The rules are plain for the eyes to see.

One male from each of the fifty states must walk, or die. Walk at a steady three mph constantoy. If you drop below that, you get a warning. Do it again or don't speed up? You get a second warning. Do it once more? You get your “ticket”.

If you were the last standing, you’d gain incomprehensible riches, pull your family out of poverty, and be granted a wish of your choosing.

Harkness sat at the starting area of The Long Walk, sharpening a pencil with a contraband knife. He analyzed everyone he could see.

An extremely toned blonde young man, Stebbins, who had basically no body fat on him, just muscle. He looked like he could crush Harkness’s head in his hands. Hank Olsen, a short asian man snacking on a clementine and occasionally saying something brash, negative, or cocky. An optimistic scrawny man, Arthur Baker with a rasary around his neck. A young man, who had clearly lied about his age pacing nearby. Two bigger men, seemingly the same weight but different consistencies. Raymond and Peter. Peter was jacked, Ray was soft and plushy.

Harkness was nervous, but excited. He would win, he would win and he would write his book!