Dahlia eased forward into a crouch, exactly the way she’d been taught—knees bent, weight shifted to the balls of her feet and equally balanced, hands loose and ready, eyes focused on the whole clearing instead on any one object. A phrase hung in her consciousness. Mushin no shin. A Japanese word for “mind of no mind.” It was a concept Church had been teaching them all. To be ready for anything while being without expectations or preconceptions. A pure, reactive state that allowed a warrior to fight the actual fight rather than what he or she expected. It was Zen, not Jedi, but it amounted to much the same to Dahlia. A mind trick.

She waited for the moment to tell her what was happening so that the long weeks of training could allow her reflexes and muscle memory to dictate how to move. It was even harder than it sounded.

“Go,” said Church. He did not shout it. He said it quietly, almost conversationally.

Neeko and Dahlia moved into the clearing first, breaking right and left as they entered. The goal was to find a small bundle, the contents of which were different every time, and then escape the Arena with it intact.

There was a sound—a faint whisper of something—and Dahlia shifted, turned, ducked, then flattened completely as a branch was released from a tether and snapped through the air where her stomach had been. The painted plate missed her back by half an inch, and she immediately rolled sideways and came up fast, following the branch, grabbing it above and below the plate and giving it a savage wrench. The green wood cracked, and she spun off it to see Neeko twist himself nearly in half avoiding a bunch of small stones that fell from a net bag released by one of the Pack. One stone struck his forearm and he cried out but kept moving. The stones weren’t soaked in paint, and therefore indicated injury but not an infected bite.

Pepe, Skye, and Bailey moved in now, treading carefully, looking for traps.

Skye made it three steps before stepping on something hidden under leaves. A pint of paint dropped from the “ceiling” onto her head with a heavy splat.

“Shit,” she cried. Immediately the three Pack members closest to her side of the clearing began counting out loud. Infection was quick, and quicker still when someone was moving fast and pumping blood. Increased heartrate spread the parasites throughout the body too fast for amputation or any other preventative method. Church allowed them fifteen seconds in the drill, after which they would have to play zombie and try to attack the others. Before the world ended that would be a fun, if weird, game of tag; now it usually resulted in heavy bruising and the occasional broken bone.