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“The others have moving images of the criminals,” Alice said. “How come they don’t have one of you?”
“Because they’ve never caught me in the act,” I said, and couldn’t help but feel a little pride. “We’ll need to get off the streets if we want to stay out of their hands—”
Alice fingered another poster. What was it with her and posters?
This one was larger and had an image of a fighting pit at its center. Just glancing at it unleashed a set of memories I didn’t want to recall. I placed my hand over hers, serving to block out the image too.
“We need to keep moving,” I said.
“Is this your fighting pit?” she said.
I searched her eyes. “Yes.”
“It looks like the Coliseum back on Earth. I suppose everyone needs entertainment. Even if it is barbaric.”
“You don’t want to go?” I said sardonically. “I was planning on buying tickets. Front row seats. If we’re lucky, we’ll get sprayed with their blood.”
Alice screwed up her face and took my arm, leading us away. As I turned, my eyes caught something. I looked back.
Just below where I’d pressed my hand was a number.
A very big number.
It was the prize money for the successful gladiators who defeated the three challenges.
“The prize money…” I said.
“The prize for what?” Alice said.
“For beating the three challenges,” I said, a new idea blossoming in my mind. “The prize money accumulates every time gladiators fail to win. Come on.”
I took Alice by the hand.
“What?” she said. “What is it?”
“Our way out of here,” I said.
I led her through the busy city streets toward the largest building at the city’s heart.
The fighting pit.
Despite myself, a grin rose to my cheeks.
My dislike for the fighting pit had made me blind to the opportunity staring me in the face. The best—if not the easiest—way of getting my ship back as soon as possible. But was the prize money still as large as it was on the poster we saw? They were old and weren’t updated regularly.
Hung across the front of the fighting pit entrance, huge banners announced the total amount that would go to the winner.
The amount wasn’t the same as the poster.
It was more.
“This is it,” I said. “This is our ticket out of here.”
We joined a short queue of fellow warriors. Some were big and strong, others bent and old and weak. Bigger prizes tended to attract more applicants. Even the ones that stood no chance. One guy was so old, his scraggly white beard almost touched the ground. I’d seen more meat on a chicken carcass.
“What are we doing here?” Alice hissed.
“We’re enrolling in the fighting pit competition,” I said.
