The Unnamed (The Unnamed Duology #1) by K. Weikel
14: the Last
The Runner’s body screams bloody murder as he sits up in his bed. He tells himself he shouldn’t have pushed as hard as he had, but he knows he has to. If he wants to live—if he wants others to live, he has to win this race. He has to get on the good side of the Unnamed.
Too bad he only has nine days to do so.
Training is long, hard—tedious. Each night he goes home and falls right asleep, even when it’s too early for lights out and voices ring all through the building. He can feel his muscles growing as the number of days shrinks. Eight… seven… six…
His ankle gets better. Mortimer has one of the young Doctors he trains to create a drug that will help heal him faster than normal. To the Runner’s luck, it works, and he can’t feel the pain any longer.
Five… four…
Three.
Two. Two days until training for the Competitions by the Unnamed. The Runner heads to Mortimer’s mansion, ready to begin the day. The sun beats down, hotter than ever, and the Runner feels as if his skin is melting off his face as he jogs over the steaming cement.
“Hey,” the Runner hears, making him turn around and jog backwards. Three walks up to him hastily, looking around, almost paranoid. The Runner stops jogging and lets the boy catch up to him, awaiting some news or update on the Unnamed.
“Hey, they found some of us… just a few hours ago…” the boy huffs. “And in two days, we’re supposed to start our training… One says to stay low and not talk to anyone outside of your Category. Not to go to any other building… in two days, the Runners will all meet at the track, just like they have always done for the Competition. The last five days of training. And, dude… you’re our last hope for the Runners Category.”
“What do you mean?” The Runner asks, alarmed.
“I mean we’re two of the only Runners left, and no one is as fast as you are.”
“Wait—what… I don’t—”
Suddenly he understands.
They want him to beat the Elite Runner in fourteen days.
The moment he’s been waiting for his entire life, training for with every breath he breathes, suddenly seems daunting, suddenly seems impossible.
Even to someone like the Runner.
15: Questions
Self doubt tries to creep into the Runner’s mind the day after running into the boy, but he blocks it out, letting the pounding of his feet, the pumping of the blood through his veins, and the dripping of his sweat take up all of the space in his head. Nothing can stop him, even the pressure coming from the physical fatigue that weighs down on every part of him.
“Come here, Runner,” Mortimer says as he sits on a stool in the center of the room with the workout equipment. Heavers, Runners, and all of the other physically inclined categories that serve the Elite train in this room on their free time.
The Runner stops the treadmill, anxious to see his distance and time. He tries to focus on what’s happening before him, what the old man is saying. He knows it’s important—he can just feel it.
“I need to talk to you.” Elite Solver Mortimer runs his hand over his face, his exhaustion showing in his worn face. “Thirteen days until you go up against the Elite Runner. I want to let you know that I believe in you and that I know you can make it all the way. I know you won’t get lower than Second place in the Final Race.
“But I have a feeling you will get First, and that worries me.”
“Worries you?” The Runner asks, knowing he won’t punish him for speaking out of turn. He just doesn’t understand… What’s so dangerous about the Elite Runner? What could he do to him?
“The Elites don’t always play fair, Runner,” the Elite Solver says, moving his hands as he talks. His pale eyes are locked on the Runner’s, letting him know he is completely serious, that this isn’t a joke or a test. “Dishonest people get what they want through manipulation and cheating. I am warning you that he will cheat somehow. Just be careful when you’re getting ready to run. Be careful this whole week… You’d be amazed at how much power we have as Elites.”
The Runner wipes the sweat from his forehead and leans forward. “What are you talking about?”
Mortimer the Elite Solver shakes his head slowly and closes his eyes. “You wouldn’t understand, just yet. Just know that we have power to spare. Know that we could take your life with one word, and no one would blink before it happened.”
The Runner feels his heart pound in his chest. “The Elite Runner won’t try to kill me—would he?” He feels himself start to panic, a slight, tingling sensation floating from his core and to his fingertips. When the old man doesn’t answer, the Runner repeats the question, the words almost coming out as a whisper.
“Then what am I supposed to do?” He asks, suddenly feeling scared. The self-doubt finally sinks into his brain and he places his head in his hands. “If I don’t win, the Unnamed will still be here… and if I do, I could die?”
Mortimer the Elite Solver looks over to his left, lost in thought.
“Master…?” The Runner asks.
The old man sighs. “Just be ready for it, Runner. This is your decision. And it’s not a definite—but it’s plausible…”
They sit in the room, silence settling down on them like a blanket tossed into the air and gripped again by gravity.
The Runner wants to win the race, but he doesn’t want to die. Would the Elite Runner kill him if he beats him? And is his life worth all the freedom, all the righteousness that could happen because of him? Would the world be different if he died?
Death, he thinks to himself, shaking his head. What a scary thing to try to comprehend… He looks down at his hands and flexes them slowly. Should I do it? Should I run? Is it worth it?
“Yes,” he says aloud, startling the Elite Solver. “It’s worth it. I’m going to run, no matter the cost. I’m ready to train.”
+ + +
He pushes himself to his limits, and when he gets home, he falls right asleep once again. His mind wanders and enters into a dreamland, filled with Runners on a track.
It’s Competition Day.
There’s a loud bang, and the people by the Runner—lined up by the Runner—start sprinting. The Runner hesitates, not realizing that sound was for him to run too. He starts to kick himself mentally as he breaks out into a full sprint.
His body starts to hurt and scream with each step. He loses ground second by second.
A gunshot.
The Runner falls to the ground, rolling in pain as he grips the back of his shoulder. Someone had shot him, someone who is now standing above him.
The Elite Runner. His face seems different in the shadow his head creates as he looks down at the boy, emotionless.
“You can’t beat me,” he says, and lifts his arm up a hair.
He pulls the trigger.
The Runner jerks awake, hitting his head on the ceiling just above him. He stifles a cry and lays back down, his pulse racing and his heart jackhammering inside of his ribcage. He tries to slow his breathing and calm down, telling himself that it was just a dream, that he let paranoia get to him before going to sleep.
But now he feels like he should steer clear of the Elite Runner—and possibly all of the Elites. What if they’re all planning to kill him, and that’s why they sent him in with the Unnamed? What if they were afraid he would beat the present Elite Runner, and now they’re trying to eliminate him? What if the Unnamed isn’t even real—it’s just a hoax created by the government to remove the Runner from the picture?
Outrageous thoughts and questions run through the Runner’s brain, not letting him fall back asleep until the last one is asked.
He feels his brain slipping into unconsciousness and his eyes fall heavy with sleep. He reminds himself that there’s more training tomorrow, that he’ll need all of his strength.
The Runner finally gives in and drifts off to sleep after the shocking nightmare has worn off. The question still echoes in his thoughts
and saves itself in the back of his mind for later.
Why did you ever want to be an Elite?
16: One Condition
The Runner’s body screams bloody murder as he sits up in his bed. He tells himself he shouldn’t have pushed as hard as he had, but he knows he has to. If he wants to live—if he wants others to live, he has to win this race. He has to get on the good side of the Unnamed.
Too bad he only has nine days to do so.
Training is long, hard—tedious. Each night he goes home and falls right asleep, even when it’s too early for lights out and voices ring all through the building. He can feel his muscles growing as the number of days shrinks. Eight… seven… six…
His ankle gets better. Mortimer has one of the young Doctors he trains to create a drug that will help heal him faster than normal. To the Runner’s luck, it works, and he can’t feel the pain any longer.
Five… four…
Three.
Two. Two days until training for the Competitions by the Unnamed. The Runner heads to Mortimer’s mansion, ready to begin the day. The sun beats down, hotter than ever, and the Runner feels as if his skin is melting off his face as he jogs over the steaming cement.
“Hey,” the Runner hears, making him turn around and jog backwards. Three walks up to him hastily, looking around, almost paranoid. The Runner stops jogging and lets the boy catch up to him, awaiting some news or update on the Unnamed.
“Hey, they found some of us… just a few hours ago…” the boy huffs. “And in two days, we’re supposed to start our training… One says to stay low and not talk to anyone outside of your Category. Not to go to any other building… in two days, the Runners will all meet at the track, just like they have always done for the Competition. The last five days of training. And, dude… you’re our last hope for the Runners Category.”
“What do you mean?” The Runner asks, alarmed.
“I mean we’re two of the only Runners left, and no one is as fast as you are.”
“Wait—what… I don’t—”
Suddenly he understands.
They want him to beat the Elite Runner in fourteen days.
The moment he’s been waiting for his entire life, training for with every breath he breathes, suddenly seems daunting, suddenly seems impossible.
Even to someone like the Runner.
15: Questions
Self doubt tries to creep into the Runner’s mind the day after running into the boy, but he blocks it out, letting the pounding of his feet, the pumping of the blood through his veins, and the dripping of his sweat take up all of the space in his head. Nothing can stop him, even the pressure coming from the physical fatigue that weighs down on every part of him.
“Come here, Runner,” Mortimer says as he sits on a stool in the center of the room with the workout equipment. Heavers, Runners, and all of the other physically inclined categories that serve the Elite train in this room on their free time.
The Runner stops the treadmill, anxious to see his distance and time. He tries to focus on what’s happening before him, what the old man is saying. He knows it’s important—he can just feel it.
“I need to talk to you.” Elite Solver Mortimer runs his hand over his face, his exhaustion showing in his worn face. “Thirteen days until you go up against the Elite Runner. I want to let you know that I believe in you and that I know you can make it all the way. I know you won’t get lower than Second place in the Final Race.
“But I have a feeling you will get First, and that worries me.”
“Worries you?” The Runner asks, knowing he won’t punish him for speaking out of turn. He just doesn’t understand… What’s so dangerous about the Elite Runner? What could he do to him?
“The Elites don’t always play fair, Runner,” the Elite Solver says, moving his hands as he talks. His pale eyes are locked on the Runner’s, letting him know he is completely serious, that this isn’t a joke or a test. “Dishonest people get what they want through manipulation and cheating. I am warning you that he will cheat somehow. Just be careful when you’re getting ready to run. Be careful this whole week… You’d be amazed at how much power we have as Elites.”
The Runner wipes the sweat from his forehead and leans forward. “What are you talking about?”
Mortimer the Elite Solver shakes his head slowly and closes his eyes. “You wouldn’t understand, just yet. Just know that we have power to spare. Know that we could take your life with one word, and no one would blink before it happened.”
The Runner feels his heart pound in his chest. “The Elite Runner won’t try to kill me—would he?” He feels himself start to panic, a slight, tingling sensation floating from his core and to his fingertips. When the old man doesn’t answer, the Runner repeats the question, the words almost coming out as a whisper.
“Then what am I supposed to do?” He asks, suddenly feeling scared. The self-doubt finally sinks into his brain and he places his head in his hands. “If I don’t win, the Unnamed will still be here… and if I do, I could die?”
Mortimer the Elite Solver looks over to his left, lost in thought.
“Master…?” The Runner asks.
The old man sighs. “Just be ready for it, Runner. This is your decision. And it’s not a definite—but it’s plausible…”
They sit in the room, silence settling down on them like a blanket tossed into the air and gripped again by gravity.
The Runner wants to win the race, but he doesn’t want to die. Would the Elite Runner kill him if he beats him? And is his life worth all the freedom, all the righteousness that could happen because of him? Would the world be different if he died?
Death, he thinks to himself, shaking his head. What a scary thing to try to comprehend… He looks down at his hands and flexes them slowly. Should I do it? Should I run? Is it worth it?
“Yes,” he says aloud, startling the Elite Solver. “It’s worth it. I’m going to run, no matter the cost. I’m ready to train.”
+ + +
He pushes himself to his limits, and when he gets home, he falls right asleep once again. His mind wanders and enters into a dreamland, filled with Runners on a track.
It’s Competition Day.
There’s a loud bang, and the people by the Runner—lined up by the Runner—start sprinting. The Runner hesitates, not realizing that sound was for him to run too. He starts to kick himself mentally as he breaks out into a full sprint.
His body starts to hurt and scream with each step. He loses ground second by second.
A gunshot.
The Runner falls to the ground, rolling in pain as he grips the back of his shoulder. Someone had shot him, someone who is now standing above him.
The Elite Runner. His face seems different in the shadow his head creates as he looks down at the boy, emotionless.
“You can’t beat me,” he says, and lifts his arm up a hair.
He pulls the trigger.
The Runner jerks awake, hitting his head on the ceiling just above him. He stifles a cry and lays back down, his pulse racing and his heart jackhammering inside of his ribcage. He tries to slow his breathing and calm down, telling himself that it was just a dream, that he let paranoia get to him before going to sleep.
But now he feels like he should steer clear of the Elite Runner—and possibly all of the Elites. What if they’re all planning to kill him, and that’s why they sent him in with the Unnamed? What if they were afraid he would beat the present Elite Runner, and now they’re trying to eliminate him? What if the Unnamed isn’t even real—it’s just a hoax created by the government to remove the Runner from the picture?
Outrageous thoughts and questions run through the Runner’s brain, not letting him fall back asleep until the last one is asked.
He feels his brain slipping into unconsciousness and his eyes fall heavy with sleep. He reminds himself that there’s more training tomorrow, that he’ll need all of his strength.
The Runner finally gives in and drifts off to sleep after the shocking nightmare has worn off. The question still echoes in his thoughts
Why did you ever want to be an Elite?
16: One Condition