There’s a Nahx, standing at the end of the row, looking right at me. I freeze. He doesn’t move, but continues to stare in my direction. His colleagues below are making some banging noises, and from the corner of my eye I can see their light swinging around in the stadium. I hold my breath, willing the Nahx at the end of the row to move on. But he doesn’t. For a wild, optimistic moment I think that maybe this is the one who spared me in the trailer. Maybe he’ll spare me again. I hold on to this delusion until he simultaneously raises a flashlight, bathing me in bright light, and his rifle beside it. I crash to the floor as two darts thunk into the corpse above me. The whine of the rifle recharging is all I can hear as I scramble along the row, slithering like a snake. A dart slams into the back of a seat inches from my head. I pull another dead bundle over me and lunge for the stairs, rolling down them and slamming into the barrier at the bottom. I don’t even look where I’m going. As another dart whistles past my ear, I leap over the barrier into the darkness below. I land badly on my side, my face cracking into the icy concrete floor. Muscles and bones lanced with pain, I yank my pistol from my jacket and fire indiscriminately into the light above me. After four shots I hear a loud ding, and a dart rifle sails down out of the light to land a few feet away. I swing my leg up and kick it, and it goes spiraling into the dark passageway. Then the light itself falls toward me, with the Nahx holding it. He lands above me and effortlessly swipes the gun from my hand. It goes clanking into the darkness. I scramble for my knife, but the Nahx moves quickly, lunging down and wrenching my arm out. I feel a blaze of pain in my shoulder. With my free hand I grab at his throat, feeling for the weak area under his chin. His grip loosens for a second, and that’s all I need. I swing my legs up and wrap them around his neck, contorting and clenching my abdominal muscles until I manage to flip him off me. His head slams down onto the concrete with a satisfying crack. Momentarily free, I use my good arm to drag myself away, down into the deep darkness of the passageway. I have no idea what is at the other end, but if I stay at this end, all I will find is death. The pain in my shoulder is strangely empowering, like a hook under my collarbone tugging me away. I look back into the dimly lit stadium and see the Nahx moving again. He turns toward me and without even standing up lunges at least ten feet along the floor to jam a knife into my ankle. Screaming, I kick out with my other leg, connecting my boot with his armored face. It sends a jarring pain up my leg, but barely seems to touch
him. As he yanks the knife out, I kick with that leg and the knife goes sailing away too. He grabs my calf and pulls me along the concrete. Shoulder clenching, I try to raise my own knife, but his fist cracks my forearm away. Beyond all chance I manage to hold on to the knife, but now my arm is numb and useless. Suddenly, the lights of the other Nahx in the stadium are focused on me, bathing me and my attacker in light. He has one of my arms clenched in his fist. My other arm lies uselessly at my side. I can feel blood pooling around my feet. With his knees the Nahx pins my body and legs to the floor. I shout obscenities at him and writhe like a trapped cat, but it makes no difference. As he looms above me, I can hear the buzzing of his breath, or whatever it is. Behind him, in the light, I see the other Nahx approaching, sloshing through puddles of dirty water, their rifles raised. Now I really am dead. It’s over. Then, somewhere in the stadium, there is the distinctive sound of a gunshot. A human gun. One of ours. I hear a voice shouting. Shouting my name. Topher, don’t do this, I think. Run. Hide. The other Nahx watching us turn and run, taking their light with them. In the dimness I can see my attacker raise one armored fist above my head, knowing full well he can crush my skull with ease. It’s all I can do to keep my eyes open. All I see is a blur of black. With my last molecule of strength I lurch back, and his fist connects with my rib cage instead of my face. I actually hear my ribs crack, and I scream out with the crushing of my lung. Vision blurring, I vaguely feel my knife still in my hand. My shoulder roars with pain as I try to move my arm. The Nahx above me raises his fist again. Two things seem to happen at once. I feel my knife swish out of my hand, and at the same moment it appears in the Nahx’s throat, right in the weak spot the videos taught us about. He jolts back, grabbing at his neck. There’s a loud hissing noise, and then his weight sags on me, pushing down on my crushed ribs and forcing my last breath out of me. Despite my best efforts, stars float in my eyes, and I see a shadow above me before I disappear into blissful nothingness.