Page 85 of The Most Dangerous Games

Reg feels that now, especially with these two kids: Hannah and Wyatt. Probably in love already even if they don’t know it, or would never admit it. Reg can see the way they look at each other.

But the common goal is the same for all of them now:

Make it to the top of the mountain.

And then, God willing, make it down.

“I’m still scared,” Hannah says over her shoulder.

“I learned a long time ago,” Reg says, “the thing that scares you the most is the thing you have to do.”

Tipton, above them, mutters without turning. “Less poetry. More hands.”

56.

Mount Washington

They keep making slow progress. Ten inches at a time. Sometimes five. All of them are afraid—they wouldn’t be human if they weren’t.

But all of them are being brave, maybe as brave as they’ve ever been in their lives. They’ve been told, constantly, that they would be pushed to their own limits in this competition. Maybe even beyond them.

The wind is constant now—cold enough to bite through sweat-soaked layers, strong enough to make the rock feel alive beneath their hands.

Softly Reg Drummond says, “I’ve never felt more alive,” unsure whether the others can hear him or not.

To his surprise he hears Hannah say, “Same.”

“I get it,” Wyatt says, eyes fixed on the rock inches from his nose. “Maybe now more than ever.”

Reg almost smiles. “Get what?”

“All of it,” Wyatt says. “Why people do stupid things on purpose.”

Tipton doesn’t join the exchange. Tipton hasn’t joined anything all day. He’s been leading because he has the most experience, and because he cannot stand the idea of someone else being in control.

But he has something in his ear. Most of the time it’s silent. A faint click, then The Host’s voice—private, intimate, smiling right inside Tipton’s skull.

“Mr. Tipton,” it says. “A word.”

Tipton’s jaw tightens. He doesn’t look back. Doesn’t acknowledge it. Just keeps climbing.

It happens then.

Tipton loses his grip.

He half-slides and half-tumbles until Reg manages to block his fall, probably saving them all. Those few terrifying moments last hours for Reg.

“Sorry,” Tipton says. “I could’ve killed us all.”

“Nah,” Reg says. “Buckley’s chance.”

“What does that mean?” Tipton says.

“An expression in Australia that means not a chance.”

“And why is that?” Tipton asks.

“Because,” Reg says, “it’s like I told Hannah: Nobody is dying up here today.”