I spent the weekend trying to cram some more tension into the championship chapters.
It’s amazing how difficult it is to muster tension while sitting in a heap of pillows in a sunny coffeeshop on Sunday morning…
But here you go, none the less:
He had not noticed when the sun, eclipsed by the floodlights, had sunk behind the sea. There was no moon, and the arena was plunged into darkness. There was no sound from the crowd. He could hear the barge grating against the shore and the island creaking as it bobbed on the waves. He heard Leroy being dragged away from his feet.
A spotlight came on, bathing the arena and the tower in a harsh white light, and he stumbled toward the rest of his team and blinked out at the spectators, but everything was dark beyond the track. Roy slapped him on the back. Maxine and Max gave him high-fives. Chris’s face was white. For a moment, he was almost happy. They had won, and it was over. So why was it so quiet?
The microphone squealed to life, and Junior covered his ears and ducked instinctively. But it was only Six-Ton in the tower above them, invisible in the glare of the spotlight.
“We have witnessed here today the briefest championships in fifty years,” Six-Ton said. “The Stone team is unparalleled.” There was no response from the spectators, assuming they were still out there beyond the track, and it seemed to Junior that the whole island was holding its breath.