Chapter 2 — Thirteen Months Ago
Thirteen months ago. That night. The night everything changed.
In his dreams, Andrew was back at the campsite, reliving events as vivid as if they were happening all over again. The annual Boy Scouts camping trip had always been a highlight for him and his brother Matthew. At fourteen, they had joined together; by eighteen, Andrew was a leader. Now, at twenty, he found himself guiding the younger scouts through the wilderness of Mount Crawford without Matthew, who was home with the flu.
The day had been exhausting. Thirty restless kids never seemed to run out of energy. As dusk settled, they finally corralled the last of them into their tents. Andrew's muscles ached, and he longed for sleep.
He was unrolling his sleeping bag when a sharp snap echoed beside him.
“Dammit!” Bill's voice cut through the quiet. “This stupid bed is busted.”
Andrew glanced over. Bill stood over the collapsed frame of one of the camp beds.
“You were supposed to bring decent beds, Andrew,” Bill accused. “You gave me a faulty one on purpose.”
Andrew felt a flush rise to his cheeks. “It was fine when I set it up.”
“Sure it was.” Bill's eyes narrowed. “Give me yours. I'm not sleeping on the ground.”
Andrew hesitated. He wanted to refuse, but without Matthew there to back him up, he couldn't bring himself to it.
“Fine,” Andrew muttered, handing over his bed.
Bill didn't offer thanks as he took it. Andrew looked at the broken frame next to him. The metal was bent beyond repair. With a sigh, he spread his sleeping bag on the grassy tent floor and lay down in it. The ground was hard, but sheer exhaustion still pulled him into sleep almost instantly.
Andrew awoke from a deep sleep to the sound of a car parking in the driveway of the campsite. Bright lights flashed through the tent from outside. Andrew rubbed his eyes, wishing he could sleep more, but he had a responsibility as a leader. Groggy, Andrew checked his watch: 3:04 AM.
Who would come here at this hour?
It was probably a kid's parent, picking up a homesick kid. But then he noticed that the lights flashing through the tent were blue and red. He looked around and saw that some other leaders had also woken up.
“What's going on?” someone whispered.
“Did anyone call the emergency services?” another asked.
“Do you think one of the kids called them as a joke?” Andrew asked.
“Maybe,” Bill said. “What else could it be? If something was wrong, we would have known first.”
“But still... a prank at this time?”
“Those little imps don't sleep,” Bill said, snickering. “I sure as hell didn't when I was their age.”
Andrew slipped on his shoes and stepped outside. The crisp night air bit at his skin. Two officers stood by their patrol car, their expressions unreadable.
“Evening, officers,” Bill called out confidently. “Everything alright?”
“We're looking for Andrew Williams,” the male officer said.
“What did you do this time, huh?” Bill said, laughing, as everyone looked at Andrew.
He was such a jerk. Even when faced with cops, Bill couldn't keep himself from putting Andrew on the spot.
“Could we speak with you privately?” the officer asked. “In the car.”
A murmur rippled through the others. Bill raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
Andrew followed the officers to the car, each step heavier than the last. He slid into the back seat, the door closing with a solid thunk. The female officer joined him, her gaze soft yet serious.
“We're sorry to tell you this, Andrew,” the female officer said.
Andrew felt a knot in his stomach. He was wide awake now, his heart pounding in his chest.
“There was a fire at your parents' house,” she said. “The firefighters tried their best, but the fire spread too fast. Your parents, James and Mia Williams, and your brother, Matthew Williams, didn't make it out.”
The world blurred. Sound faded until only a ringing remained. Andrew's breath caught, tears welling up and spilling over.
“We'll take you to your aunt and uncle,” she said. “They're waiting for you. You need to be with your family now.”
The officer started the car and drove away from the campsite.
They drove for what seemed like forever. Streetlights smeared past the windows, but Andrew saw nothing. Numbness enveloped him, a protective shell against the crushing reality. Andrew cried into the tissues the officer in the back handed him. He wished he could pass out and just enjoy sweet inexistence for some time. But the ride dragged on and on.
After a very long drive, they finally reached Steven and Marge's apartment. The officers helped Andrew out of the car and led him to the door and up through the elevator. All went by in a blur, but he remembered it all too vividly in his dreams. When Andrew finally reached the front door, the world around him was spinning. Steven opened the door, his eyes puffed and red.
The hours after were blurry in Andrew's memories. He just remembered the crying faces of Steven and Marge, and how the world increasingly seemed to fall apart. At some point, Steven took Andrew down the hall and showed him to the guest room.
Andrew remembered all too vividly how he crawled into the unfamiliar bed. How he shivered uncontrollably. How he felt a strong craving to be back home. The realization still had to dawn on him that the place he called home was gone.
This was his new home.
It all happened thirteen months ago, but it felt like yesterday in his dreams. He had lost a part of himself that night. And he knew which part. Matthew. Matthew had always been there for him. There was no Andrew without Matthew. And that was what he had become. Nothing.
Andrew tossed and turned in bed, his mind racing. His thoughts drifted to the TV broadcast—the announcement of The Ordeals. He imagined himself standing in front of a crowd. In his mind's eye, he stood before a roaring crowd. He saw a girl standing before him, fear in her eyes. Andrew lifted the gun to her face. He pulled the trigger.
Andrew woke up with a start. People dying. A government‑hosted contest where people would literally die! And he was being baited with fame. It couldn't be right. Was the whole news broadcast just an illusion, a fabric of his mind?
Every single neuron in Andrew's brain concerned with morality was on edge. This couldn't be. A deadly contest supported by the government. This had made way too big of an impact on him.
It couldn't be true, could it?