by Jason Segel
The tree houses are on fire, consumed by orange-and-red flames. At least a hundred Children are watching the bonfire from a respectful distance. They’ve all been liberated and their captors have been punished, but the atmosphere is more funeral than celebration. Which makes perfect sense. The wall of horrors is being cremated.
There’s a single guest standing among the creatures of Otherworld. He’s tall, hairy and filthy, yet there’s an oddly noble air about him. Even Fons seems impressed. I suppose there’s no mistaking a real hero when you see one.
“Marlow.” Kat recognizes him at once and runs over to greet the hirsute avatar with a hug. I’m left behind holding Fons. It’s a struggle to keep my jealousy in check. Marlow’s always had a thing for Kat. And she’s always had a thing for saving the Children. If we were in a movie, this would be the part where Kat realizes she’s been with the wrong guy all along.
A small red head pops up and peers at us over one of Marlow’s shoulders. A baby Child has latched on to his back. How perfect. The guy is a goddamn saint.
I help Fons sit down on the ground and then I walk over to greet Marlow.
“Nice work,” I offer begrudgingly. “Where’s Ogubu?”
“In Imra, at the bottom of the volcano. The Elemental is watching over him. He should be safe there.”
“I don’t understand how you got him to leave the ice cave in the first place,” Kat says. “Simon and I freed him, and he still wasn’t convinced he could trust us. He said he’d only speak to Busara.”
Marlow plucks the little red Child off his shoulder and gently sets it down. “He didn’t want to give the virus to strangers. Well, he knows me. Mr. Ogubu and my mother used to work together in California.”
I should have remembered that. If only I had, this could all have been over ages ago. We wouldn’t have had to bring Busara to Otherworld. Alexei Semenov wouldn’t have gotten involved. The answer to every dilemma was right in front of me and I was never able to see it.
“Did Ogubu tell you where to find his body?” Kat asks.
The burning lodge collapses and falls to the ground. We all pause to watch the sparks shoot up into the sky. I think it may be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever witnessed. I’d give anything to see the Company’s headquarters ablaze.
“No,” Marlow says. “Ogubu wouldn’t discuss his body. He still wants to talk to his daughter directly.”
Kat turns to me, excitement in her eyes. She’s remembered something important. “We know where Ogubu is, and thanks to the virus, all the headset players will soon be gone. We can bring Busara here to see her father! It should be safe enough, don’t you think?”
“Not yet,” Marlow says with a somber shake of the head. “There are still hundreds of guests left in Otherworld. The virus needs more time to work.”
“It seemed to work pretty fast to me,” I tell him. “I watched one take down a guest and turn him to ground chuck in about fifteen seconds. When it was done there were two of them. There must be thousands of those things here by now.”
“Yeah, but each one only eliminates a single guest at a time. Karamojo is the perfect environment for them,” Marlow says. “Here most of the guests go off on their own to hunt. The viruses can kill them one by one. But they have a hard time with groups of guests. In the few seconds before an avatar explodes, the virus inside it is vulnerable. I’ve seen a few get killed that way.”
“How long could it take the virus to get rid of all the remaining guests?” I ask.
Marlow shrugs. “In Earth days? No idea. Here in Otherworld it could take weeks.”
I catch Kat’s eye. “We can’t wait that long.” We need to deliver James Ogubu to Alexei as soon as possible.
“Maybe we can make the virus kill faster,” says Kat. “Instead of waiting for the viruses to hunt all the guests down, we could send guests to the viruses, one at a time.”
I don’t get it. “How are we going to do that?” I ask.
“Every avatar gets sent to setup when it dies, right? After setup, they appear at the gates of Imra. If we go to all the realms and kill the guests we find, they’ll be sent back to Imra. One of us can make sure there are plenty of viruses waiting for them there.”
“Kat, that’s genius!” Marlow exclaims, clapping like she’s just invented cold fusion. It’s a good idea, but it’s nauseatingly obvious that he’s still got the hots for her.
I glance down at the amulet that’s hanging around my neck. “I can go from realm to realm and kill any guests I find.” I see Kat open her mouth. “Don’t argue—please. It’s the only way to get the job done fast enough—and only one of us can use the amulet.”
“Then it should be me,” Marlow declares.
“Why you?” I ask, annoyed that Marlow seems determined to be the hero of this story. “Do you really think you’re better at this game than I am?”
“No,” Marlow tells me. “I just think I have less to lose. I know what happened to my real body, Simon. There’s nothing left for me back in the real world. You both have bodies that haven’t been broken. And you have each other. That’s why I should be the one who goes.”
I feel like a jerk. “I’m sorry,” I tell him.
“Don’t be. Feeling sorry right now is a waste of time. I’ll travel with you guys to Imra. Make sure there are copies of the virus outside the gates. Then I’ll take the amulet and start sending back avatars to feed our ugly new friends.”
“What should we do with him?” I ask, gesturing over my shoulder at Fons. “We can’t carry him all the way to Imra.”
“Carry who?” Marlow asks.
Kat and I wheel around at the very same time. Fons is gone.
* * *
—
I can see the volcano that houses Imra on the horizon. We’re making our way through a seemingly endless dump outside the city. Marlow claimed to know a shortcut, so Kat and I went his way. We’re following a path that weaves around mountains of garbage. The smell is revolting. I’ve never wished for a headset as much as I do right now.
Kat’s walking ahead of us, the hood of her camouflage suit pulled up. She blends in so perfectly with the refuse that she’s all but invisible. If there’s trouble in front of us, she’ll come back and sound an alarm.
I feel a hand on my arm and Kat’s face appears out of thin air. “Something weird is going on,” she whispers. “There are Children here. Little ones. Babies.”
“By themselves? What are they doing?” I ask
“They’re sitting on a mound of dirt,” she answers. “It’s like they’re waiting for something.”
A mound of dirt. The phrase sets the gears turning in my mind. “Are any of them green?” I ask.
Kat scrunches up her nose. “Yeah, why?”
“I think I may know their mother.” Gimmelwald was deserted the last time we visited. Is it possible that Volla brought her Children here?
Marlow and I follow Kat back to the scene. We crouch behind a teetering pile of buffalo bones and peek out carefully. There, in a clearing in the middle of this immense pile of garbage, sit three small Children. Decorating the surface of their pale green skin are darker lines that are probably veins but resemble vines. The Children seem much thinner than they should be, and they’re unusually quiet. They’d be the perfect meal for any beast roaming by. I’m certain the babies belong to Volla, the Elemental of Gimmelwald, but it seems unlikely that she would willingly leave them exposed. The dirt beneath them appears dusty and dry—nothing like the rich loam from which I once saw Volla rise.
“It’s a trap,” I announce. There’s no doubt about it. I don’t know who set it, and I’m not sure I want to find out.
“What difference does it make?” Kat asks. “We can’t leave them here to die. We have to find a way to save them.”
Marlow stands up. “She’s right. You guys cover m
e, and I’ll get them.” Maybe he’s trying to impress Kat, but he’s taking his “nothing to lose” thing a bit too far. There’s a line that separates brave from stupid, and Marlow seems eager to cross it.
“No, don’t,” I say, but he’s already stepped out into the opening. I ready the rifle I took from Karamojo, and Kat grabs an arrow. I hold my breath as Marlow makes his way to the green infants and squats down in front of them, his arms out as if beckoning them to him.
The Children stare back at Marlow, but none make a move. It’s as if they’re rooted in place. There’s no fear on their faces, and I don’t think Marlow’s their first visitor. Then I see the soil under his feet begin to give way. By the time he stands up, it’s swallowed his ankles. He tries to pull his feet free, but the dirt holds him firmly in place. He’s being sucked under. Within seconds, it’s already up to his knees.
Kat grabs my arm and pulls me up. “Let’s go,” she says.
“No!” I hear Marlow shout. He’s not even looking at us. There’s an NPC soldier with a gun standing on the other side of the clearing. Planted in the dirt, Marlow’s a sitting duck.
Kat sends an arrow flying, but she’s too late. A single shot rings out, and Marlow collapses. A split second later, Kat’s arrow hits. There’s a flash and the NPC is gone.
Kat and I rush to Marlow and each grab an arm. We need to get him to safety as soon as possible, but he’s stuck fast. I expect to be shot at any moment. If there was one NPC soldier wandering the dump, there are bound to be more, and the sound of gunfire will draw the rest our way. The harder we pull, the more Marlow suffers. By now it’s obvious that he can’t be moved. Blood is gushing from his avatar, and the dirt beneath him seems to be drinking it in. The dry, dusty mound has become dark, fertile soil. Kat sits down, puts Marlow’s head in her lap and does her best to make his last moments less painful.
“Well, I guess this explains what happened to all the NPCs who’ve gone missing today.” I hear the sound of footsteps behind me. I don’t bother to look up. I already know who it is. “I’m telling you, Otherworld never ceases to amaze me.”
“Todd,” I sneer.
“That’s Moloch to you, dipshit,” he responds. “Where’s your Russian buddy? Did he figure out that you’re full of it and ditch you for the bear?”
“Go to hell,” I tell him.
“Too late. We’re already here.” Moloch stops and hovers over the three of us. “And look who else we’ve got with us. Katherine Foley and the digital corpse of Marlow Holm.”
Marlow’s still now. The face of his avatar remains contorted in agony. Kat’s is red with rage.
I rise to my feet and face Moloch. “You think this is funny?” I snarl. “He was seventeen years old. You knew him. You knew his mother.”
“Which is the only reason he was allowed to survive for so long. There were people at the Company who felt conflicted about what we had to do to her,” Moloch tells me. “If Marlow had minded his manners like a good little boy, I promise you he’d still be playing the game.”
I’m about to make Todd pay for what he just said. Then I realize NPC soldiers with guns have surrounded us. I’ll be dead in an instant if I so much as lift my rifle.
“It makes no difference if you kill me,” I inform Moloch. “This game will be over soon anyway.”
“Oh, I beg to differ,” Moloch says with a smirk. “I think you’ve just advanced to a whole new level. We have a very special guest who’s grown tired of hunting Children and is looking for his next challenge. I think you could be just what his heart desires.” He points down at Kat. “Maybe we’ll let him figure out what to do with her, too.
“Take them both,” Moloch orders his soldiers. “And bring the Children.”
As the NPCs advance toward us, I feel the dirt shifting beneath my feet as though Marlow’s blood brought it back to life. Thick green vines shoot out between the soldiers’ legs and twist around their bodies, pinning the NPCs’ arms to their sides. One by one, they’re squeezed until their bodies flash and vanish. Kat and I tumble backward as Volla rises from the soil, her offspring clutched in her arms.
Moloch watches with a bemused expression as the giant dirt woman approaches him.
“You were going to take my children.” Her booming voice sets off cascades of garbage in nearby piles.
“I was rescuing them,” Moloch tells Volla, sounding perfectly reasonable. “This guest and his accomplices kidnap Children and sell them. My men and I have been tracking them for days, trying to put an end to it.”
It’s such a brazen lie that I’d probably laugh if there were anything amusing about the situation.
“Moloch’s been stealing Children and taking them to Karamojo, where they’re hunted for sport,” I insist. “I told you he was evil when we met in Gimmelwald.”
“You promised to help us, but you did nothing.” Volla’s body shakes with fury, and I shield my eyes from the dirt that rains down from her. “Guests came and destroyed my realm. My Children and I were forced to wander. You lied to me then. Why would I believe you are not lying now?”
“We have been helping you,” Kat argues. “We’ve found a way to get rid of Otherworld’s guests. It won’t be long before they’re all gone.”
Moloch snorts. “Impossible. Otherworld was built for guests. Volla and I are Elementals. That knowledge was programmed into both of us.”
“You’re not an Elemental,” I spit. “You’re an impostor.”
“Please,” Moloch says, ignoring me and addressing Volla. “You’ve grown weak since you were forced to leave your realm, and your offspring appear unwell. Allow me to take them and care for them while you return to Gimmelwald and repair the damage that was done.”
“If you give him your Children, he’ll let them die,” Kat warns, and the dirt woman hesitates.
“Who is more likely to be telling the truth?” Moloch asks her. “In my experience, it’s safer to trust your own kind. After all, who was it that destroyed your realm? Was it one of us—or one of them?”
Volla nods and reluctantly holds out the three tiny Children. Then I hear something crashing toward us through the garbage. Volla’s head swivels toward the sound, and she presses her babies to her chest as Moloch lifts his gun. When the black creature appears in the clearing, Moloch stumbles backward. Though I’ve seen one before, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the sight of the faceless head with the single hole in its center. As it charges at Moloch, he manages to fire a single bullet at the virus. If the bullet found its target, it did nothing to stop it. I watch as the virus pulls Moloch’s jaws apart and forces itself into his mouth. An impossibly large bulge moves down the avatar’s throat and into its stomach. Then Moloch explodes, painting the trash around us crimson. Two viruses emerge from the gore, and after a quick look at Kat and me, they hurry off to find their next hosts.
For a moment we all stand in silence. Even Volla seems shaken by the experience. “I don’t understand. Moloch is an Elemental. We can’t be killed by beasts,” she says.
“I tried to tell you. Moloch wasn’t an Elemental. He was a guest in disguise,” I inform her. “And that wasn’t a beast. It was something called a virus. It just destroyed the equipment that allowed the man behind Moloch to come here. Now he’s gone for good.”
“You were telling the truth,” she concludes.
“Yes.”
“And your companion—” Volla looks back at the spot where Marlow died. The body is gone now, but the soil where he lay is still richer and darker than the rest. “There is no nourishment in this wasteland. Without his blood, I would not have had the energy to protect my offspring.”
“He’s the one who released the virus,” Kat says. “And he set fire to Karamojo. He sacrificed his life to save the Children of Otherworld.”
“A guest?” Volla seems to be having trouble wrapping her head ar
ound it. “When he returns, please express my gratitude.”
“Marlow won’t be coming back,” I tell her. “When we met in Gimmelwald, I told you I’m not like other guests. Marlow wasn’t either. Now he’s gone for good.” I think of Carole, who died in my arms. Marlow, who willingly sacrificed his life. All the people the Company kidnapped and used in their sick experiment. The rage floods through me. It feels far better than pain.
I grasp the amulet that’s lying against my chest. “There’s something I need to do. Can you guarantee my friend safe passage back to Imra?” I ask Volla.
“Yes,” Volla says.
“Make sure there are viruses at Imra’s gates,” I tell Kat.
“Simon, no!” Kat shouts. But an instant later I’m gone.
The hunt is addictive. I know why the guests love it. You spot your prey. You stalk it. You strategize. Then you go in for the kill.
Headset players tend to be solitary creatures. Occasionally they’ll travel in pairs. Less often you’ll encounter a party of three. I have an arsenal of weapons now—and the element of surprise. But whenever possible, I love to kill them the way Arnie would, up close and personal. Nothing compares to the feeling of shoving a dagger into an avatar and feeling the hot, sticky blood on your hands.
I’ve got one in a choke hold now. I found him and two buddies in a fancy tent on the edge of a bombed-out war zone, watching a scantily clad NPC peel off what little was left of her clothing. All three avatars were dressed in black like ninjas, so I was surprised to hear accents that were pure USA. I sent the first one back to setup with three quick bullets to the back of the head. The second went even quicker—he was already down two lives. When I crashed into the tent, the third one just froze in fear. Real heroes, these guys. I’ve got his neck clamped in the crook of my elbow and I’m taking my sweet time. His legs are kicking, arms flailing, back arching. The NPC is still dancing. She’s not wearing a stitch at this point, but I couldn’t care less. I can’t be distracted. I’m in the zone.