by J C Lane
She didn’t know the area. If she walked, she would be a slow-moving target. This early on a Saturday morning, people would wonder what a strange teenage girl was doing walking around their neighborhood. She’d get picked up by cops, for sure, either as a runaway or a hooker or something. She laughed at herself. Like she looked like a prostitute in her jeans and sweatshirt.
She huddled in the shadow of a car and pictured Jeremy in his dark bedroom, being watched by the Ref. Was he safe? Would the Ref hurt him, even if Laura obeyed the Rules? What about her brothers? She clasped her hands to keep her body from shaking. One more transmission, and she’d get on the train again. If It thought she was on the train already, maybe It wouldn’t wait for the later one. She could slip out at Union Station and make a run for it. There should be a lot of people to hide behind.
She shivered in the cool morning air, swallowing back tears, wondering who would be chasing her. And why? Did it have something to do with Jeremy, since he was the one they were targeting as a hostage? But what for? It wasn’t like Jeremy was into anything weird or dangerous. He was the most normal person she knew. Now, if it were Rosie, see could see it…
hic
Laura closed her eyes.
Amanda
The Grainger Sky Theater in the Adler Planetarium. Really? That was Home Base? Amanda had been there dozens of times, and gone through the entire museum on more occasions than she could count. She’d laid back in the comfortable viewing chair and listened to Patrick Stewart or Whoopi Goldberg, or some other unidentified narrator, as they talked about stars or planets or how the Earth came into being. She even went for the nighttime laser shows, when Pink Floyd’s music accompanied the colorful lights. Cheesy, but anything under that domed roof filled Amanda with the feeling she could be anywhere.
So was her love for the planetarium the reason it was chosen for Home Base? Could the Ref possibly know that? Well, the Ref had found her name, so he-she obviously had resources. Who knew what else it would come up with? Creepy.
Whoever the Ref was.
She was now convinced—well, almost—that Nerys had nothing to do with it. Was the Ref another gamer? A conglomerate of gamers? All of those people she had beaten in the past who wanted revenge? She had a hard time believing any of them could outsmart her this way, but she supposed anything was possible.
Anyway, since Amanda had a thirty-minute head start, she would use it. If DarwinSon1 was in a time battle with other Its, she might as well use that. The quickest way to Chicago would be to take the Metra directly there, so she wouldn’t do that. She’d make It sweat a little, chasing her all over. After packing a bag with snacks and a change of clothes, stuffing the cash in her pocket, changing into all black, and pulling a beanie over her purple hair, Amanda walked out her front door. Obviously, the Ref and DarwinSon1 knew where she was. No reason to hide.
She retrieved her bike from the garage and rode toward the closest train station, about a mile and a half away, so she hoped she wasn’t still in the Ref’s sight lines. She locked her bike to a pole, waited for her phone to transmit her first thirty-minute location coordinates, and hopped on the train going north…the opposite direction from Chicago.
6:30 a.m.
Tyrese
As dawn broke it became trickier to avoid the vehicles, and Tyrese spent more time in the ditch than he did running. Since time was ticking, he also realized there was a better chance one of the vehicles could be It.
He’d been running for hours, changing direction each time his coordinates were transmitted, backtracking twice to throw off the scent. Even in his shape, he couldn’t continue this forever. He’d had no water, no food, no sleep. He needed a break. He found a ditch where he was shielded on one side by a drainage pipe, the other by tall grass, and caught his breath. He was in the middle of farmland. No taxis. No buses. No cars for his friends to hot-wire—and no friends. He would have to take a chance on someone, because if he didn’t, It was going to catch up in a half hour—or less—and his chance of winning would drop to zero.
From the cover of the grass he watched traffic. There were minivans, which wouldn’t be ideal with the loads of kids they would be carrying, along with the soccer moms. They wouldn’t be likely to pick up a hitchhiker, especially one looking like him, huge and dirty and, let’s face it, a different shade of skin than they were used to seeing out here in rural Illinois. Then there were the sports cars, which could easily be It out for speed. Plus, those blew by too fast to get a good look before he had a chance to flag them down. Pricey sedans were a little rarer and most likely possessed white, country club types. They liked basketball stars, or any expensive athlete, because of the place such stars hold in society, but those folks could be risky because of their need to “cut down on crime,” to view him as a potential bad guy. Pick-up trucks were too likely to contain rednecks, which would be bad for obvious reasons. Motorcycles didn’t offer enough cover, RVs were too ponderous, and besides, he couldn’t imagine some old, retired couple stopping for him.
That left trucks. Semis with veteran drivers at the wheel. They’d seen it all, and weren’t surprised by much. At least, that’s what Tyrese imagined. They seemed his best bet. So whenever Tyrese saw a semi not surrounded by other vehicles, he crawled up the side of the ditch and stuck out his thumb. At each rejection he eased back into the grass, only to come out and try again. Just when he was about to give up, a truck flew by and hit the jake brake, the sound rattling across the flatlands. Tyrese trotted up the shoulder to the cab and stopped outside the driver’s door.
The trucker rolled down the window. “Need a ride, son?”
“Sure do.”
“Hop on in.”
Tyrese jogged around and swung himself into the passenger seat. “‘Thanks.”
“No problem. Was just thinking today was looking to be a long one. I’ll take whatever company I can get.” He grinned, exposing a mouth empty of teeth, except for two, one on top, one on the bottom. “Long as you don’t mind I play country music.”
“Fine with me.” So long as Tyrese was on the move and out of the direct sight lines of It, the trucker could play chanting monks, for all he cared. He closed his eyes and let his head fall against the seat. He ran a lot for basketball, but that was mostly sprints, slow jogs, and fast breaks. Not this mile-after-mile endurance test. He was relieved to be making some distance not on his own fuel. Speaking of…
“You got any food, mister?”
“Call me Arte. And yeah, I got some. You need breakfast? We could stop up here, get you something to go.”
“No, I’d like to keep moving. Please.”
“Your call.” The driver jerked his thumb toward the space behind the seats. “Cooler back there, you’re welcome to whatever’s left. I been driving all night, just about, so I already been snacking.”
Tyrese grabbed the cooler and ate everything inside, half a ham sandwich, several cheese sticks, and something Arte described as “sort of a pumpkin, raisin, nut pie.” Tyrese didn’t care what it was, or even how it tasted. It was food.
“Water bottles back there, too,” Arte said.
Tyrese drank two of them, and opened a third.
Arte laughed. “Have a rough night?”
“You could say that.”
“Well, you just make yourself at home. Where you headed?”
Tyrese remembered the coordinates listed on his phone. “Downtown.”
“Chicago?”
“That’s right.”
“Afraid I ain’t going that far.”
“Better than nothing.”
Arte grinned his toothless grin. “You got that right.”
Tyrese thought about the thirty-minute window allowed in the Game. He had to assume the location transmission would be just that—a location, and not a specific screenshot of what exactly he was doing. He could afford to stay in the truck through maybe two
or three time slots. After that, It—whoever It was—would realize Tyrese was staying in the same vehicle, and would be checking everything. At least traffic was starting to pick up, now that it was daylight, so it wouldn’t be obvious which vehicle he was in.
His hand drooped, and water spilled on his pants. He jerked the bottle upright and screwed on the lid.
“Why’n’t you get some shut-eye?” Arte said. “You look like something my dog dragged out of the field. Or at least, you look like my dog.” He laughed. “I’ll turn down the tunes.”
Two transmissions. That’s what Tyrese would give himself. He set the alarm on his phone to wake him in an hour. “Thanks, man.”
“Got a coat in the back, you want to use it for a pillow.”
Tyrese pulled on his own jacket, got himself settled, and fell asleep as soon as he closed his eyes.
Laura
At six-thirty her watch’s buzz scared Laura upright. She crouched and waited for the next train. When she heard it, she raced to the platform and jumped on at the last second, again taking a seat way in the back. That would have to do. She wasn’t going to switch trains again. She prayed this one would arrive downtown before the next location transmission went.
The girl in the next seat looked over at her, Beats on her ears, chewing gum. She was probably about Laura’s age, cute and dark, some kind of Hispanic background, probably. She nodded at Laura and went back to surfing on her smartwatch. Laura gasped. The same phone she had clamped to her wrist. But the other girl had most likely bought hers like a normal person. By choice. Laura wanted to ask, but then she would have to explain where she’d gotten hers, and the girl would get sucked into the Game. Laura could lie, of course, but she was no good at that. It was better to just keep quiet and not put anyone else in danger.
hic
By the time they got to Union Station at 6:57, Laura was drifting off, only to be jerked awake on arrival. The girl across the row was gone, replaced by a woman in a suit. Laura waited in the aisle behind her seat partner, a large man in a Cubs jersey, staying as close to him as possible. Laura disembarked, her head fuzzy, her hair probably looking just as good. Would there be someone waiting? Was her change of trains worth it?
She glanced around, wondering where she should go. She didn’t know Chicago. She wasn’t even sure where Union Station was in relation to everything else. She figured it was right downtown, since it seemed to be the main station. She’d tried to study the maps on the train, but they were made up of different-colored lines and rail numbers, rather than helpful things, like a star staying, “This is where you go to be safe.”
Her watch buzzed. Seven o’clock. If It wasn’t already there, It would be, momentarily.
Head down, Laura made her way toward the Up escalator, realizing her best chance was to get out of the station and onto the streets where there would be lots of people. She followed the crowd, buffeting the passengers headed toward the trains, and watched her feet. For all she knew, any one of those people could be after her. She wasn’t going to make her face easy to spot.
Halfway to the escalator she glanced up. She froze. Standing on the concrete steps between the opposing escalators was a teenage girl. On either side of her hulked large men, bodies relaxed, eyes scanning the platform. The girl’s pale face was pinched into a frown, eyes narrowed, lips pouty. She looked hard and angry, everything Laura was not. The girl gestured toward the schedule flashing on the screen, and her mouth was moving, her finger pointing. The men nodded, and one of them started walking down the steps in Laura’s direction.
The girl swept the platform with her eyes, and suddenly they were looking at each other. The girl stared at Laura, mouth open, and Laura realized she was looking at It.
7 a.m.
Amanda
Avoiding eye contact with other passengers, Amanda studied her smartwatch until it was time for the next transmission. Once her seven a.m. location had been sent, she got off that train and hitched a ride on the next one going south.
Simple, but effective.
Laura
Laura broke from her stance and ran the opposite direction, bumping people, tripping over bags, sending a small woman sprawling. She stopped to help the lady up, but the big man was coming fast. Laura ran, yelling her apology. She scanned the walls for exits, but saw only signs pointing to other rail lines, restrooms, and stores.
She darted into the shopping area, dodging booths and tables, ignoring the surprised shrieks and shouted insults as she sprinted past. Hitting a traffic jam at a corner, she panicked before grabbing a man and pointing at the big guy. “He’s chasing me!” The man turned to stop the hulk, and she squeezed through the crowd and ran. Looking back, she saw the guy trying to bust through the people, but she lost sight of him as she rounded a corner.
An exit to W. Jackson Boulevard presented itself, and she sprinted up the stairs, praying there weren’t any more goons waiting. She couldn’t have them stationed at every exit, could she?
When Laura reached the top she didn’t hesitate, running straight down the sidewalk until she got a block away. She darted around a corner and waved at a taxi. It sailed right on by, already occupied. She trotted farther, flagging every cab she saw, but it took five tries until one pulled over, and then only because she gave the driver the smile Jeremy said won people over.
She fell into the backseat and locked the door. “Water Tower Place, please.”
The driver looked in the rearview mirror. “Not open this time of day.”
“I know. Please, just go!”
The driver shrugged and pulled into traffic. Fifteen minutes later they arrived at the mall. As the driver had said, it was closed. The showcase windows were lit up, but the hallway behind the glass doors was dark. Even the sidewalks were clear of bystanders, and passersby were few and far between, mostly in pairs.
The driver glanced back at her. “You sure you want to get out here?”
No, she wasn’t. She took out her phone. Exactly what were the coordinates of Home Base? Water Tower Place itself? A certain store? The mapping software had changed from transportation mode to walking mode, and it told her she needed to get into the mall and up to the seventh floor to the Banana Republic. As soon as she broke the barrier of the front of the store, she would be Home Free. And she would be It.
Her watch buzzed, sending her seven-thirty location to It.
“Miss?”
“Sorry. I’m just—” A shadow separated from the wall, moving toward the taxi. The blood drained from Laura’s head. “Go! Go! Get me out of here!”
The driver, jolted by Laura’s desperation, jerked into traffic, barely missing a black sedan. Horns blew, and Laura fell across the seat. She looked back at the shadow, which had turned into another large man in a suit. He was speaking on a phone as her car spun around the corner.
“Where you want to go?” The driver gripped the steering wheel with both hands. “What is happening?”
“I don’t know.” Laura lay back, fear welling up in her chest. Where wouldn’t It have someone waiting? She couldn’t have the entire city under surveillance. Could she? This had to be because Water Tower Place was Home Base and it made sense It would have someone there.
“I need somewhere safe,” Laura said, half to herself, half to the driver.
The driver screeched around a corner, then another, almost like he was driving through a maze on a video game. Laura hung on tightly, trying not to be sick. In a couple of minutes the cabbie pulled into a bright alcove and braked hard. “Here you go. Someplace safe.”
Laura looked out the window. A sign above the glass double door said, Emergency Room. “A hospital?” She scanned the sidewalk, but could see no one like It’s henchmen. In fact, she saw no one at all.
“Get out,” the driver said. “Please.”
“But—”
“You should be safe.”
&
nbsp; Laura threw a twenty at the cabbie and climbed out. Her door was barely shut before he sped out the u-shaped drive.
As Laura watched the car’s taillights disappear her hopes sank, and she grew dizzy. She hadn’t slept. She hadn’t eaten. She was running for her life. Nothing made sense.
She hiccupped.
The doors behind her hissed open, and a white-coated woman walked out. “Miss? You need help?” Her skin shone dark against the fabric, and the kindness in her eyes calmed Laura’s shaking nerves. “You hurt?”
“No, I…I just need a place to sit for a minute.”
“Sure, honey, we got a place. Come on in.”
Laura followed the woman’s ample figure into a small waiting room where the only other person was an old woman knitting a scarf. She glanced up at Laura with a smile, but kept on with her clicking.
Laura checked her phone. The last transmission had been made seven minutes earlier. She’d been in the cab, where the guy at the Water Tower Place would have called in her location, anyway, so that was good. She had twenty-three minutes before her position at the hospital would be broadcast. She could rest for at least a bit. She set her alarm for twenty-two minutes, in case she fell asleep, and curled up on a two-seat cushion.
hic
“Here, sweetie.” The white-coated woman was back. “I got you a snack. You look famished. I’ll just set it here.”
Laura bit back tears. “Thank you.”
The woman patted her shoulder and went out.
Laura sat up on her elbow and surveyed her meal. A granola bar and a bottle of water. A feast. She opened the bottle and guzzled half the water but choked, coughing and spluttering.
The little old woman looked up, startled. “Are you okay, dear?”