Where the heck is the remote?
It didn’t sprout legs and walk off on its own.
It has to be around here somewhere.
I set the can on the coffee table and stuffed my hand down the cracks in the couch. Years of crumbs, lint, and who knew what else filled the gaps. I leaned my head to the side, trying to stretch the kink in my neck.
I swear, unclogging the shower drain nearly killed me.
How are my half days always more draining than my regular days at work?
Well, I knew why. Beautiful brown eyes, the most adorable freckles, a smile I couldn’t help but kiss—I could keep going. Madison hummed as she somehow managed to rock a baby to sleep while preparing dinner in the kitchen. A smile crept onto my face. Helping out around the house was always worth it.
A sock, three pencils, and a Lego piece later, I found the remote. I had no idea what the boys did to lose it every time. I powered on the TV, lowered the volume, and switched the display to the PlayStation. After flipping through the games, I settled on YouTube—something I could stop at any time.
The boys would be home soon, and I’d rather do something with one of them if they were free—it was Friday, after all. I scrolled through the options before settling on gameplay from a streamer I liked. I kicked my feet up onto the coffee table and released another sigh.
This is the life.
The front door creaked open. Excited conversation echoed down the hall.
Boys are home!
“Hey, keep it down. I just got Aurora down for a nap,” Madi whispered. A round of “Sorry, Mom”s echoed back from the boys.
The front door slammed shut, shaking the entire house.
I raised an eyebrow.
“Jordan! What did I just—” A baby’s cry pierced the air, and Madi sighed. “I said be quiet.”
“It’s not my fault. I didn’t hear you.” Jordan’s words came out harsh and heavy.
“Okay, well, next time maybe don’t—”
“I said I didn’t hear you!”
My eyes narrowed. “Jordan,” I said in my serious dad voice, “can you come over here?”
A moment of silence passed.
“Go to your dad,” Madi urged.
Jordan muttered something back.
“Don’t tell me. Tell him. Go.”
Jordan’s feet thunked down the hall. “I said I didn’t know,” he muttered, his head down, staring at his shoes.
“Okay,” I replied, keeping my tone even.
Jordan wore dark jeans and a too-large Mountain Dew T-shirt that probably belonged to his older brother Alan. He gripped his backpack, his knuckles turning pale. To say he wasn’t in a good mood was an understatement. I scratched the scruff on the side of my cheek.
Jordan doesn’t usually snap at his mom like that.
Something must have happened at school.
“How was school today?”
“Fine,” Jordan grunted, his face red and scrunched tight.
I sighed inwardly. He wasn’t about to open up. It was time to employ one of my most potent dad tactics—silence.
Time dragged by as neither of us spoke. Jordan shuffled nervously back and forth. His puffy eyes flashed up at the game on TV, over to me, and back to the floor.
Why are eleven-year-olds so difficult?
Admittedly, even after seventeen years, starting with Alan, I still wasn’t an expert on any of my kids. Someone must have forgotten to give me the manual on being a dad. I flashed Jordan a grin. “Well, I was wondering if you wanted to play some games after dinner.”
“Uh...” Jordan blinked at me.
I held back my smile. “After we help clean up, of course.”
His eyes bounced around the room a few times. “What game?”
“Whatever game you want to play.”
“Minecraft?” Jordan sniffed and wiped his face.
“Totally. We can finally finish the tree house we were building.”
“Oh, yeah.” Jordan dropped his backpack next to the couch and sat down. “I was making an aquarium for Mr. Axolotl yesterday, but I ran out of prismarine. We’ll have to go get some more.”
“Did you check the ocean bunker? I think there might be some in there.”
“Ohhh, I totally forgot about that place! I’ll do that first thing when we get on.”
We made a few more plans, and our conversation faded into a comfortable silence. A few minutes later Aurora stopped crying, and Madi returned to the kitchen down the hall. I waited until Jordan’s face relaxed and the redness faded to bring the outburst back up.
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“Just so you know. If you ever want to talk to me about anything—anything at all—I’m all ears.”
Jordan glanced at me. “Okay.”
I waited a moment before shaking my head.
He’ll talk to me about it if he needs to.
He’s got brothers for a reason, after all.
Another moment of silence passed. “Hey, Jordan.” I grabbed the soda can.
“Yeah?” Jordan’s eyes stayed glued to the screen.
“It’s okay to get upset.” I gave him a moment to process. “But it’s not okay to yell at your mom.”
“I know...”
“I know you know. But you should still go apologize.”
“Do I have to?”
I chuckled. “Yes, you have to.”
Jordan sighed. “Fine.”
“I’m sure if you ask nicely you can get a spoonful of the cookie dough that’s in the fridge, but you didn’t hear that from me.”
“There’s cookie dough?” Jordan leapt to his feet and bolted for the kitchen.
“And ask your brothers if they want to play with us too!”
“Okay, will dooo...” Jordan’s voice stretched and distorted as he mechanically returned to a standing position.
“What the—” The words died in my mouth as a warped blob appeared in the middle of the room and stretched vertically. A man with ashy purple skin stepped out from within the distortion. A charcoal three-piece suit clung snugly to his toned body. He reached back into the tear in reality and pulled out a microphone.
I glanced at Jordan. He too seemed locked in place, eyes focused on the demon in front of us. Fear and anger surged inside my chest before an unseen force soothed my emotions and forced me to relax. Despite mentally panicking, my body could only calmly sit and watch the man fuss with his suit. He tapped the microphone several times as if he were testing it.
“Testing. Testing. One, two, three.” The intruder grinned and winked at me. “Nah, I’m playing with you. This is just a prop.” He flipped the microphone in the air and caught it with the other hand. “Got to get the vibes right, you know?”
The vibes?
What are you...
Every possibility of what could be happening flashed through my mind. I immediately discarded every “this is fake” option as whatever force held me down and soothed my fear was all too real. I wasn’t sure what flavor of life-altering event this was, but chances were it wasn’t good.
I need to gather everyone.
The man tilted his head to the side as if listening to something far away. He slicked his hair back with his free hand, bringing attention to two black horns curling up from his temples. “It’s showtime.”
Jordan’s here with me.
He held three fingers out to the side.
Alan and Brandon are probably in their rooms upstairs.
Two fingers.
Madi’s in the kitchen.
One finger.
Aurora should be with Madi.
“WELCOME TO THE 91,734th PLANETARY GAMES!”
The man’s voice boomed inside my head. He spoke into the microphone with a melodic cadence and swept his arm around as if addressing an unseen crowd.
“I’m your host, Xelander Fingrbotum, and we are less than three minutes away from initiation. What’s a ‘minute,’ you say? Where are we, and who are our brave contenders? All will be explained in our upcoming documentary, Earth: What You Need to Know. You won’t want to miss it! Now, I’d better get to our new contenders before they start dying out here.”
Xelander winked and waved his hand as if he had told a joke.
Start dying...
That doesn’t sound good.
I feigned listening as I struggled to ball my hands into fists. Every few seconds I managed a millimeter.
The demon turned to look me straight in the eyes, his irises a deep blood red.
“People of Earth. We come in peace.”
The corner of his mouth turned up into a smirk.
“I’ll say it plainly, because confusion is for lesser entertainment. You’ve been conquered.”
He let the words hang in the air, and my heart skipped a beat, losing all the ground I had gained.
Conquered?
As in Earth?
As in alien?
“And instead of the routine enslavement or culling that usually happens, you’re lucky enough to get enslavement and culling. To put it in a way you should understand: we are the Romans, Earth is the Coliseum, and you are the gladiators.”
My mind stuttered as I tried to make sense of the words. The demon pointed at me.
“Each of you is now a contender in the Planetary Games—a savage brawl where only the truly great survive. Now, let’s set some ground rules and listen up, as I’m only going to say this once. The Games will be a series of—”
The demon, Xelander, crinkled his nose and frowned.
“Most of you are still struggling a bit too much to be listening. I guess a demonstration is in order.”
The announcer swiped his clawed hand through the air, and a second distorted blob expanded, a different background appearing within it. With a quick thrust, he stuck his hand into the blob and pulled out a man by the back of his neck.
“Ah! What the fuck are you doing?” the terrified man screamed. He thrashed his arms around to balance himself as he sat precariously halfway through what had to be a portal.
“Everyone, meet Dalin Whitaker, currently the unluckiest son of a bitch alive.”
The demon smirked at the man as he set the microphone down on an invisible surface.
“Sorry about this. Nothing personal.”
Xelander’s claws pierced the man’s chest and tore his heart free with a sickening crack. The demon held the heart up in the palm of his hand. My stomach heaved at the gore, and lunch forced its way up my throat before settling back into my stomach, still unable to move.
Close your eyes, Jordan.
Don’t look.
“As you can see, this is very serious business. This is your life now, so I’d pay close attention.”
He let his words hang in the air for a moment before tilting his hand to let the heart fall until it disappeared a few inches from the floor.
I fought the desire to retreat from the world and focused on Xelander’s words. I needed to know what was going on, and I needed to be ready to spring into action the moment I could move again.
“Now that we’re all on the same page, let’s get back to it.”
The demon flicked his bloody fingers, instantaneously returning them to their pristine condition, and retrieved his microphone. With a pop, the portal he’d summoned closed, bisecting the corpse, spilling its entrails as it fell until it too disappeared. My stomach rolled again.
“As I was saying, the Games will be a series of trials where your life is always on the line. The trials will be split into three stages, each more epic and thrilling than the last, until in the end there is only a single surviving victor. The victor will be awarded wealth, fame, and of course, citizenship.”
Only one survivor?
What happens to everyone else?
There’s six of us...
“Don’t worry. The rest of you aren’t without hope. Those who reach the third stage will have the opportunity to impress one of our incredible patrons and earn their freedom.”
There!
That’s what we need.
Who cares about winning?
I just need to make sure we all get through this.
“As I’m sure you can guess, today begins the first stage. Stage One is essentially tryouts—a chance to prove you are worth investing in—and it will consist of twenty trials. Each trial will either be a Reward Trial or an Elimination Trial.
“Reward Trials have no fail state and give you the chance to jump ahead of the competition. But that doesn’t mean you can let your guard down. Be aware that nowhere in the games is truly safe. Elimination Trials, on the other hand, are simple. Complete or die.
“That being said, your will is still your own. Give up and die, hide like a coward, go out like a hero, or fight until your eventual victory. How you play the games is up to you. Whatever you choose, it’ll be sure to entertain us.”
Xelander glanced down at his wrist.
“And look at that, it’s time for the First Trial. The thing is, the First Trial is a special case, as it’s both a Reward Trial and an Elimination Trial. Why? Well, let’s just say there are currently way too many of you to efficiently run any sort of competition.
“For the First Trial, we will be sending a gremlin, a savage little animal, after each and every one of you. All you have to do is survive its assault for sixty minutes. Do that, and you’ll earn access to power beyond your wildest imaginations.”
The demon’s smile grew a fraction wider, striking a primal chord of fear in my soul.
“Good luck.”
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