Frags

by Thomas K. Carpenter

  Gabby ran back to the lodge and threw herself on the cot. The thoughts swirling around in her head made her want to scream. Now she wanted to leave the Blood Farm more than ever, just to distance herself from the complications. It would be simpler to go it alone.

  #

  That night she made the move, waiting until she thought Celia was sound asleep. Gabby crept by her. The pale girl slept like a corpse. Gabby had to resist the urge to check if she was even breathing.

  Gabby had left supplies in little piles around the Fort. She hadn't wanted to be seen packing by Celia. It didn't take long to round them all up and then she was in the long work shed that fit the fleet of Farm vehicles, pulling the motorcycle off the back of the Caterpillar.

  She walked it out of the shed and through the rows of silent buildings. The moon was half full and the cloud cover patchy. Every time the moon swept past the clouds, she wanted to duck and hide.

  The Fort kept its gate locked at night, but anyone could open it. She knew the Blood Farm security would know she'd left, but it wouldn't matter. Ben had probably warned them.

  As she hiked her leg over the seat, she saw him. Ben was standing in a patch of moonlight. He didn't move to stop her, or call out for guards. He just raised his hand and gave her a muted wave.

  Gabby stabbed the clutch with her heel and started the engine. She was speeding away from the Fort in no time, not even caring if Celia had woken from the noise. Her insects couldn't fly fast enough to catch up and Ben would keep her secret.

  The clouds were thinner as she headed southeast and she could make out the ground enough to keep moving at a decent pace. Gabby rode until she thought she was in danger of falling asleep while riding.

  A meandering creek with tight foliage made for a good hiding spot. She napped for what seemed like ten minutes, but when she climbed out from the bushes, she found the sun high in the sky.

  Not long after she left the creek, Gabby found an old cracked highway. She blazed down the road, startling a pair deer eating daisies from the larger crevices.

  Gabby rode like that for the rest of the day until her butt, sore from the bumpy road, forced her to take a break. She checked the gas tank to find she had enough left to make the final leg to the station. She hoped to reach it by nightfall, since the train was to arrive around midnight.

  When she cut her engines at the station, she was surprised by the overwhelming solitude. A dilapidated building with vines choking its walls was the only building in sight. Half the roof had fallen in and squirrels could be seen scampering out the hole.

  Gabby started to wonder if the Game Train was a hoax. She walked her bike to the edge of the tracks and checked her maps to make sure she was at the right spot. Her tiny avatar hovered over the station on the Freelands map, so she found a comfortable spot to wait with a good view of her surroundings.

  As the darkness crept across the sky, Gabby noticed owls hooting in the nearby woods. She hoped that animal life meant there were no other humans around, but she wasn't much of a country girl. Even during her time in the farmhouse, the others had done the majority of the work, though she helped out where she could. Even Mouse could sew and fixed the holes in their clothes. Gabby couldn't even do that. She'd been an expert at LifeGame, but none of those skills translated to farm living.

  She pulled her knees to her chest and rested her chin there. The night whispered coolly on her skin. Gabby kept checking behind her, feeling gooseflesh come upon her at odd times.

  Far from the Blood Farm and with a quiet space to think, Gabby wondered if she'd made the right choice leaving the Frags. Except for Delilah, who she'd just met, the rest of them had been her close companions for the last half a year. She hoped they didn't see her leaving them as a betrayal.

  A distinct footfall startled her to her feet. Gabby circled around to find nothing but the night. Just in case, she cycled through her Freelands interface to make sure no one had hacked her. It had to be her overactive imagination stimulated by the vast aloneness.

  Gabby rubbed her arms and resumed her former position, staying alert to even the slightest noise. Too edgy to stay still, Gabby checked the level in the gas tank. She hoped she could barter for more gas in the Double Eagle.

  Flickering shapes burst over her head and Gabby ducked, grabbing for the knife in her boot. The bats squeaked and wheeled into the darkness. Gabby relaxed her grip on the hilt.

  Sitting on the motorcycle calmed her nerves. Even if someone ran out of the darkness at her, she'd have a good chance of kick starting the bike and riding away at full speed. Gabby waited patiently, keeping her head on a swivel, alternating the sore side that rested on the seat.

  She was busy massaging out a knot when she heard the whistle. It was distant and lonesome and brought the gooseflesh to her skin. When it sounded again, she swore it sounded like a scream, but she knew it was the train.

  Gabby waited, watching the northbound track. Eventually she saw it. One bright beam cutting through the darkness toward her. The train sounded its whistle again and Gabby wondered how she thought it'd been a scream. It was only a whistle. Maybe the train wouldn't be as bad as her gut felt.

  A broken timber in the station house rattled as the train approached. Gabby started to wonder if the train would even stop at the station. Did she have to put up a flag? Or notify the train through the Freelands net? Nothing had indicated that she would need to, but now that it was barreling down on her, her mind raced with concerns.

  If the train blew past, she'd be forced to contact the Blood Farm for someone to come get her. She didn't think she could stand the shame of returning to the Farm, having failed in leaving the Frags. Her only solace was that the Frags would be doubtful to continue to think she was a leader if she did. Any of those thoughts would be dispelled by her failure.

  But that event didn't come to pass, as the tortured screams of brakes on rails slowed the train. The great light on the front of the train blew by her as she held up her arm to block the light.

  The cars were old and painted over with black. Gabby could see hints of windows that had been boarded over beneath the black. The squealing breaks continued their clamor until at last the train, at least thirty cars long, grinded to a stop.

  And then nothing happened.

  No one came out. No lights came on. Even the light at the head of the train seemed to be off, though it was hard to tell as at least ten cars had gone by and the tracks curved slightly away.

  Gabby waited for a long time while her heart hammered in her chest. She waited long enough that the sounds of the night returned to fill in the vacuous silence. The owls in the woods resumed their occasional hooting.

  She was starting to think she'd been better off if the train had sped by when she heard that same footfall behind her. Gabby was prepared to ignore it as a figment of her imagination when she heard a second one.

  Chapter Fifteen

  A man in a top hat and monocle stood behind her, no more than three paces away. It had to be a projection, but why bother with the vacant footfalls? Unless he was trying to unnerve her.

  Gabby could see the man clearly. In a trick of her eye-screens, the world around them was brightened, only to a distance of a few meters away, but it was enough to discern even the tiniest of details.

  The monocle, a gear with a hole in the middle, rotated in place around the man's eye. His gaze was bright and amused and though his lips were pulled thin, they indicated a smile lurking beneath. The top hat was fashionably tilted to the side, matching the almost how-do-you-do flavor of his demeanor. His hand rested inside his black coat. As he leaned his head to one side, Gabby got the impression of a simple machine settling into place, all tricks to hide the man beneath, if there even was a man.

  "Have you ascertained the nature of my being yet?"

  "You're the conductor."

  "The Collector, actually. I conduct nothing." The Collector paused, his eyes twinkling with continued amusement. "Gabriella DeCorte, do you perchance, wi
sh to tour these splendid Freelands of ours on my train?"

  His skin shone with its own brassy light, flawless in its features. Certain details reminded Gabby of the Evil Dolls, except Avony and her gang embraced a certain irony in their choice of skin. The Collector seemed earnest in his attempt to appear as a puppet of sorts.

  "I need a ride to lands of the Double Eagle. Can you take me there?"

  "A ride?" He made a noise of delight. "What a delicious way to describe the journey. As I said before, I am the Collector. For the chance to move your physical body from one location to another, you may join my little carnival and if you can defeat my games, your wish may be granted."

  Gabby narrowed her eyes. "And what guarantee do I have that your games are not fixed?"

  The Collector shrugged. "You don't. But it's doubtful that anyone would want to ride on my train if there was no chance to win."

  "And what if I lose?"

  The monocle began to spin faster, while a manic grin rose to his lips like a blood red sun.

  "This isn't LifeGame little girl. The losers don't disappear." Gabby's heart jumped in her chest. "We're much more civilized in the Freelands."

  "What do you know about that?" she asked, letting her emotions rise with hope.

  "A little more than you, or maybe nothing," said the Collector. "Either way it doesn't matter, unless you take a ride on my train."

  "I don't just want a ride then," she said. "If I win your games, I want information, too. Whatever you know."

  The Collector smirked. "Ahh...the demands of the young. So headlong and ready to conquer the world. Though it might be a blessing to accept your offer. A long ride on my train would probably keep you from harm."

  "What do you mean?" Gabby wanted to strangle the information out of the Collector. He seemed to sense her need for information and taunt her with it.

  "If you lose my games, you must stay on the train for ten circuits, performing labor at my request, and given the news of impending war, I think you would find that a blessing." He rolled his eyes as she opened her mouth. "Not that kind of labor. I have a train to run and I need people to service it and write its programs and make my games happen."

  "How long does a circuit take?" she asked.

  "A month, maybe more, depending on the stops."

  One year on the train. Was it worth it? And what was this about an impeding war? Between the GSA and Southlands?

  "How long would I have to stay if I was just getting a ride south? With no information?"

  "One circuit."

  "How do I know your information will be worth that kind of bet? Can you give me a guarantee?"

  The Collector tittered, his whole body making tiny shuttering convulsions. "Guarantee? Why did you come to the Freelands if you want a guarantee? Maybe you should have stayed in LifeGame. It suits you better."

  His movements calmed until he appeared dead, his eyes blankly staring in her direction, then he up and sighed. "But if you wish a guarantee, I will promise that if you lose my games, I will give you the information at the end of your service. If you think me a liar then, I will give my train to you."

  Either he was lying, or he really was guaranteeing his information would be useful. She needed the information bad enough that she was willing to risk it. With that and Milton's contacts, maybe she had a shot at figuring out what happened to the losers of LifeGame and specifically Zaela.

  "Okay, I accept."

  "Shake on it?"

  The Collector held out his hand, and though he was standing a good meter away, it reached all the way to her. Gabby was accustomed to physics being bended in their augmented worlds, but the dead eyes, maniacal grin and insanely long arm only solidified her unease about the Collector and his Game Train.

  For a brief moment, Gabby considered returning to the Blood Farm and reuniting with the Frags. Maybe together they could make the journey south and would be better suited to take on the challenges that it presented. But then Daniel's face rose up in her mind.

  Getting the Frags would only put them at risk. Gabby mentally cataloged all the ways that her friends had almost died. She couldn't do it. She couldn't bring them into it. They'd only agreed to help her get Zaela because it helped them find the losers. But they'd only agreed to go that far. She knew there was no way that Milton would purposely go back into the GSA. Drogan or Celia couldn't either.

  No. She had to do it. She had to risk it on the Game Train. It was her choice and that was the way she wanted to do it. Take all the risk herself and keep her friends from harm.

  Gabby grabbed his hand and pumped it twice. "I accept."

  "Excellent."

  She followed him onto the train. The inside didn't match the plain black exterior. Plush luxury greeted her every step as she walked across the carpet, keeping behind the Collector as he hobbled forward in puppet hitches. After traversing a couple of cars, she was led to her room. It was lamp lit and smelled of faint cinnamon.

  "Sleep if you can, food will be brought to your room when you awake, games soon after that." The Collector lifted his hat in a gesture of goodbye.

  "Wait," she said before he could leave. He answered with a raised eyebrow that seemed to hover like a fluttering bird. "How many days to the Double Eagle?"

  "Three days. Three games. Win all three and you will be rewarded with the conclusion of your journey. Lose, and well, you're mine for the next year."

  Gabby wanted to protest the three days of games, he hadn't mentioned that outside, but it was too late. She'd already accepted his program and by the laws of the Freelands, she was stuck.

  Alone in her room, she lay on the cushy bed and tried to get comfortable. Clearly, the Collector knew his clientele when he said, "Sleep if you can" because Gabby couldn't. She had a lot going on this wager with the train operator.

  Later she fell asleep without warning and awoke to a tray of steaming eggs, bacon and toast. Gabby rubbed her eyes and wolfed down her meal. She hadn't eaten since the Blood Farm.

  With the last bite devoured, she set her fork down and like a signaling bell, her door slid open. A ball of light hovered in the corridor. Gabby followed as it moved down the hall. She couldn't shake the feeling that someone was nearby, hidden by the illusions on her eye-screens, but she could do nothing about it.

  In LifeGame, the games were monitored and tampering with participants was a grave crime. She didn't feel she had the same protections with the Collector on his Game Train. Everything about him screamed that he'd come from the GSA, but the years may have twisted his methods. She knew she had to be ready for anything.

  Gabby stood before a blank, carpeted wall. The ball of light floated into it. The Collector's voice whispered into her ears, "We'll start with an easy one. A test of your reflexes, Ms. Frag."

  She wanted to snap back with a cutting remark, but the wall disappeared into a swirling black mass and she had to focus on the impending game. Gabby stepped forward and the wall sucked her through. She was used to transition screens like that.

  The overwhelming darkness gave her vertigo as it felt like she was floating in space. Then the world started to draw in around her. Piece by piece, she began to get a lay of the setting.

  A rolling chair, floating in the darkness, appeared two paces ahead. Then a short wall with fabric sides and a collection of family pictures posted on it. Pretty soon, Gabby began to get a sense of her surroundings. She'd seen one of these before in an immersive. They were called "offices" and they were the places people had been sequestered to do menial tasks for mindless hours on end. Gabby understood that before gaming revolutionized the workplace, people usually wasted most of their time trying to "look busy." A wasted enterprise if she'd ever heard of one.

  When the three icons appeared before her, Gabby knew what kind of game it would be—a shooter.

  "A test of reflexes, huh? Ms. Frag, my butt." Gabby knew the Collector was listening and said it for his benefit. She wasn't a fan of shooters, like Unthar, but she was deadly enough, s
ince boys like to pick these games on dates and she hated being bad at anything.

  "I'm not planning on being your frag."

  The irony of the game probably had the Collector chuckling in his hiding place. Which made him an escapee from the GSA for sure. Irony was bread and butter to LifeGamers.

  When the world finally finished drawing in, she grabbed the shotgun and the feel of hardwood smoothed into her hands. Her favorite was the sniper rifle, dispensing frags from a distance, but the close quarters of the office walls made it a terrible choice.

  Gabby crouched and shuffled up to a half-wall. Brief flashes of movement from around the office indicated where her opponents would be. Gabby wasn't sure if she was playing the Collector, other train guests or game AI, but either way, she didn't want to lose.

  The Collector's voice broadcast to the game field: "First contestant to fifty frags wins!" After a countdown of blood red numbers above the playing field, a starting horn blared.

  The game wasn't going to be a slow tactical game, but a race to fifty. Gabby hated games like this. They required an ultra-aggressive stance and she preferred using her mind to outthink her opponents.

  Instead of creeping through the maze of cubbies, Gabby sprinted down the brief passage toward the hint of movement beyond the next turn. Gabby went low and rolled onto her side, pulling the trigger at the huge form on the other side.

  "No!" she screamed right after.

  Drogan fell to his knees and mumbled, "Cradle will fall" before his body fell flat on his face and then sunk into the floor. A little white 'ONE' appeared in the right of her vision.

  It couldn't have been Drogan. He was still back in the Blood Farm. The Collector must have pulled the images out of her public files and made enemy skins out of them.

  Footsteps alerted her to another contestant making the turn. Gabby aimed her shotgun and prepared to pull the trigger. When the icy-blue eyes rounded on her, Gabby hesitated, and the world exploded. Michael, or a game-sim version of him, unleashed both barrels of his shotgun into her chest. Gabby tried to catch her breath as the pain overwhelmed her. Michael moved on, leaving her to fall to the floor and resurrect in a different spot, moments later.