by James Frey
Stonehenge.
The image of Stonehenge stays, grows, changes to show a figure, a person, walking through it. It’s the Mu, Chiyoko Takeda.
Maccabee clicks his tongue. A revelation. “This isn’t Earth Key, Baitsakhan.”
“What?”
“It isn’t a key at all.” Maccabee stares at his partner with searing eyes. “It’s a transmitter.”
“A transmitter?”
“Yes.”
“Transmitting what?”
Maccabee looks at the orb again. His lips curl into a sneer as the Mu picks her way through Stonehenge. “Showing Endgame. It’s not meant for us. It’s meant for . . . Them, the keplers.”
Baitsakhan’s eyes flicker. It dawns on him too. “Then this is . . .”
Maccabee leans forward eagerly. “Yes. It’s better than a key. Much, much better.” He stands. Holds the orb over Baitsakhan’s lap. They watch together.
Watch the beginning of the end.
OK, look through here, and see the swan and what lives beyond beyond.lxxiii
SARAH ALOPAY, JAGO TLALOC, CHRISTOPHER VANDERKAMP
River Avon, West Amesbury, Wiltshire, England
It is 4:53 a.m. when they arrive. Sarah is at the wheel of their rental car. The headlights are off. The monoliths rise before them, looming shadows, dark and empty.
Stonehenge.
Ancient sentinels of rock.
Keepers of secrets.
Watchers of time.
Christopher leans between the front seats. “So that was made by the Sky People?”
Sarah shakes her head. “Humans made it. The Makers showed them how, and why.”
Christopher still doesn’t get it. “Well—how, and why?”
Sarah stares. “We’re about to find out.”
Jago peers through a pair of binoculars they bought at an airport gift store. They are not very good, but they’ll have to do.
He squints. Scans. “Nothing.” He lowers the binoculars. The three of them watch a low bank of clouds roll in from the west, its edge blotting out the stars. “Maybe no one’s here,” Jago says.
“At least not that you can see with those bird-watchers,” Sarah replies.
“Isn’t that weird?” Christopher asks.
“What?”
“Well, this is a pretty big tourist site, right? Shouldn’t there be security or something?”
“He’s right,” Jago says.
“Endgame,” Sarah breathes, and they know it’s true. Somehow, this place has been cleared for their arrival, just like the Big Wild Goose Pagoda was. What transpires here will be outside the gaze of the uninitiated. More—They will be watching. The keplers. Somehow, They will be keeping score.
Jago lifts the binoculars back to his face. “Maybe we beat her—”
Christopher points. “There!”
The shadowy outline of a figure steps into full view from behind one of the monoliths. The person spins. The person is holding something circular and heavy.
“Bingo,” Sarah says.
“Let’s go get our key,” Jago says.
From the outside moving in:
1 Heel Stone.
56 holes.
4 station stones.
29 holes.
30 holes.
30 sarsen stones.
60 bluestones.
5 sarsen trilithons.
19 bluestones.
1 sarsen Altar Stone.
Stonehenge.
AN LIU
Route A344, Amesbury, Wiltshire, England
The motorcycle screams between An Liu’s legs, eating up the asphalt and the crisp night air of the southern English countryside. He piloted his own jet from China, stopping once for fuel at a small strip in Romania. He couldn’t wait. And since he decided not to wait, his tics subsided.
Chiyoko.
So near.
Almost there, my love. Almost.
When he is two kilometers from the old monument, he stops. He parks his bike on a side road and gets some things he might need from the saddlebags—some toys he smuggled in his jet. He walks to the top of a small hill. He surveys the land with a high-powered night-vision scope. Sees the stones. Can’t see Chiyoko. Not yet. But he knows she is there. He can feel her. She is like a sun made just for him, throwing light and heat, giving him life. He looks more. More. Here and here and here.
And there.
A small car. Parked in a little depression on the side of the road about one kilometer from the site. Three people. Two with guns.
He zooms in.
He recognizes two.
Players.
Cahokian.
Olmec.
He watches them talk and prepare; he watches.
He lowers the scope.
He is glad he brought some toys.
SARAH ALOPAY, JAGO TLALOC, CHRISTOPHER VANDERKAMP
River Avon, West Amesbury, Wiltshire, England
Jago slaps a cartridge into his ceramic-and-polymer gun. Clips the holster to his belt. Sarah straps her pistol around her thigh, pulls her hair into a ponytail, sticks an extra clip, her only extra clip, into her back pocket. Christopher paces. He’s been given the job of getaway driver. He is not happy about it, but he understands.
Sarah turns to him. “Bang bang . . . bang. Two shots, and a third one a second later. That’s the signal. If you hear it, come and get us.”
“Got it.”
Jago looks to Sarah. “Ready?”
“Yeah.”
Jago walks to the top of the depression and surveys the area around Stonehenge. Sarah takes Christopher by the arm. Squeezes. “Wait in the car.”
“All right.”
“Keep your ears open.”
“If you don’t signal, how long should I wait before coming in after you?”
Sarah shakes her head. “If there’s no signal, we’re dead and you can go. You have to go, understand? It won’t be safe here. Don’t come and look for us. My Endgame will be over.”
He nods solemnly. “You’re not going to ditch me now, are you? You could just get what you want and leave and I’d never know.”
Her eyes are stern, honest. “I won’t. I promise.” She pauses, looking down. “Listen. What happened at the hotel . . .”
“We can talk about it later,” Christopher says, feeling a fresh surge of dread. Later, he thinks. If there is a later.
Jago whistles. They turn. He spins his finger through the air. Sarah leans forward and gives Christopher a peck. “I have to go. I’m sorry it’s like this. It’s not what I ever wanted or expected.”
Before she can get away, Christopher wraps his arms around her. “I’m sorry too, Sarah. Go kick some ass, and I’ll see you soon.”
“I’ll be right back.”
They both smile, Sarah spins away, and without looking back jogs up to join Jago.
“I love you,” Christopher says to himself. “I love you.”
CHIYOKO TAKEDA
Stonehenge
This is Endgame.
Chiyoko sets the disk down. Looks to the heavens. Gray clouds hang low over England and the world. Mist drifts over the rolling green landscape. The stars, the clear sky, they’re gone. Clouds blanket the world.
She stares at the disk, which is resting in a barely perceptible cutout on top of the Altar Stone. No one, until Chiyoko arrived a short while ago, ever knew why the cutout was there. The disk fits into it, but not perfectly. She reaches out and lets her fingers grace it, smiles, knows this is the last step to acquiring Earth Key. She puts both hands on the disk and presses.
Presses.
Presses.
She lifts her hands and lets them hover over its grooved surface, gathers her chi in her fingertips; the Altar Stone shudders slightly.
The ground rumbles.
Her legs begin to tremble.
A partridge calls out in the distance.
She thinks of An.
Tortured An.
Absent An.
You should be
with me. Life is not the same as death. You should see.
This is Endgame.
CHRISTOPHER VANDERKAMP, AN LIU
River Avon, West Amesbury, Wiltshire, England
Christopher sits in the driver’s seat, tapping the wheel nervously. His leg bounces. He pushes the clutch in and out, in and out. He runs the shifter through the gears. He looks at the sky expectantly.
He can barely take it.
It has been 23 minutes since Sarah left.
With him.
Christopher’s imagination runs wild. He doesn’t know what to do. He wants to go find them. He gets out of the car. Walks around it. Gets back in. Puts on the seat belt. Holds the key in the ignition and starts to turn. Doesn’t turn.
If he smoked, he’d be smoking.
He rolls down the window. The sky is incrementally brighter but still dark. It will be a drab dawn. Fitting for the occasion.
He is gray inside.
He waits, wraps his hands around the top of the wheel, squeezes it, turns his hands over it.
“Screw this.”
He puts his hand on the key, and as he begins to turn it, he feels a cold, round piece of metal pushing into his temple.
“Don’t,” a young man’s accented voice says.
Christopher’s eyes shift to the side mirror. There, in a black jumpsuit covered with straps and trinkets and grenades and canisters, is the torso of a skinny kid with a concave chest. A kid Christopher could pummel in seconds flat.
Only the skinny kid has a gun.
“Hands on wheel,” says An Liu in stilted English.
How did he sneak up on me? Oh right, another fucking Player.
Christopher does what he’s told. An steps away from the car.
“Open door. Show hands. Get out. Too fast I shoot. No show hands I shoot. Silencer. Understand? Say yes.”
“Yes.”
“Good. Now do it.”
Christopher does. He stands and faces An, keeping his hands visible. Christopher is surprised he isn’t more nervous. This is the 4th Endgame kid he’s run up against—not counting Jago and Sarah—and the 4th to kidnap him. He also looks the weakest.
“Catch.” An tosses something at Christopher and he catches it reflexively.
It is a grenade.
“It armed. You let go, it blow.”
Carefully, Christopher turns the grenade over in his hands. “It’ll kill you too.”
“No. I make it special. Small explosion. Take your arms, stomach, maybe heart and lungs. I stay safe. Just get splattered. Gross, yes. But I not die. You understand, say yes.”
“Yes.”
“Good. Turn away. No look.”
Christopher’s heart races faster now. He wonders if these Endgame kids have any advice on controlling heart rates. He should ask Sarah. He turns back to the car, and without making a sound, An approaches him and slips a rope around his neck, pulls it tight. An steps away from his quarry and lets out the leash. There is nine feet of slack.
“I make bombs. Special bombs. This rope special. Part around your neck is bomb. I have trigger. I trip it, you lose head. I have other trigger. Biometric. I die, you lose head. It is active now. Understand, say yes.”
“Yes,” Christopher manages to say. The leash is tight; his hands are sweating, his heart hammering.
I should’ve listened to Sarah, he thinks once again. I shouldn’t be here.
“You can drop grenade now.”
“It won’t blow up?”
“No. I lie. But I not lie about rope. You test me, you lose head. Understand, say—”
“Yes.”
An smiles. Christopher drops the fake grenade.
I should have listened.
“Good. Now, walk. Walk to Stonehenge. We go. We go and see our friends.”
SARAH ALOPAY, JAGO TLALOC, CHIYOKO TAKEDA, AN LIU, CHRISTOPHER VANDERKAMP
Stonehenge
The Altar Stone shudders.
Chiyoko’s charged fingertips tingle.
Her knees shake.
But it stops.
She steps away and gives it a puzzled look.
The disk isn’t working.
What? Why?
A voice interrupts her thoughts.
“You’re doing it wrong.”
Chiyoko spins. Two shuriken, hidden in her sleeves, fly from her hands. Sarah sways and catches the zinging metal blades between the thumb and middle finger of each hand. Sarah smiles. “You’re not the only one with skills, Mu.”
Chiyoko holds up her palms in a sign of peace. Sarah steps forward. “Surprised to see me?” Chiyoko’s eyes look rueful. She claps once for yes, and makes an apologetic bow. She points at Sarah, holds up two fingers, cocks her head. She’s asking where the others are.
“Here,” Jago says, stepping from behind the upright of the southernmost trilithon, the one with the dagger carved in it. His pistol is aimed at Chiyoko’s head.
Chiyoko’s body is still, but her eyes dart from Jago to the disk to Sarah. Sarah looks at her. “Here’s the deal. We’re going to take the disk back and win Earth Key. You have a choice. You can let us get the key peacefully and leave. Or you can make one wrong move and Jago will blow your head off.”
“With great pleasure,” Jago adds. “I’m awake this time, puta.”
It doesn’t seem like much of a decision to Chiyoko. She can’t give these two the disk, can’t let them have Earth Key. The disk belongs to her line, to her people. This is how it has been and how it always will be. Chiyoko keeps her hands visible and still, her breath even. Her chi is now in the pit of her stomach, balled up and ready. She hears the spring on Jago’s gun depress.
Jago says, “You’re taking too long.”
Chiyoko makes a confused gesture at the stone disk and the altar. She makes an open-handed shrug, clasps her hands together in a beseeching motion.
“Stop moving,” Jago warns.
“You want to know how it works?” Sarah asks. “Is that it?”
Chiyoko glances hesitantly in Jago’s direction before nodding.
“I solved my puzzle. It led me to answers. If you’d stuck around, maybe we’d have shared it with you.”
“But now you can go to hell,” says Jago.
Chiyoko fumes silently.
I was rash. Stupid. I was not patient.
She takes a step backward. Jago squeezes the trigger; it is 0.7 mm from firing. Chiyoko bows her head in defeat, gestures toward the disk. Sarah steps forward. “Good decision.”
Jago gestures with his gun. “Stand over there, Mu. Slow and steady.” Chiyoko looks at his gun, gauging the distance, trying to figure out if she could disarm him. Jago mistakes her look for apprehension. “Don’t worry. I won’t shoot. Unlike you, when I make a deal, I honor it.”
Chiyoko does as she’s told as Sarah slips the shuriken under her belt and steps to the Altar Stone. She cups her hands around the disk. She can feel its power but knows it’s misplaced.
She begins to lift it and whispers, “This is it.”
But before she can turn the disk, a cocksure voice with a Chinese accent says, “No, Cahokian. Not yet.”
ALL PLAYERS
England. India. Italy. China. Turkey. Ethiopia. Australia.
Sarah spins, draws her gun, aims. Jago keeps the pistol steady on Chiyoko. Chiyoko only moves her eyes, but Jago can see the emotion in them. She is sad and she is relieved. She is curious.
Christopher appears from behind the northernmost group of stones in the outer circle. His expression is steady and defiant. A black cord is looped around his neck. Sarah’s gun follows and waits. After 2.3 seconds An Liu steps into view. His forehead is in her gun’s sight. She begins to pull.
“Don’t,” An says. “Rope has bomb. It kill boy if I die. Biometric switch. I also have trigger. You do what I say or boy die. Lose head. It goes boom. You understand?”
Jago asks, “What the hell are you doing here? He with you, Chiyoko?”
“Chiyoko help me in China,” An e
xplains. “I help her now. You give her what she need to have Earth Key. You do it now or boy die.”
“Shoot this chump, Sarah,” Christopher says, his voice hard and searing. “He’s bluffing.”
An pulls on the leash. “Quiet. Not bluffing. Don’t be stupid.”
Sarah puts more pressure on the trigger. She knows Christopher better than any person on Earth. She knows that he’s lying—that he doesn’t really believe An is bluffing. Christopher wants Sarah to shoot An because he is afraid of what will happen if she doesn’t. He’s afraid she won’t win. Christopher’s eyes plead with her. Sarah swallows hard.
Chiyoko claps her hands insistently. An glances in her direction. She makes a calming gesture, shaking her head. Life is not the same as death, she says in her mind, willing An to hear. An understands that she does not want this to happen. Not this way.
But An doesn’t see it that way.
Chiyoko has never wanted to speak so badly in her life.
Jago fires a single round over Chiyoko’s head. She feels it graze a stray hair. “I said don’t move.”
Chiyoko freezes.
Christopher’s voice cracks as he says, “Shoot him. He’s bluffing.”
“No bluff.”
“Shoot him.”
Sarah stares down An Liu. The disk is behind her. The dagger stone is just to her right. All she needs is a moment.
“Shoot him. Do it.”
An slides farther behind Christopher. Sarah doesn’t have a clean shot. “Don’t. He die.”
“Don’t move!” Sarah insists.
An stops. She only has a bead on the side of his face, his ear.
“He’s full of shit, Sarah. Shoot him. Do it now.”
“I don’t have a shot.”
“Sure you do,” Christopher says. “You’re Sarah Alopay. You always have a shot. Do it.”
Sarah suddenly feels sick to her stomach. She watches An. Jago watches Chiyoko. Chiyoko watches An. An watches everyone, his gaze twitching between them.