“Our real discoveries come from chaos, from going to the place that looks wrong and stupid and foolish.” ― Chuck Palahniuk
Still feeling the pain from Cato’s first assault Kyle refrained from challenging the colossal lizard as he was placed before the Dark Master from his solitude in his cell. Kyle had feared the hurtful blows that he was sure would ensue after his attempted escape. He was not accosted by Cato’s fury to his surprise. Had the pantars kept the report of the attempted escape from their commander? He stood timidly before the Dark Master as the beast surveyed the constant construction going on in the busy cavern. Kyle, determined to move beyond the anticipated assault, broke the silence, “All they do is work around here?”
Cato did not even regard the boy as he replied, “All these creatures work for me or I destroy them. You will do well to remember that.”
“Oh, no, it’s clear to see that you are in command, but don’t you ever have any fun besides sitting in that chair all day long?” Kyle offered attempting to gain some favor from the miserable tyrant.
Cato futilely attempted to conceal his curiosity, “Fun? What is ‘fun’?”
Kyle thought “Well, if a pers–, a thing doesn’t have fun, days get really boring.” Cato considered Kyle’s riddling explanation. Kyle observed the now familiar angry expression begin to emerge in Cato’s eyes as he struggled to comprehend what the boy had said. “The way that you have fun is to run around and play games. That’s what my friends and I do when we want to have fun. We play play kick-the-can, manhunt, and capture-the-flag,” Kyle looked around the vast surroundings of the cave, “but you don’t have any cans here.”
Cato responded, “Here labor is all that is needed. The work here is part of my plan of destruction. You’re a big part of that plan. Until the other one of your kind is brought to me, I must keep you alive, so you will not work. At any rate you will be long gone by the time Zeborg and his colony eventually bring me others of your kind to torment.”
“Well, until then,” Kyle offered attempting to push aside the implication of Cato’s announcement, “ if these animals had some fun I bet they would work harder. I’m just saying it looks like they’re hurting.”
“When one dies we get another.”
“Yup, but doesn’t that slow things down dragging away those big dead animals and finding new ones to replace them? I bet you have to train them to do stuff like that big–what is that thing anyway?”
Cato ignored Kyle’s reference to the giant ground sloth. Kyle’s list of games occupied the Dark Master’s curiosity. One game in particular interested him, “How do you play Capture Flag?”
Kyle’s attempt to find some hope for survival was desperate like a wanderer stumbling in the darkness. Kyle considered, before offering a response, that the game understood from the beast’s mindset could prove fatal. Kyle delayed a response considering how to amend his description of the game that required two teams to hunt the other.
Cato was impatient. He roared, “What is Capture Flag?”
“Capture the Flag,” Kyle corrected, is also called soccer. The player with the ball kicks the ball with the intention of scoring a goal. At the end of the game, the team with the most goals wins.” He hoped that his reconstructed description would appease Cato.
“Where is the hunting in this game of yours?”
“Who said anything about–,” Kyle remembered that when he listed the games that he and his friends played one of them was Man-Hunt. He regretted that reference now. He also recognized that Cato’s patience was near its end. “The players on the other team hunt the player with the ball.”
Cato was interested in this development, “What happens to the player with the ball when he is caught?”
“That’s a great question. The player, the kicker, is removed from the game.”
Cato did not approve of Kyle’s improvisation, the Dark Master offered an alternative rule, “No, the kicker, when he is caught, is eaten.”
“Sure, that’s one possibility, but soon there wouldn’t be many players to finish the game. So, who would finish your work here?”
Cato’s impatience was at an end. He indicated to the pantars to take Kyle to the stone fireplace. “I have a game. We will see how hot your hand gets in the flames of the fire.” Kyle’s situation was grave. He stared at the black circle embossed on the pantar’s armor.
“It’s too bad you’ll never get to see the trophy that the winning team gets,” Kyle expressed as the pantars approached him.
“Stop!” Cato ordered falling victim to Kyle’s desperate response, “What is a trophy?”
“It is a prize!” Kyle instantly ceased the Dark Master’s renewed interest. “The winning team gets a black flag with an even darker circle in the middle of it. This flag means that they are the best hunters, no,” he corrected himself, “ the most terrible hunters of them all,” Kyle grandly announced.
Cato’s eyes narrowed, “Where is this flag?”
“It only appears when the game is won,” Cato was confused, “It’s really a big deal. Only the very best hunters, the greatest hunters of them all, can carry the flag.”
“We will see about this,” Cato responded, “We will play this hunting game and we will see about this great flag.”
“We need a ball,” Kyle added.
“What is ball?”
“A soft round thing about this big,” Kyle motioned his hands approximating the size of a soccer ball, “And it has to be solid enough to be kicked around without falling apart. It can’t be too hard so that it hurts your foot when you kick it.” Kyle searched around the cavern to see if there was anything that resembled a ball. He spotted an agglomeration of pumpkins that were piled in a heap. The pumpkins were used to feed the animals that labored in the cavern. Kyle trotted to the pile as Cato watched. He lifted one of the smaller round pumpkins. “This would work great, but it’s too heavy and it would smash when we kick it.”
Cato’s intrigue escalated with the child’s excitement. He spoke to a pantar who stood motionless staring ahead. “Go to the depths of the cavern hallways and bring back several Nephila spider webs. The obedient pantar left in the direction that Kyle had first appeared from when he was led into the cavern.
“Now, while he gets your ball tell me about the other rules” Kyle wasn’t sure how his plan would work out. He understood that as long as he kept the Dark Master captivated the longer he would go without being hurt or worse. Luckily Kyle possessed the ability to embellish details to suit his listener. He was a natural storyteller because he was skillful at leading his audience by telling them what they wanted to hear. Kyle felt comfortable that he had sized Cato up accurately. Kyle provided Cato with the basic rules of the sport. He made sure to emphasize details that would ensure his protection when he had the ball.
“…And the kicker can only be attacked if he possesses the ball. The hunters can only chase the player with the ball. That’s the most important rule of all. If a defensive player attacks a player without the ball he is removed from the game and he cannot be replaced.”
Upon hearing the rules of the game Cato appeared satisfied. “The pantars will form one of the teams,” Cato confidently announced. Kyle’s surveillance of the great cavern was on-going. When he was first brought to Cato Kyle had counted nine pantars. Two had been sent to capture the other child that Cato had referred to. Kyle had observed six pantars in the cavern along with the one that had been sent to find the spider webs.
“Okay. My team will have those four monkeys way up there. Kyle pointed to the roof of the cavern where a troop of patas monkeys hurriedly worked to place stones securing the chimney for the fireplace. “And that big old animal there,” Kyle motioned to the giant ground sloth.
Cato was confident, “You won’t stand a chance.”
“Well, that leaves one more player to complete my team” Kyle had anticipated this anxious moment. He understood enough about competition to feel confident that Cato would not pass over a challenge. “You are on my team as well.”
“Me?” Cato’s umbrage was fully displayed.
“The great trophy, the flag, is only produced when two great teams play. Otherwise the flag will not be produced.”
Cato breathed deeply through his nostrils, “We’ll see how this hunting game goes. If you’re not good at it, my pantars will make you pay.”
Kyle breathed deeply as he mumbled to himself, “I know,” he said, “Believe me I know.”
Cato studied the small child. Cato’s barbaric nature meant that he felt no threat from so small of a creature. He momentarily regarded Kyle with hesitation as an anxious dog might who is on the trail of a skunk. “We have to prepare a field for the game,” Kyle announced just as the pantar returned with three circular objects. The pantar dropped the objects on the cavern floor between Cato and Kyle. The creatures looked at Kyle. Kyle observed that the Pantar’s spearhead had a thick crimson colored mucus dripping from it. He picked up one of the objects. This species of Nephila spider wound its eggs in the silk produced from its spinnerets. The eggs would never hatch in this land. The spiders instinctively produced the eggs and wound them into the tight circular objects that the pantar had produced. The objects were perfectly round and their weight, it seemed to Kyle, was quite similar to a soccer ball. He bounced the object on the floor of the cavern and it returned to his hands. He nodded with approval as the pantars and Cato watched him. Kyle dropped the ball on the top of his foot. He skillfully juggled the ball between his feet lofting the ball to his thighs and then to his head. He headed the ball three times in succession before the ball impressively dropped to the top of his foot again. This time he balanced the ball on the dorsal of his foot before he returned it to his hands. The pantars looked at each other impressed with the child’s skill. “Yep, this will do just fine as a ball,” Kyle boasted. “Hey Mr. Dark Master, can we get those monkeys down here so we can practice a bit?”
Behind the pile of pumpkins a set of eyes spied the unusual going-on in the great cavern. After assessing the activity, the creature belonging to the eyes snuck away into the dark shadows of the cavern.