I glance back just in time to see one of the other couples misjudge the timing. A platform dips suddenly, pitching them sideways into a tangle of swinging barriers.
“Damn,” Bron mutters.
“Don’t look back!”
We leap the final gap just as the next hazard activates.
A wall of spinning blades drops from the ceiling.
Not lethal—this show loves injuries but not lawsuits—but the edges look sharp enough to break bones.
“Duck!” I shout.
Bron grabs my waist and yanks me down as the blades whip overhead with a screaming metallic whine.
“Little warning next time,” he says.
“I did warn you!”
“That was more of a suggestion!”
“Run!”
We burst out of the corridor and into a wider section of terrain where the ground slopes downward into a maze of barriers and mechanical traps.
Dust rises beneath our boots as we race across the uneven surface.
The heat of the stadium lights presses against my skin.
Sweat slides down the back of my neck.
“Next section!” Bron says.
“I see it.”
Ahead of us a series of narrow bridges stretch across a deep trench filled with swirling mud and jagged debris.
Each bridge tilts unpredictably.
“Balance test,” Bron mutters.
“And speed,” I reply.
We sprint toward the first one.
The bridge rocks violently the moment my weight hits it.
“Easy,” Bron murmurs behind me.
“I know!”
The wood flexes under our combined weight as we run.
Halfway across another couple charges onto the adjacent bridge.
Vanna.
She locks eyes with me across the gap.
