Jessie didn’t answer.
“You know he’d never hurt you.”
Yeah, but Micah would.
“Besides, you’ll be safe at school among other people.”
“I’ll be safer at home.”
Eric exhaled noisily. “I don’t have the energy to argue with you right now. Please, Jessie, just go to school.” He yawned widely, smacking his lips. “Let me worry about how we’re going to get Grandpa’s Link back.”
Frustration washed over her. This was just so typical of Eric: Act normal. Don’t rock the boat. Pretend everything’s alright. Be a fucking coward.
Jessie pushed herself off the couch, knocking him away.
“Jess? Come on, don’t be like that!”
She stomped up the stairs, aware that she was acting childishly, but that was the effect her brother had on her.
She slammed open her closet door. Kelly grumbled from the bed, his arm over his eyes blocking the light. She threw on the first shirt she pulled out, not bothering to see what it was.
“What are you doing?”
“Ask the warden.”
“Who?”
“My asshole brother.”
She looked down at the mess of her outfit, then up to the mirror over her dresser at the mess that was her hair. She looked terrible, but she didn’t really care.
She retraced her steps from Saturday. Once more she visited the little glade and the secret spot past the fallen tree, and once more she realized how her mind had played her for a fool, how it had tricked her into seeing what she most—
wanted
—feared seeing: evidence that her mother had been brought to this place. But the trash told the same story. Just as the shoe Kelly had found hadn’t been her mother’s. She was looking for answers to the wrong questions in the wrong places.
Her Link pinged. She almost didn’t bother answering.
“Where are you?” Kelly asked. “How come you didn’t wait for me?”
She could see the familiar front gate of the school over his shoulder. He must have left shortly after she did and hurried to catch up. She shrugged. “Eric pissed me off. I just needed a little alone time.”
“You okay?”
No.
“Yeah.” She sighed. “You don’t have to wait. I’m almost there anyway. Go on to class.”
“Wait for me after school. We’ll figure this out.”
Yeah, right.
Her shoes were soaking wet by the time she arrived ten minutes later. The water squished between her toes and the worn soles squeaked as she made her way to her homeroom. With each step, she thought: This is wrong. This is so god damn wrong. I shouldn’t be here.
She wanted to be anywhere else but here. She needed to be out looking for Reggie. She needed to be figuring out how to unlock her Link. This was the last place she needed to be.
The halls were abuzz with talk of Saturday’s alarm. Conspiracy theories abounded, the ideas swarming around her head like barn swallows— everything from Arc intentionally setting off the warning system in order to antagonize the government, to the government doing it to Arc for the same reason.
Someone mentioned that there had been a break in the containment of the situation in southern Manhattan, and Jessie remembered what she’d overheard that day she went down there, that the condition had deteriorated.
Nobody mentioned the car accident in New York, just a few miles away, or the people who had died there. Nobody seemed to make the connection.
She took a smug satisfaction at knowing how wrong most of the speculation was, yet was disturbed by the amusement it seemed to stir up.
It made her sick.
She didn’t want to be here.
A voice rose above the others in the crowd: “Well, well. If it isn’t Zombitch.”
Jessie’s skin crawled with recognition. She rolled her eyes as Siennah stepped into her path. “What do you want?”
The girl replied with a crafty smile. “Figured you’d be the first to rub it in.”
“Rub what in?”
“Sad, really. I lost a dear friend this weekend.”
Jessie’s eyes narrowed. Was she mocking her about Reggie?
“Yeah, my Player died. It was time to dump him, though. You know, ‘cause it was getting a bit used up.” She smirked. “I’m still in mourning, though.”
Jessie relaxed slightly, though she was still uncertain where this was going. “And I care about this how?”
“Well, maybe you don’t care now, but—” Another sly smile, a twinkle in her artificially blue eyes. “You will, once you see who my new Player is.”
Jessie blinked numbly. “Whatever,” was all she could manage. She forced herself to turn and walk away, but her mind was screaming, Reggie!
“I understand I’m not the only one who lost someone close to them recently.”
Jessie stopped, her hackles raised. What was Siennah playing at? She turned back.
“Someone who cared a lot for you, maybe?” The grin turned into a mocking laugh.
Jessie stepped over until mere inches separated them. Siennah, who was shorter by several inches, raised her eyes patronizingly at Jessie’s lips. She refused to look her in the eye.
“The good thing about those close to us?” Siennah continued. “They always come back in the end, don’t they?” She snickered. “I suppose you would know about that better than anyone else, wouldn’t you, zombie girl.”
Jessie stood for a moment without speaking, stunned by what Siennah was saying. She’s talking about Reggie!
“If you know something, Siennah—”
“Of course I know something!” she snapped. “Did you forget who I am, who my father is? I know a lot of somethings.”
Jessie sneered. “No, you don’t know anything. You’re fishing.”
“Really? I know all about you. You and your stupid friends. I know all about Gamel—”
Someone running down the hall smacked her in the back, shoving her against Jessie.
“Sorry!” they shouted as they disappeared into the crowd.
“Stupid asshole!” Siennah screeched after the boy. “Why don’t you look where you’re going!”
Jessie used the momentary distraction to escape. She was livid. How could Siennah lord what happened to them in Gameland over her? How could she know? She knew the girl was heartless, but this was pure evil. To mock Ashley’s and Jake’s death like this was just inexcusable.
“Don’t turn your back on me!” Siennah yelled after her.
Jessie spun around. She could feel her face growing hot. “Or what?” she spat.
Siennah stepped over. “Or you’re dead, bitch,” she whispered.
Jessie froze for a moment. “What did you say?”
The shorter girl smiled. “I’ll kill you. Bitch.”
Jessie lashed out, shoving Siennah away from her. By then, a crowd had begun to form, and the kids she fell into thrust her back toward Jessie. The two went down in a tangle of fists and elbows. The crowd surged forward, cheering.
“KNOCK IT OFF!” someone roared.
Within moments, a pair of hands reached down and pulled them to their feet, separating them in the process. Jessie lunged.
“Ladies!”
Mister Patterson shook them like dolls. His face was red and contorted. “I said, stop it!”
“She started it!” Siennah cried, pointing her finger at Jessie.
“I don’t care who started it. That kind of crap doesn’t belong in the school hallways! Save it for the gaming arcade! Do I make myself clear? I won’t have you bringing your extracurricular rivalries into the school.” He glared at them in turn. “I said, do I make myself clear?”
He let them go when they both nodded.
Siennah tossed back her hair. “I was just leaving anyway.” She flicked her fingers in Jessie’s face as she passed. “Be stalking you soon, Zeedge.” Her laughter pealed all the way down the hallway.
“Don’t let her bother you, Miss D
aniels,” Mister Patterson said. He bent down and retrieved Jessie’s bag and handed it to her. “It’s all in good fun, actually.”
Jessie gave him an incredulous look. All in good fun? Was he serious?
“You know how competitive Siennah can get,” he told her, nodding. “Now, get to class.”
He turned around and the students nearby scattered. “I haven’t been this excited about Survivalist in a long time,” he said as he walked away.
† † †
Jessie remembered very little of the next few hours. The encounter in the hallway kept replaying in her head, and each time she came to the part where Siennah started to mention Gameland, her anger would bloom again. What right did Siennah have to joke about what had happened to her and her friends?
She spent all of fourth period in a red rage, picturing herself choking the girl’s straw-thin neck.
She knew she shouldn’t care about what the girl said or thought. Siennah was just a spiteful, spoiled little rich bitch. Not worth Jessie’s time. But Jessie also realized that if she didn’t put a stop to her harassment once and for all, Siennah would keep at it until the whole school knew. Every dirty little detail. She had no doubt that Mister Davenport had probably weaseled it all out of the police. Or Arc. The last thing Jessie needed was for everyone to start teasing her about it. Especially when it was the death of her friends.
By sixth period, she resigned herself to confronting Siennah. She headed straight for the bathroom instead of her class and planted herself in one of the stalls to wait. The minutes ticked slowly past, but Siennah didn’t show up. Jessie began to realize how pathetic she was, sitting in a bathroom stall, waiting on someone she didn’t like or care about. It was worse than sitting in her own vomit.
But then, less than ten minutes before the end of the period, the bathroom door opened and in she walked.
Jessie waited until she was sure Siennah was alone before stepping out. The girl was standing with her head over the sink, the water running. When she looked up and saw Jessie in the mirror, she gave a squeak of surprise and spun around. Her eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot, and she was trembling. For a moment, Jessie thought she was crying.
But then something slipped off the edge of the small shelf above the sink and fell to the floor. Little pink pills scattered all over.
“You bitch!” Siennah hissed. “Look what you made me do. I’m going to make you pay for these, you stupid cu—”
Jessie’s hand shot out and clamped onto the girl’s throat and squeezed. She hadn’t thought about choking Siennah. All she wanted to do was talk.
That’s a lie! This is what you really wanted!
Jessie’s mind detached itself from her body and watched in horror as Siennah’s eyes bulged from their sockets.
Stop it! You’re killing her!
But she didn’t want to stop. She wanted to do this!
Siennah’s hands flew to her neck and batted at Jessie’s, then tried to wedge themselves beneath her fingers. Jessie leaned in and squeezed harder, the horror inside of her shoved aside as she watched the veins pop on her victim’s face. A terrible voice inside of her urged her not to stop, to keep on and finish it, put the stupid bitch out of commission.
Siennah managed to get a fingertip beneath Jessie’s hand, then two. She began to pry it off her neck. Jessie was surprised. She’s so strong! The fear in Siennah’s eyes leaked away, replaced by triumph.
No, not triumph, she’s zoning! Finish her!
“What do you know?” Jessie whispered, pushing Siennah harder. “What do you know about Gameland?”
“Fuck . . . you . . . zombitch.”
Jessie raised her other hand and wrapped it around the first, sandwiching Siennah’s between them and anchoring them all into place. She thrust the girl up and over the sink, back until Siennah’s head pressed hard against the mirror. Her face was beginning to turn blue.
Stop it! You’re killing her!
But she couldn’t stop pushing.
Thin, rasping clicks came from Siennah’s mouth, and Jessie realized it was her tongue. She’d completely blocked her throat. She felt the girl’s feet kicking her shins as they treaded helplessly over the tile floor.
Break her fucking neck! Do it!
With a grunt of disgust, Jessie yanked Siennah away from the wall and flung her across the length of the bathroom. The girl tumbled in a heap on the floor, her hands clutching her molested neck. She sat there gasping and coughing, spit dripping out the corner of her mouth. The redness was still there in her eyes.
“If you ever say a word about me or my friends — to anyone! — I swear I’ll rip those stupid cellulite lips off your putrid face.”
Other than the rapid rise and fall of her chest, Siennah didn’t move. The rough rasp of the air passing through her ruined throat filled the bathroom. Incredibly, her eyes were devoid of emotion. They never left Jessie’s face.
She’s out of it. The girl’s not there.
“Do you understand me?”
A change began to come over Siennah then. A blush returned to her cheeks, as if breathed back into her with each passing inhale. Her face softened and her mouth began to twist into a grimace. A new sound came out of her throat, a dry, wheezing, coughing sound.
She’s laughing.
Siennah rose shakily to her feet, and there was something in the way she moved, the way she held herself. The way she laughed. It scared Jessie.
She stumbled back. Siennah matched her, step for step. Dark bruises were already blooming on each side of her neck. In a blink, they were standing so close together that Jessie could smell the rancid aroma of sweat on her skin and coffee on her breath.
Jessie swallowed. “Back away,” she whispered.
Siennah turned briefly to the side to spit onto the floor. And when she sucked in a rattling breath, it sounded as if something was broken inside her throat.
She chuckled and said, “I’m going to kill you with your own Player.”
‡ ‡ ‡
Chapter 42
Siennah was gone before Jessie could react. Below her, the floor was colored with splotches from the pink pills she’d crushed walking out.
My Player? Jessie thought. What the hell is that supposed to mean?
As if to answer, her Link pinged. Jessie drew it out and looked numbly at the new message on her screen:
<< STATUS UPDATE: ASSESSMENT COMPLETE. MATCH REASSIGNMENT COMPLETE. PINGBACK 24735 TO PROCEED. >>
All this time, she’d thought the status updates she’d been receiving were in regards to the signal realignment.
That’s not true, not the last couple. You knew what they really meant.
With shaking hands, her mind numb, she entered the number provided and waited.
The ping connected. There was a click and the static of the stream blinked off. There was a pause, then a recording began to play, a pleasant female voice: “Congratulations, Jessica Daniels, we have completed our assessment of your sponsored application for invitation. We regret to inform you that the original Player match has been reassigned; however, we have identified a suitable replacement for your profile. If you wish to proceed, please access the following menu to schedule an orientation. Once again, congratulations. And welcome to The Game.”
‡ ‡ ‡
Part Three - Operators
Chapter 43
The Evans property hadn’t even been empty three weeks. Nevertheless, it had already begun to acquire that look of neglect that was so characteristic of abandoned houses. Mister Evans’ well-tended tiny patch of grass was browning from lack of water. The nasturtiums standing guard on either side of the front door had long since shriveled into blackened skeletons. Their leaves had finished dropping, shed like moldy dandruff onto the shoulders of the terra cotta pots. A thin film of dust had begun to adhere to the front windows of the house.
Eric stood on the walk and regarded the scene, wondering why a screen door hanging slightly open could make one feel so unwelcomed.
Behind him, a pair of elementary school age girls walked past on the sidewalk, their heads bowed together and their quiet giggles catching his attention. They didn’t seem to notice him standing there.
“Excuse me,” he called over to them. He made sure to stay where he was, so as to not frighten them.
The girls glanced warily over and kept walking.
“Do you live on this street?”
“We’re not supposed to talk to strangers.” The singsong declaration hung in the air between them, not directed at anyone, though obviously meant for him. They didn’t stop.
“It’s okay,” he said. “I’m a police officer. Here, see?” He pulled out his badge and held it out for them to see.
“My mom says anyone can get one of those easy on the black streams.”
The other girl shushed her urgently. The comment could be considered an admission of guilt.
Eric didn’t answer. He wasn’t in uniform, and he didn’t have his EM pistol. Not that you couldn’t get a uniform, either, on the black streams. Or, for that matter, something that looked reasonably like an EM pistol.
But the girls stopped anyway. They stood right at the edge of the property line, as if sensing that their escape was but a single step away. Yet they were clearly torn. Would they risk his anger if they ignored him?
“I was just wondering about the people who lived in this house,” Eric said.
“They’re gone,” one of the girls bravely replied. The other whispered a name — Gemma, Eric thought — and Gemma whispered back that it was okay to talk. The girls clutched hands.
“Have you seen anyone around since then? Anyone who didn’t seem to belong?”
“The police came a bunch of days ago. Except they looked like police. You don’t.”
“Besides the police, I mean. Seen anyone else?”
Gemma shrugged. “No.”
“And how about you?” Eric asked the other, but she wouldn’t look at him. She continued to stare into the adjacent property. One step, that’s all she needed and she’d be free from this stranger. He watched as the girl anxiously elbowed Gemma, and he suppressed a sad smile.
S.W. Tanpepper's GAMELAND: Season Two Omnibus (Episodes 9-11) Page 26