Page 139 of The Most Dangerous Games

Make something happen.

Now.

Saad joined the Air Force to prove to his father that he isn’t some rich, pampered boy.

That he’s a man.

He wishes his father could see him now.

He rises.

And makes the worst decision of his life.

“Tipton!” he calls out, loud enough to make himself heard over the rain. “No more hiding for either one of us. Let’s settle this like men.”

His voice cracks on the last word, and he hates that it does.

Then a voice answers—soft, close, almost conversational.

“Fine with me.”

From behind him.

Saad’s blood goes cold.

Because he realizes he never heard Tipton moving at all.

And that means Tipton had been there the whole time.

96.

Ant Tipton is standing in the middle of a narrow dirt path, puddles already having formed at his feet, his lace-up military boots covered in mud.

Saad al-Harbi is twenty-five yards away—maybe less—his revolver up, his arms locked, trying to look like he belongs here.

Tipton has his gun up, too. But Tipton isn’t trying to look like anything. He’s just . . . ready.

“You could have shot me in the back before I knew you were even there,” Saad says. “Why didn’t you?”

“I’m a lot of things,” Tipton says. “But I’m not a coward who shoots people in the back. Even I have rules.” He pauses. “Even out here.”

Saad tries to appear calm, acting in control of the situation, staring down the barrel of a gun. But he knows he is not in control.

Neither of them is.

Saad tries to slow his breathing, wanting to slow it to practically nothing if he can’t work something out with Tipton before either one of them chooses to pull the trigger.

“A lot of money has changed hands to get me back into this competition, I don’t know whether you’re aware of that or not,” he says. “Some of the money could end up in your hands if we can just talk about this before one of us does something rash.”

“Sorry, mate, but I don’t need your money,” Tipton says. “I’m about to win a billion dollars.” He grins. “It won’t make me as rich as royalty, mind you. But rich enough, don’t you reckon?”

It takes all the discipline Saad can muster to remain completely still. He is pleased to notice, perhaps even surprised, that there isn’t even a slight tremor in the hand holding the old-fashioned LeMat revolver.

“We can work together going forward,” Saad says. “Maybe there’s a way to game this out with The Host so that both of us win. I’ve frankly always found it a silly notion that only one of us can end up the chosen one.” Now he grins.

“Mate,” Tipton says, “you’re talking like the world is still normal.”

Saad’s jaw tightens. “I’m talking like I want to live.”