by Larry Niven
Chester nodded. He lifted himself on his elbows to glare into the darkness that hid the Spruce Goose. "Make camp," he said abruptly. "Tomorrow's another day. When the priests come back to finish us off, we'll get ‘em. Thanks, Griffin. God, I'm tired. But tomorrow..."
Griffin dropped his pack. He was unable to find any emotion to hang his fragmented thoughts on. He looked down at himself, for wounds. The red glow of hologram-delivered wounds was gone.
The bloodstains left by solid zombie weapons looked like paint. The day was turning unreal.
Ollie dropped into the sand next to him. He mumbled something Alex couldn't quite hear.
"What?"
"I wish it was over." The Thief had to bend low to hear him. "I just wish it was over." He looked like an old man, the muscles in his cheeks slack, jowls hanging. A single tear ran glistening down his cheek.
A pat on the back was the only answer Griffin could find. He moved his pack away, over to a rock large enough to sit on. He huddled there, watching the tides turn off. Eight Garners left. The Game was, indeed, almost over.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
THIEVES IN THE NIGHT
"Get me Marty Bobbick, please."
"Yes, sir."
Alex sagged against the shadowed back of a dune. The sand was cooling now; it felt good against his skin. He could feel the fatigue, but it seemed apart from him. His mind was racing. The Garners were camped on the other side, a fair distance away. Alex listened, but tonight there was no singing, no laughter. He heard Margie and Chester talking, but couldn't make out the words.
"Hail the Griffin, slayer of the undead!"
Ha ha. "Go ahead, Marty, get it out of your system."
"Chief, I'm at least half serious. I never dreamed these Games could get that rough. If you weren't in top physical shape we'd be carrying you out. How does a sweet little old lady like that Margie Braddon keep going?"
"Sheer chutzpah. The rest of us are ready to lie down and die.
I'm really worried about Ollie. I guess Gwen needed the points, but the last thing in the world he needed was having to kill his woman. Damn, but at least we know our target now! And it's a whopper, Marty. Tomorrow-"
"It? Not a he or a she?"
He or she? Oh. Alex was too tired even to be irritated with himself. "Sorry. Jumped tracks again. It's a he, Marty. You know, I went into this with entirely the wrong idea-"
He heard a faint scuffing from above. A few grains of sand pattered down around him. It stopped almost at once.
Alex rolled over and stood up, without obvious haste, while he kept talking. "I thought we must be chasing an experienced Gamer. Someone who knew the ropes so well that he could find extra time somewhere to creep off and do some work on the side."
"It looks to me like nobody would ever know that much."
"Damn right. The better you are, the more you know, the harder you work at not getting killed out. There aren't any ropes to know. Each Game is a whole new ball of snakes." He might have imagined that sound. A gust of wind could have blown that sand down on him... but under a dome? Alex felt himself becoming one gigantic ear.
"What are we looking for, then? A novice?"
"Right. And he gave himself away a couple of times." Alex looked up, without turning his head. The shallow curve of the top of the dune had a bump on it. It could be the top of a head. Better not gamble on it. If it wasn't, then a known killer might be coming around the dune.
He'd hear boots on sand. Wouldn't he? Alex had left his machete beside his bedroll, and now he regretted it. The Game was in abeyance, and so were the Game rules governing physical combat.
He should have made this call from the middle of a nest of Garners. Secrecy was meaningless now. Couldn't be helped. All right, let's lure him down.
Marty's voice snapped, "Well?"
"He was too tired on the second day. This guy is in excellent condition, and he could barely climb a wall. He'd been up very late the night before. At the volcano, he was sure the bomb was a piece of misdirection. While the rest of the team was trying to move it out, he kept looking around. He must have already seen the Goose. And it's too big; it must be a fair part of Lopez's budget. It's an important part of the Game, and we hadn't got
there yet. And at the harbor, he was too interested in the planes, and then not interested at all."
Where the hell was he? He could not afford to let Griffin speak his name.
"Gruff. Who?"
Where was he?
"Gruff! You all right? Shall I send in help? Griff!"
He'd fooled himself. There was nobody on the dune; he was alone. Nuts. "Fortunato. Tony McWhirter."
"Good enough. Now what? Call the Game?"
But Alex heard a peculiar ragged sigh from overhead.
"I'll get right back to you, Marty." He flipped the wallet closed and pocketed it. "Come on down," he called, and eased his left leg back for balance. McWhirter could still attack, and he might have a sword.
Tony stood up and walked down the slope, leaning slightly backward, plowing up sand. He was unarmed. He stopped several feet away, spread his hands. "I didn't kill anybody," he said.
"You have the right to remain silent," Griffin said. "If you choose to-"
"I know, I watch the boob tube too. Griffin, I didn't kill anyone. The guard almost killed me, but I didn't hurt him. I tied him up and gagged him and left him. He was wriggling around, and I thought of maybe using more bandage, moor him to some furniture, maybe. But he wasn't going to get loose quick enough to stop me."
"Nice plan," Griffin said with calculated flatness. "What happened? Did he get a good look at your face?"
"I didn't kill him!"
"He's dead, though. Suffocated. Did you accidentally hold his nose for him?"
Tony dropped onto the sand and put his head between his knees. Griffin heard wet sounds. He prudently kept his distance.
"He was still breathing! I... oh... I cut off his wind till he passed out, but he was breathing when I left him!"
"Where's the neutral scent?" Tony looked up hopefully and started to speak. "No deals," Griffin snapped. "It's probably gone by now anyway. You had to have someone to pick it up."
Tony shook his head violently. "He couldn't have found it. Griffin, that's crazy stuff. When I used it on you I had no idea what it would do to me. I just went crazy with fear. I must have
smashed into every tree in Dream Park. There was a place where I was supposed to leave it, but I never got that far. I just got rid of it. I was afraid of it. I was afraid you'd search me."
"Where?"
"I can show you. Can we deal?"
"I'm promising nothing. The only question you need to ask is, how hard is Dream Park going to lean on you? You get to decide that right now."
"Then get drowned! I don't know who was supposed to get it. Maybe he'll find it before you do."
"Have it your way." Griffin whetted his voice to a cutting edge. "But, Tony, even if Rice died of a stopped up nose, it's murder. California law says that if someone dies as the result of the commission of a felony, it's murder. Stand up."
Tony stood. The defiance was gone. "What now?"
"We go tell the others that we're leaving the Game."
The darkness didn't hide the sick dismay on Tony's face. It took Griffin by surprise. "Oh god. This is going to kill Acacia. They won't last five minutes tomorrow."
"You should have thought of that before," said Alex. He sensed Tony's muscles tightening. "Come on, Tony. Playtime's over."
Tony sounded almost hysterical. "I've screwed everything. Everything. Please, Griffin. I can't face them. Please."
"I don't fancy it much either." The brutality in his voice was as much for his own benefit as McWhirter's. "Come on."
You're betraying them to their deaths!
Bulishit. Being killed out isn't dead. Rice is dead.
"Griffin, please! Let's just play out the Game. Give me that much. Just a few hours. Then I'll tell you w
here it is and turn myself in."
"Don't be silly." Damn, and we had a good chance of winning, too.
"I'll show you where I put the neutral scent. Tomorrow."
"I can't make that deal. Come on."
Far too late, Tony jumped him. Griffin leaned aside from his wild swing and kicked him in the shin. As Tony doubled in pain Alex seized a handful of hair and an arm, locking him helpless.
Numb and silent, Tony was steered back to the campfire.
The campfire burned low to the coals, and no one seemed to
have the energy to feed it. Kibugonai and Kagoiano were back to serve dinner; their faces were zombie-blank and their death-wounds showed clearly. Lady Janet found the strength to pass around pouches of milk and fruit juice and beer, but her smile was barely lip-deep.
Hardly a head turned as Alex brought Tony stumbling back into camp, until somebody noticed the arm twisted painfully behind McWhirter's back. Chester stood, alarm igniting on his face. He bent his knees twice to get some circulation into them and challenged. "All right, Tegner. Just what the hell is going on?"
Alex released Tony, who stood shivering in a circle of questioning eyes. "Do you want to tell them, or shall I?"
Tony tried to speak, but nothing came out. He gave up and shook his head. Griffin felt pity worming its way to the surface of his mind, and shut his shields down fast. "All right, I'll do it, then."
He had all their attention now. None of them looked at all happy. "Three nights ago, McWhirter broke away from the rest of you and took a private tour. He ended up in the Research and Development department, where he stole a sample of a newly developed... invention." No need to give away more than necessary.
Acacia gasped. "My God. So that's where you were that night." In pain and disorientation she came up to him. "Oh, Tony .
no wonder you've been acting crazy. If only I'd... Tony, why?"
All Tony did was lower his eyes miserably to the ground.
"That's not all," Alex said. Acacia's look tore at him, made him wish he had taken Fortunato out of the Game first and explained later. Or never! "In order to gain access to the complex, Tony had to subdue a guard. In some manner not yet clear, that guard, one Albert Rice, died of suffocation."
Acacia seemed to study him. Then Tony. She said, flatly, "No."
Alex said, "Well, Tony?"
Silently McWhirter nodded his head, tears beginning to run down his cheeks, glistening silver in the firelight.
"Then who are you?" Acacia's query was delivered at a scream. The other Garners seemed transfixed.
"Griffin. Alex Griffin. Chief of Dream Park Security."
Chester looked like he'd looked when the bidi-taurabo-haza found him. "All right... Griffin. What happens now?" He re
minded Griffin of a man waiting to hear the results of his biopsy:
terrified and fascinated at the same time.
"Now..." Jesus. Do they have to look at me like that? I'm only doing my goddam job. Mary-em sat curled up on the ground with her face between her knees. She didn't want to look at him. A hint of defiance burned in Holly Frost's dark face, quickly subdued. "You know what I have to do, dammit. Every one of you knows."
No one argued, and he almost hoped they would. Come on, you fog-headed fanta.sy freaks. Yell at me. Scream. Call me a rent-a-pig. Anything.
Acacia stumbled back to her place near the campfire. She tried to swallow some beer, but it exploded in her mouth. Offie held her as she coughed and sobbed.
"That's it, then," Chester said, taking infinite care not to let his emotions leak into his voice. "We're down to six hands now. Tomorrow morning it is." His gaze flicked past Griffin without comment, and settled on Tony. For a brief instant something dark and murderous flared in the depths of those eyes, quickly hidden.
Margie Braddon kneaded her hands together as if trying to scrub something indescribably filthy from them. "I had to bring the news in for you. You used Owen and me as couriers, didn't you?"
"Lucky coincidence, Margie. I had to see who might jump when he heard that the guard was dead."
Hope bloomed on McWhirter's face. "Then you weren't sure I knew!"
"It's still murder, Tony. Any death that occurs in the course of a felony is murder. I'm sorry."
"Yeah. So the hell am I."
"Get your things."
There was no sound from the others as Tony walked stiff-legged to his backpack at the rim of the campfire circle. He lifted it with a long, tortured sigh, and slapped the sand off.
In the wavering light, he looked like an old, old man, shadows furrowing his face into antiquity. He was stiff and slow as he walked back to rejoin Griffin. He turned to the other Garners and whispered, "I'm sorry. God, I'm so sorry. Cas... I picked that fight, the first night." She tried to turn away, and couldn't. "Cas, when I saw how tough it was going to be, I knew I had to get it done the first night, before I got killed out, so-"
"Stop it," she whispered.
"I love you, babe. That's all."
Holly Frost broke the silence that followed, giving voice to the idea hiding in every mind. "Hell, Griffin, why can't you wait for a few more hours?"
An absurd thought, but Alex could feel himself becoming defensive. "There's no way I can do that. A man is dead."
"Can any of us bring him back?" Margie tried to shush Holly, but there was no stopping her now. "I mean, why don't you give us a break? I travelled over a thousand miles to be here. Now you're teffing me that it doesn't matter what happens to me or any of us as long as you get your man."
"It's my job." Griffin felt himself blushing in the dark. You're not really leaving them to their deaths. It's just a game!
Just a game. The joy and the sweat were just a game. The lovemaking and the beer busts and the songs and the tears and the bone-weary exhaustion were just part of the game. And what happened tomorrow, when the Undead and the Fore and Lopez knew what else all came boiling out of the sea and the forest to smash five Gamers, that would be the biggest, shiniest fantasy of all.
Acacia wiped her nose and regarded him. "All right, Alex or Gary or whatever you are. You and I know that what happened between us was a lie." She cut him off when he tried to speak, and maybe that was good. No telling what he would have said. "All right. You don't give a flying fart for any of us. That doesn't hurt me too bad, mister. But I want you to tell me that you don't care about what's happening here. That you haven't gone out of your mind with the rest of us weirdos. I saw you, Gary-Alex, oh, damn you, I saw what you were beginning to get out of this Game."
He heard the tremor in his voice. "What is it you think you saw?"
"You can't relax, Alex. You're in better shape than the rest of us, by a mile. Why are you as wiped out as we are? Why are you more torn up than Margie?" She leaned toward him, and flinched as one of the coals popped. "I'll tell you why. Because you work so damn hard at everything you do. Because you drive and drive and push until you're about to fall over. And if it's not hard enough, you'll make it tougher on yourself just for the sheer hell of a job well fought. Now you tell me, Alex. Damn you, you look me in the eye and tell me you don't want to stay in the Game just
twelve more hours, just long enough to help us beat the pants off Lopez. You tell me you don't care, tough man!"
He shrugged massive shoulders. "All right."
"All right? What's that?"
Even to himself, he sounded like a little boy trying to explain something he doesn't understand. "Sure I want to stay. But what I want doesn't matter. .
She stared at him. "My God, Alex... I thought I was hooked on fantasy. Just why-"
He snapped, "I'm not here to answer questions, Acacia. I'm not here to have ‘fun'. I'm here in the interests of Dream Park, and that's all there is to it."
His prisoner had set down his pack. Tony had long since made his own plea. He was just waiting.
But Chester said, "Griffin. It's in Dream Park's best interests that you stay in the Game." He had tu
rned to face the fire. His voice was low, and very controlled, calculating.
"Don't try to hand me a line of bull-" But Alex knew that he had responded too quickly, too automatically, that he was almost afraid of being shown another way out.
"Tomorrow," Chester said, still facing away, "we are going to be slaughtered. The Game will be over, and will have to be considered one of the greatest debacles in Gaming history. Certainly the greatest I have ever heard of."
"So I'm sorry about your reputation."
"So I'm sorry about Dream Park's investment."
That rang a bell. Hadn't Harmony said something-"Go on.',
"Don't you know that Dream Park recoups a huge chunk of their money through sales of tapes and books of an Adventure? Through luring people to run through an automated Game, once the bugs have been worked out? How many people are going to want a piece of this one? Cowles Industries will take a bath, Griffin." Now he turned, and met Griffin's eyes squarely. "We both know I have ulterior reasons for wanting both of you to stay in the Game. Fine. All I'm asking is for you to take everything into consideration. You know what it means to you, what it means to the Park. And if you give a damn, what it means to all of us."
Griffin scanned the faces. Eager, tired, waiting for a word from
him that would tear everything to hell and gone, or give them a fighting chance. Just twelve hours.
Christ! What would Harmony think?
Who cares? He's the loon who got me into this in the first place! Still, hadn't Harmony said-"I understand Dream Park's investment is around a million and a half?"
"More, I'd think. Check with your boss. There are resources tied up, interest on loans, advertising agreements-"
"Never mind. Gather round, people. I may need you to talk for me. McWhirter, right next to me." Alex flipped his wallet open. "Get me Marty Bobbick."
Marty was on instantly. "Gruff! I was down to hoping you'd remembered to leave a dying message!"
"Marty, I have Tony McWhirter in custody on suspicion of burglary and murder."
"Okay. Good. Tell me where you are and I'll direct you to the nearest exit."