The Change: Episode one (2 page)

By the year 175AW, rather than driving the
person straight into insanity, the disease had slowed. It became
common to see someone suffer with it for years instead of months.
After a while, it became like other incurable illnesses. Avoided
and forgotten about… for a while.

The post-disease birthrates hadn’t changed
from that horribly low number of 5% male, and another, more
dangerous pattern began to emerge. These rage-walker children were
violent. Three years after the first one entered kindergarten,
there was a decree in place for all infected children to be
homeschooled to protect the rest. When it became clear that over
half the population that had survived the first wave of the disease
was infected, the Network took drastic measures.

Realizing their population was about to
become highly aggressive, the Network began cracking down, forcing
people to swear loyalty and work for them. For more than a hundred
and fifty years, they’d been providing everything for their people,
and now, they began using them to gather what was needed to keep
the city going while they worked on a dome. And the Games kept
rolling. Only now, it was all women in the matches, as the children
grew up the Network had to do something with them.

By the year 199AW, a good
portion of the Eastern lands had been cleared and returned to use,
providing homes and farms that the Network controlled ruthlessly.
It became almost impossible to get a breeding pass, and the
impotent fury behind the eyes of those females may have driven the
Network’s next choice. They began to allow innocent citizens to
enter the Games. If they won, they would have riches and power. If
they lost, it was one less violent person on the streets… and it
was incredibly
popular
.

Everyone was tired of living in the dark,
and the Games were vivid, brutal, attention-keeping entertainment.
The year the first ‘good’ female won it, she asked for what all of
the population wanted – a mate and a family. In that moment, the
Network seized an opportunity. They already owned most of the
healthy males on New American soil and charged outrageous prices
and demands for the purchase or use of one. When that bloody blonde
asked for a mate, the Network changed the rules. From the next Game
on, the prize was a man. After that, they could pass any law they
wanted…

…
Because the rage disease
was still mutating. Over the generations, it had stopped killing
its host, but inflicted them with so much torment that they wished
for death. Many of those first women to go through it killed
themselves just to be free of the pain. It hurt on the inside,
burnt and stabbed, and jabbed at their control until only the sight
of blood would pacify it. And, for some reason the scientists
couldn’t even guess about, a mate was the only cure.

Once contact with a male was made, it sent
the disease into remission for a while. It might be minutes, it
might be days, but eventually, it eased enough to let the person
lead a normal life, free of the blinding rages and the need to see
blood spraying across the walls. Even there, though, it was hard.
Once the fire burned out, it was gone, leaving a sparkless woman
with only the will to be with her mate. It was the rare female who
kept her man for very long after finding this peace because she was
too content to stay alert and fight for him.

The riots of 230AW were all about the men.
The disease was changing the women, making them angry, vicious, and
the Network, safe in their dome-covered complex, sweetened their
deal, promising pure bachelors at special times and even Games with
all twins as a double award. They changed the arenas and the
weapons, played with the lighting, and managed to keep the violence
swirling, confident in their control through the ugliness that
offered a small hope to the post-war females.

By 275AW, the Network had complete control,
reinventing many of the old terrors to get the rebels under control
during the sporadic raids and attempts to free their
fellow-enslaved males. Always worried about the women joining these
few brave men, the Network cut off communication between its
various cities, and censored anything that was broadcast. It became
illegal even to own a hand radio, and the only media reports the
people saw were scripted ones.

The bloody battles held us ignorant of the
pieces being put into place, and there was little protest when
other programs disappeared - replaced with a different version of
the Games. Soon, there was no music, no outside news, nothing but
the never-ending lineup of vicious death matches.

Even now, in 512AW, the Games are on every
wall screen, in every home in Network Land. We kill ourselves by
the thousands each year - live, for the chance, the mere
possibility, of an end to this pain…

2

"Hello, and welcome to our first interview
segment of this week's episode of... The Bachelor Battles!"

The live crowd goes wild at the start of the
highest rated Network game. Cameras pan out to show the adoring
viewers who are beating on each other and spilling their drinks.
The party in New Network City tonight will be massive.

"We're talking by Com with Candice Pruett
right before she steps onto The Block for introductions. Already
well known for their bounty hunting, the Pruett family is worth a
whopping 700 million UDs! Wadda ya say, folks? Let's make Candy
feel welcome!"

The Audience cheers passionately as an
average-looking teenager with flat, black eyes flashes onto the
gigantic view-screen above the lavish stage. Sunken eyes outlined
with dark shadows and glassy irises only hint at the pain she has
spent every minute battling. Like all Changelings, she possesses an
instinctive fury over which she has little control - except for how
she expresses it. Dressed in a high-collared black cloak, the
girl’s harsh, eager grin and deadly weapons mark her as anything
but ordinary… and the Network knows it.

"Tell us, Candy. Why did you sign up for the
Bachelor Battles?"

Silence...

"Miss Pruett?"

A throat being cleared and then a mutter.
"Did we lose her?"

"Hello? Are you there?"

"Don't ever. Do that. Again."

Softly spoken, the words rolled through the
arena in menacing waves.

The surprised reporter stumbled. "Um, do
what, Hun?"

"Call. Me. Candy.”

Click!

Fades to another mutter
the microphone wasn't meant to pick up.
"
Pull me off this one."

Pause…

"Why? I'll tell you why!
She's that Changeling! The one the Network fined a million UDs for
hurting a relative! That whole family is ruthless, and I've already
paid my dues!
"

3

My family couldn't believe
I'd signed up for something as deadly as the Bachelor Battles. So
what if legal men were only available through the Network? So what
if the thing I wanted,
needed
the most, could only be had here?

What I was doing was crazy, maybe even
suicidal. I'd be extremely lucky to come out alive, let alone
unscathed... and I couldn't wait for it to start.

"Candice M. Pruett!"

My heart thumped painfully as I padded
toward the red velvet curtain, ignoring the roaring cheers of the
live audience on the other side of the New Network City dome. It
had been a long ten years, but I was finally here, and that relief
had me stepping into view with my usual confidence.

I emerged far below the shiny blue cage
where I would battle, and understood those screaming fans were
inside the dome, in the circular auditorium-like center of the vast
Network complex. I hadn’t realized the crowds had such access to
the contestants, but it was too late to worry about it now. Set up
like a honeycomb, they called this part The Block, and I stepped
forward to walk it.

Too far away to see them clearly yet, the
Bachelors were in the grandstands, surrounded by a thick row of
Network guards. All around them were thousands of faces staring at
me…and then thousands more. The arena-like rafters rising to the
sky seemed endless.

"A top-rated Bounty Hunter, Miss Pruett
excels in over fifteen different types of weaponry."

Pulling on the shield I’d developed over the
hard decade of waiting, I glared at them. My guts crawled into my
chest when they began to scream in excitement at my image flashing
onto the giant view screens, but my feet never paused as I circled
the stage.

"Just 18 this month, barely legal for the
Games, and will ya look at that, folks! She even has the Network
patch on her bracelet, which means she came out on top of her
fellow contestants in the time trials. I'd say we'll be seeing more
of her!"

I hid a sneer. The Network reporter had no
idea how right she was. I had come to win, and there wasn’t any
level to which I wouldn’t stoop. As I moved back toward those
deceptively safe-appearing red curtains, I tugged a string to let
my cloak fall to the stone floor. Under it, I wore a laced outfit
of thin, black strips that left my backside gloriously bare from
head to toe.

There was silence for nearly a full
second.

"Wow."

Even the announcer was stunned, and as the
wails and whistles began, I bent down and retrieved my cloak,
giving them a view that sent the noise to new levels and caused the
Bachelors to shove forward against their own protection. The
Network liked to be sure their males were willing, but I knew they
were drugged, tortured, brainwashed… and I was using it.

I slid the cloak back into place over my
tattooed, battle-scarred body, pretending oblivion to the chaos
behind me. I turned to give them a front view, letting my eyes
flash into that dangerous shade of pink we Changelings are known
for. It was a warning. When our eyes turned red, it was usually too
late.

The crowd of lusty men and women quieted,
sensing there was more to come, and I obliged them by sweeping my
cloak open. The front was a flared web of black lace over my
stomach that faded into the flesh of my body like it was a part of
the tattoo. It outlined me like a black and tan glow, and the
aroused males went crazy.

Instantly the main story, I would now start
out the competition with a full ration of food and medical credits
due to high ratings. Embarrassing, but flawless… except I couldn’t
look away from the males trying to get to me.

Those eyes!
I’d waited ten years to get here, a decade when
I‘d been sure every night that he was being hurt… I’d been right.
His face was harder now, still as pale, and it looked as if his
nose had been broken, but I couldn’t be sure. It was Daniel, though
- from the full lips to that pointed jawline… I swung my cloak
closed and took a step backward as pain filled my head.

Roars of need and drunken delight were
spilling through the arena, along with the sounds of a small
stampede. I was forced to tune it all out to deal with my own
carelessness as I registered a presence waiting behind the
curtain.

I straightened, and
something sharp went around my throat.
Not
flawless.
It snapped me back to where I
was, what was at stake.

“
That's my patch, and I'll
have it back!”

The Bachelors pushed closer to The Block,
still trying to get to me. I struggled to breathe, to think around
the rage… then I reacted.

Opposite hand shoving up to break the hold,
I snapped the wrist around my neck with a vicious twist. As we
spun, I brought my elbow in from the other direction and slammed it
into an unprotected throat. It crunched grotesquely, and the heavy
body behind me jerked.

The would-be assassin fell to the stone
floor, and I delivered a final blow to her temple without
hesitating. Blood sprayed from her mouth, speckling the floor. She
never made a sound… couldn’t.

My head spun, searching for
the next threat, and all the while, the men and the world watched
my every move. Taking tight breaths, I pulled the rage back in, but
it went slowly… reluctantly.
I wanted
more!

Eyes flickering pink, I waved the twitchy,
neutered medic over. “Send it to my parents.”

With a cool nod to the
camera, I moved off of the stage, and the announcer began to repeat
it in brutal detail. My heart, the one saying I couldn’t leave him
out there, I ignored. By morning, I should be one of the main
contestants to beat, to ambush.
Good.
The sooner they attacked and I
killed them, the sooner I'd have what I had come for.

I took my ID from the scanner as I left the
backstage area, noting the first golden star on the top. I grunted
in satisfaction. Two hours inside the complex, half of it spent
checking in, and I’d already earned my first guard.

Coming from an employee
door, she fell into step with a menace I admired.
All Network employees wore the same black jumper
with a silver-and-black Games logo over the right shoulder and a
wide belt with an array of tools meant to cause harm… tools they
enjoyed using. Guards were normally former winners of the Games who
were too old to keep fighting, but too driven by the Change to get
completely out of it.

As I walked, I eyed my
competition openly.
The Network ran an
episode a week of this Game, featuring ten brutal females who
fought to the death. The single woman remaining at the end of seven
days won her slot on The Block, meaning her choice of the
bachelors. I grinned, sure it was fierce, and felt the others in
the hall move back.

There were five of us in the long corridor,
marked by our hard, wary posture, and I evaluated, judged, searched
for flaws. I found plenty, from an awkward step that could be
tripped for a quick death blow, to a hair vanity that could be
exploited. I grinned again, more confidently, and felt them shrink
further back. Apparently, they weren't finding the same weaknesses
in me.