Chapter 7

Safe Haven University was basically a small town, and the Pep rally was held at the Town Circle, center of campus. It was basically a town Square, only it was a circle, and you could no doubt see a square, given the right perspective, because masons and witches were consulted in the original layout, taking advantage of Ley lines and subtle energies and the topographical features. The fountain that was main attraction of Town Circle had been turned off and covered by an impressive marble platform, on which the ceremony unfolded, with people gathered around the entire circle, but most congregating towards the south. Loxy and I found our group and joined the others. I said hi to them, including Lester, but he ignored me. He didn’t even give me the courtesy of a glower.

“He’s probably not going to talk to you for awhile, after getting him off and all,” Keera said.

“I didn’t get him off,” I said.

“You got us all off,” Sabra said.

“I didn’t touch him!” I said.

“Oh, Jon,” Loxy said. “Didn’t I just show you touch is irrelevant?”

“Shh,” Alish said. “They’re about to start.”

“What’s going to happen?” Fersia asked, just as new to this as I.

“Magic,” Loxy said.

“It’s about time,” I wanted to add, having wanting to see an organized, public display of magic since arriving. The regular old soccer match was still a sore point with me, and not because I left sore, and now thinking about that, I was wondering if that was likely to happen at this event, like some wild Grateful Dead or Moody Blues concert turned orgy. Not that ever happened in real life, but just saying, if not magic, impromptu public porn could be fun.

Shackleford addressed the crowd. “As you know, every four years we celebrate the arrival of freshly turned seniors with the Challenge. You know what you know, and it is time to put that to a test. We need a minimum of thirteen to open the gateway. We would prefer, volunteers.”

A number of people began to arrive at the stage, and as they walked up, the crowd cheered. I was curious enough to be above neutral, but I also had that ‘spider sense’ that this was bad. Like, Logan’s Run kind of bad, where people went to get re-‘newed’, but were really just fodder for laser cannon practice. Or perhaps ‘the Hunger Games’ kind of bad. Or… Well, you get the idea. Which each new arrival on the stage, the crowd got louder. The staff on stage met each one, thanking them for their participation and directing them to a place on a circle, which magically grew to accommodate each new participant. When it was apparent no one else was going to volunteer, a count was made.

Shackleford addressed the crowd. “Given the unusually large number of volunteers, we will need one more to make a prime number of 53, and he needs to be a male.”

Lester gave me a shove from behind, and I found myself suddenly on stage, directly in front of Shackleford. She raised an eyebrow at me. I frowned, looked back over my shoulder, and my vision went right to Lester, magnifying him in such a way that I was certain I saw a malicious smirk. Shackleford’s voice drew my attention back to her.

“You are not ready for this,” Shackleford said. “This is for seniors only.”

“Hold up,” Emerson said. “He has his residential permit, so he qualifies for entry.”

“He is not ready,” Shackleford said.

“He could not be on the stage otherwise,” Emerson argued.

“Oh, spare me your metaphysical meanderings,” Shackelford said. “This is not orientation. I know my student. And he is not ready for this.”

Misty approached me. “Jon, you can only enter the Challenge of your own free will. Are you sure you want to do this?”

I was very much aware of the attention that was being placed on me. Part of my formula touched the variable of masculinity, and I wondered if I would be cowardly to back down. I suppose there is no way to eliminate that variable completely from the formula of committing to an act. That variable is cultural and goes back to roots of Western Society. Another variable was wanting to proceed so if something bad happened, Lester would suffer. Not a great reason to volunteer, but it was a reason. A very small variable was curiosity, because again, there was the spider sense variable which had all sorts of modifiers hovering around it that suggested this was going to be bad. Very bad. I am healthy enough to sort through all these variables. I am not healthy enough to always choose the correct answer.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” I asked, flippantly, and seriously at the same time. Yes, I am Jack O’Neill, Stargate command. No I am not, but I would be him. But my question demonstrated that I going to commit.

Misty was about to respond, but Shackleford raised her hand blocking. “No,” she said to Misty, and then brought a finger to bare on my face. “You don’t come up on stage and query and negotiate. Decide, here and now, once and for all, in or out.”

I think the whole campus stopped breathing. I made my answer by joining the circle. Pandemonium. Everyone in Safe Haven, at the Prep Rally or not, was apparently tuned in. Shackleford and the other professors went up upon a platform, overlooking the circle, over the heads of people in the circle. We were directed to face the inner circle, and I wondered if we were going to play with a parachute, like we might have in nursery school. Parachutes were fun. The contenders seemed focused, serious. This was not going to be a game of ‘popcorn’ parachute. The ominous feeling returned.

“Should we hold hands?” I asked.

The two seniors on either side of me crossed their arms, not wanting anything to do with me. “Fucking freshman,” the one to my right whispered. “You better not ruin this for us.”

“Let there be silence, let there be focus,” Shackelford said. “The Challenge has been with us since the days of antiquity. Many species, many cultures, many people have access to it. Broad is its entry. Narrow is its exit. You may have overheard me just a moment ago say this is not Orientation. You can get stuck. You can be killed. No one is going to come rescue you. There is a time limit. The first seven of you who return under the allotted time frame will be generously rewarded. Any who return after that, well, your reward was getting back. Those who return will not be able to disclose the nature of the test, nor if you won or not. Your return will have to suffice. Consider this Summit Experience binding. If you win and speak of it, the listener will die, to guarantee the Challenge remains challenging. I shouldn’t have to point out, if you don’t return, it’s because you’re hopelessly lost, or dead, which in this context, amounts to the same things. May the blessing be...”

“Wait, we can be killed?” I asked.

“You have always been at risk at being killed, Jon,” the girl to my right said.

“No more talking,” Shackelford insisted.

“Why are we doing this?” I asked, which clearly perturbed Shackelford after she had just declared silence so she could do her spell.

“To feed the monster,” Shackelford said.

She brought her hands together in a loud clap. The professors to either side of her did the same, and the professors to the side of these two did the same, and so on. The center of the circle started to dip, like a sand dial. The whole circle became a sink whole, slipping away before our eyes. I imagined a giant ant lion hidden down there, ready to start throwing dirt up at us to dislodge us. The funnel shape continued to stretch until we were looking down the inside of a cyclone, the walls morphing and pulling like taffy. Seniors fell in, some sliding right down, some getting absorbed into the taffy wall, as if it was a sheet and there were hands behind the sheet pulling them in.