“Medic!” I shouted, holding my side with my hand. Those paintballs hurt.

I could hear muffled laughter behind the grass, and then two masks pushed through it, identifying their downed player. One of them gestured. Another, crouched low, jogged across the clearing toward me, apparently unaware of Lily and Mason. He cautiously moved around, checking the area, and then gave a signal to the other.

Someone ran straight for the injured guy—the boy with the medic badge. He had just healed the first guy when Lily and Mason opened fire, splattering the guard, the medic, and the newly revived kid. The dead guard swore, and the medic shouted something, yanking off his badge and throwing it to the ground. I noticed now that the last guy—the mask peeking through the grass—stood up, one ball of paint smashed into his goggles. Four kills.

I gave a thumbs-up to Lily and she returned it.

A few moments later, Isaiah’s voice echoed over the bullhorn. “The defending team’s medic has been killed. No more Havoc team members can be healed. If you are shot, please leave the field of play.”

Lily and Mason formed another ambush around me, taking up new positions to guard against someone doing the same thing we’d done, and we waited for our medic.

Jane appeared a few minutes later, running alone, not moving with a squad as the Havoc team had done. I shouted “medic” as soon as I saw her to help her find me, and she sprinted, moving fast and light. She didn’t slow, just lowered her arm enough for her fingertips to drag across my shoulder and then continued into the forest. I stood back up and brushed at the wet paint spots with the back of my hand.

Even though I couldn’t see her mouth behind the mask, I could tell from Lily’s eyes that she was smiling. “When I told you to act like you didn’t know what you were doing, I didn’t think you’d take it so literally.”

“I’m an overachiever.”

“Nice,” Lily whispered. “Okay. Same as before. We’ll move up and along the ribbon.”

Mason and I nodded, and she began running. I gave her fifty feet and then followed, keeping my stance even lower than before.

Lily had described our goal before the game had started. Rosa would likely be held hostage in a group of small defensive forts—nothing fancy, just little wooden structures with peepholes and room to shoot. There were supposed to be five or six of them somewhere at the back of the field.

The slope was getting steeper, and we moved more slowly and deliberately now. Lily would stop at cover—bushes or trees or rocks—and then, when she felt safe, she’d run for the next. Mason and I followed behind.

At a large rock outcropping, she decided to leave the ribbon and head into the interior of the field. We had to be close to the bunkers by now. It wouldn’t be long before we ran into trouble.

Lily moved to a cluster of junipers and paused for what seemed like ten minutes, though it couldn’t have been nearly that long. Finally, she began to move, creeping up the slope. I watched, giving her some space before I dared to follow. I didn’t have any camouflage, and couldn’t go slowly like she did. If I left the cover of my rock, I’d be spotted in an instant.

A staccato of shots sounded behind me, and I ducked and spun, turning my gun toward the noise. Someone was shooting at Mason, but I couldn’t see him or the shooter.

I peered over the rock toward Lily, but she was nowhere to be seen.

The shooting stopped. Mason hadn’t called for a medic, which was a good sign.

My options were limited. Most of the slope was thick with brush, and anybody could be hiding inside it. I didn’t know where Mason was, so I couldn’t very well move to help him.

Suddenly there was a flurry of shots, paint splattering all over in the trees and bushes. Mason yelled out “hit!” and stood, paint splattered across his mask.

Jane couldn’t heal a head hit. I took a deep breath, watching as he held his gun up and walked toward the ribbon and off the field. I didn’t have anyone behind me anymore and someone was hidden in the brush.

Looking back toward the front, I couldn’t see Lily at all.

I waited for five minutes, hoping to hear shots as Lily looped back and killed Mason’s attacker, but it never happened.

The only sign of life was a Society ref, about forty yards away. I thought about making a break for the wall, but knew I couldn’t. The refs all had whistles, and my tan sweats stood out like a white light in this dim forest.

If I couldn’t escape, I might as well play the game. I didn’t want two days without food.

Clutching my gun, I jumped to my feet and ran to the cluster of junipers where Lily had been. I skidded to a stop behind a gnarled trunk and readied for attack. But there was no sound.

I whispered her name. With her ghillie suit so convincing, she could have been ten feet away from me. No answer.

Crap.

I waited another few minutes, hoping to see some movement or hear a sound, but there was nothing.

I still hadn’t fired a shot.

Hoping that I wasn’t going to screw up Lily’s tactics—I assumed she was still alive since I hadn’t heard her call for the medic—I lifted into a crouch and prepared to advance. No one shot at me.

I moved slowly, hunched down, ready to shoot if necessary. My shoes were loud in the rocky dirt, even as I tried to step around dry twigs and brittle grass. I went up the slope where I’d last seen Lily. There were no signs of her—no footprints, no fresh paint marks.

There were more trees here, shorter but denser. I moved from trunk to trunk, watching anxiously. It had been a long time since I’d heard or seen anything, and I began to wonder whether the game was over and I’d missed the bullhorn.

After a few minutes, the first bunker came into view. I dropped to the ground. There was no good cover, so I lay flat on my stomach, my gun aimed at the wooden fort. The front surface was splattered with a dozen different colors of paint, though I didn’t know whether that was from this game or a previous one.

Where is Lily?

I moved back to a crouch and headed for the nearest cover, a large stump. No one fired.

Screw it.

I jumped from the stump and ran toward the bunker, stopping at its base. I took a breath and then leapt up, pointing my gun inside.

It was empty.

I could see through it and out the back door. Behind it was a clearing, and the back of another bunker. I hunched over again, and moved around the side, trying to be quiet and failing miserably.

The clearing was surrounded by five bunkers positioned in a circle, all facing out. Rosa sat cross-legged in the middle, about forty feet away from me, looking bored.

This must be a trap.

I watched the other four bunkers for movement, but didn’t see any. Rosa hadn’t seen me.

If I remembered the rules right, I only had to touch her. I just had to get to her before I got shot.

If she hadn’t seen me, then maybe no one else had either. If I made a run for it, they’d have to take a few seconds to react. Even if this was a trap, I had to have a few seconds.

How fast can I run forty feet?

I set the gun down in the dirt. I wasn’t going to need it. Either I got to her and won, or I didn’t get to her and I was dead.

I took one last look for Lily. She wasn’t anywhere.

I was on my feet before I realized it, running at full speed toward Rosa. I couldn’t see her eyes through the glare on her mask, but as I neared, she shielded her body with her arms.