Time to move. Alex opened the door and accelerated hard across the tile floor, casters squealing, and launched into the air over the front steps. She immediately took cover in the dense foliage of a tree in the front yard. The helicopters hovered fifty or sixty feet above the roof and fifty yards apart, giving no indication of seeing her emergence. The nearest helicopter, the Blackhawk, couldn't have been more than thirty yards from her – close enough to shake the tree and blast leaves and branches into her face.
The Blackhawk's rear rotor was conveniently in clear view, pointed to one side of her. Was it close enough? Alex focused on the blade, holding her breath, and punched what might've been the gearbox with a narrow telekinetic pulse. The amplified insect buzz developed a wounded-creature snarl. The helicopter lurched to one side and began to spin. At first, slowly and perhaps controllably, and then becoming a whirling dervish – listing suddenly in her direction.
Shit. Alex reacted without thought – bursting out of the tree, her "seatbelt" biting into her waist as she backed away from the house and the whirling helicopter. The Apache had now spotted Alex and was swiveling to bring its weapons to bear on her. Alex swung back around the yard under full acceleration, keeping the trees and descending Blackhawk between them. Alex flew over a small orchard in the backyard while the Apache followed, giving its wounded fellow a wide berth.
Some people leaped or were thrown from the Blackhawk seconds before it crashed, spinning and grinding up the front driveway until the main rotor blew apart in a cloud of gravel and dust.
A sound like a chainsaw ripping wood split the air. The trees to one side of Alex vaporized. Alex raced toward the house. More chainsaw bursts – and roof shingles and wall board rained down on her as she hugged the walls, hoping to come up under the helicopter, but the Apache kept circling away. Alex clung to the belief she could still out-maneuver the gunship, but so far she was just barely holding her own.
To make matters more interesting, someone opened fire at her from the trees on the far side of the yard. Stuffing exploded from her chair and pain blossomed in her right shoulder. Alex tossed up a TK shield and shot back in behind the house. The Apache glided in directly above her. She rose instinctively, straight up to its underside. The belly of the beast. Out of range of the machine gun sprouting from its nose and targets galore. Her superior maneuverability and a slight miscalculation by the pilot had finally paid off.
The Apache jerked away. Alex grabbed a front wheel leg and was yanked along. She directed a TK burst to the cannon, bending the barrel sharply upward. If it did manage to fire, the rounds would blast right up into the fuselage. More likely, the cannon would just blow apart.
She released her hold and rocketed away, climbing swiftly above the Apache. Heads frantically twisted within the cockpit, seeking her out. Alex closed in from behind, TKing the rear rotor. Why change a winning strategy?
As the Apache started into its death spin, Alex circled the yard at high speed, shields up 360, flying in behind the trees where the surviving DARE agents had fired.
A pair of muzzle flashes from the shadows within the ground canopy of a big fir tree greeted her. She could actually see the bullets imbed in her TK field before falling away. She dropped her shield and lashed out – not a precisely directed TK strike, but two green-uniformed agents flopped out of the branches onto the ground. Alex restored her shield, just in case.
The next event happened too fast for Alex to be surprised: a flash of golden light and the sense of searing heat, as if she'd stepped into the sun. Then it was lights out.
Alex awoke on the ground, her clothes smoking. A short distance away her erstwhile war chariot was also smoking. Well, not its warped metal skeleton but the fragments of plastic and polyester scattered over the lawn – some of the pieces still on fire. Flamethrower? Missile?
Or Tatiya Wilson. The DARE agent was standing a few meters away, face flushed, pointing an AR at her with shaking hands. One of those hands was bright red and blistered, as if she'd stuck it in boiling water.
"What did you hit me with?" Alex asked.
"You haven't figured it out?"
Alex traced her glance to her red hand. A memory of her raising that hand and Secretary Learner restraining her camera-flashed in her head.
She's augmented! That's why Secretary Learner grabbed her wrist in the DARE interrogation room! She'd known that meant something but was too fucking intellectually lazy to connect the dots.
"You're special," said Alex. "You project fire or some kind of particle beam with your hand."
"Yes."
"But you shot your augmented wad. That's why you're pointing the gun at me."
The DARE agent didn't reply. Alex resisted an impulse to crush the woman's skull or perhaps her ribcage. But she sensed her power reserve was currently near-zero. Better to stall a bit. Tatiya didn't strike her as the executioner type, and the rifle posed no threat in itself. If Tatiya started to power up her hand again, she'd strike. Besides, she was feeling a distinct lack of desire to kill the pesky agent, despite seeing no good alternative.
"You killed my team," said Tatiya in a dead-sounding voice.
"What were they trying to do to me?"
"That wasn't the plan. If you hadn't attacked us, we would've taken you into custody peacefully."
Alex pushed to her feet. She felt her strength surging back. The combination of the immunity and strength awards with her TK shield had saved her major injury. Whatever Agent Tatiya had thrown at her...well, she definitely hadn't thrown it like a girl. If her shield hadn't been up or she hadn't been awarded Grade Five immunity, she'd be done.
"I have a question for you, Agent Wilson," Alex said. "You don't seem unintelligent. So why are you standing there pointing a gun at me when you know I could kill you with a thought?"
Tatiya slumped. She lowered the AR.
"I couldn't run away," she said. "They died because of me."
"How?"
"Everyone believed you were in the house. They wanted to open fire, but I stopped them. We couldn't be sure it was you."
"Why would they even take a scientist –" Alex stopped herself with a harsh smile at her obtuseness. "Because you're augmented. You're a last resort."
"Some of the military types argued against me leading missions. Turns out they were right. I'm not competent to lead a field team."
"That's heartbreaking."
Tatiya clenched her jaw. She tossed the rifle to the ground and started to raise her hand. Alex made a clucking sound.
"Girl, do you truly want to die?"
Tatiya's hand stopped at about half-mast. Conflicting emotions waged pitched battles in her face.
"You'd let me live?" Her voice barely cracked a whisper.
"Why not? Backup's on the way whether you're alive or not." Alex took a step toward her. She took a step back. "Look, Tatiya. I just got one more thing to do here and I'm out of your hair. If your people stay out of my way, chances are no one else will get hurt."
"Chances are?"
"I can only tell you I have no interest in hurting anyone. Like I said, I have one more thing to do and I'm history. Literally."
"Solving the final stage of your alleged game."
"That's right."
"That's all this is to you – people's property, lives, everything – just a game?"
"Gaming might not be everything" – Alex gave her a sardonic smile – "but it's the only thing."
Chapter 19
MADISON, WISCONSIN HAD A typical university town Friday night party vibe when Alex rolled into town.
She'd sprinted off with her clothes hanging in burnt shreds over her avatar's body, leaving Tatiya Wilson standing there pale and uncertain, catching a ride from a classic farmer's daughter in a pickup less than a mile down the road. One look at Alex's outfit and she screeched to a stop, calling through the window, "Are you okay? Were you in a car accident?"
Alex had almost felt bad about commandeering the truck from the compassionate yo
ung maiden. But it was a good thing, because through the rear window Alex saw the cavalry had arrived: at least three helicopters approaching the farm, and a SWAT-type vehicle and several local cop cars roaring toward them. Alex dropped down as the convoy raced past. The farm girl, Melanie Horst, said the SWAT truck driver gave her a hard look but that was it.
All smooth sailing from there. The girl bought Alex's hastily improvised tale of a "bad boy" with a "good heart" who had fallen in with the wrong people, somehow without realizing it, and had been setup for a crime he didn't do, etc. Halfway through her ludicrous story, Melanie started providing story elements herself. Turned out she read a lot of romance novels.
So Alex made it to Madison surprisingly drama-free – except for the story she and Melanie had concocted together – and was now within spitting distance of Mac's Green Drive-In, wearing a Badgers men's football t-shirt and cap Melanie had happily purchased on Alex's behalf. Just another student strutting his stuff on the downtown streets of University Town, U.S.A. on a Friday night.
Melanie had dropped her off several blocks from Mac's Green Drive-In. There was plenty of time. It was just after eight and the drive-in didn't close until 12. So close to her final triumph, which meant now was the time to expect Mr. Murphy to arrive and blow everything to fucking hell. Not easy to see how that could happen. DARE knew nothing about the drive-in –
Spotting the young woman across the street walking with her back to her, glancing furtively about as if she were a target in some C-grade spy movie, Alex saw in a brief but brutal avalanche of images exactly how it could all go to fucking hell.
Murphy - Miss Murphy – had arrived.
Athena.
Alex dismissed in an instant the notion that Athena had solved the four stages. She might've solved one. Possibly two. But Athena wasn't here because she'd solved any stages. She was here because she'd seen the signs of Alex in the news and had used all the freaky, semi-cataclysmic events – the police massacre in New Mexico, the battle with Henna on the highway, the Donnybrook in Manson, and her dogfight at the farm – to track her. Alex had no idea what news reports had come out about the incident at the Illinois farm, but helicopters didn't fall from the sky to the tune of machine gun fire without someone taking note.
So Athena had somehow guessed Alex's trajectory, probably by guessing her target. It wasn't a great intuitive leap from from the general clue "green draughts become divine, beneath our toupee-lives hair-wreathed" to the Green Mac when aligned with Alex's proximity and apparent line of travel. More of a good-sized "hop" for someone of Athena's skills.
But Athena, Alex realized suddenly, wasn't the real problem. She could eliminate her in a heartbeat. No, what could make it all go to hell were the other competitors. If Athena had figured out enough to be here, so could her competitors.
I need to play this very cool. Draw no attention to myself. My enemies could be anywhere and everywhere –
"Alex?"
Her head snapped around. The gay dude from the bus, Taylor, was walking up with a male friend. Oddly, the dude didn't look scared shitless, which he should've after Alex's departure from the moving bus.
"Hi," Alex made herself say calmly.
"So you made it," said Taylor. "I'm surprised, after what happened on the bus. I could hardly believe my eyes when you ran away unhurt. What was that all about anyway?"
Alex hesitated. The implication was that DARE had never intercepted the bus and had hushed up the driver and the nosy couple.
"What happened after I left?" Alex asked.
"Um, nothing, really. It was weird. From where I sat, it appeared that you took that obnoxious guy and his girlfriend's cells and crushed them in your hands. Did I see that right?"
"Could be. Did they say anything about that to any of you?"
"No. Nothing. The driver did borrow a phone from someone in the front seats and talked to someone...and he and that couple whispered a bit...that was it." Taylor gave him a helpless shrug. "We just drove on."
"Interesting," said Alex. So DARE had told them to keep their mouths shut, presumably. If so, only the driver and the obnoxious couple knew the truth.
"So why did you do it?" Taylor asked. "Crush those phones, I mean."
"They, uh, said something."
"Something sexist?"
"Exactly."
The student nodded sympathetically, though his friend frowned. "I understand. I've often wished I was the sort of person who could stand up to people like that."
"In my opinion," said his companion, "violence breeds violence."
"Oh," Taylor laughed. "I should introduce you. This is Ralph, my boyfriend –"
"Partner."
"Right – partner. Ralph, this is the guy I was telling you about, Alex."
Alex smiled in response to Ralph's scowl. Neither offered to shake hands.
"We were just heading over to Mac's," said Taylor. "If you'd care to join us."
"Sure."
Alex fell into step beside them. Three students hanging out. Even the most prying eyes probably wouldn't see otherwise. Not at first glance, anyway.
Athena was no longer in sight. She might hang around the drive-in, scoping it out, looking for Alex or other competitors. What happened then? With her new friends, Badger cap and shirt, and a week's worth of wispy blond beard on her face – she hadn't shaved since the quest began – Alex might elude Athena's recognition at least briefly. But that all would be moot if Alex located and swilled down the coveted Ambrosia.
"I have a question for you two," she said. "If you had to pick one drink, maybe the one it's most famous for, what would it be?"
"Hmmm." Taylor touched a finger to his lips. "One drink. Difficult question."
"It's most famous for its root beer float," said Ralph, a tone of grudging interest in his voice. "It's made from ingredients used in the original – cinnamon, ginger, wintergreen, vanilla, and so on, plus ice cream made from organic milk."
"That's definitely one candidate. My personal favorite is the strawberry shake. The flavor is divine."
"Divine?"
"Ha, just an expression. I'm not attributing anything religious to it, of course. Though I could see a religion being based on it."
Alex chuckled quietly. She was watching the swarms of people around them while laboring to appear uninterested – working through her tactics and choices at the same time. She had exactly one chance when it came to her choice of drink. Wrong drink, no godhood. The rules were clear on that.
Taylor pronouncing the strawberry shake "divine" was auspicious but not decisive. The root beer float had an iconic majesty. Who knew what other god-prospect drinks were on the menu?
"Any other noteworthy drinks?" she asked.
"You seem kind of fixated on the drinks," Taylor's boyfriend observed.
"You would be, too, if one of them could turn you into a god."
Taylor laughed uncertainly. His friend just stared at him.
"I'm not sure," said Taylor. "A lot of people like the cranberry cola, too."
The drive-in appeared, in all its retro glory, at the end of the block. The marquee announced, in clunky red letters: FRIDAY NIGHT SPECIAL: BISON DOUBLE BURGER, SWEET POTATO FRIES & SOFT DRINK OF CHOICE.
Alex had to grin. It was as if she'd gone to fast-food heaven. What a fitting place for her to win it all.
Yet as they approached, Alex started noticing some things. The outside eating area was overflowing. Not unusual for a Friday night, but the number of individuals quietly eating alone stood out among the happily chatting couples and groups. They were all men, in keeping with the common presumption that most of the Apex gamers were men. She also noted the space between the loners – they all appeared roughly equidistant – and their furtive glances at the crowd and each other. They were all men as well. It was like one of those cliché movie scenes where the MC is sitting in a bar and gradually notices the droves of people who don't quite fit in.
So, not unexpectedly, her competitors
were here in force. Alex moved closer to her two companions, firming the link between them. She alone among the aspirants to the throne blended in with her college friends. Her reward was entering the long line to the ordering booth drawing only cursory looks from the solitary attendees.
"Quite a crowd," said Taylor. "Bigger than usual, even for a Friday night."
Alex spotted Athena inside the drive-in, jostling among the wall-to-wall students. She glanced in his direction and froze. Alex instantly flicked her wrist loosely at the menu on the window and nestled in against a startled Taylor.
"Why, that bison burger just shounds absholutely heavenly," she lisped.
"Uh, yeah." Taylor shifted awkwardly under Alex's brawny arm, but seemed in no hurry to dislodge it, despite his friend's evil-eyed glare. Inside the restaurant, Athena looked away with a self-reproving shake of her head. That's right, Alex seconded her thought, patting Taylor proprietarily on the shoulder. Obviously not the monument to masculinity you're looking for.
Alex was tempted to reach out and telekinetically touch Athena or some of the other competitors – a minor heart attack here, a brain aneurysm there – but then all hell would break loose. Much better to waltz in and grab the drink of the gods without raising a fuss. But what drink to grab?
The line was moving at the speed of sludge, giving Alex plenty of time to study the menu. Sadly, the drink selection was colossal. Alex counted eleven different sodas and eight varieties of milkshake. Surely, an artifice designed for obfuscation? What does a girl need to do to get a drink of the gods around here?
"That's a lot of drinks," Alex said to her companions. Ralph was still glaring at her even though she'd removed her arm from Taylor's skinny shoulder.
"I know," Ralph grumbled. "They just added several new ones. Odd."
"What are the new ones?"
"Well, the Razzleberry Surprise is new..."
He named six others. Alex wasn't sure if the new ones were decoys or if her prize lay among them. In need of more clues, she checked the drink menu for signs of hidden messages. Did the first or last letters spell any words? Could she rearrange any of the drinks' names into other words?
The Goddess Quest Page 29