Digital Evolution (The Game is Life Book 5)
Page 25
The big man fell to the ground with a low grunt.
Addisyn placed one foot in the door to make sure it stayed open while she bent down to search him. She found a gun in a shoulder holster and a telescoping baton. She tucked the pistol into her pants and flicked the baton so that it extended. She looked down the hall and then jogged off to the right.
***
Addisyn pressed herself against the wall and waited to catch her breath. Forty-five minutes had passed since beginning her escape attempt. This was her first attempt. She had expected to be apprehended by now and returned to her room. Despite her young age, the Game had given her experience in this area. It was common to be captured once or twice, but the information gained during each attempt was valuable and enabled a determined person to get further with each try. She had avoided detection for the most part, only having to dispatch three startled guards along the way. Her breathing slowed and she ventured a quick look around the corner.
Twenty-five feet away stood the front door. She was confident that if she could get out of the house then she would blend with the crowd outside and be home free. If there is a crowd. There’s a good chance we are in an isolated location. The drive here took over an hour.
She decided not to think about that. Get out of the house and deal with the next problem as it comes.
Addisyn pushed herself away from the wall and began to move towards the door. Halfway there, a loud sound from outside startled her. She bent down and leaned against the closest wall while she listened.
The loud sounds stopped and were replaced by a scratching sound near the door handle. That sounds like a lock pick. Is someone trying to break in? Addisyn crept forward and the door made a distinctive click before opening.
A woman dressed entirely in black entered the house. She was beautiful, maybe thirty years old with long black hair pulled into a tight ponytail. Three guns were strapped to her body and the hilts of two knives were visible as well. Her eyes were focused and cool and she moved with the practiced smoothness of a dancer. It was obvious that this woman could handle the weapons she carried.
There was nowhere for Addisyn to hide. She waited until the woman saw her. When she did, the woman nodded and smiled.
“You wouldn’t happen to be Addisyn?”
The girl nodded.
The woman chuckled and opened the door wide. “Well then, it looks like you have done half my job for me. I was sent to rescue you. It’s clear out front. Let’s go.”
Addisyn hesitated.
The woman sensed her reluctance. “Your parents sent me. Actually, Brandon did. Hurry. I expect you have tripped a few alarms and we will soon have company.”
Addisyn stood and sprinted out the door.
“To the black car out front,” the woman said as Addisyn ran past her. “I’m right behind you.”
Both of them reached the car at the same time. The woman jumped into the driver’s seat and turned the car on as Addisyn pulled the seatbelt into position. The woman gunned the engine and sped away.
“Well, that was fun,” she said. “Easier than I was expecting.”
“I think I was free and clear,” Addisyn said.
The woman shook her head. “You did a great job getting to the door, kid, but they would have had you about three minutes after you left the house.”
“It seemed pretty easy.”
“Oh no. I know the layout of that place inside and out. You had to work hard to get as far as you did. The place was crawling with invisible sensors and guards. If you avoided them, you have serious ability.”
“Thanks.” Addisyn smiled. “I ran into three guards.”
“Impressive.” The woman grinned. “The outside was filled with guards and traps, too. Took me six hours to get to the front door.” She reached behind her and held up a large pair of heavy goggles. “Impossible to detect most of them without a piece of equipment like this. There’s no way you would have sensed them all naturally.”
“Most of them give off a fuzzy hum.”
“What?”
“The sensors and alarms. They give off a faint fuzzy noise. The ones inside did, anyway.” She shrugged. “Maybe they were defective.”
“Or maybe you have a natural instinct for detecting them. I’ve seen that in some people. The sensors give off frequencies. It’s possible that you can sense them. Maybe you were born to be a field operative, kid.”
“I was. Once.”
“Inside the Game?”
Addisyn nodded.
“Well, that experience helped you, and we still might need it. We aren’t out of the woods yet.”
Addisyn laughed at the figure of speech. The road they were driving down was surrounded on all sides by a large, dark forest.
“You have a sense of humour too. That’s good.”
“Thanks. You said Uncle Brandon sent you. Are you a friend of his?”
“I’m not sure. The kid seems nice enough. I’m sure we could be friends, given enough time together.”
“I’m confused.”
“I just got here.”
“To the city?” Addisyn asked. “Are you from a different part of the world?”
“I’m from a different world.”
“What?”
“Yeah.” The woman nodded. “We can talk about it a bit if you like. It will pass the time 'til we get you home. Maybe I should introduce myself first.”
“That would be good. You know my name already. I’m Addisyn Strayne.”
The woman took one hand off of the wheel and held it out to the girl. “Nice to meet you, Addisyn. My name is Dawn Thorne.”
79
The old man entered the coffee shop and stopped, ignoring the protests of those behind him as he looked around.
“Ah, there he is.” He turned right and walked towards a booth near the back, his heavy, laceless combat boots clomping as they struck the ground with each step. He stopped and looked down at the table’s occupant. “I need your help.”
The singing man did not bother to look up. In one hand he held a tattered copy of The Game is Life, and in the other, a half filled coffee cup. He slurped from his cup and smacked his lips as he looked up from his book. “When?”
The old man chuckled and slid into the booth across from him. “I recall a time not too long ago when you would have asked me ‘where’ instead of when. It’s good to see that you are getting the hang of all this.”
“I’ve been at ‘this’ for a long time now.”
“Really? It doesn’t seem that long to me.”
“I’m not playing that game today.”
“What game?” The old man leaned forward and peered at the cover of the book in the singing man’s hand. “Why are you reading that? I swear I’ve seen you with that thing a million times and I don’t think I’ve even met with you that much.”
“It’s the best book I’ve ever read.”
“Huh? Why?”
The singing man looked up. “George nailed it. This little book is the closest anyone has ever come to putting the universal truth down in writing. And it’s written so simply. I am in awe of George’s creation.”
“He’s not called George anymore.”
The singing man waved the book. “Because of this contribution, he will always be George to me. When’s the last time you read it?”
“When it first came out.”
“Not since?”
“Maybe.” The old man grabbed the cup from the singing man and took a drink, making a face as he tasted the brew. “Too much sugar.”
The singing man ignored the comment. “You should read it more often.”
“Why? It’s a child’s book.”
“Stop it.”
“What? It is. You are enjoying it because you’re young.” With his finger, he touched the bottle caps—one by one—on the singing man’s hand until he had tapped all four. “When you get a bit more experience”—he held both of his hands up and let the multitude of bottle caps tinkle—“then you w
ill know what I’m talking about. If only the universe were as simple as George wrote it.”
“I didn’t say it was that simple.” The tone of his singing deepened to mirror his irritation. “I said it was the closest anyone had come.”
“You might be right on that account.” The old man took another sip of the drink. “Okay, it’s not as sweet as I thought on the first taste.”
The singing man grinned. “When do you need me to go?”
“These coordinates.” He passed a small scrap of dirty paper across the table.
The singing man looked at the paper. His lips tightened. “This isn’t good.”
“Maybe, maybe not.” The old man stood up. “It’s too early to tell. I have things to do. See ya around. Enjoy your reading time.”
The singing man looked once more at his book, but after a few seconds he glanced at the scrap of paper on the table. He groaned—still a pleasant sound when done musically—and stood to leave. “I don’t think this will turn out well.”
80
Cooper did not rush to his destination.
His task had become more difficult as time wore on. First, they had increased the number of guards. That had not stopped him. Only a group of the General’s Hand would give him serious opposition and, after his third attack on a power generator facility with no appearance of any of his old comrades, he had felt certain that would not be a factor.
Removing the power cores had been a drastic measure on their part. It was at that point that Cooper realized they considered him a threat. Their move had led him here, the only other option for attaining success in his mission.
He looked out from the perimeter and went over his plan one more time.
I will get one shot at this. Once they know I’m here they will destroy it all rather than let me try again.
Cooper stood and stretched, bouncing on the balls of his feet and touching the two knives strapped to his back. They were twin blades, eleven inches long. Guns were not necessary; he was faster than any opponent he would encounter.
He pulled a black mask over his face, thin and bulletproof like the rest of his outfit, and jogged towards the front gate.
***
It took two hours for Cooper to reach his objective.
It’s a shame no one is seeing this. It has gone perfectly. If I were in the Game, military fans would watch this as a textbook example of how to conquer with stealth and patience.
He pulled his knife from the dead guard’s throat and rolled the body over with his boot, reaching down to remove a key card, then opened the door and entered the small, round chamber. The Artifact floated in the centre of the room.
Cooper approached it, removed his gloves, and tucked them into his belt, then stood there for a long moment.
Finally, he shook his head, took a deep breath, and looked skyward.
“I should say something deep and meaningful, but no one will hear my words. Even if they could, they wouldn’t understand what I’m doing, or why I’m doing it. The people of this world can’t live like this.” He shook his head. “A life of oppression and fear is no life at all. They tried to fight back. They were not strong enough to prevent disaster, but I am.”
He looked down at the Artifact. “If I wasn’t meant to do this then why am I here? Why do I know what to do?” Cooper rubbed his eyes. “Maybe nothing will happen. If I’m crazy, then nothing will happen. Either way, this is the only thing I could think of to do. I only wanted to help.”
He looked around the room. “You’re wasting time, Cooper. No one is here. Get on with it.”
He lowered both hands until they were almost touching the globe. The colours slowed and came closer to the surface, the swirling patterns tightening.
Cooper placed one finger on the globe closest to the gold swirl. All of the colours leapt towards his point of contact with the red swirl in the lead. A split second before it made contact, he withdrew his finger.
“It has to be gold first.” He spoke to the colours as if they were pets that might understand him. “This will be trickier than I imagined.”
He tapped again, closer to the gold than before. This time it sprang towards him and made contact. The other colours swirled angrily around the gold but were unable to get past it and make contact with his finger. He laughed. They are like eager puppies starved for attention.
He waited until the next colour that he wanted came close to his next finger. When it did, his second finger dropped down. The red swirl leapt to his finger before the others. “Good.” Cooper nodded, sweat beginning to form on his brow.
It took longer to make contact with the third colour. Repeated attempts resulted in near misses as other colours sprang ahead in the race to his fingertip. Each time he was able to remove the finger before the incorrect colour reached him. He was glad for his reflexes. Without them, this would have no chance of succeeding.
Black came last. By the time he managed to make contact with it, Cooper was sweating profusely. His hands ached as they splayed outwards at different points on the Artifact’s surface, and each fingertip tingled from the extended contact with its respective colour.
Cooper smiled grimly. “It’s not too late to turn back, old boy. I can let them go and still get away from this.”
He knew that was impossible now. He had come too far to turn back. Seconds passed as he built up courage to do what needed to be done next. His fingers began to shake from the strain. Salty sweat dribbled into his eyes, stinging as he blinked to clear his vision.
Cooper took a deep breath and nodded. “Forgive me if I am wrong.”
He dropped his last finger and the black met it hungrily. Then, he drew his fingers together in a quick motion, pulling all five colours so that they crashed and merged. The colours sizzled and writhed, trying to avoid the interaction, but he forced them to continue touching. They began to blend. When the blending was complete, the single angry swirl emitted a scream that built to a high-pitched crescendo. Cooper felt an overwhelming urge to step back, to let the colours separate, but he held on.
The screaming stopped as suddenly as it had began. Or maybe my eardrums have shattered. He fought to keep his hands on the Artifact. The colours, now blended into one ugly mass of blood red, stopped swirling. Cooper released his hand.
Boom.
A tremendous pulse of black light erupted from the Artifact in a blinding dark flash, a wave of ugliness that pulsed outwards in every direction and was soon gone.
Cooper lost consciousness as he was thrown backwards, his body hitting the wall like a rag doll.
81
Cooper shuffled forward and sat on the stone steps of the park. He ran a hand through his white hair and looked down at the ground.
The town was empty. He had checked every building to make certain. Not one living soul was here.
When he passed through on his way to the facility, it had been bustling with activity. Now it was as if the entire population had never been.
Behind him, birds chirped overhead and small animals moved through the trees. The city was deathly silent. He had tested light switches, power tools, automobiles, anything technological that he came across. Nothing functioned.
I’m so tired. How will I know if my plan worked?
The sound of footsteps caused him to raise his head. The old man walked towards him. He stopped in front of Cooper and looked down at him with a sad expression.
“Hello,” Cooper said.
The old man did not reply.
“Did it work? It must have. You know what I was trying to do, right? Are you here to tell me it worked?”
The old man sighed and looked up at the sky, squinting as the sunlight touched his face. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He smiled sadly and gazed once more at Cooper. “I need you to come with me, son.” His voice was soft.
A dark pit formed in Cooper’s stomach, heavy and thick. He stood and nodded. The old man walked away from the park and Cooper followed.
***
He stood in an enormous hall, much larger than the house could ever contain. The floor was covered in white and black marble with thick veins of shiny quartz sprinkled throughout. The walls were a rich gold colour, adorned with large paintings and tapestries. The ceiling was high and domed. Soft white light filtered down from above, not too bright, but also not dim.
Large oak double doors on the far side of the room opened and a group of men and women emerged. They were dressed in various types and styles of clothing, but all of them had one thing in common: each person wore gloves with red pop bottle caps attached to them. Some had only a few, others had more. None had near the number of pop bottle caps that the old man’s gloves held.
“What is this?” Cooper asked. “Where are we and who are these people? I thought you were the only one with those gloves.”
The group formed a single line and the old man moved closer to them, stopping a few steps away. He looked back and motioned for Cooper to join him.
When Cooper stood beside the old man, one person standing across from them stepped forward. He had a long black leather trench coat and black, round wire-rimmed glassed. “Hello, Cooper.” It sounded like he was singing the words. “Please put these on.”
The singing man held out a pair of plain black gloves. Cooper reached out and accepted them. He looked at the old man, who nodded. He examined the gloves. They were thin and light, made from a material that he did not recognize. He slipped the gloves on. They tingled.