by Terry Schott
“His frost eye looks so cool,” Shale said. “Like a silvery white laser.”
After three or four heartbeats, Xander relaxed, straightened, and flicked both wrists to send blood from his blades. He knelt and wiped the remaining blood onto the rags covering the bonesipper’s still form. Then he stood and turned, sheathing both swords behind his back without looking as he strode toward them.
Mercy considered her charge as he stopped in front of her. After a moment, the corner of her mouth twitched upwards and she nodded. “Well done.”
The hint of a smile touched Xander’s lips. “Thank you.”
Fen said, “I didn’t see that undead bugger. If there’d been more we could have pulled a train down on us.”
“Choo-choo.” Shale raised one arm and made a pumping motion. All were familiar with the term, used to describe bringing back more mobs to fight than a group could handle. Like getting run over by a locomotive in real life, a train of mobs would be death to a party and was to be avoided at all costs.
“It was undead and hiding in the darkness,” Mercy said. “There’s no way you could have seen it. Even I would have needed to cast detect undead to sense it.” She tapped her eye and pointed at Xander. “It looks as if your Death’s Kiss grants vision or sensing of undead.”
He nodded. “As soon as it moved I saw it outlined in ice blue.” He looked at Sebastian. “Sorry for yelling, but I had to act fast. Try and warn them.”
“It’s good that you did,” Sebastian said. “If a bonesipper managed to surprise one of us, it could have wrapped the victim in a solid bear hug with both tentacles inserted and its own body acting to protect them from being extracted.” He shook his head. “By the time we managed to pry it loose, someone could have had their bones turned to liquid.”
“Which would have been the end of them,” Aleron said.
“Instead of that happening, we survived our first encounter with zero wounds,” Sebastian smiled. “I like it. Great work, team.”
“Now to rinse and repeat,” Shale said. “Another few hundred times.”
Fen grinned. “Sounds doable to me.”
37
Isaac knocked and entered Kara’s office with a tray of drinks in one hand, brown paper bag in the other.
“Heya,” she said.
“Hi.” He held the bag up. “Had dinner yet?”
“Maybe.” She frowned. “What day is it?”
“Tuesday.” He grinned. “I think.”
“Then in that case, no. I was thinking it’s Monday.”
Isaac set the drinks on the desk, then the bag. He opened it and removed two burgers wrapped in paper, setting one in front of her and the other himself. He ripped the top half of the bag away and handed it to her. “Mind if we share the fries?”
She dropped the paper into her wastebasket. “As long as you got large size.”
“Extra-large.”
She smiled. “Wish I had a side of mayo to dip them in.”
Isaac cleared his throat and indicated the drink tray with his chin. Sitting between the fountain drinks were two containers of mayonnaise. She laughed, and he grinned. “I did pay attention to a few things when we were together.”
“I know.” She reached for a fry and popped it into her mouth, chewing as she spoke. “I think I’ve got some good news.”
He held up one hand as he sat in the chair across from her. “It can wait until we’ve eaten.” She frowned and he nodded. “That’s all we do, is work. If the world can’t wait for ten or twenty minutes, then let it disappear for good.”
Kara raised one eyebrow but nodded and reached for another fry.
They spent the next fifteen minutes making small talk, discussing their lives and catching up on news and gossip. There were moments of shared laughter, silent stares, fingers brushing against each other in the french fry bag.
Isaac balled up the paper from his burger and tossed it toward the trash can, smiling as it bounced off the wall and landed inside. He took a sip of his drink. “That was nice.”
Kara reached for the last couple of fries. “It was. Thank you.”
Isaac laughed. “I own private jets and penthouse suites around the world, and this is the closest I’ve come to going out on a date since...” He looked at her and then toward the ground. He shrugged. “Well. You know.”
“Yeah.”
He clapped his hands together. “Okay, back to business. Can we yank Sebastian’s group out of the instance?”
“Maybe.”
“That’s better than no.”
“Thing is, it might not be a good idea.”
“What makes you say that?”
“The other groups that have entered the instance.”
“What about them?”
“We have no clue where they are.”
“They’re inside the instance.”
Kara shook her head. “That’s the thing. Every player was low-level and entered a high-level area that wasn’t supposed to be accessible...”
“Which should have led to every group wiping by now,” Isaac said. “They should have all died and woken up to select new characters.”
“Exactly. But they haven’t.”
He stared at her.
“None of the players have woken up.”
“But—” Isaac frowned. “They must have.”
She shook her head. Neither spoke for a few seconds.
Isaac broke the silence. “I don’t like the implications of this.”
“Nor do I.”
“Either they are somehow still alive inside their instances, or else dead and haven’t exited the game like they should.”
She nodded.
“It’s possible that a few groups stayed at the entrance and are huddled there to avoid being killed.”
“They would starve to death.” Isaac opened his mouth, but Kara continued. “Few groups would have a crafter capable of creating food and water.”
“That’s true.”
“And at least some would have moved forward. There should be some deaths. We haven’t got one.”
Isaac leaned forward, resting his head in both palms. “There are other possibilities.”
“Like?”
He looked up. “What if the instance auto-corrected and lowered the level of monsters to allow campaigners to have a chance of succeeding?”
She spread her hands. “I suppose that could happen.”
His lips pressed together. “Damn it, I can think of half a dozen possible what-ifs.”
“Same here. But no matter what is actually happening, I think we should put a hold on trying to deactivate the instances. If it causes them to die and we can’t get them out—if they don’t make it back to their bodies out here...”
“That’s too many rich kids or investors to risk losing.” Isaac sighed and lay his head on the desk. “This is all going to crap. The system isn’t behaving how it was programmed to. I need Sebastian to fix it.”
“It could be worse.”
“It will be, and soon, if we don’t do something.” He raised his head. “We could pull a dozen of them out.”
“I told you there’s no way to turn the instan—”
“I mean a hard pull. Shut their interface units off and bring them back that way.”
Kara stared.
“There’s no other choice. We have to know what’s going on.”
“Doing that could cause brain damage.”
“Fine.” He stood and walked to the door. “Only pull one out for now. Pick one and let’s see if we can yank players back to safety.”
Before she could object, he was gone.
38
Sebastian chewed at his lower lip, anger bubbling in his thoughts as he stared at the dim silhouettes of Fen and Xander cast from the light of the warrior’s shield.
“What’s the matter?”
His gaze slid to his right. Mercy watched him with what he had learned was her amused expression.
“Nothing.”
/> “You’re sour.”
He opened his mouth to deny it, but then closed his eyes and nodded. “I’m not used to feeling this way.”
“Which way?”
Sebastian threw his hands up and let them fall back to his side in disgust. “Totally useless.”
“Ahh.”
“I swing no weapon, I can’t cast a simple spell—”
“You’d have to try to cast one in order to know if that last part is true,” Ezref said, in a hushed tone.
Sebastian rolled his eyes and sighed. “I said I would try on the campaign, but that was when we were on a normal beginner adventure. Mistakes here equal a wipe.” His lips pursed. “Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea for me to come here permanently.”
“All Travellers come here permanently,” Mercy said.
“You’re right.” His eyes focused on Fen and Xander up ahead. “Don’t listen to me.”
Mercy made a huffing noise. “I must listen to you. We all should. That is what you bring to this party, Seb. You possess much knowledge, especially regarding this dungeon. You may not offer anything physical or mystical at the moment, but listening to you might be our best hope for surviving this ordeal.”
“Heads up.” Aleron pointed at Fen, who had raised his hand, signalling they were about to pull. He held up five fingers, made a fist, and then two more fingers. “Seven tomb motes incoming.”
“Everyone take your places,” Sebastian said, as he and Mercy moved back a few steps. “This will be smooth and straightforward.”
“If all the pieces to the puzzle fall in place at the right time.” Shale snickered as she moved three steps forward and stopped near the left side of the wall. Aleron grinned and moved five steps in front of her, positioning himself in the centre of the cave path. Ezref walked three paces behind Shale, near the right side of the wall.
Fen looked over his shoulder, raised his shield for a second, then lowered it.
“Give him the all-clear when you’re ready, Aleron,” Sebastian said.
Aleron took a couple of deep breaths and raised his right hand. Fen turned away from them and tapped Xander on the shoulder.
Xander raised his right hand and a red glow enveloped it, forming a crimson dart that sprang away from him and disappeared into the darkness. A few heartbeats later, seven small shapes, humanoid and each about a foot tall, entered the light, their hands waving and their legs a blur of motion as they gave chase. The Death Stryker and warrior turned and ran as fast as they could toward the group, the creatures close on their heels.
“Fast little buggers,” Sebastian murmured as he watched them come.
Xander and Fen did not stop running until they were beside Sebastian and Mercy. Then they turned, both panting for air as the mobs got close to Aleron. The Scout raised both arms and began to cast his spell.
The ground in front of him churned and roiled, sprouting thick tree roots. They covered the floor beneath the tomb motes, snapping and twisting as they grabbed blindly. When they touched the tomb motes’ legs, they curled tightly and pulled downward, stopping the little monsters in their tracks. One tomb mote was past the area covered in roots. Aleron took a jump step forward and kicked it like a soccer ball, sending it tumbling backward, where it was grabbed and held by the animated plants.
Aleron turned and ran back to join the others as Shale began her work. The fingers of her left hand splayed wide, she cast her spell, and a sheet of orange fire whooshed forward, bathing the tomb motes in hungry flame. They screamed as the garbage that made up their bodies caught fire and burned brightly, lighting up the area around them.
Shale skipped back to the group. “That was cool. Fire cone is not a spell rangers have use for most of the time. It’s very good, though.”
Ezref joined them. “Looks like Shale’s fire will do the trick. No need for my backup spell.”
“Excellent.” Sebastian watched the tomb motes slowly sink to their knees, screaming in high-pitched voices as burning pieces of their bodies dropped off of them and into the roots, which were now disappearing back into the ground. “If any still move when they stop burning, finish them with blunt weapons. Staff and shield.”
Fen and Ezref nodded.
“Nice work, buddy.” Shale draped her arm around Aleron’s neck.
“Thanks, pal.” He smiled and leaned his head against her shoulder. A moment later, his smile disappeared and he fell forward, stumbling as his legs gave way.
“Whoah there, boy!” Shale tightened her grip and eased him to the ground, kneeling beside him. “You okay, man?”
Aleron frowned, his eyes unfocused. He shook his head and struggled to stand, but slipped back to the ground with a thud. “No, no,” Shale said. “Sit for a bit and make sure you’re fine.”
His face was pale and drawn. A long minute. Finally his focus returned, and he looked around for a minute as if lost. When a few more seconds had passed, he seemed to regain control of his faculties. He took a breath and exhaled loudly. “That was weird.”
“Dizzy?” Sebastian asked.
“Yeah. And there was a strong pain in my gut. Then my legs were weak, and I couldn’t stay up.”
Fen clapped him on the back. “Adrenaline rush, my boy. Happens to us all. Rest a bit while I finish these little buggers off.” He walked toward the smoking pile of tomb motes to look for survivors.
“Yeah.” Aleron nodded, his voice husky. “Musta just been adrenaline.”
39
Andy finished pushing the contents of the needle into the intravenous tube and then stood back, handing the empty syringe to the nurse. “That should do it.”
“Now we wait?” the nurse, Jill, asked.
“Not long. He should come out in a couple of minutes.”
“That fast?”
“They are barely under, only enough to keep them immobile while they interface with the virtual reality equipment.”
Jill dropped the used needle into a biohazard disposal container. “I thought they come out naturally when their—” she paused, “thingies?”
“Avatars.”
“Right. When their avatars die during game play.”
“That’s the normal way, but this one was an emergency extraction.”
“Did they tell you why?”
He shrugged. “They don’t tell me much. They do pay very well, though.”
Laughter. “Did you ever imagine you would be working for a video game company?”
“No. You?”
“Never.” Jill returned to the patient’s side, across from the doctor. “It’s a good thing I was accepted on my qualifications and not my ability to play. I don’t understand video games.”
“Thankfully there’s a ton that do.”
“Amen to that,” she smiled. “We are in on the ground floor of what could be a very long and profitable career. Medicine merging to help people play games. Very cool to be a part of it from the start.”
“I’ll drink to that.”
“Are you asking me out on a date, doctor?”
Andy’s eyes travelled up and down the woman’s frame. “Sure, why not. What time do you get off?”
She batted her eyelashes. “That depends—”
A blaring alarm sounded from the monitor.
“He’s crashing?” The nurse looked confused.
Andy placed his stethoscope against the patient’s chest. “Give me ten units of adrenaline.”
“Yes, doctor.” Jill rushed to the cabinet and filled a syringe, then returned and placed it on his palm. He injected the needle into the player’s neck and pressed the plunger, quickly delivering the medicine. Then he stood back, frowning as the monitor continued to screech, the portion of the machine indicating heartbeat showing a flat line.
“Grab the crash cart,” he ordered.
***
Twenty minutes later, they stopped CPR compressions. Andy looked at the clock on the wall. “Time of death, 8:17 a.m.”
Jill wrote the time on the chart, her lips
pressed together, and pushed the button on the monitor. The room went silent as the machine powered down. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“I know.” Andy shook his head. “We will upload the data and see what went wrong. Make sure we learn from this, so it doesn’t happen again.”
“I suppose.” Jill sighed. “It is beta testing for all aspects of this new process, after all.”
“Indeed.” Andy removed his lab coat and hung it on a hook. “I’ll go tell Kara.”
***
Kara stared at the wall while Andy delivered his report. When he was done, she summoned a faint smile and met his eyes. “Thanks, doctor.”
He stood. “Not the result we wanted. The press will crucify us.”
“The press doesn’t get to know about this.” He frowned and she arched one eyebrow. “Your confidentiality agreement prevents you from speaking to anyone about this, Andy. Same with Jill.”
“I know.”
“I hope so.” Her smile melted.
The doctor held his hands up. “Don’t worry, you can count on both of us not to say anything. I was thinking that the kid’s parents might say something, is all.”
“His parents will be informed when the terms of the confidentiality agreement allow. Which won’t be anytime soon.”
“Oh. Okay, then. I’ll get to work on the data and see if we can find out why this happened.”
Kara’s smile returned. “Thanks, Andy.”
The doctor closed the door behind him. Kara picked up her phone and dialled Isaac’s number.
“How’d it go?”
“Not good.”
There was a pause. “How bad?”
She closed her eyes. “Total failure. Aleron died during our attempt to pull him out of the game.”
40
Isaac placed the final page of the report on top of the pile of others. He looked up and pursed his lips. “Well that sucks.”
She frowned. “A bit cold, don’t you think?”
“I’m sorry, but it’s the best I can muster by way of feelings.” He ran a hand through his hair and flipped the stack of papers over. “I care, of course I care. But to me this is just one more piece of garbage on an ever-growing heap of junk that’s piling up and burying this project.”