Chain Gang All Stars

“Don’t be worried, baby, I won’t let them touch a hair on your head,” Staxxx said, running alongside Thurwar. The circle had become a single line, each Link beside another, shoulder to shoulder. What if Thurwar lost Staxxx, somehow, before she had a chance to tell her what she’d learned? The thought made her mind leap into focus. She tried to return to her body. The waking ache in her knee as she pressed off the ground, the weight of the hammer in her hands. She would not lose Staxxx. She would let anything happen before that.

“What the hell?” Rico Muerte said.

Thurwar looked over to see Mac was on it. Rico had, of course, already seen this sort of thing on the casts he’d watched, but it was a different thing entirely when you lived it. When suddenly the calm, steady hike becomes a run. When at the end of the run is a death, for you or for them.

“We went over this, now it’s here,” Thurwar said in Muerte’s direction.

She looked at Rico and his golf club. Even he was hers. He didn’t show any real potential, didn’t seem to have much spark, but he was honest enough. He was hers, just like almost everyone running through the trees alongside her, suddenly, again, faced with the possibility of death. She would not let even Rico Muerte find Low Freedom.

“It ends when somebody does,” Mac said to Muerte.

She knew what he would say next. That this was Melee, that they were about to come face-to-face with another Chain. That they would get to see everybody they would be Meleeing against before it started, that they would each call out somebody they wanted to rush. That probably Thurwar and Staxxx would rush the same person to guarantee a kill and end the Melee. That if you tried to run away you would be dragged back to within inches of the two Anchors in the center of the makeshift battlefield. Mac would tell him that whatever he did, if he ran he would definitely be killed, if not by the opposing Chain, then by Randy Mac himself.

“Remember our first time?” Staxxx said, running just ahead of Thurwar. Thurwar was aware of the pain in her knee, but as her body prepared her to create death, it was a shadow. A memory that was present and forgotten at once.

Thurwar said nothing, trying to see ahead of her, but smiled.

“No? Shame. Either way, happy anniversary,” Staxxx muttered through a long frown, then a smooth grin.

“Hm,” Thurwar said. “Did something important happen our first Melee?” She played along though she wanted to conserve herself. Even this run toward the Melee could tire a good Link out. It was one thing to run, and another thing to run with the tense, adrenalized force of battle.

“See,” Staxxx said. Big grin. “You don’t care about me.”

During their first Melee as the Angola-Hammond Chain, Thurwar had whiffed a killing blow into the skull of a man carrying a huge wrench. Before the wrench could crack Thurwar’s left orbital bone, both it and the hand holding it were on the ground. The scythe head had found the man’s neck. Thurwar thought back to the time and considered how many of her best memories were dressed in blood.

In that first Melee, only six days after she’d joined, Thurwar had fallen in love with Staxxx. She loved her strength, how her body spurred survival.

Staxxx had appeared and suddenly she owed her life to another. She resented it. But it kept her alive. First it was the desire to repay that debt, which she had many times over, and then it was that she knew she had to stay alive to keep Staxxx alive and well enough to be who she was for the world. That was at least part of why Thurwar believed she was on the earth.

“I don’t care about you,” Thurwar said. “I love you.”

Staxxx stumbled briefly, using LoveGuile to push herself off the ground.

Thurwar leaned into the giddy satisfaction of having caught Staxxx off guard. Thurwar rarely said the words, and she hoped she hadn’t just said them now because she was afraid she wouldn’t have another chance.

Staxxx smiled and Thurwar wondered if she could read her mind. She wished Staxxx could so she could tell her what had been rattling in her brain since Vroom Vroom.

It was Thurwar’s twentieth Melee. For the last two months since her nineteenth, she’d felt a pang of guilt about the twentieth approaching. The GameMasters, the humans behind their chained lives, those people who sewed together story lines through matches and choreographed serendipity, they loved the obvious. They loved big numbers. Her milestones meant more danger for everyone on her Chain.

She also knew that some people thought those same GameMasters favored her. Were coddling her with easy matchups, like the boy she’d last crushed. As if anything about her life on the Circuit could be easy. Twenty fucking times she’d suddenly been forced to free-for-all for her life. Nineteen times she’d seen and survived. When they’d talked stats, when she’d cared to argue in her favor, she’d reminded them of all the times she’d Low Freed Links from other Chains so that no one on her Chain had to be. Eight times it had been her hammer that had ended the Melee. Eight Melee ends. Eight. Bishop had only seen ten Melees her entire tenure.

She kept her breath even as she ran. She had seen people pant their way to death. She had taught the Links of A-Hamm how to follow the Anchor with purpose. She had shown them how important it was to breathe deeply, to see the ground and the world ahead of you. Sprained ankles got people killed. She was the one. She was the one who had done the most difficult thing in the world: survived. And still people challenged her. But was she greater than—yes. The answer was always yes, she was. Thurwar believed it was part of her purpose to be the greatest ever in a new hell. She was still trying to understand why.

They moved at the pace Thurwar allowed Staxxx to set and finally they were able to see the other Chain in the distance. In the moment of seeing those whom you must either kill or be killed by, you had to dismiss the innate appreciation you had for them as your fellow human beings. After so long on the Circuit, it was almost automatic for Thurwar. She and her Chain were people; these others were a problem to be solved.

They were nine by her count. She opened her stride. She wanted to be the one they saw first. She wanted them to imagine their skulls crushed by Hass Omaha. She knew they’d seen her highlights. She knew they, whoever they were, knew all the many ways she could destroy a body. She matched Staxxx and soon felt the Anchor repelling her. She was forced to stop. They stood in a part of the woods that had recently been deforested. Green on the grounds, fresh light all around them, no leaves or branches to hide it, or their opponents. They were standing right across from the U-Blockers Chain. From the look of them, U-Block could see her well.

The wide-open eyes. Then the visible smothering of surprise. Faint smiles she could almost make out. They were thirty yards apart.

Thurwar settled on a young woman who had to be under twenty. So far as Thurwar could see, she didn’t have any primary, probably was holding a pair of scissors or something small and sharp somewhere in the pockets of her jean jacket.

“Denim,” Thurwar said to Staxxx.

“Poor baby,” Staxxx said back. As simple as that. Thurwar and Staxxx consigned this weak-looking woman to death.

“We’re taking the denim jacket,” Thurwar said. Mac and Gunny Puddles made eye contact and nodded. Sai gave a thumbs-up. Ice grunted that he wanted the blond man in the middle of their Lineup.

“Check,” Thurwar said.

Sixty seconds until Melee.

Before Thurwar had taken charge of A-Hamm, Chains had wasted the seconds of stillness before the start of the Melee. Links had greedily kept their targets to themselves, hoping for the glory and Blood Points of a Melee finish. But organization was life.

“Green sweat,” Sai said, pointing to a man with a gut and what appeared to be a police baton.

“Igloo, check.”

They ran through their matchups and Thurwar scanned each one before she gave her approval. If she thought a matchup looked tough, she’d deny it and say go for someone else.

She herself kept her focus on the woman in the denim coat. After she was dead, it wouldn’t matter who her Links had marked. And denim was going to die very soon. Thurwar could see that she wanted to put her hands in her pockets. She was barely a Survivor, Thurwar was sure. She knew four of the Links from the U-Block Chain. They were Logan Igloo, a Cusp; Killian Stills, a Reaper; and Qiesha Howler, who, last Thurwar had heard, was a Cusp but had gotten there in such a way that she’d made it to Thurwar’s radar.

The final Link was the only one whom Thurwar considered a real contender: Raven Ways. Raven Ways was a Colossal too. As of last month he weighed 198 pounds. He kept his hair cut to a dark Caesar and wore a bandana with a pyramid on it. And tatted on his neck was the pyramid of Triangle Keep Bank. He, like Thurwar, used bolt leather. She thought she saw some of the material looping around his clavicle and creeping up toward his neck. He was left-handed, though he was working toward weapon ambidexterity, which Thurwar had already mastered. His halberd was named Chi-Chi. He held it in his right hand and the gold head of its blade pointed right at the A-Hamm Links. At her. They had never spoken, but she knew him as if he were a brother.

“Yo.” She knew the sound of his voice from the battle cries he’d made after his wins on the grounds. “Thurwar,” he said.

“Focus, everybody,” Thurwar said to A-Hamm. It was not uncommon for Chains to yell things prior to the release into the Melee.

“Nah, for real, Thurwar,” Raven said. “I think we got something you wanna hear, Blood Mama.” Thurwar looked at Staxxx, who didn’t take her eyes off Raven. “How far are you from getting to it?” he asked.

The Anchor announced that in seconds they’d be loosed upon one another.

“Just two weeks, birdie,” Staxxx said.

“That’s a beautiful thing,” Raven said.

Thurwar didn’t like the pleasantry. This was not how Melee began. Melee began with threats and ironic jokes that were also threats.

“It is,” Thurwar said.

“I guess this is another present for you then.” He moved his head to indicate he was relinquishing the floor to a man Thurwar would have picked had she not settled on the denim girl who didn’t even know what to do with her hands.

“All you,” Raven said.

Fifteen seconds, the Anchors warned. They spoke in absolute unison.

The man Ways had summoned to the front had a black bubble vest that covered his tan skin. He wore shorts and slip-on sneakers. He clearly was no better than a Survivor. His eyes. Anyone who’d been on a Chain as long as Thurwar knew what eyes like those meant.

“I know you,” he said. “Thurwar, I’ve watched you for so long. I thought I could do this. You helped me. You showed me I could get out. You showed me it could be okay out here.”

“You have ten seconds before one of you dies,” Thurwar screamed across the field, parroting the Anchors.

“I didn’t wanna die. But I didn’t wanna be there. I couldn’t stay in the cages. Now I don’t wanna die, but I don’t—I can’t live like this.”

Thurwar breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth, evenly.

“You don’t have to do this!” the U-Blocker in the denim jacket screamed. She looked at bubble vest and Thurwar thought from the sound of her voice she’d maybe started to cry.

“I don’t wanna die. But now I don’t want to live,” Vest said.

Melee, the Anchors said together.

“Wait, Thurwar,” Raven Ways yelled. He dropped Chi-Chi and raised both his hands in the air. It made a soft thud into the ground. Two of the six HMCs in the air danced around him. “Listen. Please.” Thurwar raised her arm to her side to keep her Links waiting.

“I don’t want to die. But I can’t live like this. I want you to live, Thurwar. The fact that you’re in front of me right now, it’s a sign. It has to be. I’m grateful to you, even though you lied to me. You made me think it was okay. But it’s hell. Again.” Thurwar saw that bubble vest was holding a knife. He took several steps forward. Thurwar gripped her hammer tighter. She watched him, thought about how every day she choked down the part of her that lived in her head and said the same things that he was saying aloud now.

“I can’t live like this. And you can. I see that now.” He cried heavy tears and heaved heavy breaths. He kneeled on the dead leaves and cut a quick deep frown into his neck. The wound dribbled, then slobbered blood. He fell over and writhed until Raven stepped forward to finish the deed. But Raven was pushed aside by the girl in denim, who was weeping now. She, more completely, slit the man’s neck.

Melee complete, the Anchors said as they floated back to their respective Links. Thurwar looked at the dead man, at the Chain in front of her. Denim had red spots splattered on her skin and coat.

“What the fuck?” Muerte said.

“Jeez,” Bad Water muttered.

Thurwar considered this man, too weak for this world, who thought he had gifted her something; in his final moments, this man had called her a liar.

“It is an honor,” Raven said with a wave. He looked at Randy Mac. “Sorry ’bout it, my guy.”

“We’ll see,” Mac said. Raven Ways was Mac’s next matchup.

“We will. But we can’t all see High Freedom,” Raven said. He picked Chi-Chi off the ground and he and his Chain followed their Anchor away.

“What was his name?” Thurwar called after him.

“Alley Bye-Bye,” Raven called.

“What was his real name, Raven?” Thurwar asked.

“Albin or some shit like that. I can’t even tell you, LT,” Raven said.[*] “He was gonna off himself sooner or later, he just decided once we started running for Melee he would take the fall. I ain’t know he was gonna have a whole speech.”

Thurwar considered this. The way the man had spent his last words on her, how many times she had been the last thing a person thought about.

Raven continued. “He was a fan. Glad he got to see you. I’m a fan too.”

“Likewise,” Thurwar said, stepping backward. “Learn everybody on your Chain’s real name, Marquis.”

Raven slowed, and both Chains grew tense. Raven was not someone who was told what to do.

“You right, LT,” Raven said. “When you right you right.” And then he turned around.

The A-Hamm Anchor continued to pull away toward the lowering sun while the U-Blockers retreated in the direction Thurwar and her Chain had just come from.

Thurwar said nothing. She tried to keep her breath easy though she felt ravaged with adrenaline. And so she said nothing and walked, and her Chain followed. She walked and was grateful and terrified. She walked and looked at her Chain, intact, because of her. She thought of all the misery and hurt that flowed from her. She felt heavy with burden though she showed none of it.

* Albin “Alley Bye-Bye” Lofgren. Albin was what they called half-smart. Smart enough to know how to flip a little bit of this or that to a lot of money. Good enough to try to get his mom a house with that money, not good enough to ever see her live in it. He wanted a lot from this world; it disappointed him. Then disappointed him again. Then again. Low Freed. Age twenty-two.