David & Diana

David crouched atop the pile of junk, behind a flowing tattered canvas. He searched the debris below, looking for any signs of his enemies. Hidden in his selected perch, David saw movement to his left but shifted only his eyes to focus on it. Any movement of his own might give away his position.

Only three days ago, these enemies were his cohorts. Other candidates all working toward the same goal, warrior status and the ultimate title of Elite Warrior. Of the thousands of trainees and hundreds of graduates, only eighty-two qualified for the Elite Warrior field battles. Eighty-two contenders for ten Elite Warrior spots.

In the rigorous six-year long program, over half of the original accepted trainees failed out or died. At the tender age of twelve, students chose their preferred path. Warrior path was the most dangerous – and carried the most advantages. Warriors got privileged food sources, exclusive and protected homes for their families, and unlimited access to health resources.

David’s great-grandmother was a warrior. Diana Gamiline was killed in action when her daughter – David’s grandmother – was only five years old. His grandmother’s life was easy – she could choose to be Pathless and could raise her own son without needing to worry about food, resources or opportunities because she was a living family member of a Warrior. But her son, David’s father, only reaped the benefits while he was in his mother’s care. When he came of age, he had to select a path to stand on his own just like anyone else.

David’s father was soft and easily discouraged when challenged. He failed most of his schooling, wasn’t remotely in consideration as a warrior, and almost ended up Pathless before discovering landscaping as a part of the Labor path. His father enjoyed the work but never quite adjusted to the change in lifestyle.

“Warriors have the best life. That’s where you want to be, David,” his father would tell him. And David believed him. Until he was in training, the risk of the warrior wasn’t clear.

The training was violent, unrelenting, and thorough. David could still remember the first friend to die. They were only thirteen years old – and they thought they were invincible. They had run the training course before and were too confident. Garth was ahead of David as they ran through the rapid-drop weights. Garth looked back at David to laugh, and his foot caught on a rock. David had shouted a taunt at Garth as he ran by, pulling ahead. When he cleared the section, he turned around and saw Garth only feet away from where he had fallen. He’d been beaten and crushed to death by the falling weights – his open eyes now dull with blood running over them from the gash in his head.

Before Garth died, David didn’t truly realize the gravity of the Warrior path. Everyone knew that warriors could die, but it didn’t feel real until the candidates started to experience it firsthand.

At fifteen, they started combat training. At sixteen, the first candidate died from one on one battles. They weren’t encouraged to kill each other, but candidates died from their injuries often enough. David lost more friends over the years – starting with Garth and all the way up to final graduation. Of the graduates, only those who passed the elite trials were selected for Elite Warrior field battles. The final candidates then faced each other in arena competitions, each group facing each other in one of ten locations: the rainstorm field, the trash field, the high desert field, the forest field, the grasslands field, the city field, the ghost town field, the beach field, the sewer system field, and the warehouse field.

Nine total contenders were selected for David's field, the trash field. Only one from each field would emerge the victor. While battles to the death weren’t explicitly required, to surrender in the elite battles meant banishment from the path entirely on the grounds of cowardice. A candidate rendered unable to physically continue – most often due to dismemberment or unconsciousness – typically got relegated to high warrior status, which was greater than a regular graduate, but not as elevated as elite. Apart from surrendering, competing in the Elite Warrior field battles would result in opportunity, status, and privilege for all candidates that survived.

The field battles were intended to be hand to hand combat focused but didn’t penalize projectiles that were improvised on site. Slingshots, throwing spears, and longbows were all very attainable with the components at hand in most of the fields. If any of the competitors had made such a weapon, giving away his position at any time could be a deadly mistake.

His own projectile weapon rested at his side. The last of three throwing spears he had crafted on day one from wooden mop handles and shards of torn metal. He had already used two defeating competitors. The first took the shot through the chest and died almost immediately. She never even saw him.

The second spear glanced hard off of the competitor’s skull, knocking him to the ground. By the time David got to the place where the contender had fallen, he was unconscious but breathing. The urge to complete that kill had been strong – but restraint was often a factor that was considered when selecting an Elite Warrior for an assignment. So, David pulled the blue and red striped flag from the competitor’s pocket and raised it on a collection pole.

Each competitor was given three colors. The red one indicated death while the red and blue striped flag indicated defeat by incapacitation. The victor of any battle hung either of these flags. But the last flag, the white one, meant surrender. To hang a white flag was an admittance of defeat and was the worst shame for a warrior. A victor would never touch a white flag, so only the defeated could hang their flag of surrender.

When David hung the red and blue flag, it was the fifth one to go up. Since then, one more red flag was raised which meant there were only three competitors left.

David slowly turned his head a little more to the left to improve his vision. He scanned the area again and spotted the source of the motion. It was a male competitor – a man he’d seen once or twice in the training sessions, but the name of this man escaped him.

The man crawled through the mound of garbage about twenty yards away. David tracked the crawler’s head, trying to gauge if this sneaking man was aware that he was being watched. He slowly reached for his final spear. The man was farther away than David would typically target with such a rudimentary tool.

He waited until the man’s slow crawl pulled him into a position where he could no longer see David’s movements. David made a quick look around to confirm there wasn’t an imminent threat from whoever the other final contender was before quickly and silently moving to intercept the crawler with his final spear in hand.

David had selected this waiting location on purpose. He had strategically placed some shards of mirror and other reflective surfaces to remove the blind spots around the trash pile that he had been perched upon – but they were all placed low on the ground, so another contender wouldn’t be able to obviously apply them without some luck. Using these, he was able to quickly confirm clear corners and trails through the sludge, slime, and debris as he worked toward the crawler.

He rounded the final corner slowly and stealthily, climbing slightly up on a discolored refrigerator. One more crouched step forward and the crawler came into view, slinking along below him. David poised with his spear in his hand, took one silent breath, and drove his spear down toward the crawler’s form.

The refrigerator tipped underneath him and David’s feet slipped forward, nearly landing on top of the competitor’s back. But the crawler rolled away at the last second and was scrambling to his feet by the time David got his footing back. Even with the lost element of surprise, he still had the advantage as far as he could see. His spear had a much further reach than the knife in the crawler’s hand. That might give David the upper hand statistically, but knives could be thrown, and he didn’t know what else this man might have up his sleeve. They circled each other for a few steps. When the man moved another step to the side, David saw his chance.

In less than a second, David faked a throw and then changed to a falling roll at the last minute. Rolling into a big gap in the garbage, he spun around in a low stance and swung his spear into an upward throw at the challenge. The spearhead made firm contact, sticking hard into the shoulder of the other man right at the top corner of his pectoral muscle.

The struck man staggered back, dropping his knife. David took the hesitation instantly and was on top of the man in a blink of an eye. With one leg he braced his foot by the man’s side and pressed his knee into his chest. With the other leg, he pulled the man’s uninjured side arm in and trapped it against his body. David could see the surprise and fear in the fallen man’s eyes. It goaded him on even further – the urge to finish the last contender rising again with a vengeance. He gripped the spear handle and pressed it down further into the man’s shoulder.

The man beneath him actually cried out. This break in expectation gave David a rare pause.

“I surrender, I surrender,” the man cried.

David responded by digging his knee harder into the man’s chest. Tears formed at the corner of the trapped man’s eyes and trickled down the sides of his face into his hairline and ears.

“You would surrender, here,” David sneered at him. “Here at the point that so many failed and died to reach. You would give up the life you’ve chased for years out of fear?”

“Yes!” the man gasped. “Yes, I surrender. I’d rather be outcast than die. I surrender!”

This man’s utter abandon of discipline appalled David. Reaching behind him with his free hand, he slowly drew his knife as he pressed even harder on the spear still embedded in the man’s chest.

He leaned in and almost whispered. “No,” he said. And he plunged his knife into the man’s heart and watched the light leave his eyes. The sense of relief that overcame him was palpable. The same feeling he got every time he killed someone. But this one, the complete lack of dignity of this man. His death almost felt cleansing to David.

He pulled the man’s red flag and headed for the nearest collection pole to raise it. Only two contenders left now. With the rush of the combat still coursing through his veins he wasn’t as cautious or calculated as usual. His adrenaline was so high that he barely felt the knife that hit him in the back of his shoulder as he walked too brazenly through the trash.

He spun around, eager for a real fight. When he saw who the final competitor was, David smiled. Her name was Diana, like his great-grandmother. He had never faced her in training, but he had seen her fight. She wasn’t a big woman, but she was fast, smart, and absolutely vicious.

“Fancy a dance?” she drawled at him. Her pupils were huge; she was riding on her own high in this challenge.

David flashed his teeth at her. “Let’s go,” he said, his voice low as he drew his knife once more.

Diana drew her own knife, a cruel-looking recurve blade that fit her style. Each competitor was only allowed to bring one knife of their choosing, which made him wonder briefly what was in his back.

But now was not the time to find out. He casually flipped his hearty Bowie knife in his hand, ready for action.

David coiled and sprung forward. As he was launching at her, Diana dodged him cooly while simultaneously flinging a handmade throwing dagger at him. It struck him on the same side as the first – but this time in his chest instead of his back. She was an impressive fighter, but David had seen her fight before. She depended on the shock after her hit. He didn’t let her have it.

Instead of allowing himself to regroup from the two blades in his torso, he pivoted and tackled her with his whole body. With her arms and head above his shoulder, she took the opportunity to twist the knife still in his back and pull it out before stabbing it back in. This time he felt it, and it felt like his lung might be punctured.

David returned the favor and slammed her into the ground. Diana’s arms were thrown backward onto the ground, and she sprawled out for a second trying to breath. But David still didn’t let up. He stood up ready to strike his own sharp blow with his knife only to discover he’d lost it in the tackle. Instead, he brought his boot down harshly on extended arm, and he heard her elbow snap. Diana was hardened though, and brutal. She flinched but didn’t make a sound. Instead, she raised her leg and kicked him in the knee, nearly dislocating it.

This fight was the best of his life, and there was no chance that David was going to relinquish control while he still had the upper hand. He grabbed Diana’s foot as she recoiled for another kick.

Trapping it in his arms, he pressed her on the knee joint until he felt her knee dislocate. He wrenched the blade from his chest to slice at back of her leg behind the disintegrated joint. He sliced his own hand in the process on her hand-crafted throwing knife, but he managed to cut deep enough into her leg. When he put a foot on her hip and pulled, the blood really started to flow from the wound.

He saw the look of surprise mixed with rage in her eyes. But two limbs decimated and losing blood, she didn’t have long before she passed out.

David stood over her for a moment – just a moment – deciding her fate. Diana was too strong a warrior to allow her to bleed out like this in the field. He took off his belt and applied it as a tourniquet to her bleeding leg.

Then, he pulled the red and blue flag from her pocket, and walked off to claim his life.