by Gwenda Bond
“It was no big deal.” I shrugged. “But it confirmed what she’s saying. It proved to me that it’s true. They can do things they shouldn’t be able to. I just can’t figure out how or why. They’re getting away, we should—”
“We’ll catch up to them. What did they do to you?” he insisted.
“I felt them . . . push me. Away. My mind, not me,” I clarified. His alien expression darkened. “But I was fine. I am fine.”
“Time for us to catch them,” he said in response.
I wished I had a secret decoder ring that would explain his reaction. Was he mad they’d done something to me? Or concerned in general that they could act outside the game?
We caught up to the Warheads without any trouble, watching as they spread out in a silent circle around a girl grappling with what appeared to be a giant troll. The hunch-backed monster stood three times the girl’s height, and when it shoved her with a hand nearly as big as she was, she backed off, as if to rethink her strategy.
She was a soldier too, though not like the Warheads. She had on camouflage instead of black, and wore a crisscrossing belt filled with grenades. I took a closer look—yes, the grenades had words printed on them. They curled around the sides of the weaponry. I could make out nirvana and karma and viscera.
“That’s her,” I said.
“She’s holding her own,” SmallvilleGuy said.
Unfortunately, the troll meant Anavi was too occupied to notice the Warheads. But if I called out to warn her, then the troll would almost certainly be able to best her. And the other thing that had started to worry me was how real everything in the game felt.
I didn’t want to find out whether getting hurt would too.
But Anavi had decided she was tired of troll fighting. She backed up a few more steps—the Warheads behind her doing the same, again, so she wouldn’t see them yet—and then took a running start before—
“Is she really . . .” I started, but left off, gaping.
“I did not see that coming,” SmallvilleGuy said. “And neither did the troll.”
He was right. Anavi was stabbing into the monster’s clothing with some kind of tool for leverage, climbing right up its arm. When she reached his shoulder, she stood and yelled out: “Sic semper tyrannis, troll!”
And she jabbed the small tool she’d used on the way up there into the creature’s massive neck.
“That was a tranq dart. Look out,” SmallvilleGuy said and pulled me out of the way as the troll swayed and then fell forward like a tree crashing down in a forest.
It hit with enough force that the ground shook beneath our feet. I leaned into SmallvilleGuy, trying to make out what had happened to Anavi.
I spotted the proud warrior at the exact same moment as the Warheads did. And vice versa.
The three of them nearest Anavi, where she’d landed on the ground in a fearless warrior’s crouch, began to clap, balancing machine guns and other heavy artillery against their chests.
“Well done . . .”
“We could use . . .”
“A fighter like you on our side . . .”
The ring of them advanced on her, so that even in their appreciation, the sinister intent was clear. They had her surrounded.
Which was the kind of thing I needed to witness for the story, but now that I had, that was enough.
“Yo, boys and girls,” I said, striding away from SmallvilleGuy, “give the lady some space.” Anavi’s character was wide-eyed at having been cornered, but she visibly breathed easier at the sight of me. Ironic, because after watching her take down that beast, I didn’t think Anavi needed much help in here.
“We’re just recruiting,” one of them said.
“But we have an opening for our next kill.”
“You look like you’d be a good one, elf.”
“I am not an elf,” I said, standing my ground. “I’m a reporter.”
Maybe it wasn’t the thing to do. Rifles lifted around me. And, yes, I recognized what kinds of guns they were, all of them military grade and designed to kill.
Anavi took a few steps toward the squadron and said, “Don’t. She’s with me.”
But that was the wrong thing to say too, because it signaled the end of nonviolent recruitment mode. Half the Warheads’ guns swung around to point at Anavi, while the rest stayed trained on me. A chorus of low laughter was next. Then someone said, “I don’t think you want to be doing this. Any of it.”
SmallvilleGuy, obviously. He had jumped on top of the downed troll, so he stood higher than the rest of us. I wanted to tell him to get down from there, to ask what he thought he was doing, to tell him they might hurt him . . .
But I didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of showing any worry.
“Don’t bother. I’m fine, and so’s Anavi,” I said.
One of the Warheads decided that was the last straw. Or maybe he just had an itchy trigger finger.
As the bullet flew toward Anavi, she said to me, “Hope you got what you needed.” And then she poofed right out of existence.
She’d said she would turn off her holoset if things got too intense. So she had.
I tried to reground myself, find my body, in prep to do the same. But it was taking a moment, especially because I was still focused on SmallvilleGuy, and the fact that half the Warheads were heading toward him.
He smiled at them. “You guys give teamwork a bad name. And I heard you don’t know when to quit, either.”
Before they could shoot, a spray of red and green beams emanated from SmallvilleGuy’s eyes through the glasses his character wore. His head moved in slow motion from side to side, the lasers swiveling as he did, knocking all the weapons to the ground in one pass. Some of them fell into separate pieces, even.
“Lo, get out of here,” SmallvilleGuy said when the beams faded. “I’ll meet you after.”
A Warhead spoke up. “Friendly aliens aren’t supposed to have laser vision.”
But another one said, “Good thing . . .”
And another, “. . . we have lots of extra firepower.”
Before I could figure out what they meant by that, my shoulder exploded in white-hot pain.
CHAPTER 9
The sharp flare of pain knocked me back into being able to tell the difference between my in-game form and real-world body. I watched as SmallvilleGuy leaped high into the air again, in a probably doomed attempt to avoid a hail of bullets. At the same time, I lifted my actual hand and switched off the holoset.
I put my hand to my shoulder, which smarted with the phantom pain. When that faded, I laid it over my pounding heart and looked around at the quiet safety of my not-yet-familiar room.
Convincing myself it was safe took me a little while. How long, I couldn’t have said.
Devin’s cautionary echo of the manufacturer warning rang in my ears, and I was breathing hard. But eventually my racing heartbeat began to return to normal. The bed beneath me felt solid again, the world real again, and in the real world . . .
SmallvilleGuy must be freaking out. Assuming he made it out okay.
I was at my desk in a few shaky breaths, opening up my laptop and typing in the passwords. The moment I got into the chat screen, I saw his name. He pinged me with a message, and I sank into my chair. With something like relief, but I wouldn’t have called it that.
Not exactly.
SmallvilleGuy: Are you all right?
I could have run a marathon now that I’d recovered, adrenaline surging through me.
SkepticGirl1: No. I’m not.
SmallvilleGuy: Do you feel disoriented? Pulling yourself out of the game like that can be dangerous, especially when you’re hurt. Maybe I should call and wake up your parents.
My fingers were as shaky as my breath. But being hurt wasn’t why. No one was calling anyone and definitely
not my parents.
And what if he was hurt? I wouldn’t have a clue who to tell or anyone to call.
SkepticGirl1: Physically, I’m fine. Are you?
SmallvilleGuy: Fine, like you.
The shakiness in my fingers transformed. They continued to tremble, but the cause shifted. It no longer came from feeling like I’d been shot and then tossed out of an airplane without a parachute.
SkepticGirl1: I am not fine.
SkepticGirl1: I am too angry to be fine. If the Warheads think they’re getting away with whatever they’re up to, they have another thing coming.
SmallvilleGuy: Lois . . . Don’t do anything rash.
I almost typed back Rash is my middle name, but that would only worry him. Tonight’s reminder that if he had needed my help in the game or outside it, I would have been powerless to do anything about it was not welcome. It wasn’t like I could travel to Smallville and go around to all the farms trying to see which cute little calf answered to Nellie Bly. I wanted to be the kind of friend who was always there when needed, who always had the other person’s back—and if I was being honest, I especially wanted to always have his.
I balled my fingers into frustrated fists, and then unclenched them. Tradition was tradition. I would end tonight the same way as usual, before I said something that would embarrass me later.
SkepticGirl1: You going to tell me who you are?
I waited.
The chat window told me that he was typing, then typing some more. I sighed.
SkepticGirl1: It’s okay. Chat with you tomorrow.
I closed the laptop before I could see his next message.
“Good thing it wasn’t a first date,” I said quietly.
Because, if it had been, it would have been a complete and epic disaster.
He protected you. You wanted to protect him. Don’t be too mad.
But I was. Just not at him.
I thought I would have trouble sleeping, but once the adrenaline faded, it came easily. For a few hours, anyway.
I woke up in the middle of the night from a bad dream featuring a circle of black-clad commandos who were pointing weapons at me as I lay prone on the ground.
But it wasn’t the dream threat that worried me. I turned over, clutching a pillow against my stomach, obsessing over the abrupt way I’d left the chat with SmallvilleGuy. I shouldn’t have shut the conversation down like that on him, angry and frustrated or not.
But I understood something suddenly. It hit me like a lightning strike, and I sat up in bed. I realized why I should have stuck it out, talked about what was bothering me with him. Why I was so sure that he would know exactly what I meant about never wanting to let someone else down.
The two of us were alike. We wouldn’t stand by and watch, not when we could act instead.
*
But I was still angry the next morning, stalking through the halls on the way to second period. I wouldn’t feel better until I got back at the jerky Warheads and figured out what they were up to and why they could do the odd things they could outside the game.
And until I helped Anavi like I’d promised. That was priority one.
Devin was waiting when I got to class, and had saved me a seat again. “How did it go last night?” he asked.
After considering several responses, I finally went with, “Doesn’t his highness get a full report from the Daily Dragon Planet or something when the cock croweth in the Kingdom of Devin?”
“It’s the Realm of Ye Old Troy,” he said, studying the keyboard in front of him. “You should’ve let me go in with you.”
“You do have a very nice castle. But we made it out without too much trouble.”
Anavi walked into the classroom, and I immediately regretted what I had said. Her eyes were ringed with dark circles. She came directly to us, taking the seat beside me.
“I’m sorry I just left you there.” Her hands were balled in her lap. “I shouldn’t have.”
“You did exactly what you said you would. I was hoping you got out without any pain or problems. What’s wrong?”
Anavi was subdued. “It’s not the game.” She gave her head a little shake, like there was water in her ears.
Or bad guys in her head. They clearly weren’t giving up. “They’re bothering you again here?” I asked.
Anavi nodded absently and turned, her eyes locking on the door seconds before the Warheads came through it.
“It’s getting worse,” she said.
She turned back around and stared down at her hands, twisting them together on the tabletop. I wished I had her grenade belt or SmallvilleGuy’s laser eyebeams to direct at the smirking Warheads.
They arrayed themselves at workstations along the other side of the table from me and Devin and Anavi, sitting down at the same time, like they were one person. Then they started their taunts, putting some sing-song into them.
“Hope no one’s got . . .”
“. . . heartburn.”
“Or was it the shoulder?”
“We figured out . . .”
“. . . that Anavi’s only got one friend.”
“Besides us.”
“We’d be much better friends, Anavi.”
“We can keep her from bothering you.”
I didn’t speak right away. Mostly, in truth, because I didn’t want to feel that mental shove again. I didn’t want the distraction of it. I knew that they could do things outside the game, too. The problem was, I wasn’t sure what the limits were. I didn’t know anything about the how, or how much. Not even why they were able to.
Project Hydra must be the key.
“Stop.” The word slipped out from Anavi.
“You know . . .”
“. . . how to make it stop . . .”
“. . . it would be easy . . .”
“. . . just as easy as it is for us to never stop.”
I didn’t have a way to go on the attack at this particular second, but I had a story. A story it was almost time to tell.
“Save the threats for someone who’s scared of you,” I said.
I put a hand on Anavi’s arm and nodded at her, and she tried to nod back. But it was weak.
Definitely almost time to tell the story.
I stood, hoping Anavi would do the same.
“What are we doing?” Anavi asked, but she didn’t fight, climbing to her feet when I tugged on her arm.
“Getting you out of here for now,” I said.
Devin was frowning at the Warheads. “Go. I’ll handle the teacher,” he said.
“You’re a prince, King,” I told him under my breath.
I was relieved, and even more worried, when Anavi let me lead her out of the classroom doors without a single big-ticket vocabulary word of protest about risking her scholarship. Her eyes were nearly shut.
I steered her carefully, but quickly, up the hall. Once we were several classrooms away, Anavi’s state changed, but it wasn’t so much an improvement. She . . . wilted. Like a delicate flower in burning hot desert sun.
With those dark circles around her eyes, she looked exhausted. “I don’t want my consciousness to be erased. But they said it would be easy to take it. Lois, it feels easy.”
I had been guiding us in the direction of the cafeteria, gambling that it would be empty. I was right.
The Warheads’ usual table was the closest to the door. She wouldn’t want to sit there even with it vacant, so I kept going until we reached the next one. I eased Anavi into a chair, and then sat down beside her.
“In the game last night,” I started, trying to decide on the most important answers I needed, “were they able to get in your head?”
Anavi hesitated. “It wasn’t like it is out here. But . . . something is changing. It was different. Here, I can feel them pushing and pulling
, I can almost hear their voices in my mind. They’re getting clearer, pulling me closer, overtaking my own voice.”
She paused, embarrassed, like she couldn’t believe she’d said that out loud.
“I believe you. You can trust me.”
“There were whispers last night. When I was in combat with the bridge troll, I was too busy to notice, but once that concluded . . . You know that sense of disconnection there is when you’re inside the game? As if you’ve been split in two, cleaved, but the mind is the part that matters now and it has its own sense and sensation?”
I wouldn’t have put it exactly that way, but then I didn’t have Anavi’s way with language.
“It feels more real inside than outside while you’re there,” I said.
“The only way I can explain it is, last night, you heard and saw them in the game, but I also heard them outside it. Whispers in my ears outside too, after I departed, like a . . . a strange hummed tune, almost.” Anavi waited, but so did I. I didn’t quite understand yet. She continued, “They are bringing together their talents within and without. They are strengthening, making me one of them. It would be easy to submit. To be assimilated. In there and out here. I do not know if I can resist.”
Light spilled in through the long windows at the far end of the cafeteria, and from the kitchen there were the sounds of that day’s sad lunch being made.
“You’re stronger than you think,” I said.
“Maybe,” Anavi said, and I could see she was only half convinced. Which was better than zero convinced, but not ideal.
I opened my mouth intending to reassure her, but before I said a word the PA speaker beside the cafeteria door crackled to life. Ronda’s crisp voice came over it, saying, “Lois Lane, report to Principal Butler’s office. Lois Lane, to Principal Butler’s office, immediately.”
CHAPTER 10
When the announcement ended, Anavi was shaking her head. “You don’t have to put yourself in further jeopardy on my behalf.”
“Please,” I said. “They shot me in the shoulder. Now I’d do it just because.” Also, just because there’s more going on here. “Stay here and wait out comp sci. Avoid the jerk squad until I can find you.”