by Anthea Sharp
I breathed. My HP sat in the red. I needed more charge.
He rushed toward me, and I danced away, stalling. I needed to buy time.
But my opponent knew that as well and had no intention of giving me the time I needed. He jerked forward with another blow toward my face, and I blocked him with my shield arm. He smashed into it with his fist, sending new pain to replace the old one. My red HP bar began to blink, and the warning beeps began. I didn't have time. My only hope was that I'd had enough charge. Before he could pull back again, I slapped my hand into his chest, and released all the electricity I'd gathered into the force of my palm. It hit him like a lightning bolt. His eyes went wide, and his hair stood on end. His body stiffened, and he hit the ground at the foot of the concrete wall I'd made earlier as a shield. It was a jolt and enough to incapacitate him, but only for a moment. His HP only went into the yellow.
Exhausted, I fell to my knees. My opponent began to draw to his feet. But before he could make it past his hands and knees, I did the only thing I could think of and created a hand sign, thrusting it into the ground. And the wall that my opponent knelt under fell on top of him, crushing him into a concrete sandwich. His HP went to zero.
Cheers erupted in the crowd around me. Elias had his hands on my arms and was helping me to my feet. And I saw her. Pink hair, black ribbon, stormy blue eyes. Skye stood beside Carpathian with a frown on her face as she looked toward me. True to his word, Carpathian rested a hand on her shoulder, and the clan sign over her head disappeared. She'd become a solo player again. But instead of coming toward me, instead of looking grateful in any way, she looked down at her arm and logged off. Her avatar blinked out of existence.
"Jordy, you need to come home. I can't believe my own eyes... but... something incredible has happened," my mom said when I answered my cell phone.
I nodded, my heart leaping in my chest. As soon as I'd logged off the game, I started walking toward the parking area where freshman cars were parked. I was already in my car and making the hour drive home. "I'm on my way."
She was silent for a moment. "You are? Did you know?"
I shook my head. How much should I really tell everyone? I decided I was better off leaving it alone. "Know what, Mom? I was just coming home for the weekend. What's going on?"
My mom sniffed, and I knew she was crying. "It's not a bad thing. It's a good thing, but if I tell you while you're driving, you might get too emotional. So just get home quickly and safely. You'll find out when you get here."
"Okay, Mom. I'll be home in about twenty."
I pressed my luck with the speed limit on the way home. I didn't know what to expect with my deal for Skye with Carpathian. I didn't even know for sure if she'd go home... much less within an hour of the match I'd won. When I pulled into my neighborhood, the picture window of Skye's house was the same as it always was, only instead of Skye's mom sitting there, alone, waiting for her daughter to come home, Skye sat with her on the couch, holding her mom, who continued to embrace her and cry.
I parked on the street just outside of my house and was about to open the driver's door when a little truck sped by, making me wait. The blue truck slammed on its breaks in front of Skye's house and her dad jumped out of the vehicle and ran up the steps, yanking the door open of the house he no longer lived in. And I could hear his wailing as he grabbed hold of his daughter in a bear hug.
My throat tightened at the sight of it.
No matter if she hated me or hated the fact that I didn't "respect her choices," I knew I'd made the right decision. I started toward my house, and my mother met me in the doorway. She hugged me hard as if I was the one who'd just returned home after almost three years missing.
"Did you see her? Did you see Skye?" She swiped at the tears streaming her face. Her eyes were red and puffy as though she'd been crying for a long while.
I nodded.
She grabbed me by the hand. "You'll have to go see her, but wait. Let her parents have tonight. You can see her in the morning."
I nodded again. "You're right. I'll do that."
She wiped at her face again. "Have you eaten? Do you have laundry?"
I winced. "Totally forgot to bring it."
She tilted her head and furrowed her brows at me. "Really?"
I shrugged. "I did. I forgot all about it when I was thinking about your home cooking."
After she slapped me on the shoulder, she took me inside and made me a plate of the pot roast she'd cooked for her and my dad. I'd been away at college for almost two months, but she still made dinners for three as if that was all she was programmed to do. My father said he didn't mind because he'd take the leftovers for lunch at work. I came home just about every other weekend to do laundry and spend time with them.
When I'd finished dinner, I headed back up to my room. I eyed Skye's house next door, but her bedroom light wasn't on just yet. I was sure it would be a while before her parents would let her go... physically even.
I sat down at my desk and fired up my old laptop. I began to check my emails and social media when a window from an old messenger app popped up. It was Skye. I glanced out my window and saw that her bedroom light was now on.
I opened the app and found the words: "Until my birthday. I'll stay till then, but then I'm gone. Don't come near me again."
My heart sank. I blinked at the words on the screen. I went to start typing a response, but she logged out.
For a moment, I was breathless, then I stood and turned toward her bedroom window. Although I could tell her light was still on, the window curtain was drawn, and she seemed to have no intention of opening it. What on Earth was that about? Did she really run away from home to join Carpathian's clan three years ago? Had he ordered her to return home because I'd won the match?
After watching her window for another several minutes, the light eventually went out and I collapsed onto my bed.
How much had she really changed? Was it possible that she could still be under his control somehow? I felt dizzy with questions but wondered how many of them I'd get answers to out of Skye. I swallowed, but my throat still felt dry.
I felt the sting of my bittersweet gain. I'd won the battle, but it seemed that the war to keep Skye had only just begun...
The End
Thanks for reading!
About the Author
Pauline Creeden is an award-winning, USA Today bestselling author of contemporary fantasy, apocalyptic thrillers, and steampunk. She tries to keep her stories bright and inspirational, but reflective of the dark world surrounding us. Battle Mage is the first in the LitRPG series she’s begun to write.
Read More from Pauline Creeden
http://paulinecreeden.com
The Anchoring - Alexia Purdy
1
Tatiana Miramar tapped her visor, sweat slipping down her temple as she bit her lip.
“No! You’re not blasting it enough! Geez! I said left flank not right. I’m hit! Cover me, I need to recharge!” Tat groaned as the “You’re Dead!” sign flashed on the screen, and she swiped her visor from her face. She threw her hands up in the air. Those damn rookies were getting on her nerves.
“Over it!” She dropped the plastic eyewear onto the desk and huffed, rolling her wheelchair along one side to turn around.
“You could go easy on the games, you know. You’re going to have a coronary before your next birthday,” Yuri scoffed as she leaned against Tatiana’s bedroom door. Her spiky red faux-hawk snagged on the splintered wood of the frame. “Seriously, your poor, tiny heart can’t take the stress. You need to chill.”
Tat rolled her eyes and frowned, her thin, bow-shaped lips straining to form the upside-down “U” as she waved her fellow group-home sister away.
“Go away. This is way more important to me than it is to you. It’s life and death in there, but the hordes of newbies make me want to tear my hair out.”
Yuri smoothed down her hair, shaved on the sides but gathered in the middle and teased six inches
high to perfection. Tat loved Yuri’s hair. Her own hair was frail, a yellow straw color. The lack of nutrients she’d received as a baby had left her head practically bald.
“All right! I’m going. Just came up here to say Naomi wants you downstairs ASAP. Something about dinner being ready? I’m sure you’re starving after that display.” Yuri chuckled, knowing she was pushing Tat’s buttons. It was a favorite pastime of hers.
“Oh! Food. Yes. It’s been ages since lunch.”
Yuri wrinkled her nose at her. “I swear. Where you stuff all that food in that rail-thin body of yours is a mystery. I eat one ounce over rations and I puff up like a hippo.”
“I think you look fine.” Tat threw her a weak smile and looked away as she rolled her chair out into the hall, keeping her head down as she attached the chair to the banister mechanism which was her ride down to the lower floors. Yuri had a perfect body, well-proportioned and nearly flawless. Tatiana was confined to a wheelchair from an unknown degenerative muscular disease and barely remembered a time when she could walk unassisted. Now, her legs were thin and frail like a bird’s skeleton, unable to hold her minuscule weight even for a moment. She’d give anything to have Yuri’s unaffected body, but the universe had never been kind to her.
“Are you coming, Yuri, or did you sneak too many samples at the grocery store today?”
Yuri huffed behind her, following her slow descent. “On your heels. I’m hungry too, you know. Shopping takes a lot of work. Not that you’d know what that’d be like. You’re lucky you never get grocery rotation. Can you hurry it up? Hungry, hungry hippo, right?’
“Shut up. You’re not even close to being chunky. I hate you.”
Yuri stuck out her tongue and mussed Tat’s hair. “I hate you too, Tat. Last one to the table gets dish duty.”
“No! I always have dish duty!”
And now she really did hate Yuri. Tat groaned as her chair arrived on the first-floor landing and detached from the wall unit. Rolling into the dining room, she grabbed the hand sanitizer and squirted some onto her dirty hands.
Dish duty be damned. Today she wouldn’t mope any more. Tonight was the lottery, and she was feeling extra salty. She somehow knew she was about to get lucky. The lottery was the only way she would ever get a working body, and she entered the drawing every month in hopes of winning, regardless of the expense. She never won anything, but her gut had twisted into a knot the moment she’d awoken in the morning, filled with the feeling something would be different about today. It had to be the lottery. Her intuition usually pinpointed something special when she felt this way, but she wouldn’t know what would happen until it did. Damn gifts never worked clearly, but she knew it was better than having no gifts at all.
Yuri nudged her, holding out the basket of bread rolls. Yuri had no gifts unless having a functional body counted as one. Tat would give up any of her gifts plus several points off her IQ for a chance at a working body. Anything but this wheelchair. She slumped in her chair, sighing. Life was the definition of unfair.
“What’s gotten into you today?” Yuri asked, chomping on her gum as Tat took the basket she’d offered and plopped one pale bread roll onto her plate. Bread used to taste better when she was a child. But they kept adding more and more crap to it. Vitamins, they said. Enrichments. And the wheat itself had been genetically modified for larger crops and better nutrition. The stuff was practically plastic. Bread used to be soft and warm and shades healthier than white. Now it was hard and chewy.
“Nothing,” she answered.
She didn’t want the others to know how anxious she was feeling for the lottery tonight. If they knew, they wouldn’t let her alone until the lottery happened, teasing her about her hoping and wishing. Screw them. They all had functioning bodies. Even Avantide and Gertrude, with their disfigured hands, could do a lot more than she could, stuck in her chair. They had one good hand each. Way more fortunate than others.
Nowadays, most people were born with deformities of some sort. The earth had changed so much since the plagues had ravished the population and farming had turned difficult after the collapse of the ozone layer. Now, with the artificial air domes over the cities and the unregulated lands surviving on what little ozone was left, the farmlands suffered the most.
Food quality had diminished, with sub-par nutrients in all the things that would still grow. Wheat was so modified it didn’t resemble the stuff the older people talked about. Most people didn’t live that long due to the lack of nutrients, and the number of contaminants in the food and water could ignite rebellions. At least, that’s what would have happened a generation ago. But no one fought it anymore. What was the use? It had caused an epidemic of anomalies in newborns, and most people were too weak to fight.
Now, having a quality body was something of a dream, and if you had it, you were susceptible to kidnapping, never to be seen again. Body theft was a problem. Too bad no one would ever steal Tat’s body.
The thoughts drew away the energy she had invested into remaining positive about tonight’s lottery. She gasped as she almost choked on her lasagna. The sauce was yellow, no longer the rich red-orange color of tomatoes of the past which their caretaker, Naomi, spoke about. Only yellow tomatoes—which were too bitter and lacked any kind of richness to make a good sauce—were used on the thick, tough pasta noodles. The lack of real cheese was something Tat didn’t miss, but Naomi never served lasagna without complaining about its absence.
“You all right?” Yuri slapped her back as Tat wiped her mouth.
“Yeah. I’m fine. Went down the wrong pipe.”
“No dying on us today. Dying at dinner is a very bad omen,” Janice announced. The lanky, brunette girl with one missing eye and ear was unbearable; full of factual statements and a holier-than-thou attitude. Tat disliked her company the most.
“I’ll try not to disappoint,” Tat snapped. “Naomi, can we turn on the tele while we eat? I swear I’ll clean up afterward. Please?” Begging their caretaker often worked for Tat since she had the biggest bank account out of all the residents in the group home. It was full of orphans with little to no inheritances, and Tat believed her monthly income paid most of the expenses at the tenement. Naomi kept that fact from the other residents, but she gave Tat a long leash.
“Okay. But don’t wait on rinsing the dishes. Yellow tomatoes are sticky and cling to the ceramics. I don’t want it scratched. It was my mama’s.”
“I won’t. Thank you, Naomi!” Tat almost squealed but didn’t as both Yuri and Janice glared her way.
Sometimes she wondered if those two knew about her contributions, but she really didn’t care if they did. She sighed happily, stuffing more lasagna into her mouth and chewing quietly as their caretaker flipped on the television. She wouldn’t let anyone else sour her mood tonight. Nope. Tonight was going to be special. Tonight, everything was going to change.
The tele blared to life, small squiggly lines adjusting as the signal cleared. Tat’s heart fluttered with excitement, and she had to concentrate on eating slowly so she wouldn’t choke again. The food tasted like nothing. Sustenance. That’s all it was. Sustenance until she could get a functional body and make a difference that way. One day, she would. One day, lasagna would taste right.
“And in just a few minutes, we’ll be announcing the monthly winner of the Society of Dejected Humanity’s lottery! Enter to win a fully functional body! It could be you! Stay tuned!”
2
Tatiana dug at the burnt-on lasagna crusting the casserole dish. It was old, milky glass, and Naomi was a terrible cook and often burned the edges of the dishes. This had created a kind of sticky siding which always caught food particles and was nearly impossible to eradicate. Grunting and with sweat beading on her brow, Tat gave up. Letting it sit in the hot, soapy water while she finished the rest of the dishes was going to have to do. Tossing a spoon into the basin, she tried her best to curse softly under her breath. Naomi had no tolerance for swearing, and Tat wasn’t about to ea
rn another week of dish duty just for losing her temper. Not winning the lottery had been bad enough. So much for her premonitions.
“Whoa! What did that spoon ever do to you?” Jed was suddenly next to her, rolling up his sleeves and grabbing a towel to dry some of the dishes already sitting in the dishrack. Too bad they didn’t have a dishwashing machine; Tat heard they were popular decades before and would automatically scrub away burnt-on crap without any elbow grease.
“I’m just… I’m not in the mood to talk. Okay?”
“No problem. More air for me to breathe, then.” He chuckled, swiping a cloth across the shiny plates and humming as he worked.
How he stayed so happy all the time was a wonder. Nothing ever got him down. She sighed, leaning back in her elevated wheelchair for a moment. Reaching over the sink strained her back, even with the hydraulics on her chair, which helped her adjust to counter-height work. Homes weren’t made for wheelchair-bound people. Even though her chair’s lift helped her reach higher counters, her petite stature kept it from benefiting her much, leaving her with strained muscles.
Jed also suffered from malformed limbs, a common ailment which affected most of the people born in this century. The nutrient-poor food, lack of clean air and water, and atmospheric contaminants were huge contributors to the anomalies. Some, like Jed, were lucky to have just one limb affected.
She peered down at Jed’s cybernetic limb. It was one of the older prototypes and had been donated to the group home for him to use. It fit well considering it wasn’t custom made. Sometimes artificial limbs were too big or small and caused ulcers and extreme pain to their users. The stumps had to be carefully treated and wrapped to avoid injuries. Jed was one of the lucky ones; he was missing his leg from just below the knee. Others were missing far more than that or twisted in ways that left the limb useless.