I breathed out and tried to still my mind. "Positive."
"Then we're done here. At your inevitable elimination, don't say I didn't give you a chance."
As he was about to get up, my hand shot out and I grabbed his wrist and squeezed.
Please work, I prayed inwardly.
I closed my eyes and flexed.
Nothing.
I frowned. There was nothing but darkness and silence in his mind.
"What do you think you're doing?" he growled, but he didn't pull away.
I flexed deeper, peeling away the layers I found within him like a black, rotting onion. Layer after layer of darkness until finally I could see something down deep. Sense it. Feel it. A small kernel of light hidden under so much black.
:::::::::Fear::::::::::
That was all it was. Just a small piece of fear smothered under a blanket of darkness.
My head began to ache but I ignored it. Gareth's arm was tight and he tried to pull away, but my grip was too strong. I dug my fingers into his flesh and sank deeper into his mind.
There was something else there. Something small and barely discernible.
Help me.. please. … Can you hear me?… You have the gift.. maybe … just maybe.. I don't know…
"I can hear you," I bit the words out past the growing pain and opened my eyes to look into Gareth's cool blue-green gaze.
"Let go of me before I call for my guards." He spoke quietly, but his words were edged with danger.
I felt so confused. "But you were-"
Listen … please listen … please listen to me, Kira…
I stilled myself and strained to understand the thoughts, words, images, projections that slid through my mind. They were very quiet, very distant… but very precise. Each word was like a knife in the soft recesses of my brain, and I steeled myself against the pain, trying to hold on for as long as I could.
Too much money spent on research… development… greed… too much… We created an artificial intelligence program… and it was perfect.. but my brother tried to destroy everything…. There was an energy surge… and a virus…. It got into the program … then into my implant.. my prototype implant…. It took over my mind.. my life.. It feeds on the game… on the brain waves of the subscribers…. It feeds like a leech,… It wants more…. It wants to take the game and the implants wider…. Offworld… It wants everything…. You must escape…. There is a way… a safe house…. You must take Rogan there…. Please … there's no time….
An image appeared in my brain-an address: 358 Paragon Avenue. It was a fleeting thought that I had to grab hold of and pin down before it faded away.
I'm sorry, Kira … so sorry. … There is nothing I can do…. Four years and the virus only grows stronger…. It has me…. It must be destroyed….
And then there were men in white coats in the room pulling me off of Gareth, but my fingernails scored his arm enough to draw blood. I was crying from the pain, shaking so badly that they couldn't keep me on my feet. I sank down to the floor sobbing and clutching my head.
My nose was bleeding, too; the warm thickness of it came away on my hand as I wiped at my face. My head felt as though it had split open right through the middle and my brain was oozing out. I had to reach up and touch it to know that wasn't the case.
The artificial intelligence program tainted with a computer virus that had possessed Gareth Ellis for over four years stood in front of me holding his injured arm, looking down at me. "Perhaps all is not explained by science after all."
I stared up at him. Did he know what had just happened? Did he hear Gareth's plea from deep within him?
He did. I could see it in his cold gaze as he looked down at me. He no longer looked amused with me, just annoyed. He leaned over and grabbed my face in his hand and squeezed hard enough for me to pay attention.
"If you know what's good for you, you won't share any of what you've learned with Rogan."
He let go of me and wiped his hand on his black pants as if to remove any trace of me from his stolen skin.
And then I was half dragged, half carried out of the white room.
LEVEL FIVE
CHAPTER TWELVE
Another blindfold. More darkness.
You'd think I'd be used to it by now, but unfortunately phobias don't work that way. You don't simply get used to what you fear. It gets worse and worse and harder to deal with every single time. Even if you tell yourself it's irrational to be afraid.
The darkness made me hear my sister's cries and my mother's screams again, replaying like a horrific song, over and over and over.
But suddenly something made the darkness even harder to deal with.
My implant began to beep, and a sweep of pain brushed through my brain.
The rules replayed in my mind: To separate more than ninety feet from your partner will lead to immediate disqualification.
Where was Rogan?
"Rogan? Where are you?" I said aloud. There was a man at my back who had my arms pinned behind me as he pushed me ahead of him. He was big and strong, and I'd given up fighting against him several minutes ago when they led me out of the building I'd been in and into a car. I couldn't see anything, but we drove for about ten minutes before stopping again. I didn't know where I was, but I knew it had stopped raining. The wind was cool on my face.
I felt something else move past my face with a metallic whirring sound. A camera.
And so it begins again, I thought.
I felt a deep weariness then. Was Gareth right? Was I doomed to die in this game? Was my only chance to try to kill Rogan?
He'd offered me everything or nothing at all. A privileged life or certain death. That was my choice to make.
Knowing what I did now about him, it would be like selling my soul to the devil.
I was still hoping beyond hope for a third option to present itself.
Soon would be good.
I heard something heavy and metallic clang against the ground close by, then felt a shove at my back and I staggered forward, going over on my ankle as I tripped on something. My right ankle twisted and pain shot up my leg as I fell, hitting the ground hard. Instead of shouting out in pain, I yelled with anger, almost a war cry, and I forced myself to get back up on my feet.
The beeping from my implant was disorienting me, and I had to take a moment to steady myself, hands out at my sides.
I kept my weight on my left leg now and braced myself lor the next horrible thing to happen, but nothing did. It was silent then. Too silent.
"Rogan?" I said aloud. "Where are you?"
I felt for the back of the blindfold, hurriedly untied it, and let it fall to the ground. I blinked around. It was dark outside. Night. I could see a dim glimmer of the moon hidden behind the clouds and layers of pollution. Only one star could be seen, and not very well at all. The North Star.
I wished on it.
Please help me. Give me strength.
Perhaps not so much a wish as a prayer.
I looked down at what I'd tripped over. A long, thin piece of metal with a hook on the end of it. A crowbar.
Terrific. Just what I needed. So much for praying.
"Welcome to Level Five! Rogan and Kira are all rested up after their sexcapades, and raring to go on to the next level. The question is this… will Kira find Rogan before time runs out? Or will she go in the wrong direction and find nothing but death by straying outside of her ninety-foot boundary? The ties that Rogan and Kira have developed in their strange relationship-the murderer and the thief-are now more tangible as the farther apart they go, the closer to death they are. Kira has five minutes to locate her partner. The first part of Level Five commences now. Enjoy! "
The first part? I thought, my heart sinking. That wasn't fair. Now they were doing sublevels?
Cheating. Totally cheating.
Yeah, like Gareth cared about fairness. He didn't even care about the game, after all, did he? All he wanted was the subscribers using their implants as
much as possible so he could feed off their brain waves.
The thought made me sick.
The sharp pain in my ankle helped me to focus.
I scanned the empty street. The darkness was oppressive, but at least I could see. The streetlights hadn't been properly maintained, and every third or fourth one along the street was dark, either broken or simply burned out.
"Four minutes remain in this level of The Countdown," the announcer said merrily.
"Is this fun for you?" I asked aloud, speaking directly to that bodiless voice that tormented me with its inane cheerfulness. "Do you enjoy your job?"
There was no reply.
Big surprise.
"Rogan!" I yelled as loud as I could, and began to limp along the street. After a few feet the beeping in my head got louder, the pain so acute that I couldn't think straight, so I stopped and changed my direction.
It was like that old children's game my sister and I played once upon a time, where we'd hide something and the other would try to find it. Warmer, warmer… colder… very cold. The warmer you were the closer you were.
Okay. Well, in this version of the game, warmer meant no beeping and I was close to Rogan; colder meant that my implant beeped and hurt; very cold meant that it was moments away from exploding.
Not as much fun as the game was in the good old days.
I tried not to think about how many ways Rogan could be hurt or injured or worse that would make him unable to respond to me. If what I'd been told about the implants was true-the ninety-foot rule-then he couldn't be very far away.
But where the hell was he?
I remembered his hands on my body. Warm hands, so gentle yet so passionate. Dammit. That shouldn't have happened. Even though it had felt so right, so perfect being in his arms, it just complicated things. This situation was complicated enough without bringing sex into it.
All contrived, too. Everything about this game was a setup-especially the reward level. I mean, I didn't know how I hadn't seen it. Food, wine, all spread out in a beautiful room with a big bed? And the huge bath just waiting for me to slide into it to relax. Put me in the mood. The whole thing had we want you to have sex with Rogan so the subscribers can watch written all over it.
And, stupidly, I'd done just what they wanted me to.
I wished I felt worse about it, but I didn't. Just the thought of him touching me, kissing me … it had been worth it. And the look on his face when he realized how much I wanted him? Just a little bit of pain and sadness had left his eyes.
My heart twisted. "Rogan! Dammit, where the hell are you?"
I'm not falling in love with him, I thought.
I'd steeled myself against that useless emotion years ago. Too dangerous. My heart was still mending from losing my family. I couldn't lose anyone else I cared about. So I wouldn't care about anyone else. It was as simple as that.
So simple.
"Three minutes remain in this level of The Countdown."
Dammit, where was he?
I slowed down and stood in the middle of the street.
Think, Kira, I told myself sternly. You've made it through four levels of this stupid game. Think.
I ran as quickly as I could, my ankle shooting with pain as I went, and pounded on every door I could. All locked. I called Rogan's name out again and again.
Nothing.
I turned around and around but there was no clue. No cars. No trees. No high wires. No platforms. All the doors were locked. I couldn't see any sign of him.
And yet my implant had stopped beeping.
That meant he was close.
My ankle throbbed. Did that guy mean to shove me so I'd twist it? The bastard. I glanced down at it, thinking I might be able to see the swelling through my new black lace-up combat boots, when I saw something a few feet away on the ground.
A sewer grate.
"Two minutes remain in this level of The Countdown."
I hobbled over to it and crouched down, pressing my fingers against the edges of it. It was awkward and heavy. There was no way I'd be able to lift it.
"Rogan," I called, trying to peer through the narrow openings. "Are you in there?"
There was no answer, but I knew he was. I just knew it. I'd never been more positive about anything in my life. If I had money, I'd bet it all.
But it was hopeless. How was I supposed to remove the cover to check?
Then I gasped.
The game had rules, after all. Structure. It wasn't a free-for-all chaos session. Gareth was controlled by a computer now-one that believed in science and logic. Science had rules.
In the beginning, we'd been given the keys to our locks; we simply needed to figure out how to use them properly. The Dumpster had the bell to ring that opened the door into Jonathan's office. The man we were supposed to kill in Level Three wasn't an innocent; he was a robot.
The game gave us the tools and clues to help us get through the level. We just needed to figure out when and where to use them.
I hobbled back to where I'd tripped and grabbed the crowbar, and then hurried over to the sewer grate.
"Forty-five … forty-four… forty-three … forty-two.. "
It took me only a few seconds to pry up the cover. After it was partially removed, I could get my fingers under it and move it to the side. It made a heavy, scraping sound against the cold, hard pavement.
I peered down into the darkness and it gave me chills.
"Rogan?" I asked, but was still met with silence.
I felt a wave of fear come over me. Would I have to crawl down into the darkness? What if I was wrong? What if I was wasting time I didn't have right now?
I forced myself to reach down inside and felt about for something to hold on to. It was warm and moist in there. My hand brushed the underside of the opening, and it felt slimy.
"Twelve … eleven … ten …"
Oh, God. There was no time. I had to hurry….
I plunged my hand farther into the darkness and touched the metal bars of the ladder.
"Rogan…" A tear slipped down my cheek. "I'm sorry … I'm sorry I'm too slow…."
Suddenly something grabbed hold of my wrist and I screamed. It was something firm and like an iron vise. It squeezed tightly. I tried to pull away but couldn't.
"Five.. four… three… two…"
Rogan's face appeared through the darkness. He held my wrist tightly in his hand as he climbed up the ladder and flung himself onto the pavement.
"Congratulations, Rogan and Kira, for completing Part A of Level Five successfully."
I collapsed to the ground next to him and started beating on his chest with my fists.
"You asshole!" I yelled. "Why didn't you say anything? Why didn't you tell me it was you down there? Goddammit, Rogan!"
He stilled my hands and pulled me into a rough hug until I finally relaxed against him.
"I'm sorry," he murmured into my hair. "When you were meeting with Gareth they had me in another room. They told me that if I said a word to help you locate me they would kill you on the spot. I wasn't willing to take that chance. It nearly destroyed me trying to remain silent waiting down here. I couldn't reveal where I was until you touched the ladder." He pushed me back from him so he could look into my eyes. He brushed the hair off my face. "Are you all right? Did Gareth hurt you?"
I shook my head, then touched his cheek. "Did they do that to you?"
His face bore a red mark that ringed his left eye. Before too long it would darken to a bruise. His bottom lip was cut and slightly swollen.
He grinned, but then grimaced from the pain it caused. "Let's just say that when they make a point they try to make it a memorable one."
I cupped his face in my hands and kissed his forehead gently, then lightly kissed his lips until he responded, parting them. After another moment I pulled back a couple of inches. "On the bright side, you weren't down there long enough to smell like a sewer."
"Good. I'd rather not be subjected to another hosing
down in the near future."
He kissed me again, quickly, and then got back to his feet, holding out a hand to help me up. I took it.
He frowned as he watched me limp a few feet away. "What happened?"
I shrugged. "Went over on my ankle. I'll be fine."
"They did that, didn't they?"
"Maybe I'm just clumsy." I scanned the street. It was still vacant, still very dark. The shadows and light from the street lamps slid across the road like ghosts. "Rogan, I need to talk to you about Gareth-"
I heard a sound then. A hard, metallic sound like the crowbar hitting the pavement earlier. I turned in the direction of the sound and looked down the street. In the distance I could see the shapes of two figures standing a block away. I couldn't see much except for the fact that they were large and male. The metal sound was indeed another crowbar that one of the men tapped against the ground. They stared at us, but didn't say anything.
I got the strange feeling that I shouldn't wave my hand and try to be friendly.
"Who are they?" I whispered.
He shook his head, not taking his attention from the silent figures. "Not sure."
I felt a line of perspiration drip down my spine, and my heart pounded hard against my chest.
"Welcome back to The Countdown," the announcer piped up finally, and I jumped at the sound of his voice cutting through the inky silence. "Rogan and Kira continue to make a terrific team as they work their way through every level with ease.
"We've met Kira already. Now let's give you some insight into the mind of convicted rapist/murderer Rogan Ellis.
"Born into a life of privilege and leisure, Rogan grew up attending only the best private schools in the country. His father, Bertrand Ellis, the CEO of Ellis Enterprises, built his company to be a forerunner of all things technical, including the creation of the Ellipsis computer that, just before the plague, had taken over sales of both Microsoft and Apple. His two sons, Gareth, now thirty-two, and Rogan, twenty-nine, were the pride and joy of a loveless marriage to socialite Lissa Bartholomew Ellis.
"But before too long it was evident that the eldest son was the favorite and was being groomed to take over the family business. Rogan, still a teenager at the time, didn't seem to care. His interests lay in areas of a more base nature. He spent several years in San Carolinas, an exclusive mental hospital for the very rich, for schizophrenia and drug abuse, and his family feared he would never recover enough to properly function in society."
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