The Mating Run by Leeka

Survival

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Having a moment to myself, even if it’s all fabricated, brings a sense of relief, considering I’m likely

being recorded on-screen right now.

In the stillness, broken only by Zeke’s intermittent snoring, my mind wanders to Victor and Ettie. Most

specifically Ettie, because I’m still pretty furious with Victor. If I’m being honest with myself, I hope he

sprains his ankle somewhere and learns a

lesson.

I

Ettie’s strength exceeds my expectations, but I can’t shake the memory of her groaning in discomfort

after walking a few extra minutes.

No matter what her hospital findings say, Ettie is not accustomed to the sights

and sounds of the outdoors. She’s more accustomed to the comfort of indoor spaces, where the hum of

air conditioning soothes her. The beach is her least favorite place, so she never ventures out of her

house during the scorching noon. sun. Whenever she wants to hang out, it’s usually at her place,

where we can find

solace in the shared silence.

Victor and Ettie are complete opposites, not to mention he often takes jokes to an extreme. If he ever

encounters a Hunter like number 72 or Zeke, I shudder to think what might befall him. But then again,

I’m sure that if he ever needs something, he’ll just wave at a nearby camera and his father and other

accomplices will obediently fulfill his every request.

I realize that my hopes of him teaming up with me were completely futile. Right from the beginning, it

was clear that every participant should complete the Mating Run alone. By the end of the run, any

loyalties or teams that might have formed will be completely wiped out.

As the day grows older, the siren’s blaring numbers become more pronounced, piercing through the

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late afternoon calm. A small part of me is relieved by the absence of Victor’s number, but another part

of me is filled with fear because I don’t know Ettie’s number either. Among the deaths are Hunters, and

the mere thought

that it might be Ettle causes a small piece of my heart to break.

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But she’s a fighter, I can sense it in the way she carries herself with confidence. No matter what, she’ll

always remain resilient against anything like this. We promised we’d see each other at the Mating Run.

And Ettie never breaks a promise, her words laced with sincerity, echoing in my ears.

I slump down further against the wall, my muscles aching from fatigue.

My stomach’s already growling, a reminder of how hungry I am, and from the looks of it, Zeke’s fever

won’t go down anytime soon, as his forehead remains flushed and sweaty. Zeke’s bag was

disappointingly empty, void of biscuits or any kind of food. It made sense though, as Hunters were

required to hunt for their own sustenance. We still don’t have any medicine, and it’s not as easy for me

as it is for Victor to simply ask and receive it effortlessly.

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I become aware of the parched sensation in my throat and the dryness in my mouth, as well as the cr

acks in my lips. After a day of non-stop movement, I can feel the exhaustion in every fiber of my being.

I’ve been sweating buckets due to the intense heat. I look down and notice dried blood stains on my

clothes. On just the second day of the run, all I can think about is ending this and collapsing into my

cozy bed.

Once again, my stomach emits a loud rumble, causing me to groan and instinctively rub it.

With a sigh, I cautiously extend my hand to touch Zeke’s forehead, and as I expected, his fever has

worsened. Although there’s no medicine, a steaming bowl of soup might help him naturally alleviate his

fever. Outside the forest, I spot a cluster of herbs that could potentially be used. If I boil some water, I

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might be able to

create a drink for him.

I could use the water bottle to boil some water. Zeke’s got matches, so I’ll probably need some wood.

S hit. I turn to Zeke, his unconscious body lying still, and shoot him a piercing

glare.

“Make sure this is worth it, you as shole.”

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I answer the call of the forest, but not without a grumble and a heavy breath, irritated by the challenges

it presents. As I search for suitable branches, the cool air sends shivers down my spine.

“Ugh, this is so dam n annoying. Why the hell am I even doing this?”

Mumbling to myself, I hastily gather a handful of twigs and tuck them under my arm. As I gather

supplies, my gaze naturally gravitates towards the underbrush, where I discover a cluster of valuable

herbs. And it’s just what I need to make Zeke

a ‘get well soon’ tea or something.

Glancing back at the cave, I see Zeke lying there motionless.

Unconscious, feverish, and completely at the mercy of my questionable

wilderness skills.

With a bunch of herbs in tow, I tiptoe a few more feet away from the cave, spotting a small stream

trickling through the rocks. I crouch down and feel the cool, damp earth beneath my fingers as I fill my

water bottle.

With water secured, I turn my attention to the small pile of firewood, feeling its rough texture in my

hands. I quickly glance at the assortment, questioning whether I’ve collected an adequate amount. With

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a shrug, I turn around and head back to the cave, giving Zeke’s stomach a gentle kick.

“This should do, right?”

I I direct my question to Zeke, momentarily forgetting that he is unable to respond. Pleased with what I

have gathered, I get down to business and start building a fire pit. I quickly sn atch his bag, feeling the

smooth texture of the material, and rummage through it to find the matches. As I ignite the twigs, the

flames flicker to life, casting dancing shadows around me.

And now, the amazing Chef Alina is here to save the day. You’re welcome, your jerk.

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With a theatrical flourish, I declare, my words laced with dripping sarcasm. As I add the herbs to the

water bottle, I can’t help but feel a surge of pride in my resourcefulness as an amateur chef.

As the concoction starts to simmer over the fire, the scent of herbs wafts.

towards me.

“Never thought I’d be a five-star chef in the Mating Run, huh?”

I chuckle, playfully prodding Zeke’s cheek with a twig.

“Wish you could see who’s looking after you now.”

In the air, the comforting scent of my makeshift soup fills the space as it bubbles away. Despite the

absurdity of the situation, a wave of pride and satisfaction overcomes me. Perhaps the survivalist

lifestyle isn’t for me, but I can still handle cooking a basic meal over a cra ckling campfire.

“Alright, champ, it’s time for you to prove yourself.”

I grumble, silently cursing the peacefulness of his slumbering form. The realization of having to move

him hits me, and I crouch beside him, feeling the warmth of his body against mine as ‘wrap my arms

around him. As I start lifting, a grunt involuntarily escapes me, and I instantly feel the weight of his

body.

“If I strain something, you’re on the h ook for the bill.”

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Through gritted teeth, I mutter as I forcefully slam him against the cave wall. It requires a Herculean

effort, leaving me panting and unexpectedly getting a workout in the middle of nowhere.

However, my responsibility remains unfinished. I glance at Zeke’s flushed face, his cheeks rosy from

the fever, and with a sigh, I reach for the water bottle and pour some water into my palm.

“You really know how to ruin a girl’s first-ever Mating Run, don’t you? First, your

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try to kill me, now I’m babysitting your sorry as s?”

I quip, gently wiping the sweat off his forehead. Gently, I bring the water bottle. filled with herb-infused

liquid to his lips, hoping to awaken him.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty, let’s get your medicine over with.”

With a playful tease, he lets out a groan and stirs, briefly before falling back into unconsciousness.

I sit back, rubbing my temples.

“Well, that’s progress, I guess.”

sipping his drink.

I mutter under my breath, carefully analyzing the situation. The cra ckling fire fills the cave with warmth

and illuminates the walls with flickering shadows, as I ponder my next move. The makeshift soup is a

quick fix, but we need a more substantial and satisfying option.

me.”

“Going through all this sh it for someone who probably wouldn’t do the same for

Grumbling under my breath, I cast a quick, irritated glance at Zeke, my expression a mixture of

annoyance and concern. Yet, despite my sarcastic remarks, there’s a lingering sense of responsibility

that I can’t seem to shake off.

With a determined breath, I rise, hearing the distant call of birds and the rustling of leaves, ready to

venture back into the wild. “Don’t you dare die on me, Zeke. I’m not dragging your dead body to the

finish line.”

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With a half-serious, half-joking tone, I declare my statement. Without hesitation, I sn atch the knife from

the sponsor and venture outside the cave once more.

The first thing I do is get down on my knees and plead, desperately.

Whoever sent me the knife, I could really use some food. Staring straight into

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the camera, I say with unwavering confidence. I’ve already gone around the forest, and there’s nothing

here. There aren’t any rabbits or birds, or anything I can catch. It’s only us, no one else. I ate all my

biscuits and Zeke needs to eat or he won’t get better.

Begging in front of a dozen audiences is slightly embarrassing, but I have no choice at the moment. It’s

a matter of utmost importance, a question of survival. And even if Miles is probably already shedding

tears because of my embarrassing display, then all the more reason to continue.

He might be so ashamed of me that he ends my suffering by personally sponsoring me. Some of the

PR people find it acceptable to support their candidates through secretive means. Everyone at the

Mating Run knows it, but it’s a secret they all share.

I’ve read the rules thoroughly, and there doesn’t seem to be any prohibition on pleading with the

camera. I persistently try, presenting persuasive arguments for why they should sponsor me. I think I

stay still for a couple of minutes, hoping to hear the whir of another robot with my name on it, but

there’s nothing.

With an empty stomach, I stay in the forest, grumbling and longing for something to eat.

An empty stomach combined with exhaustion is truly a bad mix. Although we could nibble on some of

the herbs, they won’t sustain us throughout the entire day. I have no intention of succumbing to

starvation, a common cause of death in such situations.

With a heavy heart, I tighten my grip on the knife, feeling its cold metal against my palm.

I might have to resort to rummaging through the bags of the deceased in search of food. It’s not ideal,

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but given the circumstances, it’s the only food source that comes to mind. And I’m sure that I’m not the

only one that’s missing food; the scent of desperation would surely draw others that I have to fight off.

Despite my reluctance, the persistent grumbling of my stomach forces me to set aside my moral

compass. Before proceeding into the forest, I take a quick,

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reassuring look at Zeke, who is expertly hidden under a pile of foliage and

branches. The thought of someone discovering him and taking his life weighs heavily on me, so I hope

he survives until I come back. I don’t want all my hard work to go to waste.

Inhaling deeply, I set off in search of food, my rumbling stomach urging me forward.

Really, I’d be fortunate to stumble upon an unattended bag.

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