Arena
“Through vibrant description and well-paced action, Karen Hancock creates a compelling world of both horror and hope.
Arena
gives Christian fantasy lovers something to cheer about.”
—Brandilyn Collins, bestselling author of
Eyes of Elisha
“When other books are long forgotten and out of print, I believe people will still be reading
Arena
. It’s destined to be a classic.”
—Rene Gutteridge, author of
Ghost Writer
“An allegory for the third millennium! If you liked
Pilgrim’s Progress
and
The Matrix,
then you’ll love
Arena
.”
—Randall Ingermanson, co-author of
Oxygen
“
Arena
is a wonderful and clever allegorical tale with all the excitement of good science fiction.”
—Judith Pella, author of
Written on the Wind
“Clever, creative and full of non-stop action,
Arena
is a wonderful introduction to new writer Karen Hancock. Don’t miss the opportunity to wrap your mind around this fascinating book.”
—Gayle Roper, author of
Summer Shadows
and
Spring Rain
“Karen Hancock’s
Arena
sets a new benchmark for contemporary allegory—thoroughly imagined, intelligently written, and as vivid as last night’s unsettling dreams. Well done!”
—Kathy Tyers, author of the F
IREBIRD
trilogy
KAREN HANCOCK
© 2002 by Karen Hancock
Published by Bethany House Publishers
11400 Hampshire Avenue South
Bloomington, Minnesota 55438
www.bethanyhouse.com
Bethany House Publishers is a division of
Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan.
E-book edition created 2011
The Scripture quotation of Romans 8:31 on page 313 is taken from the King James Version of the Bible. All other Scripture quotations are taken from the NEW AMERICAN STANDARD BIBLE,® Copyright © The Lockman Foundation 1960, 1962, 1963, 1968, 1971, 1972, 1973, 1975, 1977, 1995. Used by permission.
www.lockman.org
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
ISBN 978-1-4412-7064-1
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, D.C.
The internet addresses, email addresses, and phone numbers in this book are accurate at the time of publication. They are provided as a resource. Baker Publishing Group does not endorse them or vouch for their content or permanence.
Cover design by Lookout Design Group, Inc.
To Kathy Tyers
KAREN HANCOCK graduated in 1975 from the University of Arizona with bachelor’s degrees in Biology and Wildlife Biology. Along with writing, she is a semi-professional watercolorist and has exhibited her work in a number of national juried shows.
Arena
is her first novel. She, her husband, and their son, whom Karen homeschooled for eight years, reside in Arizona.
For discussion and further information, Karen invites you to visit her Web site at
www.kmhancock.com
.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
With gratitude and appreciation . . .
To my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, in whom we live and move and have our being and for whom all things have been created, who alone is worthy of praise.
To Colonel R. B. Thieme, Jr., my pastor and teacher for twenty years, and to Robert R. McLaughlin, my pastor now, for their tireless devotion to the daily study and teaching of the Word of God and willingness to stand upon the truth regardless of how unpopular such a stand might be. Without their daily teaching, I never would have been able to write this book.
To Nancy Belt, Donna Henley, and Kelli Nolen, those rare and precious true friends who know how to sift the wheat from the chaff, overlook transgressions, and lift up a brother when he has fallen. You are refreshments to my soul.
To my husband, Stuart, who has labored alone for years, allowing me the time and opportunity to write, even when it appeared nothing would come of it.
To my son, Adam, who has been a joy and a privilege to raise, and whose fascination with Super Mario Brothers sparked the germ for this story.
To Kathy Tyers, for critique, encouragement, and steadfast assistance over the years.
To Steve Laube, for kindness, persistence, insightful editing, and most of all, for taking the risk.
To all the other readers and critiquers God provided before He saw fit to grant me the social validation of publication—you will never know how much satisfaction and encouragement you gave: Linda Smith; Edward Willett; Greg and Katie Solewin; Jeanette, Aimee, and Kris Ratzlaff; Lelia Foreman; Travis Langley; and Penny Olsen.
And finally, to God the Father, for His marvelous plan for my life, which includes not only seeing this book in print, but all the years of waiting for His perfect timing.
The Lord is good to those who wait for Him, to the soul who diligently seeks Him.
Contents
“IF YOU SEEK HIM,
HE WILL LET YOU FIND HIM . . .”
1 CHRONICLES 28 : 9
“They won’t be taking blood or anything, will they?” Callie Hayes looked up from the clipboard in her hands to the dimpled youth behind the receptionist’s counter.
“Our physical evaluations are noninvasive,” he assured her. “Completely painless.”
“For goodness’ sake, Callie,” Meg Riley protested beside her. “It’s only a
psychology
experiment. Why are you giving him the third degree?”
“I want to know what I’m getting into this time.” Callie pushed slipping wire-rim glasses back up her nose as she flashed an accusing glance at her companion.
Meg was petite, freckled, and green-eyed, her face framed by chin-length black curls. She wore a white spaghetti-strap T-shirt with blue shorts, and she’d been Callie’s best friend since fourth grade. Together they’d endured adolescence, the divorce of Meg’s parents, a two-year obsession with Zane Grey novels, high school, and college. After graduating from the University of Arizona four years ago, they’d both settled into a holding pattern—Meg waiting for a teaching position at one of the Tucson school districts, and Callie just waiting. It was through Meg’s temporary job with the university’s Psychology Department that she stumbled onto the world of the paid guinea pig. “Easy money,” she dubbed it.
But Callie discovered there were
reasons
guinea pigs got paid.
“Thirty dollars,”
Meg had promised last time,
“and all we have to
do is lie in the sun for a few hours.”
Ha! It was bad enough having strangers smear squares of sunscreen on her bottom and peer at them every fifteen minutes, but when the local news crews showed up, Callie nearly died of embarrassment—and swore she’d never let Meg talk her into any such thing again.
“This isn’t like the sunscreen business,” Meg assured her. She turned to the receptionist. “We had one bad experience, and now she’s paranoid.”
The baby-faced youth nodded. His nameplate read
Gabe
, and though he looked like a high schooler, Callie guessed he was a college freshman.
“Ask as many questions as you like,” he said. “I’ll answer anything that won’t affect the integrity of the experiment.”
Callie frowned, fingering the end of the thick red braid that hung over her shoulder. “No drugs?”
Gabe’s blue eyes widened. “Of course not! As our flyer says, we offer evaluation of and instruction in the decision-making process. There are absolutely no drugs.”
“So what do we have to do for the fifty dollars?”
“You’ll be negotiating an obstacle course and—”
“Obstacle course?” Callie looked up from the waiver. “That won’t involve heights, will it? Rope climbing, that sort of thing?”
“Good grief, Cal,” Meg cried. “It’s not boot camp.”
“Just let the man answer, okay?”
“It
is
on the ninth floor,” Gabe said. “Are you acrophobic?”
“Only once I get to the tenth floor.” She laughed nervously.
“Maybe we can help with that.”
“I was just joking.” The last thing she needed was another bout with a shrink.
Gabe shrugged. “Well, we’ve had good success with phobias—and fear in general, for that matter.”
“See?” Meg’s short dark curls brushed Callie’s shoulder as she leaned close. “It’s not like that other thing at all. In fact, it might even give you an excuse to miss your sister’s birthday bash tonight. Unless you think the Mr. Right she’s got for you this time really
will
be Mr. Right.”
Callie snorted. Her sister, Lisa, moved in an alien world—upscale, fashion-fixated, and socially saturated. Lisa’s Mr. Rights were inevitably lawyers or MBAs, all acquaintances or co-workers of her husband’s. Expecting another version of Lisa, the men were always disappointed when they met her short, dull, tongue-tied little sister.
Callie detested the whole scenario. And the possibility of having an excuse for missing the affair was a powerful incentive. “How long will it take?” she asked Gabe.