breaks, and he smiles tensely, blood seeping into the blue tablecloth. "Very well then, whatever you say."

Blaise takes his napkin and wipes his hand, not removing his eyes from Daniel's face. The burst of heightening of fear inside of Daniel is suddenly too much to take. He looks down at his food and begins to eat, his stomach happy for the food. Once finished, he looks up, only to see Blaise still glaring at him and the other Runners at the table glancing nervously back and forth from the Elite to Daniel and back down at their plates.

"Let's go see your rooms, shall we?" Blaise growls and forces a smile, still looking at Daniel with hardened eyes. Everyone obeys immediately.

Everyone has their own room. Six doors, directly across from each other in sets of threes. Rose is just across from the Runner, and Jim is right next to him. The other two are in two of the last three rooms.

Blaise's room is all the way across the hall, and they had heard him lock it behind him. No one will be getting in his room tonight, especially if Blaise was telling the truth about the Protectors guarding him and not his house.

Daniel shuts the door behind him and sits on his bed, waiting until everyone is asleep. Then he will make his way back down to the kitchen to see what's going on, why they want him down there, hoping it's safe.

He lays down as he hears heavy footsteps out in the hall. A low voice makes its way under the door. Blaise's voice.

"Sweet dreams, Runners," he chuckles, and makes his way back towards his room.

It feels like an eternity as Daniel waits until everything is silent.

And then there's screaming.

It's piercing and gut-wrenching as it howls through the night. Daniel jerks up and runs out his door. The scream echoes to his ears again and he snaps his head in the direction it came from. Others have popped themselves from their rooms, afraid of what's happening but curious as to what possible fates lie ahead for them.

Daniel makes his way to the door, the one at the corner of the hall and two doors down from Rose's. Another scream erupts from it as he turns the handle and pushes the door aside.

The boy that had scarfed down his food arches his back in pain as he lets out another wail. His veins are sticking out from under every inch of his skin and his body is bright red. The whites of his eyes are solid red as he cries out one more bloodcurdling scream, and he falls to the mattress, unmoving, with blood dripping from his nose and the corner of his mouth.

The girl who's name he doesn't know pushes herself through the door and to the boy's side, touching his face and crying loudly, calling out his name. Fin. That had been his name.

Daniel's heart races in his chest as he looks at the other Runners. They all seem pale with fear. The food. That's what had killed him.

Daniel's gut aches. He had eaten the food. What if the note had been misleading?

Once back in his room, he sits with his back to the window, staring at the door. His brain almost begins to wander, when he hears a small knock. The door slides open slightly, and before Daniel can cry for help, Rose pops her head in.

The Runner feels a rush of cool relief run through his body.

"Are you okay?" She whispers. Daniel nods and she walks the rest of the way into the room, Jim following behind her. "We think it's best to stick together. You're the best shot we have at winning and we'd rather not let anything happen to you."

I look at Jim, who shrugs. "I know. She had a change of heart or something."

She hits him in the stomach as she makes a ticking sound with her tongue. "Shut up. I just don't want what happened to him to happen to any of us..."

Jim nods. "Well, I call the bed since you're not using it."

Daniel cracks a nervous smile. Maybe he'll be okay. Maybe he doesn't need to go to the kitchen after all to see what's going on down there.

\+ + +

Daniel starts to fall asleep, sitting in the chair in the back corner of the room. Jim is fast asleep on the bed and Rose sits in the other chair, breathing slowly and about to drift off to sleep as well.

That's when the glass window breaks.

The three bolt upright, Jim still a little groggy as he stumbles out of the bed and falls to the ground. A long container is thrown into the room, spewing out smoke.

"What is that?" Jim cries.

"Don't breathe!" Rose shouts as she trips over the fallen bed sheets to the door.

"Why—" Jim lurches into a fit of coughs.

"Get out of here!" Rose yells as she yanks the door open. She and Daniel step into the hallway just as a fire is lit. The Runner and Rose are thrown up against the opposite wall, Jim's body laying in the doorway. He writhes and wriggles, tries to get away from the flames that have engulfed his figure. His cries make the other Runner come out into the hall as well.

And then he's gone. The cackling of the fire takes over the sounds of the night and Daniel watches as he sees a side of Rose he's never seen before. She rushes over to Jim, trying to put out the flames with her own jacket. She says his name over and over, as if he were to come back to life should she say it at the right time. Rose rolls him over onto his back, his flesh charred and peeling away, and she slumps back onto her heels, muffling her sobs with her arm. She leans over to the floor and rests her head on it, her body trembling.

Daniel makes his way over to her to try and comfort her. He feels a pang of sadness for the two Unnamed Rebels, but the rest of him is mostly numb. He still hates the Unnamed and what they're doing, but this—what happened just now... That wasn't necessary, let alone right... Mortimer the Elite Solver warned the Runner that Blaise wouldn't play fair.

And Daniel decides he won't either.

He gives Rose one last rub on her back before helping her stand up. "Come with me," he says, taking her wrist.

"But Jim..."

"He's gone, Rose the Runner."

She nods, stifling another sob. It's strange to the Runner how she's acting. She always seemed so hard and uncaring to him.

They make their way down to the kitchen in the dark, the chandelier seeming to make eerie shadows on the walls through the moonlight slipping past the glass of the windows. The room is empty.

"Hello?" Daniel whispers.

"Hello, Daniel," the Runner hears. The girl that had spoke to him earlier stands next to an aged woman. "Don't worry, you're safe," the woman says, her voice deep and mature.

"Why did you want me down here?"

"To give you an encouragement boost."

"That's it?" Rose snaps. She's back to her normal self.

"That's it," the woman smiles at them in the dark, the shadows playing creepily on her face. "And one more thing. I know you two work with the Unnamed, and I want you to make a deal with me."

The Runner looks at Rose, her face hard. If looks could kill, the woman before them would be six feet under six minutes ago.

"The Unnamed want the Elites to fall. The Elites want the Unnamed to disappear. Blaise is on a paranoid rampage, destroying anything that seems like a threat to him."

"Get to the point, lady," Rose hisses.

The woman smiles politely, her eyes gleaming with something dark. "If you win the race tomorrow, you make me the head of the Unnamed, the official Leader."

Rose scoffs. "Yeah, right. And what if we don't agree with you?"

The woman looks down at the younger girl, who looks down at the floor. She's afraid of the woman. That sends little red flags flying up in Daniel's brain. There's something about this woman that isn't right.

"Tonight, tomorrow, and tomorrow night, anything could happen. Anyone could die. Anyone could live."

"So what are you saying?" Rose begins to ask, sternness present in her voice. "You're going to try to kill us off?"

The woman shrugs and shifts her weight.

"All because you want to be the leader of a rebellion you have no knowledge of? And who's to say that we're even a part of it? Come on, Daniel. Let's go."

"Are you declining my offer?" The woman calls to them, her voice still low and calm, no desperation in her voice whatsoever.

"That's what us walking away means," Rose replies rudely.

"Don't be surprised if you don't wake up in the morning," the woman says again as Daniel and Rose make their way out of the kitchen.

"Get in line lady," Rose calls out, making a profane gesture towards the woman. They make their way back up the stairs, hesitating in front of Daniel's door, where Jim lies. Rose closes her eyes and looks away, turning to go to her room. She hesitates at the door and partially looks over her shoulder. "Come on," she says to Daniel, who follows her into her room. Rose sits in a chair in the back of the room and pulls her legs to her chest, resting her chin on her knees. The Runner stands awkwardly in the center of the room, not knowing where to sit or possibly lay down.

"There are only three of us," Rose mutters to herself, sniffling. "How are they going to do the Final Race tomorrow with only three of us?"

Daniel makes up his mind to sit on the side of the bed closest to her, no matter how much he wants to pull away. He can't get attached to her, to Jim, no matter what they've been through, no matter what he sees... but he can't help but feel bad for her.

"Get away from me," she whispers.

He looks at her, puzzled.

"Go sit on the other side. Don't come near me."

"Why?" He asks, his heart pounding and his head telling him to do as she says.

"Because I'm weak right now. Mentally. Physically I'm alright and if you come any closer, so-help-me, I'll—" She gives up, burying her head in the space between her chest and her knees. "Just get some sleep. I'll make sure we stay alive, don't worry."

Daniel hesitates, the times she's tried to kill him flashing through his mind.

"Go," she says again. "Forget what I've done in the past. This is now. I took a bullet for you once, and I'll do it again if it means bringing the Elites down."

The Runner nods and stands up.

"I'm sorry," is all he says before laying down on the bed. He doesn't fall asleep right away, the silent cries of Rose the Runner making his heart hurt. But soon he drifts off to sleep, worries of the Final Race becoming silent cries of his subconscious, sinking into his dreams.
27: the Final Race

Painful silence falls upon the room as Daniel wakes up. Rose has left.

He bolts upright, afraid something had happened to her while he was asleep. There's no sign of her at all as he uncovers himself and steps onto the cool, wooden floor. He opens the door and looks out, the hall silent as can be.

"Runner Rose?" Daniel calls quietly out into the hallway. Silence once again greets his ears.

He looks up and down the long hall. All the doors are still shut tight, including Blaise's.

Daniel steps out onto the blue carpet of the hallway, calling quietly for her again. He makes it all the way to the stairs before he's startled by the sound of footsteps coming up them. He ducks behind the wall next to them, hoping whoever it was didn't see him.

The steps finally reach the top of the stairs. Daniel holds his breath as the figure slips past him in the dim lighting of the hallway.

And he recognizes who it is.

"Runner Rose," he whispers. She jumps around, clearly startled, as her hands fly out in front of her. Last night had set everyone's nerves on edge, apparently hers too.

She sighs. "Don't do that, Runner Daniel." Rose shakes her head and motions for him to follow her. He does so and she opens the door to the room they had braved together.

Once he's inside, she shuts the door, crosses her arms, and leans against the frame, chewing on her cheek.

"So, I talked to One. That's why I was gone. Sorry I didn't wake you, I had to do this alone. She's in the Elite Leader's building, and her new name is Harley the Leader. But that doesn't matter." Rose swallows the saliva in her mouth and looks down at her fingers as they move strangely. "I told her about last night. This has never happened before, and she thinks everything going on is because of you. Elite Runner Blaise is paranoid. He hasn't been an Elite for that long and then here you come to take it away."

The Runner nods as he sits down on the edge of the bed, waiting to hear what's going on.

"She still wants Elite Runner Blaise dead. And then you know that if you don't beat him you're dead. So good luck with that."

"Any news? Anything happening that we didn't know about?" Daniel asks, trying to change the subject. He knows the stakes for today; he doesn't need to be reminded, especially when people are lining up to kill him if he doesn't win the race. Just like Rachel last year.

Rose nods a bit. "We have more Unnamed in the last stretch of the Competitions than we thought we would. If someone doesn't make it to being an Elite this year, then we have no chance for the years after this. But we'll have someone. You'll make it into being an Elite."

The words startle Daniel. "Why the sudden change of heart?" He asks before he can stop himself. "I mean, I thought you hated me.

She shrugs. "It's not that I hated you, exactly. I thought you were a spy, is all. I was just covering all my bases. But as the days went on, I realized you weren't. If you were you wouldn't care as much as you do, especially when Runner Jim..." She trails off and looks down at the floor, biting on both her cheeks for a moment. Her eyes close as she rests her head against the door and open as she looks out into the room. "There were so many opportunities you could get away and go tell someone, but you didn't. I know you're not now. It's why I took the bullet for you, and why I stayed up all night to make sure you were okay. Well, that, and because you're the Unnamed's ticket into Elitehood." A smile cracks on her face for a moment. "But enough sappy stuff. I wanna stretch."

Daniel smiles at her as she walks to the other side of the room where she can get ready for the race. He catches himself genuinely smiling and turns back around, shoving the feelings away.

\+ + +

Blaise the Elite Runner came just out a bit later than sunrise, making the last three Runners stand out in the hall. He had said there were more than he thought there would be, throwing a confused glare at Daniel.

They made their way to the track, where they all warmed up. Blaise disappeared for a while.

The Directors that film the Competition finally show up, as well as the Announcer that announces what's going on in the Runner's Category. But this time it's the Elite Leader, not one of the Titled. He gives a slight nod to Daniel, reminding him of their deal. Beat Blaise the Elite Runner or die.

They're told to line up, Blaise coming through and radiating power. No questions are asked about the two missing Runners, and they won't be asked until after the race, when everyone gets interviewed.

Blaise lines up in between Daniel and Rose, a smirk on face.

"See you at the finish line, Runner Daniel," he says.

Bang!

They all run.

The girl Daniel doesn't know sprints ahead of both him and Rose. He looks over at Rose, worry in her eyes. This is the race where the Unnamed will either be in power or will be lost forever.

Daniel pushes forward, coming side-by-side with the girl. She looks at him and pedals faster, not giving up so easily. But Daniel can see the strain as she does this and he smiles.

He still has a lot of power he's holding back.

Blaise is way ahead of the Runners, probably just as cocky as before when Daniel had been practicing and beat him.

But this isn't practice.

This is the real thing.

He pulls ahead, leaving the two girls in the dust. It's almost like he has tunnel vision as his feet pound on the ground and he nears Blaise. In less than a minute, he's right behind him, letting him take on the pressure from the wind. Blaise is doing all the work.

Suddenly, Blaise stops, making the Runner bump into him and fall to the ground. The Elite laughs and begins to run again.

Daniel grimaces as the girls come closer, Rose in front. He gets up quickly, losing ground by the second.

Before he knows it, he sees the finish line. Blaise is still a ways away, and Daniel starts to feel the dread of losing.

"Run!" He hears Rose shout. Is it to him? "Go!"

His spikes beat the ground and his arms swing like crazy as he gains on Blaise. The Elite notices this and starts to pedal faster, but Daniel still gains on him.

He's right behind him as the finish line approaches.

And then he's in front.

Daniel passes it.

And then Rose passes it.

And then Blaise.

Daniel looks at Rose, confused, and she shrugs. "I doubted you," she laughs. "If you weren't going to make it, I was. Good job, Runner."

Daniel laughs, pure adrenaline rushing through him. He had beaten the Elite. He had gotten First.

Blaise glares at him, his chest heaving.

"Good race?" Daniel says, not expecting it to come out as a question.

"Die," Blaise hisses as he moves closer to him and one of his huge fists connects with the side of Daniel's head.

Daniel falls to the ground, dizzy and disoriented. He feels another blow to his head. Another. Another.

The weight he didn't realize was placed on him is lifted, the pounding stopping as his vision fails him.

Daniel the Elite Runner, he hears himself think as he drifts into unconsciousness. I did it.
28: the Elite

About than an hour after he's woken, from a hospital bed no less, Daniel finds himself being escorted to the Elite Building. It's the biggest mansion of them all, and the color of every symbol for the Categories are painted on it, one by one each in a single stripe. Blaise is being dragged more than escorted as every Elite marches to the building.

Daniel looks back at the former Elite, and he glares back, muscles tense, veins poking out, mouth covered, and fire in his eyes. The Runner's heart speeds up as he turns back around. Blaise isn't leaving without a fight.

They walk up the front steps and through the massive double doors. The room they walk into is large and round, and there are chairs placed behind half walls a story up. Below each chair is a single door, each a different color. Daniel guesses it's for the Categories. He spots a blue one and looks at the chair above it. It matches.

"Welcome, Elite Runner Daniel," the Elite Leader says as he strides to the center of the cylindrical room, the dome roof stretching high above him. "To the Elite."

The Elites around him cheer, covering the angry muffled cries of Blaise.

"This is where you will spend your time every Friday, when you aren't training or training your Servants. You will get to choose them tomorrow, when everything is settled down."

The Elite Leader nods to the group, who disperses and each person goes through a specific door. Daniel was right. The only two doors not gone through by the time everyone has left are the blue and red. The Runner and Leader Categories.

"This is the Judgment Room," the Elite Leader says as the other Elites of various ages take their places. "And it is where you will make your First Judgment. Through your door, Daniel."

Daniel walks to the blue door and steps through, a room to his left and a winding staircase in front of him. He makes his way up and stands atop the steps, looking down onto the wooden floor, Blaise tied up and gagged in the middle. The Elite Leader is straight across from him, and tells him to sit.

"You have beaten the Former Elite Runner, Blaise. Daniel, you have two choices."

"What are they?" Daniel asks from across the room. He thought all of the Elites just died after being beaten, if they didn't die first. What is the other option?

"Your first choice would be immediate execution, one that has been favorable over the years due to the Former Elites being hysterical and blood-thirsty like Blaise here."

With one word, Daniel could send Blaise off to his death. But would he have the guts to do it?

"And the second one?" He gulps, unable to take his eyes from the squirming man down below.

"Exile out into Earth, far away where he will never be seen again."

"Exile? Where would he go? How would he survive?"

The Elite Leader shrugs, the other Elites watching Daniel closely. He feels as if he's the one being judged, not Blaise.

"He wouldn't, from what we've gathered. But he might. You can give him the chance to survive."

Daniel continues to stare at Blaise, who fumes, unmoving. His eyes seem to burn holes into Daniel.

No matter how much Daniel wants to be away from Blaise, he can't send him off to his death. But he can't say the word to send him off to his death, whether it's immediate or stretched out.

"Is there a third option?" He asks, and chuckles circle around them as the Elites shake their heads.

The Elite Leader smirks and leans back in his chair. "There is one other option," he says. "And you're the first to ask."

Murmurs surround Daniel as he awaits the answer.

"In our handbook, yes there is a handbook which obviously everyone but me in here hasn't looked over, it gives three options for the Retirement of the Elite. Execution, Exile, and a third choice. Resignation."

"What do you mean?" The Runner asks, leaning forward.

"You step down to give him back his spot."

To Daniel, it sounds easy enough. Giving up the pressure of being an Elite to go and have a family and a normal life. But he's wanted to be here, to sit here in this spot since he was five. He didn't work his butt off for nothing.

"Choose," the Elite Leader says, watching Daniel with amusement filling his eyes to the brim.

Daniel looks down at Blaise once more. Blaise did so many horrible things to him, to the other Runners... If he stepped down and let Blaise return to power nothing would change.

And if he exiles him, Daniel has a feeling he would find him again. He can't take that chance.

"Execution," Daniel says, and lets his gaze fall to the wooden desk sticking out from the wall in front of him. His heart screams out to him, bleeding and sobbing for the word he had uttered. But Daniel knows it was the right thing to do. He can't be an Elite again.

Several minutes pass, everything seeming silent to Daniel as he tries to push his guilt from his stomach, the sounds of Blaise disappearing shouts ringing in his ears.

Then movement catches his eye. He looks up, thankful for the distraction. A man, another Elite, walks over to the Elite Leader and hands him a manila folder. The Elite Leader looks up at Daniel and smirks.

"Well, Elite Runner Daniel," he says slowly as he passes the folder to the Elite next to him, who passes it to the next, and the next, until it makes it all the way around to Daniel. "Looks like you have another case already. I'm curious to see what you decide. Open the folder."

He says something to the Elite next to him, but Daniel can't hear it.

The doors open as Daniel looks down at the folder. He opens it. There lies a picture of a girl with a paper shoved behind it. The Elites will fall, it says.

Daniel looks up.

Rose stands in the center of the room now, staring up at him and trying to break free from the man holding her, her hair falling in her face.

"Runner Rose," the Elite Leader says out loud, still looking at Daniel. "You are a suspected ally of the Unnamed. Tell us all you know or I leave your fate in Elite Runner Daniel's hands."

She elbows the man behind her, making him stumble back and let go. She spits in his direction and looks back up, this time at the Elite Leader.

"Suck a toe," she says, and the Runner can't help but crack a small smile through his nervousness. His hands shake and he's itching to just walk out of the room. She said wait for her signal. What's her signal?

She looks back at Daniel and takes a deep breath. "The Elites will fall," she says slowly. She nods to Daniel. That's the signal. That's her signal.

Who does he choose to betray?

Daniel stares at the girl before him, unable to move, unable to speak. All he does is stand there, not remembering standing up.

Who will he choose to betray?

"Claiming that she's innocent will let her leave with a warning. Claiming that she's guilty will send her deeper into the building and lock her up until we vote on whether or not she should be executed or exiled. For her there is no third option."

Rose grimaces and begins to get antsy down on the floor. She looks at the Elite Leader and back at Daniel, her eyes pleading.

"The Elites will fall," she says louder, harsher, dread starting to inch its way into her voice.

"Tell us about the Unnamed, or we leave your fate in his hands," the Elite Leader says calmly, not hiding his smile.

She cusses at him quickly, and then repeats in a desperate tone, "The Elites will fall. Runner Daniel. They. Will. Fall."

Daniel closes his eyes and shakes his throbbing head.

"Tell us, Runner Rose," the Elite Leader demands again, enjoying this cat-and-mouse game. He was full in control. The determining factor would be the new Elite Runner.

"No," Daniel suddenly says, Rose changing her stance. She's taken off guard with this word. "She's innocent."

"Runner," Rose says quietly, not understanding what's happening.

The Elite Leader nods as the men begin to escort her back out.

"She can't tell you about the Unnamed because she'll be killed if she does. But I can. You all chose me to go in there and figure them out, and now I have."

"Runner!" Rose calls, anger pouring into the word as she says it.

"They're all around. They're about to attack. They just needed my say-so. Rachel would have alerted them. Take. Them. Out. Now."

Rose is pulled the rest of the way out of the building, leaving Daniel to reveal the secrets of the rebellion infecting the World, the Planet, and the Base.

The Unnamed

By K. Weikel

Coming Soon

The Elite

Book 2
Author's Note

I want to personally thank absolutely everyone that read this book. It took from September of 2014 all the way to March of 2015 to write, writing one to two chapters a week. I love the characters and the story line of this book. It's one of my favorites and it took me to places I didn't even think I'd take it.

I've gotten so much positive feedback on this story, and I can't wait to hear the rest of it. It's a dystopian, like many novels now a-days, but I wanted to make it different somehow, and I hope that I did that. I hope I pointed things out that you've never seen before and I hope you connected with one of the characters. I hope you laughed and possibly cried at the proper parts.

I'd love to hear what you, my reader, thinks about this story. Just search me and post a review on the places my books are sold, or tag me in a picture or status telling me if you liked it or not, or what you want to see next from me.

I can't wait to hear what you have to say.

Again, thank you so much for reading, it means the absolute world to me. Thank you.

K. Weikel

