Multiplayer

by John C. Brewer

  Hector remembered his father telling him about how one of the key tactics of Middle Eastern warriors was to dig tunnels under the stronghold of an enemy and emerge suddenly inside their camp. The entire Middle East was riddled with tunnels from Israel to Iraq, Egypt to Afghanistan, some of them dating back to before the Romans. And now Hector had used a tunnel his grandfather had discovered to gain the advantage. It gave him more than a little satisfaction.

  Every now and then, he peeked through the slits in the top of the wall down to the road below. Uber Pwn was patrolling the junkyard like some kind of huge, prehistoric bird, searching for prey. Every now and then, a gun would open up on the ground below, raising dust and fire. Trigger-happy as always. He’d manned those guns, too, and knew how much fun it could be. But they better get busy. His mom would be calling him for dinner soon.

  Below him in the courtyard, a small stage set up and a bunch of characters milled around like they were waiting. But nothing was happening. Still he had a nagging feeling there was something obvious he should be seeing.

  At the sounds of his mother’s feet on the stairs, Hector minimized the Omega Wars window, leaving his report windows open. His mom opened the door and came in. “What do you got there?” she asked, looking over his shoulder, and stroking his hair with her fingers.

  “Summit itinerary. The President’s going to the same place we went.” His mother sat down on the edge of the bed and asked about the report. It was all Hector could do to answer his mother, knowing Izaak was just standing out in the open waiting to be found. Refractive camo was not invisibility. And there wasn’t much to his presentation, so he had to make it look like more than it was.

  Then he noticed a tab at the bottom of the screen clearly labled ‘Omega Wars’. He tried to drag a window over it, but the windows didn’t cover the toolbar. So he moved the mouse to the other side of the screen and pointed out some photos. His mother kept nodding and asking more questions. He could feel beads of sweat breaking out across his scalp. After what seemed like forever, a timer went off downstairs and she left to check on it.

  As soon as she was gone, he changed the toolbar to ‘autohide’ and re-opened the Alanya window. He breathed a sigh of relief. Izaak remained undiscovered.

  Motion caught Izaak’s eye. Down below, a group of vehicles was moving along the road. The characters in the courtyard jostled to take places according to a predetermined plan. But still, no Reavers. The vehicles flashed in and out of view until they came to the broad S-turns. Police motorcycles and limousines just like before, circling around to the main gate. Except this time, there were more limos and a lot more characters. It was just like the President was coming to –

  Hector’s heart seemed to stop and he stared in sudden terror. He clicked the tab at the bottom of the screen. The summit itinerary popped up. The President would first be visiting the citadel. He’d be riding in a limousine… He minimized the itinerary and stared in mounting horror at the Omega Wars window. A row of black limousines were approaching the citadel. Chills swept his body. His mind tried to deny what he was seeing, but Operation Scimitar unfolded before him like a train wreck in slow motion.

  Operation Scimitar, he thought. A scimitar was a sword. A long, curved sword. Medieval swords used by knights were straight. The thin, curved Samurai sword was Japanese. And the scimitar, Hector knew very well, was strongly connected with the Middle East, where they still used it for beheading. And all these people were here to practice for Operation Scimitar. Cutting off the head… of America.

  The motorcade drove up to the gates, which swung open to receive them. The limousines pulled through. They stopped just inside and figures emerged. Suddenly, the gates slammed shut. Characters poured into the courtyard. There was shooting and explosions. More attackers came over the wall. One of them nearly stepped on Izaak as he watched in spellbound horror.

  The figures from the limousines were quickly surrounded. Fierce fighting raged all around. Helicopters appeared over the citadel. Izaak had never seen a working helicopter in Omega before. Rockets streaked up and knocked them from the sky. Within minutes, the defenders were overcome and the characters they’d been protecting, hauled away. It was a war game just like his dad used to run. Except they weren’t practicing for an invasion of Athens. They were practicing for something real. They were going to attack the summit!

  Hector’s mind raced ahead at full speed. Could this be the secret of Operation Scimitar? Real terrorists planning for a real attack? Cutting off America’s head? Was that why they were paying GoreFiendHell? To keep the peninsula secure so no one would find out? But Hector had gotten around the Reavers. He and Rada had been up there just –

  “Holy crap!” Hector blurted into his empty room. It was suddenly all so clear. They were terminating players, not just characters. Players! That’s what al-Nib had said. “…you kill him to discover who he really is.” Hector’s skin crawled as it all became clear. The players hadn’t killed Rada, but waited for Mal-X to do it! Somehow, it let the terrorists find out who he was. Then they had come here – here to his town – and murdered his friend, because he knew too much about their plan. It had to be! Hector’s heart was pounding. He’d thought this was just a game. A game without consequences. But all this time, he’d been playing with his very life – and Chaz’s. Nausea wracked his gut. Chaz had died because of this. Because of him! Somehow, the war his father was fighting had found him in Omega Wars.

  “Hector,” came his mother’s voice from downstairs. He jumped in his chair at the sound. “Dinner.”

  “Okay,” he hollered back quickly, and thought furiously. There was no way he could get to Pappous’s cave right now. But he couldn’t let them catch him or they’d use their cheat to find out who he was. He had to hide Izaak.

  But where? He looked about frantically and then he saw his salvation. The church. He dropped off the wall and slipped inside. Two short wings extended at right angles from the main hall, like a cross. He went to the darkest corner he could find, put in his last fusion cell, checked his refractive camouflage, and lay down in the shadows. He prayed the church would protect him, although it hadn’t helped his father.

  Hector couldn’t taste the food as he ate. The realization of what he had stumbled upon bore down upon him. Pappous was there and he brought up Alanya. Helen babbled on about Shah. All Halie was interested in was soccer. But Hector couldn’t think about anything but Izaak, practically lying out in the open. If the character got killed, it would lead them straight to Hector. To all of them. To his mom. His sisters. They could all die because of him.

  Once he’d swallowed his last bite, Hector bolted for his room, only to be reminded it was his night to do dishes. And they’d had lasagna which took forever to clean up. The minutes stretched on like hours. A knock sounded on the kitchen door, making Hector leap backwards, splashing himself with water. His mom called for him to get it. He turned for the door and stopped. What if Izaak was already dead? What if they knew who he was? Maybe they were here! His heart was pounding out of his chest as he peeked through the curtain on the door’s window and saw a dark man. He fell back against the table. They’d found him! Slowly his brain recognized the face he’d seen on the other side of the door, as a stronger knock reverberated through it. Shah! He was one of the terrorists! Of course! Hector knew they had Omega Wars at their house.

  The thoughts had barely formed when Helen pushed by him and opened the door. “No!” he yelled, but it was too late.

  Shah stepped through and flashed him a smile. “Nice to see you, too,” he said with a laugh. Hector stood immobilized, waiting, as Shah brushed past him and followed Helen to the dining room. The air slowly left Hector’s lungs. Shah wasn’t a terrorist? Or was he just waiting for something? Or maybe Izaak was still alive.

  Hector finished the dishes and dashed up the stairs. As he was just about to sit down at his computer, Pappous came in and rattled on about Alanya and a hundred other archaeological digs, insisting that Hector
walk him through his entire project.

  “It is good for you to learn about Alanya,” his grandfather said at the end, showing no signs of leaving. “Different peoples, different religions existed peacefully there once. They talked and worked together to create wonderful structures, rather than picking at each other for any slight. Many people could learn from that lesson.”

  Hector’s stomach tightened more, knowing that Pappous was probably referring to him. But terrorists had murdered his father. That wasn’t just a slight. And now, Izaak was lying immobile, placing Hector, himself, at the mercy of Mal-X if Izaak was found. And Mal-X would have no mercy.

  Pappous rambled on about the history of Alanya, as Pappous’s words – picking at each other – stuck in his brain every time it went back to Izaak. He wasn’t sure why. It didn’t fit with anything that was going on. None of this was trivial anymore. He imagined Mal-X looming over Izaak’s paralyzed form, swinging his nexus blade into the air, with Vera strapped to his back. Vera! If only Mal-X hadn’t cheated him out of Vera, Hector would have never sent Izaak to Alanya – and Chaz would still be alive. It was Mal-X’s fault.

  A blind panic swept through Hector, at a sudden thought. Mal-X hadn’t started this. Hector had singled Mal-X out because he wore a turban, and dominated him, laid in wait for him, pwned him to pieces, without him having a chance. Repeatedly … unfairly. But for Hector’s sting – picking at Mal-X – the Muslim player wouldn’t have challenged him, and he wouldn’t have lost Vera. None of this would have happened. Hector started it. Not Mal-X.

  Pappous’s voice droned on, as Hector worked to pull himself together. He was responsible for Rada being in Alanya. For getting Chaz killed. All because of he wouldn’t leave Mal-X alone, or give up on Vera. But now, the stakes were higher than his sniper rifle. Higher than Mal-X cheating. Maybe Hector had started the sequence of events that lead to Chaz lying dead in a coffin, but that didn’t change the facts now. Terrorists were planning an attack. Chaz died because they were afraid he knew. He died saving Izaak, unknowingly saving Hector’s life as well. And now, if Hector didn’t stop their plan, Chaz’s death would truly have no meaning.

  “I’ve got to get to work,” Hector blurted out, cutting off his grandfather’s story.

  The man reeled back a bit, but nodded at the determined look on Hector’s face. As soon as Pappous had left the room, Hector nearly collapsed onto his computer, with barely enough energy to log back into the game. His hands were shaking. Had they discovered Izaak? Had they learned the name Hector West?

  Hector breathed a sigh of relief when Izaak awoke with no maggots. The old church had done what it was supposed to do. But Izaak’s fusion cell was dead, meaning his armor was without camo or shields and the sensors in his helmet were dead. No IR. No motion sensor. Nothing. Not even his fan shield would function. His weapons were the only items still operational and all they would do is get him killed.

  Twilight had fallen as Izaak crept from the church. The courtyard wasn’t empty, but the guards in the towers were gone. The rehearsal for Operation Scimitar was over and the only characters he saw were down near the gate. On a hunch, he crept back atop the church and peeked over the wall to find a line of characters queued up at the mosque. Getting out of Alanya. Brilliant. Use a hacked gate to get in, so Alanya’s average stats would stay low. No reason for anyone to come here. He jumped down to the ground and slunk around the edge of the wall, keeping in shadow as he made his way out. He reached the base of the north tower and was just about to crawl inside the passageway to Pappous’ cave when the Omega Wars window on Hector’s computer vanished.

  For a moment, he just sat there staring slack-jawed at his Alanya report, trying to figure out what had happened. It came to him in a flash that burst into flame. “Halie!”

  He raced down the hall to find his little sister in the bonus room. Silver discs were everywhere. “Mom!” she yelled. “Where’s Hello Kitty!” Hector hurried over, put Omega Wars away, and quickly fished out the Hello Kitty disc from where he’d hidden it. Everything he did blew up in his face!

  He staggered back to his room and closed the door, then stumbled over and fell onto his bed. “Kidnap the President,” Hector whispered to himself, over and over. “Kill the President?”

  No! This was crazy. He must be wrong. Was it all in his head? He tried to think: Alanya – rebuilt to look like current Alanya. The behavior of the guards – keeping an eye on strangers. The Reavers – keeping Alanya secure to run their exercises, but not part of the exercises. The limousine and police escort – to practice their plan. The things al-Nib had said: “Kill GoreFiendHell to find out who he is.” The replication of the castle right down to the wheelchair accessible ramps. The more he thought, the more convinced he became that he was right. And Izaak was lying there, passed out, just waiting to be discovered. Clammy sweat soaked into his shirt.

  He stumbled to the bathroom, and splashed cold water on his face. “Get a hold of yourself, Izaak,” he said into the mirror. Then froze. Had he just called himself Izaak? He stared deeply into his own eyes wondering what was real. He and Chaz had wished the game was real. Now it was, and he wished it wasn’t.

  Guilt and terror surged through his body, swamping his mind. He had to do something. But after what happened with Mr. Zahedi, no one would believe him, and the summit would go on as planned. The President would be assassinated, or worse.

  “Two weeks,” he breathed, staring at himself. “Two weeks until the summit. Plenty of time to do something. Plenty of time.” But who could he tell? He stumbled back to his bedroom. The police? The Army? The FBI? The Department of Homeland Security? What would he tell them? Did he even have any real information? He thought back to what his dad had told him about 9/11. He’d said the government had all the information they needed in order to figure it out and keep it from happening. They just hadn’t put all the pieces together because they came from so many different sources. They’d learned their lesson, and maybe this time, he was the one with the crucial information. He had to let someone know.

  Hector forced himself to be calm. His hands were shaking too badly to type, so he sat on them and breathed deep until his heart slowed down. Then he went to www.fbi.gov and searched until he found a 1-800 hotline for anonymous tips. Email would be too easy to track and the last thing he needed were more FBI agents showing up at his door. He dialed the number five times and hung up every time before he finally let it ring through. A machine answered and told him to report his tip. “Terrorists are going to kidnap the President at the Alanya Summit and they’re using Omega Wars to train!” he blurted and hit the ‘End’ button so hard the phone fell from his hand. He snatched it up in a flurry, turned the phone off, then removed the battery just to be sure they couldn’t track his phone using GPS. Then he buried it in his sock drawer.

  Now he just had to wait for Halie to go to bed so he could log back in and rescue Izaak. And hope it wasn’t too late.

  Ch. 22

  Hector jerked awake. It was quiet and dark, but he lay listening, every sense alert. Something inside him knew danger was near. He squinted at the clock to see the time, but couldn’t make out the hazy numbers. It felt like the very dead of night. He forced himself to the edge of his bed, like moving through concrete. And when he sat up, someone was in his room. His heart thumped painfully then stopped. He tried to scream but nothing came out. The hulking figure moved toward him, a massive shadow enveloping everything. Hector pawed for his cell phone on the bed stand. His fingers pressed the ON switch. The screen lit up, casting a dim glow. His fingers fumbled on the keypad, but his eyes were drawn back to the form now leaning over him. An armored vanguard. And behind the helmet’s visor, the face of his father, pale and –

  Ω

  Hector jerked awake to find himself lying in bed soaked with sweat and his heart thundering in his ears. The room was filled with morning light and the normal sounds of his mother fixing breakfast drifted from downstairs. He lay still, staring at the ceiling
, feeling the clammy dampness of the sheets, letting his heart slow.

  He stumbled in to the kitchen where his mother hugged him tight and looked into his eyes. “How’s my baby?”

  Hector tried to smile, although the intense dream still lingering in his mind. “I’m okay.” But he knew it was a lie. Terrorists were planning to kidnap the President, they had murdered Chaz to keep it secret, and now he was going crazy. He only hoped the FBI would take his tip seriously. And that his mother wouldn’t find out if he was wrong.

  His mother poured him a glass of orange juice. The news was on and a breathless anchorwoman was issuing an alert about the assassination of someone important in Pakistan. What a horrible place, Hector thought. American political parties might not always get along, but at least they weren’t killing each other.

  The doorbell rang and Helen bounded down the stairs to get it. Probably Shah or one of her friends, Hector thought, but the expected giggling didn’t come. Instead, Helen’s voice held a questioning quaver as she called back to the kitchen, “Mom?”

  Hector soon found himself closed in the den with his mother and the same two FBI agents who had been here before. “So Mrs. West, you don’t know anything about this?” asked the man agent. Hector knew one was Russell, the other Hanson. He couldn’t remember which was which.

  “No,” growled Hector’s mother.

  He turned to Hector. The woman stood behind him, adding yet another set of eyes to the ones already boring holes through him. “So you claim terrorists are using the video game, Omega Wars, to practice for kidnapping the President? And they killed this Chaz Martin because he found out?”

  Hector nodded. “Yes, sir.” His mom was going to kill him. And destroy his game console. Then kill him again.

  “Why didn’t you tell your mother?” asked the lady.

  “I didn’t think she’d believe me,” Hector replied, with a glance at his mother. He winced at the look on her face.