The wind somehow greeted him with every turn, not only pushing into his eyes, but gusting up from his boots and down across his hood. He circled his way up, passing the time by wondering what the hell he’d say to Chu when he finally saw her again. She was never one for small talk, but he’d need to approach the situation carefully. She was sure to have questions.
As he reached the top, he fell to his knees, fighting for air. He looked up, hoping the view at the top would give him some good news. As he opened his eyes, he saw nothing. No hint of what to do next, no boss to fight. No Nefarious member to talk to, and no one waiting for him with a chilled glass of lemonade. All the top of the tower had to offer was a flat, sandy stone surface leading to dead drops on every side. Like a game element the designer had left for another day and never returned to. A last hope, lost.
I quit.
Mitch slumped down at the center of the tower, knowing that his trek down the slick staircase would be even more daunting. The way up was no picnic, but at least he didn’t have to look over the edge with every step. He walked to the far edge of the platform, craning his neck to catch a glimpse of the crater below.
“Careful, Mitch,” a voice rang out. “Long way down.”
Mitch jumped back, clutching at his chest, falling to his hands and knees. He crawled back to the edge and snuck a peek down, seeing Chu sitting comfortably below him on a small brick ledge, gazing down at the city’s rooftops thousands of feet below. Legs crossed, hands on her knees, she sat at the top of the world as still as a glass of water. Her avatar in this world had somehow rendered similar to her Skirmish design—a form-fitting, flat black suit covered with thin chainmail. The shine off her black helmet reflected the orange sky back into his eyes, her black ponytail pulled out and over her shoulder. The blue cloth stripe across her chest shone like a beacon in the sea of orange and brown all around her.
“Thank God I found you,” Mitch said.
“Been watching,” she said. “Took your time.”
“You’re not the easiest person to find.”
“Yet here you are. Been waiting for you. This place—Star of the North—has been waiting for Spitfire.”
Mitch thought about skidding down to the platform next to Chu, but settled for draping his legs over the wall above. “Nothing’s been waiting for me, I’m here to get you. To take you home.” He did his best to catch her up to the events from the past few worlds. About Mac, the rest of the team. About Red Code. Chu kept her gaze on the horizon, absorbing the news, but without a flinch. Without, it seemed, even a breath.
“A dilemma,” she said. “A problem.”
“Yeah, no shit it’s a problem. It’s a nightmare.”
“Problems get solved.”
“You’ve been spending too much time with Dak,” Mitch laughed.
“Just enough time, no more.” Chu said. “You came back, came here to find me. Tell me why.”
“Can we stick to one subject—”
“Why?” she insisted.
“I don’t know ... Mac asked me for a favor. And ... and I needed the money.”
Chu stared off at the distance in a moment of reflection. “Mac gave you a gift.”
“Some gift,” Mitch scoffed. “He screwed me over. He had a problem, and he took it off his back and threw it on mine. He could have sent anyone—he could have come here himself, but he made me do it. He’s supposed to be my friend. This the last time I answer one of his stupid messages.”
“Stop being an idiot,” Chu said, reaching up to point a finger at Mitch’s chest. “Too busy looking in the mirror. Truth lives elsewhere.”
Mitch stared back in silence.
“Mac gave you a gift. Gave you a second chance.” She took in a deep breath. “Not his fault you cannot see.”
“No, I guess I see it. I see it.”
“The blind cannot see,” she said, shaking her head, her ponytail swaying with the breeze. “Open your eyes—second chances are rare. They are fragile. Especially for stupid people.”
“Great to see you, too, Chu.”
“You search for a spark. All your life. I understand, I search for the same. What you cannot see is when you left—left Nefarious—the spark left with you.”
“The ... spark ... it was always with the team,” Mitch said. “It wasn’t with me.”
“Team seem happy to you?” Chu asked, turning to face Mitch. “Dozer always running from the truth. Fuse is cold and shut down, replacing true feeling with logic. Punch ... ”
“Punch actually seems to be enjoying himself.”
“Punch has his own demons. After you left, spark left. Now you spin—you walk the same path, over and over. Living in the old while needing the new. Spark comes with the new.”
“I think you’ve been spending too much time up here. And who are you to lecture me about not being alone? You’ve lived your whole life in the rafters, all by yourself.”
“I have found peace here, in this world,” Chu said, ignoring Mitch. “Star of the North has brought me peace, but no spark. You will not find what you’re looking for here.”
“What we need to find is the rest of the team. They must be around here somewhere.”
“A world created by a machine,” she said, sweeping her hand across the landscape. “A machine trying to find its way. A machine more complete than you and me, swimming in purpose as it builds. This world—it is beautiful. Vast. But no spark.”
“Can we stop ... with the spark? We’re running out of time. I’d love to find the meaning of life as much as the next guy, but—”
“I am a girl. Not a guy.”
“I ... I know you’re a girl. Sorry.”
“There,” Chu said, raising a finger to the edge of the rim. “Beyond the jagged rock. There you find what you seek.”
“The spark? It’s there?” Mitch asked with wide eyes. “Over that ridge?”
“No, the team.” She shook her head, rising to her feet. “Watched them walk behind those rocks, about thirty minutes ago. Dumbass.”
“Right, of course. Thanks.”
“You are welcome.”
“It’s good to see you again,” Mitch said, looking out at the city below. “This has actually been nice, to catch up, you know? You’re way more helpful than the others, figures I’d run into you last. Why the hell couldn’t I run into you first?”
Chu paused, drawing a deep breath. “Who was first?”
“Fuse.”
She shrugged. “Not ideal. Better than Punch.”
Mitch rose to his feet, extending a hand down to Chu to help her up to the platform. She ignored the gesture, pulling herself up and rolling onto the tower’s top. Mitch made his way, carefully, to the edge of the stairs—the long, winding road down—and caught his breath. Ready to take his first step down, he stopped with the sounds of Chu clearing her throat from the other side of the platform. She walked to the center of the tower’s top and placed a palm down on the ground. A panel of light rose around her, boxing her in from all sides. She stood, beckoning for Mitch to join her with a wave of her hand.
“What the hell?” Mitch asked.
“Elevator.”
“Sure, I knew that.” Mitch spun a slow circle to take in the view. The sun was high above, sending beams of light off the lakes and rivers flowing in the distance and the snowy mountains at their edge. It wasn’t the spark or the meaning of life—it wasn’t even real. But it was like nothing Mitch had ever seen.
“What gives you pause, Spitfire?”
“It’s funny,” Mitch said. “It’s kind of nice up here. Like you said—peaceful. No spark, but still ... ”
“Enough talk,” Chu pointed to the elevator. “Time to go. Long way down.”
THIRTY-THREE
Quiet Time
AS THEY TRUDGED beyond the rock rim, the deep sand of the dunes made for slow progress. With a vast desert staring down Mitch and Chu, all it would take was one or two steps in the wrong direction to end up hours off course. The cra
ter had been easy to navigate, but they’d left it behind a half hour ago. With nothing of note in sight, Mitch gauged their progress by checking the position of the rocks behind them. As night began to fall, he knew he’d need a new landmark for navigation soon.
Chu pushed ahead, staying a step or two in front of Mitch, leaning forward with purpose. She’d never been the best at conversation, but was the definition of a dependable teammate. Best damn sniper in the game—whether you were running the numbers or just going with your gut. But even after years working side by side, Mitch could count the number of things he knew about her on one hand. Besides team meetings and the first few seconds of a mission, Chu was always off on her own, always looking for that perfect corner, that perfect shot. Just a voice on the comm, chiming in when the job was done or the game was won.
“You seem to like it here,” Mitch said, just throwing something out to break the silence.
“I have found peace here. But it is my time to go. Still, I will miss Star of the North.”
“Mac’s working on some new worlds. Karma’s going to be bigger than Skirmish soon, you’ll have plenty to explore. Lots to look forward to. I bet they’ll even build one like this.”
“No time for other worlds,” Chu said, pushing forward. “Missions come first. And press events. And practice. There is no other time.”
“It’s demanding, I remember,” Mitch said. “Don’t really have that problem anymore, but at least I’m in control of what I say yes to, and what I let pass by. Still—the money was nice.”
“How one fills one’s time will fill one’s heart.”
“Kind of hard to fill your heart when you’ve got a stack of bills waiting for you back in the real world. But yeah, I see where you’re going with that.”
Chu chuckled.
“My days may not be full of spotlights and big paychecks anymore,” Mitch said, “but I’ve carved out a nice little life in the game. Still log in there every day. Don’t know what I’d do without it.”
“Now Red Code is back. In the world we depend on. Our lives may need to change.”
“We’re not going to let that happen, though, are we?”
“Never a comforting feeling, losing control,” Chu said with a shake of her head. “Red Code cannot be defeated. You know this. You must focus on what you can control.”
“I can’t control anything right now—can’t even keep Nefarious together.”
“Nefarious will be fine. You need to think about Spitfire. About Mitch. Sometimes the right thing is the unthinkable thing.”
“The unthinkable thing? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You will understand. Keep walking. Stay with me.”
They crested a dune, revealing a deep valley below. Mitch took a deep breath, taking a seat on the dune’s edge, gazing down into the shadows. With only a trace of daylight left, the remaining light hit only the edges and curves of the enormous structure standing below them. It was constructed out of rough sandstone—a series of giant, sweeping bridges. An ancient rib cage protecting whatever lied beneath. Whatever hid inside.
Mitch reached into the backpack and pulled out his last remaining code package. Gray and cold, waiting for him to level up to find its own sense of life. He inspected its edges with his finger, holding it up to the horizon to eclipse the falling sun.
“Your mind lives in two places,” Chu said, standing above him.
“I had my chance to get the team out of NeverRise,” Mitch said. “Had my chance, Chu. But I had to be the hero.”
“Jung shim jung gi,” Chu said.
Mitch turned, waiting for Chu to continue with some English, but she just kept staring down at the structure, the wind sending her ponytail whipping over her shoulder.
“What was that?” Mitch asked.
“Korean,” Chu said. “A mantra for archers. Korean archers are the best in world, this is not by mistake. Jung shim jung gi means: straight mind, straight body. This is the secret—the key for archers to hit targets, over and over. For you, it means something else.”
Mitch squinted back at Chu, tossing the code package in the air, not getting the point. “What’s it mean for me?”
Chu extended a hand down to help Mitch up. “Means you need to get your shit together.” Chu pointed down into the valley and then brought her finger up to her lips. “Time to go. Stop playing with that toy, no more questions. Quiet time now.”
The valley’s reds and oranges had faded to purples and blues as the sun fell low, the dusty heat of the day quickly becoming nothing more than a memory. The series of bridges and walls down below—some sinking deep into the sand, others standing tall at attention—formed a long hall down their center. Each arch followed the other, again and again, as far as Mitch could see, fading into a dark soup.
He took his first step down the slope and was stopped short by a flicker of movement. Not much—a silhouette. A subtle, graceful motion, gliding past a pillar towards the far wall of the structure. It didn’t scurry ... small things scurried, and this was no small thing. He hunched down in the growing darkness, waiting, like a kid watching shadows late at night, hiding in the corner of his bedroom.
A bellow echoed through the canyon—like a whale’s song, but with more purpose, more attitude. More like a warning.
“Chu,” Mitch said, grabbing her shoulder. “What the hell was that?”
“Next problem to solve,” Chu whispered with a nod. “Quiet time.”
They snuck down to the floor of the valley, sliding with soft feet, deeper and deeper into the thick sand with each step. They squatted behind the stone blocks of the first arch and froze in crouched positions. Mitch tried his best to calm his breath, not to move, not to make any sound that might give away their position. Just hang tight and let the opponent come to them.
And then, with a whoosh of breeze, Mitch got his wish. A massive beast swept in and out of the nearest set of pillars, big enough that Mitch couldn’t see the head and the tail at the same time. It was flying, hovering twenty, maybe thirty feet off the sand and just a few feet from his hiding spot, but the creature’s motion looked more like swimming—swimming in mid-air with slow, thick movements. Its tail swept back and forth with power, blowing sand with each finishing flick. Every few seconds, the beast would dip down to the floor of the valley, inhaling a wide gulp of sand, and then arch its back, slowly, effortlessly climbing back to cruising altitude. It looked like the biggest goddamned shark anyone had ever dreamt up, but with menacing slits for eyes and red, glowing pinstripes down each side of its belly, and a blowhole shooting sand up into the air. The edges of its mouth glowed orange, like a fire lit deep in a cave.
“Jesus Christ, what is that thing?” Mitch whispered.
“Not Jesus Christ,” Chu said, sneaking behind the next pillar and motioning for Mitch to follow. “It is a monster. This is how we level up.”
THIRTY-FOUR
Here, Fishy Fishy
MITCH FOLLOWED Chu into the depths of the canyon, choosing each step more carefully than the last. While Star of the North’s sun was blinding during the day, there was no moon to speak of at night. The sand inside the structure was lit with only a light frosting of white from an unidentified object down at the far end of the hall and the neon racing stripes stretching the length of the massive sand shark. The creature swooped and swam through the air, carving alleys in the sand with every turn.
As Mitch took his next step, a deep, throbbing boom rolled up the canyon walls. He jumped back, seeing a circular set of faint white lines fly through the air, pushing out from the shark’s skull. The waves flew over Mitch and Chu as they ducked for cover. It was some sort of echolocation: the shark was searching for something. Or someone, like them.
“How do we kill this thing?” Mitch whispered, crouching behind a pillar, balancing on his heels.
“Weapons are up there,” Chu pointed to a loot indicator hovering over a wooden platform high above their heads. The square was built like a tree fort,
with slats lashed to the stone pillar by loops of thick, coarse rope. A rope ladder hung down, swaying in the wind. “But we will need no weapons today. In this world, there are better ways to level up.”
Chu pointed through the structure at the white light in the distance, now glowing brighter, twinkling through the night. They’d snuck close enough now that Mitch could make out more of the form—a glowing white arch, a doorway with the interior illuminated by sparkling ribbons of light. It was mesmerizing—the light had a life to it, a movement that held Mitch’s eye. He stared into the white, watching the light dance, until the sand shark snaked across the far end of the valley, eclipsing the light back to black.
“We will sneak,” Chu nodded to herself.
“Sneak?” Mitch whispered. “No, no, no. No way. Here’s a better idea—we grab some guns or grenades or whatever is stashed up there. Then we take up positions on either side. You stay high, I go low. Confuse it—surround it. We don’t level up by sneaking, and we don’t get home without—”
“This is not a fight you will win. We will be smart today, alive tomorrow. If we die, we go back.” Chu pointed a long finger back at their fading footprints in the sand. “No time for mistakes.”
“I don’t think we can make it to the door, not without the shark seeing us.”
“Our team is here, somewhere.” Chu pointed to the door. “This is where game asks us to go.”
“I don’t hear the game asking us for anything,” Mitch mumbled.
“You are good at fighting. I am good at watching. And seeing.” Chu pushed her finger across Mitch’s lips and then pointed behind the pillars.
They crept down the edge of the valley, hiding in the shadows. Pillar by pillar, Chu led and Mitch followed. With each pass of the shark, with each wash of echolocation beams bouncing through the structure, they pressed their backs to the stone, crouched down, and held their collective breath. The shark carved the same wide loop, over and over, never diverting from its course.
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