Page 75 of The Most Dangerous Games

The Host’s voice turns thoughtful.

“I’m no mountain climber, I’ve never been much for heights, to be honest,” The Host says. “But there is one expression with which I’ve made myself familiar.”

“And what’s that?” Reg Drummond asks.

“There’s always a way down.”

Steven Noble

50.

Somewhere

The Host watches on his monitors as the buses arrive at Death Valley, at Mount Washington, at a secret entrance to Mammoth Cave in Kentucky. A fourth screen shows multiple feeds. One a procurement dashboard. Names replaced by vendor codes—because the real game isn’t survival. It’s logistics.

Contracts make everything clean. A “relief corridor.” A “training exercise.” A “private evacuation.” Paperwork turns kidnapping into itinerary.

One map filled with moving dots pulsing—the contestants. He doesn’t need it. He knows where the real tension is.

He watches the feed of Death Valley longer than the others.

He thinks:

This is the day when the stakes are about to spike.

Everything up to now feels like child’s play, even with near-death experiences for some of them in Chile and Antarctica.

Without real stakes, what would be the fun of running the board?

He feels himself rooting for them to make it through. He knows they think he’s a monster. He’s not. There is a method to what they think is his madness.

What’s the old line?

What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger?

He’d actually laid it out for Reg Drummond, when he’d told everyone in the room that the easy jobs generally don’t pay very well.

For the moment, his eyes are focused on Jimmy Donaldson. Alek Andrich. Lopez. Oliveira.

He watches Jimmy the way you watch a fire near dry brush: Not because it’s beautiful, but because it spreads.

Jimmy is trying to be a leader. To build loyalty.

It’s irritating. It’s also dangerous.

Loyalty is the only force in this game stronger than fear.

The Host turns slightly in his chair and studies another screen: Mount Washington.

Tipton. Drummond. Hannah. The boy.

There’s a moment—small, easy to miss—where Tipton looks up at the headwall and doesn’t sneer.

He calculates.

The Host smiles to himself.

Good.