Scrambbled

She immediately stopped the struggle against her bindings with the approach of muffled footsteps, as they pivoted outside the cell door. The latch reverberated, and, with a squeal, the door swung open. She could see the glow from outside fluoresce the burlap tarp draped over her cage. The footsteps commenced, now clearly distinguishable as two separate sets. Each step approached, the two sets flanking opposite sides of the cage.

A loud command echoed, and the cage jerked upward and slightly to the side. She could feel the cage turn, as the pronounced silhouette of a large man's frame was cast in front of the illuminated doorway. She closed her eyes under the involuntary weight of overwhelming anxiety. She was the passenger bound to her upcoming fate.

A jolt coursed through her body. The cage was now on the ground. The background was alive with the sounds of a raucous crowd. In a language she could scarcely perceived, an announcement pierced the air. And then the tarp that had concealed her was suddenly whipped from the cage. The choking scent of dust was strong as her eyes stung to accommodate the light of the unveiled surroundings. Each of eight flaming torches cast dancing shadows through the bars encasing her. And beyond the reach of the torches was a matte of secretive darkness. It was revealed only by the cheers and calls emanating from a hidden audience better left unseen. With a crack, the back wall of the cage pitched down, and, being dragged by bound wrists, the girl did what she could to push herself out from the cage. She next found were binding released, with a suddenness that lurched her tired arms apart and into natural positions on her sides. A man then appeared into her peripheral view. Her focus instantly jumped to him. Breaking eye contact, he looked out toward the restless darkness.

"选手!" he exclaimed and receded back into shadow.

Having sensed her solitary presence in the ring, she slowly rose to her feet. The crowd's audacity complimented the height of her ascent, with the universal sounds of mockery and disdain. She heard various unseen projectiles smashing into the floor around the ring from all directions. At times, she could even make out their ephemeral trajectories in the flickering firelight. Alone, she stepped backward toward the center of the ring, where a table and two diametrically positioned chairs were placed.

Then the mood of the crowd suddenly changed. The jarring catcalls dissolved into a disorganized cheer. Its crescendo escalated, as if each voice in the crowd set out to outdo the last. And the object of the excitement soon became clear. A large, bullish man appeared from the darkness. He walked with an exaggerated swagger, clad only in loose-fitting pants of a martial-artist. But he also wore an overpowering grin of derisive contempt.

"接受挑战!" he abruptly announced. The crowd, in response, fell utterly silent. The only sound remaining was that of two young boys scurrying onto the stage. Each approached the girl from an opposite side and ushered her to one of the chairs at the table. Without choice, she sat down. The shirtless brute, with eyes locked on the girl, strode to the chair opposite. Playing the role of overly emphasized confidence, he leaned onto the chair with a dismissively casual aplomb, as his glance now wondered through the darkness concealing the crowd. He gaze then returned to the girl, at which point he leaned forward with an intentionally fiendish grin.

It was then that the two young boys interrupted the moment. Each of the contenders received seven small tiles, propped up on a short wooden stand. The brute's eyes now targeted these, as he took his seat. A game board unfolded before them of 15 by 15 squares, and the boys then scurried back into the peripheral blackness.

"Scrabble!" the brute’s voice erupted. The girl began studying her arsenal of letters. With a flagrant bravado, the brute placed the first word – W₄H₄O₁O₁P₃S₁.

With resolute concentration, the world faded from the girl, as she reached over the board – E₁Q₁₀U₁I₁P₃M₃E₁N₁T₁.

E₁X₈Q₁₀U₁I₁S₁I₁T₁E₁ -- he responded in just such a move.

A flurry of words followed – J₈I₁N₁X₈, V₄E₁X₈, N₁I₁N₁C₃O₁M₃P₃O₁O₁P₃, L₁O₁G₂I₁C₃A₁L₁.

Tiles flew as if their order had been scripted. Word after word was entangled into the growing linguistic tapestry, with each turn riding the heels of the last. Soft sounds of hardwood tiles resounded throughout the room.

Her latest word landed – D₂O₁W₄D₂Y₄.

“耍赖!” he roared, with an intensity belying his preceding silence. She backed her hands away, but not her eyes, staring at the word intently. The two boys appeared on the stage at their characteristic pace. In a well-practiced choreography, the boys found their places facing each other with arms extended at the elbows. Their linked arms supported the large book that they had carried with them. The brute, taking a position over the book, the game board and the girl, examined the pages. Settling on one of them, his stare deepened. She watched as his eyes scanned the text, first top to bottom, then, with a shift to the side, top to bottom again. Then the scan repeated, this time abruptly stopping under widened eyes. Without another sound, the brute returned to his seat, and the boys disappeared.

Now with fresh tiles, she read and re-read the board. A moment passed. And then with a burst of subdued glee – V₄E₁X₈I₁L₁L₁O₁L₁O₁G₂I₁C₃A₁L₁.

Attention returned to the brute. But that momentum was now broken. He glanced up from his tiles, only to see her staring back with a predatory leer. He reached forward, then hesitated. Recognizing the appearance of his own indecision, he stretched his neck upward and pressed his lips instinctively. A flared nostril twitched. And his fingers resumed their travel – D₂A₁I₁S₁Y₄.

A smirk for the first time crept across the girl’s face. Almost with an intentional slowness, she laid one more tile – W₄H₄O₁O₁P₃S₁A₁D₂A₁I₁S₁Y₄. His carefully unexpressive face at the move revealed his turmoil within.

He now threw alternating scrutiny between his tile reservoir and the board. And then came the last word, as if it had been planned. Over a double word score, his hands laid it out one letter at a time – Q₁₀U₁I₁X₈O₁T₁R₁Y₄.

His grin returned. So did his venomous stare. Casting her eyes down, the girl exhaled sharply. In the background language, a series of announcements began. The punctuated bursts of phonetics pulsed through the air. And the crowd launched into a deafening roar. The young boys returned from their recesses, each grabbing an arm of the girl. With swiftness, she rose from her chair and ran with them from view.

"No more!" shouted a short man with jagged, wiry eyebrows in his shrill, accent-laden voice. The door slammed behind, as she collapsed outward onto the damp and dirty pavement. Her body paused for a moment before she lifted herself back to her feet.

"Not even the first round," she scoffed to herself, turning her head forward from a glance toward the door. Never again would she try out for the regional Scrabble championship.

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