“I’m sorry, Miles!” Soup sobbed as he exited the Wasteland.
“That’ll do, pig,” I said quietly. “That’ll do.”
I mentally leapt around the Wasteland like on a map in a MOBA game. With Aurora hopelessly pinned under the monolith, it was me versus Tin Man and Scarecrow. I had to survive. My love life depended on it.
Gravity. Mandrake’s. Tonight.
The thought eased my chattering teeth.
I couldn’t fit under any of the bunkers. I’d pop one if I tried to climb on top. I had no choice but to hunt.
I stalked the Wasteland. The Cheefs must’ve realized we had another trick up our sleeve, that an invisible assassin was taking shots at them, because nothing stirred in the west of the arena save the shifting sand. I headed north.
It goes without saying, but a real fight was a hell of a lot more complicated than video games. I couldn’t go inviz or see little red dots on my radar or watch for vision cones coming out of the bad guys’ eyeballs. Without a map or X-ray vision or a third-person bird’s-eye view, I had to find a new way of tracking my enemy.
Ever since being unplugged, with no headphones filling my ears with explosions and lasers and chipmunks, the world had offered up its subtler sounds—the ticking of Command’s Oldsmobile, the buzz of V-hab’s fluorescents, the tick of the Nest’s bird clock . . .
Tin Man was big. And he liked crushing vermin. I closed my eyes and cupped my ears. The wind howled through the channels of the bunkers. To the east players chatted. To the west a crow cawed. Then, to the south . . .
Krsh, krsh, krsh.
I opened my eyes and crept toward the footsteps. Tin Man tromped through the sand, eyes ablaze. His skin was red. He breathed like an angry bull.
I raised my gun.
“Miles!” a voice screamed. “Behind you!”
I dropped and twisted just as Scarecrow lifted his gun. I shot him twice, purple blossoming from his chest. I felt the splat on the back of my mask from Tin Man’s direction a split second before Aurora shot him in the leg.
It was over.
I lay on the hot sand, squinting at the sun, piecing together what had just happened. I wasn’t ready to admit what the splat on the back of my mask meant.
“Thanks a lot, bitch,” Scarecrow said to Aurora, before unloading his gun point-blank into her chest.
She collapsed in the sand. I jumped up to go after him, but Tin Man stepped in front of me. His fists weren’t bigger than my head, but they definitely looked that way.
Scarecrow sauntered away. Tin Man slouched after him.
“Dicks!” I called after them. I stood over Aurora. “You okay?”
She groaned and clutched her stomach, red oozing between her fingers.
“Aurora?” I dropped to my knees. “Are you really bleeding?”
Aurora pulled off her mask and coughed into her hand, spraying droplets of red. “I’m . . . I’m just . . .” She winced in pain. “A really good . . . actress.”
I lifted her into my lap and dramatically shook her shoulders. “You’re going to make it.”
“No—koff—I’m not.” She blinked her strange eyes, fake-trying to focus on mine. “I have one . . . dying . . . wish.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Tell me . . . the compliments you owe me.”
That’s right. I’d complimented every Fury Burd except her before the coach had started the game.
“Let’s see,” I said. “You have fascinating eyes. You make stupid things like dandelions super-interesting. And you don’t look too bad while you’re dying—or pretending to die. You’ll probably make a striking old lady.”
“I already am a striking old lady.”
Aurora died theatrically in my arms. Sand grains fluttered in her eyelashes. A moment later she came back to life and wiped some red off her cheek onto my pants.
“You didn’t win,” she said.
My brain finally acknowledged the wet plaff against the back of my mask. I was dead. I wouldn’t get the points. The numbness released from my rib cage and spread to my arms and legs. Gravity. God dammit. God fucking dammit. My eyes grew hot. I sniffed like it was from the dry air.
“No, I didn’t win.”
“I’m sorry,” Aurora said.
“It’s okay,” I said.
It wasn’t.
“You were so close,” Aurora said.
I was so close.
I didn’t know if I was going to throw up, go blind, or strangle a bunker with my bare hands. I’d lost Gravity. That was it. Because of stupid everything out of my control.
“When I get home, I’ll just live at Mandrake’s,” I said. “She likes that place. She’ll have to come in sooner or later. . . . What are you looking at?”
“I’m just counting your eyes,” Aurora said.
It wasn’t easy looking into those four pupils of hers for long.
The coach whistled, signaling the players back in.
“You need me to drag your dead body out of here?” I asked Aurora.
“I can do it.”
We walked out of the Wasteland.
“At least you won, right?” I said. “You get to break up with Max now?”
“I guess so.” Aurora touched her chest and breathed out some nervousness.
At the sidelines Tin Man was yelling. “That’s a lie!”
Meeki shook her head. “Aurora shot him forever ago.”
“Where?” the coach asked.
“In the back of the head.”
The coach turned Tin Man around. His mask was clean. The coach gave Meeki a look. She walked in a circle around the other Cheefs, roughly grabbing their heads and examining the backs of their masks. She stepped behind Lion.
“They switched!” she said. “I was on the sidelines and saw Lion get hit right here.” She rapped on the purple paint blossom on his vest. “So when did he get shot in the head?”
She flipped Lion around. The back of his mask was splattered with purple.
The coach glared at Tin Man, who pointed at Scarecrow. “He told me to do it.”
Scarecrow said nothing.
That meant Tin Man had already been out of the game when he’d shot me. . . .
“They cheated?” Aurora said.
“I’m not dead?” I said.
The coach gave a slight nod.
250,000 points. . . . With Aurora still alive, I had 270,000.
I was over a million.
I’d won.
I had beaten V-hab. And I had done it in four days.
I didn’t tear off my shirt. I didn’t go cartwheeling around the sand. I just breathed deeply and looked east, toward Mandrake’s.
Aurora held out her hand. “Congratulations, Miles.”
“What, no pain?” I asked, making my love handle available.
She shook her hair.
I took her hand. I stared deeply into her strange, collapsing eyes before she turned and walked away.
I shook away a feeling.
“Fezzik, what time is it?”
He checked his watch. “Four thirty-nine.”
I had to get out of there if I was going to shower before the drive back. I smelled like a sweating corpse. Still, I wanted to show the Fury Burds some respect for helping me win.
Fezzik gave me a half-assed high five.
Meeki refused to lift her hand. “You didn’t even kill anyone,” she said.
I hugged her with her arms still crossed.
“You can’t ruin this for me,” I whispered, then released her. “Soup! We did it!”
When I raised my hand to high-five him, he ran and hid in the Wasteland.
I watched him go. He’d be fine. He might be a little lonely for his last week in V-hab, but then he’d go home. I’d go over to his house and we’d spend an afternoon—no, wait, he’d shot two Cheefs—two afternoons, doing whatever he wanted. And if I knew Soup, then that would be whatever I wanted.
I owed him that much.
�
�Bye forever, guys!” I said, and awkwardly sprinted across the sand toward Video Horizons.
Congratulation! This story is happy end.
A WINNER IS YOU!
I HAD A MILLION MOTHERFUCKING POINTS!
Gravity was waiting.
Game Over
I was going to see Gravity. Sparkling, charming, no-longer-dripping, wanted-to-date-me Gravity. I walked past the Dust Fairy, mopping and grumbling. I walked past Scarecrow, who for the first time didn’t give me that greasy grin. I walked past Zxzord, coming out of the bathroom, looking pale.
I clapped him on the shoulder. “Thanks for nothin’, dude!”
V-hab may have been a hellhole, but there really was no better way I could have spent the last few days preparing for my date. Instead of adventuring through Arcadia with the Wight Knights (which, if I was being honest, I totally would have done), I’d lost a pound or two, made a couple of friends, and finally opened up about my mom’s addiction. Hell, I’d even learned how to play the ukulele, battle invisible ninjas, and make dope sweet-potato hummus. I knew exactly what my and Gravity’s second date would look like.
I burst into the Nest like an athlete through the finish line.
G-man was standing by my bunk.
“Come to drive me home?” I asked, holding up my hand. “I don’t need the points, but I could use a high five for the road.”
He left me hanging. Instead he held up something in a plastic baggie.
My stomach dropped. So did my hand.
“What is that?” I said.
I knew what it was.
“It’s an iPod Touch,” G-man said. “It’s loaded with about a dozen game apps.”
The bag dangled between his fingers like he’d discovered a joint in a real rehab. My suitcase sat on the bunk behind him, pockets unzipped. G-man looked at me like he’d just found the iPod in my suitcase.
“How did it get in there?” I asked.
He flared his nostrils. “Judging by the smell, I don’t want to know.”
Oh God. I should have let Command give me a cavity search. That way he’d know my ass held no secrets.
Something written on the half wall caught my eye. “The cake is a lie,” I said.
G-man sighed. “I think you’d better come to my office.”
• • •
“I’ve been framed.”
G-man nodded. “Any way you can prove it?”
“Yes!” I pulled my scroll out of my adventure pouch and unrolled it onto his desk. “Could I have earned this many points if I’d been busy playing games?”
G-man gave a helpless sort of nod. “Even if you played for two minutes after lights-out, it would still be considered cheating.”
I pointed at the iPod. “Someone planted it in my suitcase so I wouldn’t be able to go home!”
“Who?” G-man asked. “Why?”
“I don’t know! Meeki? Dryad? Anyone in the Master Cheefs? And I have no idea why they did it.” I took a deep breath, trying to calm my raging heart. Gravity was slipping away. “Who told you it was in there?”
G-man tapped his fingernails on his desk. “I can’t disclose that.”
I laughed. I was seething. I’d earned a million points in record time, and it didn’t matter. The system was corrupt. The game had a bug. The moment I won, instead of an explosion of colors with “VICTORY” written in sparkling golden letters, all that lay before me was a desert.
“Electronics are expressly forbidden at Video Horizons,” G-man said. “It’s exactly what we’re trying to weed out. I hate to say it, Jaxon, but the penalty for breaking those rules is steep.”
“How many points?”
“One hundred thousand.”
“You’re fucking kidding me,” I said.
G-man pointed at me. “Language. You want to lose even more?”
A clock hung above G-man’s head. 4:58.
I’d performed enough miracles so far. I was not about to quit.
“I got cheated,” I said. “I should be able to make it up. Hold a tournament. Today. Right now. Make it any kind of tournament you want. A fight to the death! I don’t care! I’ll win, and then I can walk out of here, fair and square.”
G-man grimaced. “Even if I could do that—and I won’t, because it wouldn’t be fair to the other players—I’m not sure you’re ready to leave Video Horizons. I want to make sure you’ve really grown here.”
“I have!” I said. “Hugely. I’ve learned tons of new skills. Find me a ukulele. Go look at my cross-stitching! Let’s go to the Feed, and I’ll make you an amazing tofu scramble!”
G-man gave a pained smile. “And what about socially? Have you made strides in that department?”
“What do you mean?”
“Your dad had some concerns about your lifestyle choices. To send you back after four days, saying you’re completely cured . . .”
“You think he won’t get his money’s worth and will demand a refund.”
“No.” G-man shook his head. “Absolutely not. My focus is to improve kids’ lives. Not turn a profit. But that’s not the point here. Some of the stories coming from your guild—”
“Like from who? Meeki? The girl who hit her brother with a Wiimote?”
G-man gave me a look. Why did I have to be such a sarcastic dick in our first meeting?
“I’ll sue,” I said.
“Excuse me?” he said.
“I was injured. One of the players made my kart crash. My dad’s a lawyer. They call him the Mountain.”
“Your dad is a retired salesman,” he said. “And he signed a waiver stating that Video Horizons is not responsible for any injuries you might incur during your activities here. In fact, I specifically remember him telling me you could do with a few dings and scratches.” He rubbed his neck and thought for a moment. “That would be really nice for you, wouldn’t it? If I were the bad guy. Some big boss you needed to defeat in the end.”
He was the bad guy. He was standing in the way of the princess. He just didn’t know it. Because I’d never told him.
“I have a date!” I said. “In . . .” I checked the clock. “Oh God, one hour and fifty-nine minutes. I met her right before I was committed here. At a car wash. It’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I made her laugh. I’ve never done that before. She was the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, let alone talked to, and—and she said I was the funniest person she’d ever met. If Command and Conquer don’t drive me home, like, right now, then I’m not going to make it. This girl is probably the only thing that can make me leave video games behind. Otherwise, I’m going to go home and just start playing again.”
G-man considered me for several moments. “That’s an interesting theory,” he said. “A girl to solve your problems.” He stood, punching his hip to get upright, and supported his weight on the back of his chair. “When I started Video Horizons, I made a promise to myself that every patient who entered this facility would leave changed for the better.” Tears welled up in his eyes. “That hasn’t happened for you yet, Jaxon. And I think somewhere deep down inside, you know it.”
I didn’t say the words on the tip of my tongue. I didn’t say them because G-man was still the best chance I had of getting out of there.
I stood and left the office without another word. I needed to figure out an escape. Immediately. Earning points was out. Walking home was out. G-man wasn’t going to help. I paced Video Horizons’ halls, searching for an answer. I needed a hearthstone. I needed a homeward bone. I needed a reset button.
And then I found my answer, shyly peeking around the corner of the hallway. Soup. He wasn’t running up and latching on to my love handles like he always did. He was keeping his distance, looking as if I wanted to eat him.
Things clicked into place.
Who wanted me to stay at Video Horizons more than anyone else?
Who had mentioned my ugly-ass Home Depot hat even though I’d never taken it out of my suitcase?
Who had painted
me inside a Pokéball?
I ran up to Soup, grabbed him by the wrist, and pulled him down the hallway.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
I didn’t answer. We scaled the stairs to G-man’s office.
I knocked on the door.
“Come in,” G-man said.
I placed my hand on the door handle. “I lied,” I said to Soup. “You and I live right around the corner from each other. I just didn’t want to hang out with you because you’re a sniveling little piece of shit.”
His face crumpled, and I opened the office door.
G-man was typing something on his phone.
He glanced up. “What’s up, fellas?”
“Tell him,” I said, shoving Soup’s shoulder toward the desk.
Soup looked back at me, confused.
“Tell him you planted the iPod Touch in my suitcase so I’d stay.”
G-man set down his phone and intertwined his fingers. “Is that true?” he asked Soup.
Soup looked at me. His eyes glistened. His head sank. He nodded.
G-man narrowed his eyes at Soup. Soup didn’t lift his head. I ignored the weird sinking feeling in my chest.
“Sorry I didn’t trust you, Miles,” G-man said.
“Totally fine.” I clapped my hands together. “That means I have a million points again. You have to drive me home now. You promised.”
“I don’t have to do anything of the sort.”
“Wait, what?”
“Not after hearing what you said to Soup outside my door. I’m still deducting the hundred thousand points, but this time it’s for ill treatment of one of your fellow players.”
I felt the blood rush to my face. “He—he sabotaged my game just so he could spend more time with me.”
Soup sniffed and let his head hang.
“What if he did?” G-man said. “Is this how you treat someone who shows you affection? When you strip away all the stories you tell yourself, Miles, you’re left with the bare facts of what you did or did not do. I’m keeping you here.”
I searched G-man’s watery, sincere eyes. “You were never going to let me out anyway.”
He shrugged. “We’ll never know now, will we?”
Cure for the Common Universe Page 17