S.W. Tanpepper's GAMELAND: Season Two Omnibus (Episodes 9-11)

by Tanpepper, Saul

  Anger rushed through Jessie. How many times had she heard him saying exactly this about her? How many times had their mother betrayed their loyalty and disappointed them both?

  “I don’t know why you continue to stick up for her.”

  “Because she’s our mother.”

  “She’s a stupid, uncaring, selfish bitch!”

  Eric whirled around, his fists clenched. He looked like he wanted to strike her. Jessie jumped to her feet and stepped toward him, making it all that much easier. She could see him shaking, could see the rare emotion in his eyes.

  And the pain.

  He looked away. The muscles in his cheeks throbbed. “I don’t have time for this, Jess.”

  “Five days,” she said. “Six, actually! And not a single god damn word from her. Not even an, ‘I’m okay.’ Nothing!”

  “Jessie!”

  “Fuck her! And fuck you, too, for sticking up for her. You always take her side. You never take mine!”

  She stood her ground. She realized she wanted him to hit her. She wanted to see the pain in his eyes when he realized how much their mother had hurt her. She wanted him to know what it felt like, the pain the woman had inflicted, because then he’d never be able to defend her again. But his own anger just seemed to leak away from him, to fizzle out like a campfire in a heavy downpour. His shoulders slumped and he sidestepped to get past her. “I have to go to work.”

  “How can you?” she asked quietly. “After all this? After . . . after what happened in Gameland? The promises she made to me afterward. She said she’d be there for me and Kelly.” Jessie felt the tears coming, red hot and stinging. “How could you even find one single solitary thing to defend about her?”

  He raised his face and looked into her eyes, and for the briefest moment she saw the truth in them: he couldn’t defend her, not in any logical way. And yet he did. He was going through the motions because that was what he was supposed to do, because he was their mother’s son, and they were supposed to love and cherish her. That’s how families were supposed to work.

  But Jessie was tired of waiting for her mother to remember her responsibilities, tired of waiting for her to come home and start being the parent she’d never been. Jessie didn’t care anymore what happened to the witch. She could go straight to hell.

  “Just go to school,” Eric mumbled. He turned, and she let him go.

  She could hear him climbing the stairs, quieter and much more slowly than usual. That’s how she knew how upset he was.

  Well, so what? She was upset, too!

  She sat back down and stared at the soggy cereal in her bowl. She picked up her spoon and tried to drown the flakes still stubbornly floating in the milk. But like the damn zombies in Long Island City, they kept popping back up to the surface.

  † † †

  “Jess?”

  Eric appeared in the kitchen doorway, startling her. He held out the house Link. “It’s for you.”

  Jessie’s eyes widened. Could it be her? Could her mother finally be returning her pings?

  “It’s Citizen Registration.”

  Her heart nearly stopped then. Her cheeks went cold and her vision tunneled. “What do they want?”

  You know what they want.

  “I don’t know. They asked for you.”

  They’d pinged the house Link because she’d left her personal Link upstairs and hadn’t answered when they tried that one first. She couldn’t keep hiding from them.

  “Hello?”

  “Is this Jessica Anne Daniels?” asked a genderless voice. After Jessie confirmed that it was, the voice recited a Link identifier code and her street address and asked her to confirm those as well.

  She did.

  “You have been assigned an eleven o’clock appointment this morning for an implant device check at the main Citizen Registration office in Hartford. You must appear in person with your personal Link device. If you fail to appear, or you appear without your Link device, you will be subject to LSC review. Do you understand these instructions? Please say yes.”

  She did.

  “Do you understand the consequences of not appearing at the assigned time?”

  “Yes.”

  The androgynous-sounding clerk — Jessie was almost sure it was a woman — provided her with the number for the earliest bus from Greenwich. “You are not required to pay the fare. Just swipe your Link upon boarding.”

  The ping disconnected, leaving her sitting with a stunned look on her face.

  Eric came over and gently pulled the Link from her fingers. She could tell he was angry she’d missed the school screening, but he didn’t mention this. “I’ll drive you.”

  “I thought you didn’t have time for this.”

  “Damn it, Jessie! Can we just not fight over everything?”

  When she looked up at him, she could see the worry etched in his face, and this seemed to break whatever spell had taken hold of her.

  “I’ll be fine. Really. I mean, it’s just to check my implant. What are they going to do, put a new one in right there? You go to work. I’ll take the bus. I promise.”

  He made as if he was going to continue protesting, then reconsidered. “Straight there, Jess. Then you come straight back. And if there’s any problem, ping me. Don’t let them do anything to you without consulting me first.”

  “They’re not going to do anything. Besides, those people at CR are all zombies anyway, and we all know I can handle them just fine.”

  He grunted unhappily, but she could see the tension ease up a tiny bit. Then, quite unexpectedly, he stepped in and gave her an awkward hug. Before she could react, he’d already let her go.

  ‡ ‡ ‡

  Chapter 10

  She hated the bus. Hated the hard, grungy seats and the smudged, greasy windows. Hated the way the outside always stunk of burnt oil and plastic and the inside always reeked of tired, broken people, not quite dead but definitely well on their way. She hated the way the passengers looked at her when she got on, as if they feared she might pick a seat next to one of them.

  It was just like being in school. Everyone was just putting in their time, going from one nowhere place to the next.

  As she sat and watched the scenery drift by, in her mind she replayed the argument she’d had with Eric that morning. She knew he didn’t deserve her wrath, but he always seemed to push her buttons. Too often he took the brunt of her anger, especially when it came to their mother, and it pained her because she knew he didn’t deserve it. It pained her that she couldn’t help herself.

  Why was it so easy for her to hurt the people who loved her the most?

  Because the ones who hurt you the most don’t stick around long enough to take your shit.

  If she kept this up, she’d drive everyone away: Kelly and Eric, even Reggie. She couldn’t afford to lose any more people in her life. She’d already lost her best friend.

  She pulled her Link from her pocket and fingered the button. Gathering her nerve, Jessie thumbed in the quick-code for Eric’s Link. But when she got his voice mail, she almost disconnected.

  Almost.

  “Eric, listen,” she said in a halting voice. “About this morning. I’m sorry. You’re right about Mom. I know I shouldn’t blame you for her. It’s just that . . . .” She sighed. “It’s just that she promised to try harder. And I believed her and—”

  She was close to tears, vaguely aware that people around her might be watching, and yet not caring if they were.

  “I just want you to know I appreciate you being there.”

  When you actually are, the spiteful voice inside her whispered. She pushed it away.

  “I tried to ping Mom—”

  a hundred

  “—a few times, but she hasn’t answered me, either. I don’t know why she won’t. Even in the past she’s never gone more than a couple days, and I don’t know what to think. I I’m worried about her.”

  She swallowed and wiped the tears from her face with her thumb.
She was finished crying. Like last night’s storm, this one had been long in coming but, when it finally burst, had been brief.

  “Anyway, let me know as soon as you hear from her. I promise I won’t be angry.”

  Shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep.

  She disconnected and pushed the Link back into her pocket, then slid further down in the seat so that her knees were level with her eyes. She chanced a glance around her, but no one seemed to be paying her any attention.

  They’re already dead. All of them. All of us. They just don’t know it.

  She sighed and turned to stare out the window. God, how she hated the bus. Hated the hour-long ride.

  But she dreaded even more what waited for her at the other end.

  † † †

  As she had on her previous visits to the stark monstrosity which housed Citizen Registration, Jessie stood for several minutes eying the shambling crowds as they squeezed their way in through the narrow double doors. Finally, after delaying as long as she could, she inserted herself into the line and shuffled forward along with them.

  The interior of Carcher Tower was as austere as the outside: stone pillars, undecorated walls, a high glassed-in security desk that also served as the reception area. Everything was painted an off-white color, but had yellowed over the years from sunlight, smog, and, before they were made illegal, the smoke of cigarettes. The floor was scuffed and dull. A single large black ceramic pot had been positioned near the screening gates to help direct flow; planted in the bone-dry dirt was the petrified skeleton of an ancient shrub, probably from the Pleistocene era.

  When she reached the desk and had given the clerk her name, Jessie was told to report to room 412. “I’m here for an implant screening,” she said. The clerk waved her aside without emotion, repeated the room number, then looked past her to the next person in line. Jessie hesitated a moment before going over to the security line to be scanned.

  The last time she had come, she’d expected the scanner to turn her away, to send her back to reception to be scheduled for implantation. Or replacement. After all, the device inside her head wasn’t functional insofar as her body had rejected it when Arc replaced it after the bombing. It seemed like a lifetime ago, but it had really only been a few weeks. But they had simply waved her on. Clearly, the handheld scanning device only registered the presence of an implant, not whether it was intact and connected.

  Logically, she understood why the device was so vital. In the event of an outbreak, the implants of infected individuals would be activated. By doing so, Arc would be able to control the victim by suppressing their need to feed on the living, and so prevent transmission of the disease between individuals. But Jessie was immune. She didn’t need an implant. She might die if the wounds inflicted on her by an Infected were severe enough, but she would never reanimate.

  Unfortunately, the world did not know about immunity or treatments or cures. There was only Infected and Uninfected. Us and Them. It was the stark difference between carefully managed use of Reanimation technology to benefit society, and the terrifying consequences the virus yielded it left unregulated. The network was the wall.

  Nobody had ever really questioned the potential for abuse. People simply accepted Arc’s word that the implants were completely foolproof, both unhackable and unable to be activated while a person was still alive.

  But Jessie now knew that both of these assertions were false. Arc’s technology was not as invulnerable as it claimed. That’s why she resisted getting a new implant.

  She approached the front of the line with some apprehension, her eyes flicking from one person to the next. The scanner’s soft beeps confirmed the presence of an implant in most of the people passing through. A solid tone identified three people who didn’t have one. Two were older gentlemen, nearing their LSC age. They shuffled through the gates without expression and were sent to the twenty-third floor. The third, a young girl about seven, held her mother’s hand and seemed both excited and scared. Each of these individuals was ushered away with a, “Thank you for your service,” from the screener.

  Jessie’s skin alternated between hot and cold. Thankfully, the dull ache of apprehension in her abdomen hadn’t turned into anything requiring immediate access to a restroom.

  The person in front of her was scanned, passed, sent to her destination. Then it was Jessie’s turn. The same woman who’d screened her just the week before, when she and Eric had come to return the replacement Link she’d been assigned after losing hers on Long Island, was there again today. There was no flicker of recognition in her eyes. She lifted her hand toward the back of Jessie’s head and gestured with her fingers for her to move forward. The little handheld scanning device passed out of Jessie’s view for a moment. There was a confirmatory beep and the woman nodded.

  “Fourth floor. Elevator three,” she told Jessie, stabbing a finger to the screen of her computer. She waved to her right.

  With a sigh of relief, Jessie stepped through the metal detector, then walked over to the crowd gathering by the elevators.

  Several people got off with Jessie on the fourth floor, but only one other followed her to room 412, a woman who appeared to be in her mid-thirties. There was something odd about her, something that made Jessie nervous. When Jessie glanced at her, the woman quickly turned her head to the side and wouldn’t meet her gaze. There was a bandage on the back of her neck and a yellow stain that suggested an infected wound. Jessie wondered if this was a new implantation that hadn’t healed properly.

  The woman opened the door, but wouldn’t step inside. Jessie hesitated, then went in. The room was wide, though only about ten feet deep. Plastic chairs were lined up against the near wall, facing a bank of windows. All but one window were shuttered with a rolling metal barrier. A large man with bloodshot eyes sat behind the open window. The waiting area was empty.

  The bandaged woman stepped directly over to a chair and sat down and stared at her knees.

  The man gestured at Jessie, waving her over. “Name?” he asked.

  She bent down. “Jessie— Jessica Anne Daniels. I’m—”

  “Daniels? With an ‘s’?”

  “Yes. I’m actually a little early. My appointment’s at—”

  “Have a seat. Next! You!” He crooked his fat finger at the woman.

  Jessie straightened, turned. The people who worked here always seemed so impersonal, but as many times as she’d been here in recent weeks, she never seemed able to get used to it.

  The woman stood up and made her way over, sidling past Jessie, though still staring at the floor.

  “Young lady, please have a seat,” the man repeated, this time pointing to the chair directly opposite him. Jessie realized he was speaking to her and she took the chair indicated.

  Eleven o’clock was still forty-five minutes away. Jessie hoped she wouldn’t have to wait that long. She just wanted to get this over with and go home.

  The woman mumbled something to the man, her mouth pressed right up against the small metal screen in the glass.

  “Remove the bandage,” he instructed.

  Jessie raised her eyes. She tilted her head discretely and peered through the curtain of her hair. The woman reached back and began to carefully remove the gauze pad. Strands of hair stuck to the tape, and she grimaced as she pulled on it. The man asked her how long she’d had the implant.

  “Eleven years.”

  “And how did it get infected?”

  The woman turned her head. Her eyes met Jessie’s for a moment, and just before Jessie turned away, she thought she could see terror in them.

  “I I don’t know.”

  “It is a federal offense to tamper with implant devices or to attempt to remove or disconnect them,” the man recited. “Implant devices are impervious to unauthorized removal. If our examination uncovers evidence of tampering, you may be held over for LSC review.”

  There was a click, and a door-shaped panel in the side wall slid open. The man indicate
d that the woman should enter. Before she did, Jessie caught a glimpse of another person waiting inside, a man. He was wearing medical scrubs and held a computer tablet. After the woman passed through into the room beyond, the panel slid closed.

  Jessie’s heart was hammering in her chest.

  There was no clock, so she found herself checking her Link. The minutes seemed to pass with inexorable slowness.

  Her thoughts drifted. She could see Reggie standing in the doorway of his garage, looking confused and scared. Despite his denial that he had been zoning, it was the only logical explanation. How else could he explain just taking off for eight hours and leaving the Player exposed like that? It was a stupid thing to deny, but he did have a history of coming up with lame excuses for the embarrassing things he’d done over the years.

  Jessie thought about him going back to Gameland in The Game. She knew how unlikely it was that they’d find Ashley or Jake. They were just two out of the ten thousand Undead still on the island, spread out over a thousand square miles. Even though Gameland itself covered only a tenth of that, they could spend an eternity looking and never find them.

  Closure. That’s why he was doing it. He’d never be able to move on until he knew for sure that Ashley was finally at rest.

  And what if he actually does find her? Will he do what’s necessary?

  The panel in the wall opened up again. The fat man had left his window and was now waiting just inside that other room. He had his back to the door.

  Jessie stood up and began to walk over. Was it time for her screening? But the man turned and gestured impatiently for her to move back. The medical attendant appeared from the side with the other woman slung around his shoulder, half dragging, half walking. She appeared to be heavily sedated.

  The two men guided her out into the waiting area without speaking, though they didn’t sit her down in one of the chairs. They just stopped and waited by the exit door.

  Someone new had taken the fat man’s seat and was quietly typing. He didn’t pay any of them any attention. Jessie backed up against one of the shuttered windows and watched, her pulse throbbing in her temples.