Two middle-aged people ran down a camp, optimistic to reach the big metal gate that is the only exit or entrance to, or from, the camp. Their names were Jem and Billy. Pursuing them were a set of men dressed in blue futuristic armor. As Jem and Billy reached the gate, Billy said:

“Climb, I’ll run around the camp to stop them from following you!” 

Jem began to climb and bounce around on her back. In a baby cradle was baby Peter. 

One of the blue, armored men followed Billy and the other aimed its guns at Jem’s head. 

A loud bang echoed through the camp followed by the scream of Jem. Then the sound of a lifeless body hitting the ground. 

“Jem!” Billy’s voice could be heard from camp 29. Billy sprinted at the body of his once beautiful wife. 

“Billy,” Jem’s hand trembled as it clasped his. “Take care of Peter for me, for us.”

“I will,” Billy said, tears streaming down his face. “Don’t leave me, please!”

Jem’s arm went limp as the last of her life was drained from her. Billy stooped down in a puddle of blood and picked up baby Peter. Even Peter could sense the sorrow in his father’s face for he began to cry.

The two men shot Billy from behind and tried to tug the baby cradle from his weak hands. He clutched with all the strength left in him, for he did not want to lose another person he loved. As he finally died and they managed to tug the cradle away, the baby began a chorus of crying and wailing at the men. Nevertheless, they held the baby cradle and walked into the dark night.

Peter snapped awake, he was tired of reliving his parents’ deaths the night they had tried to escape the misery of the camp in hopes of raising him in a new life. Unfortunately, that plan didn’t quite work, for both his parents were shot and killed before they could get over the wall. Somehow, the enforcers had known they were going to attempt their escape that night. Who told them, not even the oldest people in the camp know. If Peter were to find out though, he would kill the person who snitched on his parents even if he had to take the death penalty. 

Lucy was Peter’s adopted younger sister. They had adopted her from the orphanage when Peter had his 13th birthday because her parents had been killed by the enforcers. Even though she was adopted, Peter loved her as much as he would’ve loved his parents. He sacrificed his rations that they gave them when she was five and still growing. Now she was nine, and he was 15, and they were both living with Peter’s aunt.

Long ago, in the country once known as the US, a violent dictator built an army of enforcers, soldiers to do his bidding, and built 60 camps and a shining capitol. He had views that only “certain individuals” were worthy to live in the capitol. The rest were forced into camps where they would have to harvest resources used to build and power the capitol. And to remind the camps they were an inferior force compared to the capitol, they set up the Reamble.

Peter walked out of their small hut and ran down to the old abandoned warehouse where he and his friends used to meet. Now it was used as a meeting place for the gang of thieves that Peter was part of, the deadlock. When Peter was seven, and him and his family were starving, they had offered him a place in the gang, and from then on that’s how he fed his family. Today when he walked in, they were already crowded around a small map on table.

“Where are we robbing today?” Peter asked them.

“The barracks,” one of them responded, uninterested in his appearance.

Whoa, thought Peter. This is where the soldiers kept their guns, armor and belongings. They also slept there so this would be super dangerous.

“Are you insane?!” Peter said.

“It’s final. We’ve agreed on it,” the same man said.

That night, Peter prepared for the robbery. He ran down to the barracks but no one was there. Suddenly, a spotlight shone down on him and two men tackled and cuffed him from behind. He saw the boss of the gang getting paid by a policeman then he ran off into the darkness. The two men brought him onto a hovercraft that in the direction of the capital of Eros. 

“Where are you taking me?” he asked the enforcers.

“To the arena,” they responded in an unsympathetic tone.

They arrived at a big arena, and the guard said, “You have one day of training to prepare for the Reamble.”

Peter knew well that the Reamble is the way the capitalists built their elite army.  One hundred criminals are put in a ring with knives and weapons hidden around the map. They have to kill each other until there is only one left. Then the wall opens and you can run at the small pile of weapons and supplies. The winner gets a million dollars and a lifetime supply of food. 

 Peter went straight to knife throwing in the arena until his arm couldn’t throw anymore. Luckily, he had used a knife in his lifetime of robbery. By then, he had mastered it and was prepared for the next day.

Peter went back to his room looking at the capitol on the way. There were huge glinting buildings. Food would never be scarce here. The room he was given was huge with a diamond table and glass chairs. A large TV sat on a wall across from a large fluffy beige sofa. A bowl of fruit sat on the diamond table. Peter walked over to the bowl and picked up a plum. As his teeth punctured the smooth sweet surface of the plum, the sweet juice exploded in his mouth. He turned around and saw a white marble counter with three chairs hovering above the ground.

He walked into his bedroom and saw a large king’s bed with fluffed up pillows placed along the bed back. There were two closets on either side of the doorway filled with clothes that you could choose. He went over and collapsed on the bed. Thoughts of tomorrow swirled around his head.

Peter woke up and got dressed in a black shirt and jeans and took another plum as he walked down to the arena. He entered to a roar of fans and people watching the fight. He got into position and waited for the door to open.

Part Two: The Reamble

The doors swung open and Peter sprinted toward the pile of weapons and supplies. He grabbed a dozen knives and spun around. A large man swung a big iron spiked mace. It landed right to the left of Peter. Peter stabbed him and blood began to flow from his chest. He crumpled to the ground holding his hand to the wound to attempt to stop the blood flow. Peter felt terrible. Then there was a sharp pain in his left shoulder. Blood soaked his shirt where the arrow had hit. He snapped the shaft and threw a knife at the man dressed in the same outfit as him. It hit the man in the leg as he tried to run away from the pile and he started to limp away from the pile as the blood stained the grass he walked on. Peter picked up a large rock and hit the man on the head. His eyes closed as the puddle of blood around his head began to form. He looked down and crumpled by the side of the man and tears began to stream down his face, the bloody body reminded him of his parents. He would have to push through it so he could get back home to Lucy. 

He looked around and saw people hacking away at each other with knives and swords. Now he faced the choice, should he stay and help continue the blood bath. Well, he thought, the less opponents the better. He picked up a mace and ran back into the slaughter. 

He swung the mace at a small boy’s head and heard the crack as the mace hit his skull. By now Peter’s shirt was covered in blood. He gasped as he saw there were only 5 people left at the pile. About 60 had run at the pile and there were now 6 left counting himself.

“Stop!” Peter yelled.

“Why?!”  one girl with a spear asked.

“We could alliance!” Peter yelled.

Peter knew he couldn’t win all on his own. Plus these were the strongest players so they would be good allies. Also when there were very few people left he could kill them. 

“Okay!” they all said. 

They gathered all the weapons and supplies that were in the pile and set up a camp by the pile. Off in the distance he saw smoke coming from what he assumed was someone’s campfire. 

“What’s your name?” Peter asked a girl with blond hair, blue eyes, ripped jeans and a black leather jacket.

“Heather.” She responded in a high voice.

“Guys do you see that?” Peter asked seeing the smoke drifting up about 60 yards away from the entrance of the woods.

“Let’s go kill that idiot who started the fire.” A boy in a leather jacket named John said.

Peter noticed he was holding a knife behind his back as he said it.

They tread off through the forest toward the smoke coming from the campfire of a competitor. As they were about to reach the camp John tried to stab them in the back. He only was able to stab a boy from camp 4. I spun around and impaled him with a knife. He collapsed on the forest floor and another boy from camp 3 tried to stab Heather but she was to quick for him. She grabbed his arm and impaled it with her knife. He screamed as the blood ran down his arm and stained the grass below him. A big boy from camp 2 grabbed his head in his arms and violently jerked them in different directions. There was a loud crack and the boys body fell to the grass.

John turned to the others,

“Why are we even keeping Peter alive what use is he to us?” he asked

They all turned on him and started stabbing him and punching him. 

He tumbled down a hill into the woods and blacked out. 

Peter woke up and noticed there was no one left. He was getting up off of the forest floor when a voice said “Final 2, fight!” So Peter ran through the woods and found John. I threw a knife at him and it hit him in the arm. John shot an arrow at Peter and it hit him in the leg. Peter charged John and stabbed him in the chest. He fell bleeding to death at Peter’s feet. Then a voice came on, 

“Congratulations Peter from camp 25!”

The End

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