Perhaps that’s because Chad and his goons are acting like this is guerrilla warfare. It’s half-ridiculous, half-terrifying, how intense it’s become, with nothing but slingshots to accelerate our paintballs, stray obstacles scattered across the field to deflect them when they fly our way, and this fierce sense of urgency to not get pelted with surprisingly hard balls filled with paint.
So far Sula and Hamza are out, watching grimly from the sidelines, their bodies covered in splotches of yellow and pink paint.
Toni screams as a paintball whizzes by and tackles Margo to the ground, saving her from being hit.
Margo laughs, but it’s an oh shit nervous giggle. “Toni! You okay, bud?”
“This is terrible!” he yells, glaring at a few of the bros in black, who duck when Christopher tugs back the band of his slingshot and rips a paintball their way. It nicks one of them on the shoulder, and he wavers for a second, like he might try to pretend it didn’t happen and stay in the game.
“You got clipped, fucker!” Christopher yells. “Find a scrap of pride and walk the hell off.”
Jamie sighs. “This was supposed to be fun.”
“It’s not very fun,” Bea admits, crouched beside him.
“We gotta spread out,” Toni says, glancing around, looking rightfully paranoid about being ambushed.
Jamie grimaces. “He’s right.”
“If I didn’t want to beat these caveman turds so bad, I’d say let’s call it quits,” Bea grumbles, “but I really want to beat them.”
“You?” Jamie says, grinning as he tucks a stray hair behind her ear. “Competitive?”
Bea flashes him her full, bright smile. “Just a smidge.”
“Wait.” Toni eases upright, glancing around. “Have any of you seen signs of the catapult?”
We all blink at him.
“The catapult?” Christopher asks.
Toni nods. “I overheard Hank ask one of the other employees if he’d moved the catapult from the last session—”
“And you’re just now mentioning that!” Margo yells.
Another paintball whizzes by us. We all duck. Toni swears loudly in Polish, which is apparently when you know he’s truly worked up. Still cursing, he loads his slingshot and snaps a paintball toward one of the guys, who narrowly avoids it, falling out of view. “As you can see,” Toni says, breathing heavily, “I’ve been a little busy trying not to turn into a human Jackson Pollock painting to share that anecdote.”
“Regardless of how late it’s being mentioned,” Jamie says diplomatically, “if we find that catapult, we have a legitimate advantage on our hands.” He blows out a breath, surveying the range, a disaster zone of paint splatters marring tree bark and boulders, knee-high grass and looming haystacks.
“I suspect it’ll be midsized,” he says thoughtfully. “Something a single person or maybe a duo could operate. We get that catapult, lure them into the right spot for an attack, then we can take out a number of them at once. We just might beat them.”
“What if they have it already?” Margo asks.
“They don’t,” Jamie says. “We’d know it. We’d be getting beaned in clusters. I imagine you load the bucket with as many paintballs as possible, then launch it. They’re coming one or two paintballs at a time.”
“All right.” Christopher nods. “Given that, what do you think we should do?”
Jamie clears his throat. “Well . . . I mean, who am I to say?”
Bea peers up at him and grins. “Jamie. Now is not the time to be bashful about all those history of ancient battles and medieval weaponry books you nerded out on in middle school.”
Jamie blushes. “I might have nerded out on a book or two.”
“Let’s hear it.” Margo wipes sweat off her forehead, arms braced on her knees. “Whatever helps us beat these assholes.”
As Jamie talks, I fight a shiver, trying my best to focus on his voice rather than how hard my teeth want to chatter. The plastic dome surrounding us still has its sides open, allowing the wind to tear across the field. With the sun sinking toward the horizon, the temperature’s begun to drop, and sweat’s settled on my skin, damp and chilly. I’m freezing my ass off.
A shiver finally wins the battle and shakes me. I manage to keep my teeth from clicking, though.
Christopher doesn’t look at me, eyes on Jamie, but he moves closer, so my whole side is wedged against his. It feels like cuddling up to a radiator. I lean in even more and soak up every ounce of heat he’ll give me.