Countdown

by Michelle Maddox

  "Why did he do that? Save you? Seems kind of risky for him to help somebody he doesn't even know. Just another convict contestant. Are you sure you two don't know each other?"

  "Positive." His ocean-colored eyes glimmered, and then a grim smile turned up the right corner of his mouth. "Must be my charm. I've always been able to win people over with it. Make them do whatever I want."

  "Yeah, I bet." I glanced around again. I could see the main mall from where we were, but they'd tucked us down a hallway that was roped off for maintenance. I looked at Rogan again. He wasn't hunched over anymore, so it gave me a better judge of his height. And he was tall. If I was five-seven-and I was-then I'd have to guess he was a couple inches over six feet. Also, even with all that dirt and grime he was a very handsome man. I wondered briefly what he'd look like all cleaned up.

  Like a cleaned-up rapist and murderer, probably.

  Shit. I was just fooling myself if I thought there was more to this guy. Wouldn't matter if he was the best-looking man in the universe. What he'd done made him ugly.

  I wish I'd been able to get a full read on him, but there wasn't enough time. All I had to go on was the flash earlier-enough to make me think that there might be another explanation for what he went to prison for.

  Or was that just wishful thinking?

  He seemed to flinch at my appraisal. "You don't look like you like what you see."

  That wasn't necessarily true, actually. But it was better for both of us if he believed that. "Should I like you, Rogan?"

  He gave another half laugh that sounded pained. "Absolutely not."

  'Then I guess we're in agreement." I turned my back to him and tried to focus. The mall. I hung out here all the time, and so did a good friend of mine. "Come on. I think I know someone who might be able to help us. Got to find him before that camera catches up to us."

  I felt his hand on my shoulder to stop me before I got too far. "What are you talking about?"

  "I know a guy, he's like a computer genius. At least, that's what he's always telling me. If I find him he might be able to help us get rid of the implants-disarm them, remove them, whatever-and we can end this bullshit once and for all."

  "You think it's that easy?"

  "I think it could be." I tried to pull away from him.

  His grip on my arm increased. "You touch these implants and unless you have the right tools they'll explode. Turn your brain to goo that'll drip out your ears while you finish dying. Is that what you want?"

  I grimaced at the thought. "You sound pretty certain. I guess I didn't get the manual when I woke up on the dos and don'ts of implant ownership. Did they give you a quick course in prison?"

  He glared at me. "People talk."

  I turned away again. "Doesn't mean I have to listen."

  Without waiting to find out if he was or wasn't going to follow me, I made my way out of the hallway and into the mall. Finally, somewhere I knew. It felt good, like I'd been returned home. Some sense of control in this crazy situation.

  Twenty-five years ago it had been one of the largest malls in the country. Nearly eight hundred stores in a complex that spanned blocks and blocks. Now there were about twenty stores still open. Three places to eat in the food court. Some people said that it had an eerie, ghost-town kind of feeling, but the way it was now was all I'd ever known it to be, so it didn't seem that strange to me. It was a place to hang out indoors; that was about it.

  I glanced over my shoulder. Rogan trudged after me. Christ, just looking at him made me realize that we'd better make this quick. I figured we didn't have too much time before we got kicked out of the mall. Security wasn't all that tight, but torn, dirty, and bloodied clothes did not represent your average mall shopper, even these days, when the small selection of stores were thrilled with any potential customer. But I knew where I was going.

  The food court. My friend Colin hung out there a lot. If he wasn't there, then he was at his other main haunt, some basement in the city where he disappeared sometimes for days to play networked games with other tech-heads.

  I actually gave a small whimper of relief when I saw him sitting there, tapping away on his laptop, an extra-large soda sitting in front of him on the table. Just looking at it made me realize how thirsty I was. Other than Colin there were about ten people in the large food court, scattered at different tables. There was a clock hanging from the ceiling in the center of the court. The glass on it had broken years ago but had never been fixed. It still worked, though. It told me that it was just after five o'clock.

  I walked right up to Colin and stood in front of him. He didn't immediately look up from his screen.

  "Colin," I said.

  He finally looked up. "Kira, hey. I've been looking for you. I wanted to tell you about this awesome job offer I got. You totally disappeared yesterday."

  Yesterday? God, how long had I been unconscious before I woke up in that room?

  "Colin, I need your help. Badly."

  His eyebrows raised. "You look serious."

  "You have no idea."

  "Are you in some sort of trouble?"

  "You could say that."

  I felt Rogan's hand on my arm. "Kira, this isn't a good idea."

  Colin's gaze shifted to him and his eyes widened. "New friend?"

  I looked at Rogan, and then back at Colin. Rogan outweighed him by about eighty pounds of muscle.

  'This is Rogan," I said. "We both need your help."

  "Rogan …" Colin's eyes widened even further. "Kira, do you have any idea who this guy is?"

  "Yes, but you have to listen to me…" I trailed off. I felt something then. Something very strange. A feeling like we were being watched.

  I darted a glance over my shoulder and was positive I saw a silver camera slide behind the corner.

  "We can't involve him in this," Rogan whispered loud enough for only me to hear. "Unless you want to get your friend killed."

  Colin's knuckles were white as he gripped the edge of the table. "Look, I don't know what's going on, Kira, but if you need my help, you know I'd do anything for you. But him …" His voice caught a little with fear. "I don't want him anywhere near me."

  Colin had a crush on me. Fortunately he'd never acted on it, but it was always there, like an unignorable presence in the room with us. And I'll admit it, I took it as a compliment. It was nice to feel wanted. I was banking on that emotion to make him want to help us. To help me. But the last thing I wanted to do was to put him in danger.

  And that was exactly what I was doing by even talking to him.

  "Where do you want to go?" He closed up his laptop and stood up from the table.

  "You know what?" I swallowed and shook my head. "Never mind."

  He moved a step toward me. "No, Kira, you look way stressed. If I can do anything I will. Just tell me what's wrong."

  I took a step back and felt Rogan behind me. 'This was a mistake."

  He eyed Rogan with a mix of fear and hate. "Is it him? Is he forcing you to do something? I can help you. You just have to come with me."

  Rogan snorted. "You think you can save her from me?"

  "If I have to."

  "Brave kid."

  "I'm not a kid," he snapped, and then looked at me again. "Is he hurting you?"

  I shook my head. "No … Rogan and me … we're together."

  "Together?"

  I nodded. "I just wanted you to know so you … so you stop bothering me."

  He put a hand to his chest. "I'm bothering you?"

  "Just leave me alone, Colin."

  He blinked. "He's a fucking murderer, Kira. Don't you know that?"

  I gave him a blank look and turned my back to him. "Maybe I don't care."

  "Kira-"

  "Don't follow us, kid," Rogan said. "Or you'll regret it. Trust me on that."

  I didn't look back. I left the food court with Rogan at my side. I never should have gone there in the first place. Now Colin must hate me. I didn't want to hurt him. He had noth
ing to do with the mess I'd gotten myself into.

  Tears slid down my cheeks, and I pushed them away before Rogan could see that I was crying.

  Two men in security uniforms approached us.

  "We're going to have to ask you to leave the premises," one said firmly. He had a hand on the gun at his side. "Now."

  An almost-smile twitched on Rogan's lips. "My, how times have changed. How do you know I wasn't about to do some shopping with my gold card?"

  One of the guards eyed Rogan's dirty clothes and the bloodstain on his shoulder and then glanced at me. "Is this vagrant bothering you, miss?"

  They didn't seem to recognize Rogan like Colin had.

  Tell them! my mind screamed. Tell them everything. They can help you.

  I saw a flash of silver out of the corner of my eye. The camera.

  "The level's already begun, hasn't it?" I asked Rogan quietly.

  "I think so."

  I knew then, without a shadow of a doubt, that if I told the security guards what was going on, I would be severely and painfully punished. And the guards themselves would probably not walk out of there alive.

  I knew it.

  I was too scared to risk it. The people running The Countdown seemed to know absolutely everything.

  "He's with me, actually," I said instead. The words felt thick and unnatural leaving my mouth.

  'Then you'll both have to go." The other guard grabbed my arm.

  I wrenched away from him. "Fine. We'll go."

  I didn't say anything else as we cleared the food court and headed down a mostly abandoned hallway toward the exit. I felt like crying again, but I forced the tears back. Crying wouldn't solve a damn thing.

  "What are they doing to us?" I asked after a moment, mostly to myself. "How would anyone find this entertaining?"

  "Some people are sick," Rogan said.

  "Why did they even put us here in the mall? Just to mess with our minds?"

  I felt Rogan's arm tighten around my waist then, and it was a strange feeling. Like he was trying to comfort me. Weird. As if he realized what he'd just done he pulled away from me.

  "Do you remember what Jonathan told us this level is all about?" he asked.

  I tried to think back through the thick cloud of memories. "The accountant."

  He nodded. 'Take a look."

  I looked in the direction he pointed to see the man who had been on the holoscreen. I think his name was Bernard Jones-I recognized his balding head and bland features. He emerged from an electronics shop with a bag of purchases, then turned left and started walking toward the same exit we were headed for.

  I heard the whir as a camera moved behind us. It was moving behind things to stay hidden. No one even gave it a second glance.

  Rogan's attention was fixed on the man. "We've got to follow him."

  "He's got a wife. And a kid."

  Rogan looked at me. "And we can't let him leave our sight."

  "There are ten minutes remaining in this level of The Countdown."

  I turned to meet Rogan's gaze.

  "You know what we're supposed to do," he said. "And we have ten minutes to do it."

  To successfully complete Level Three you are required to assassinate him, Jonathan's instructions echoed in my mind.

  I shook my head. "No. It's not going to happen."

  "Do you want us to die?" Rogan asked.

  I blinked at him. "I don't want us to die. But I also don't want to kill a man I've never met before. Somebody who doesn't deserve it or even see it coming. There's no way."

  "Come on." He grabbed my hand and pulled me along with him. "We can't let him get away."

  "You can't kill him."

  He moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue. "It's him or us, sweetheart."

  "I don't care."

  "We'll see if you're still thinking that way in a few minutes."

  "I'm not capable of murder. I'm not like you."

  Rogan let go of my hand, but kept walking. He didn't look at me. "You don't know what I'm capable of. You don't know me."

  "I don't want to know you." I bit the cruel words off. They sounded worse than I wanted them to.

  That earned me a look. "We're running out of choices. Have you got that through your pretty head? There are no choices. We do what they tell us to or we die."

  "Maybe I don't care. My family was murdered. I'd never do that to another person's family. I'd rather die first."

  "I'm not in the mood to argue with you, Kira. We don't have the time."

  I watched as Bernard Jones exited the mall through the swinging doors.

  "So you're going to follow him and then what?"

  "And then I'm going to kill him." He raised an eyebrow. "But then again, I am a murderer, right?"

  "So it's that simple for you?"

  His fists clenched at his sides. "You're acting as if I have a choice."

  "There's always a choice."

  "Not for me," he said grimly. "Not anymore."

  And with that he stalked out of the entrance to follow his prey. I raced to keep up with him.

  Kill or be killed.

  There had to be another way. And if there was, I needed to figure it out. Fast.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Bernard Jones walked down the sidewalk outside of the mall, completely oblivious to the fact that he was being followed.

  "Where'd the camera go?" I looked around the surrounding area, gray and bland, and noticed that we were all alone again.

  "It's around, I'm sure."

  "You seem awfully sure about a lot in this game."

  He raised a dark eyebrow. "Do I?"

  I narrowed my eyes at him. "Yeah. You do. And I'm going to figure out what your real story is, Rogan. Don't think I won't."

  He snorted at that. "Ah, so you're actually an intrepid reporter at heart, are you? Going to get to the truth behind the man? Find out what makes me tick, other than the countdown in my head?"

  "Don't mock me."

  "But you make it so easy." He gave me a sideways glance. "Do you give all the men in your life such a hard time?"

  "There are no men in my life."

  "What about your boyfriend, Colin?"

  I made a face. "He's not my boyfriend."

  "And what the announcer said about you using your sexuality to get whatever you want?" His gaze slid down the length of me.

  I pressed my lips together. "It's not true. Besides, even if it was, it wouldn't exactly get me what I want right now."

  "Which is?"

  'To get out of this game."

  "So that's all you want? To get out of this game?"

  "Yes."

  "And then what?"

  Bernard Jones slipped behind the corner of a crumbling building ahead.

  'Then I want to figure out how to go to Offworld," I said.

  He smiled thinly. "Everybody wants to go Offworld. What's so great about that?"

  "It's not here. It's a place where somebody can make a fresh start and have the chance at a happy life." I crossed my arms as I trudged along. I didn't like revealing too much of myself to this guy. It made me feel uncomfortable. "And what about you? If you don't want to go to Offworld, what do you want?"

  "Revenge." He said it so quickly that it surprised me.

  "Against who?"

  He smiled cruelly to show his perfect white teeth. "Against those who've done me wrong, sweetheart. And it's a mighty long list."

  I swallowed at his cold words. "I'll do my best to stay off that list."

  "An excellent idea."

  "There are seven minutes left in this level of The Countdown," the disembodied voice announced.

  Rogan's shoulders tensed, and he picked up his pace.

  "Wait," I said, panic welling in my chest. "There has to be another way."

  He met my gaze, and I was surprised to see his was strained. "I have a theory. This guy… this Bernard Jones … he's a plant. Maybe he's not as innocent as you might think. Maybe he knows what's goin
g on and this is just another test."

  "Why would you think that?"

  He shook his head. "I'm not positive. But the game … they don't bring in outsiders. They don't target civilians who have nothing to do with The Countdown in the first place. It's just not their style."

  "You keep talking about the game like you know all about it."

  "You're going to have to take my word on this, Kira. Just listen to me for a second. If they start bringing in unassuming civilians, then they run the risk of being exposed. The last thing the subscribers would want is to have their friends and family learn their dirty little secret of spending money to see torture and murder."

  I ran it through my mind. It made sense. Even though the cops didn't care what might happen to criminals, they'd care what happened to the regular Joe on the street. The city was a dying, crumbling mess, but it wasn't out-of-control chaos.

  "So you think we just need to confront him?" I asked. "Get him to admit who he really is?"

  "That's my theory. I'm hoping like hell I'm right."

  Before I could say anything else, Rogan stopped walking and shouted, "Bernard Jones!"

  The man halted and turned around. We had walked a couple of blocks from the mall and were currently in the middle of a city parking lot-abandoned. No cars. Nobody was even in the pay booth. Dusk had begun to creep in, and the shadows grew longer in front of us.

  Even from a distance I could see Bernard's wariness as he saw the six-plus feet of danger who'd just called out his name.

  "What do you want?" he asked.

  "Just to talk," Rogan said.

  "Who are you?"

  "Name's Rogan. This here is Kira. We need some help."

  He shook his head. "Not from me."

  I turned around to look back in the direction of the mall, but it was blocked by other buildings. This part of the city was totally vacant.

  No witnesses.

  No witnesses except for the cameras, that was. They approached behind us, two of them, parting and moving to either side of the parking lot.

  How convenient.

  "Who are you, Bernard?" Rogan asked.

  "Wh-what do you mean?"

  "I mean, who are you? Who sent you here? Tell me what you know, and tell me right now."