Page 16 of The Most Dangerous Games

“So you think you’re a hero?”

“A figure of speech,” Reg says. “I’m known because of sports, which sets me apart from people who are known for other reasons. That’s all.”

“We’re not interested in what people know you for,” he says. “We’re interested in what you do when there’s a more important prize than just a medal.”

Reg holds his gaze.

“But you do seem to have everything,” the man says. “Fame and success and money. As described in so many articles written about you, even movie star good looks. I read that you were briefly considered for some big Hollywood roles. So why come more than halfway across the world to be here and to be a part of this?”

Reg doesn’t hesitate. “Because it’s not enough for me.”

“So you feel you have more to give to the world than you already have?”

“Much more. I’m here,” Reg says, “to find out what I’m really made of.”

“Let me ask you this.” The man leans in. “Would you be willing to put your life on the line to be a real hero?”

“Without a second thought.”

“These new games will be quite dangerous.” The man smiles. “Aren’t you afraid of dying?”

Reg Drummond offers the man the crooked grin the world once saw on the cover of People magazine.

“Oh, I’m afraid, all right,” he says. “Just not of that.”

12.

Tent 23

Jack McHenry tells himself to just treat the next five minutes like RASP: Ranger Assessment and Selection Program.

No BS. No lies. No smart talk.

Short answers. No wandering. No wisecracks.

Give them nothing extra.

Just answer their questions and get out of this tent after your five minutes are up.

And don’t blow the gig.

He sits down. The wristband feels heavier than it should.

When the woman across the desk begins by asking about his military service, he goes back to the beginning, why he enlisted the week after 9/11. He trained, was deployed, got promoted, led. He keeps it tight. Professional.

When he finishes, she says, “That’s a very admirable story, Mr. McHenry. Or would you still prefer being referred to as sergeant major?”

“That was a long time ago,” Jack says. “But I’ll always be proud of serving my country.”

“Could we talk a bit about your private life for just a second?”

He grins.

“Your five minutes,” he says, “even if it’s my five cents.”

“You frankly can’t be quite as proud of how you did as a husband,” she says. “Your two failed marriages are a different service record.”

“I wasn’t aware that this was a counseling session,” Jack says. His smile tightening.