The Seventh Glitch

by Ronel van Tonder

  “Hang on!” Someone called out.

  Lucy’s hand paused on the rough wooden door.

  “Helical ain’t never got a sunset. You’ll be waiting there all day, then.”

  Lucy ground his teeth. He turned his head, glancing inside the saloon again.

  “Then he’s got fifteen minutes.” Lucy had to force the words. “And tell him to come alone.”

  This time, Lucy made it out into the street without further objections from the assembled townsfolk. Kitty was at his side, fan blurred into a smudge of white as she scurried after him.

  He opened the carriage door, clenched his teeth at the sight of trussed up Belinda, and moved aside for Kitty. She paused on the first step and grasped his arm.

  “We really gonna to do that?” Kitty murmured.

  “She’s an NPC, Kitty.”

  “Why’d you tell the sheriff to come alone?”

  Lucy glanced back toward the saloon. Then he craned his head around the bulk of the carriage. Nick’s body was gone. He’d probably spawned at one of the wells outside of town. Which meant he was making his way with all haste back toward Tumbleweed, hoping to catch them before they left.

  “Get in. I’ll explain the rest later.”

  He gave her a shove when she didn’t move, and she collapsed inside with an indignant squawk. Ignoring her foul glare, Lucy swung up into the driver’s seat and snapped the reigns.

  “Ha!” His voice echoed back from the empty street.

  A handful of players and NPC’s emerged from the saloon, some shouting after him and shaking fists. One of them — a man with a long, scraggly beard — stood to the side, quietly watching them leave. He shook his head, the bell on the end of his beard jangled softly.

  Lucy exited Tumbleweed at top speed. The scenery was a blur as the team of sleek black horses shot down the faint road leading out of Tumbleweed. After a few minutes, Lucy slowed the carriage to a halt and leapt down.

  Kitty had removed Belinda’s gag. The girl cringed away from Lucy when he climbed inside the carriage. He sat beside her, sighing when she burst into sobs. Kitty was glaring at him when he turned to her.

  “What?” he snapped.

  “You’re so mean.”

  “She’s an N-P-C,” he said, carefully pronouncing every letter. “This is her role to play.”

  He stabbed his thumb toward the now tear-streaked girl.

  “And this is how we find out if your William is in the town jail.”

  “What? How?”

  Lucy’s eyes rolled up to the cracked ceiling of the carriage. He resisted the urge to run a hand down his face, and used it instead to shove the gag back into Belinda’s trembling mouth.

  “Thundergun comes after the girl. He, despite us asking so nicely, brings his entire fleet of deputees with.” Lucy rolled his fingers in the air between him and Kitty. “Which means…” he prompted.

  “Which means…” Kitty’s frown dissolved. “Which means the jail will be empty!”

  “All right… probably not empty, empty.” Lucy shrugged. “But empty enough for you to sneak in and check.”

  “Me?”

  Lucy gave her a long-suffering stare. “I can’t be in two places at the same time, sweetheart. Either I go throw Belinda off the cliff, or you do it. And I have a strong suspicion you don’t have the mettle for it.”

  Belinda’s sobs transformed into a plaintive wail. She surged up, jostling past Lucy and out the open carriage door. He grabbed her waist and tugged her back down on the seat without breaking eye contact with Kitty.

  “Plus, she’s a handful,” Lucy added dryly. “Especially since—” He broke off, his hand diving beneath the girl’s skirts.

  “Lucy!” Kitty’s voice was steeped with shock.

  Lucy drew back his hand, clutching a small, compact dagger he’d torn from the strap on Belinda’s thigh.

  “Especially since you didn’t frisk her,” Lucy finished.

  Kitty’s mouth worked. Her eyes flitted between him and the struggling Belinda.

  “Look, if it makes you feel better,” Lucy said, “I’ve done this before. She’s probably been off that cliff so many times she’s about ready to evolve wings. It’s her piece in The Game. She’s not real. She doesn’t feel a blasted thing.”

  Lucy slapped Belinda, staring hard at Kitty as he did. The girl’s wails cut off in surprise.

  “Now you ready?” he asked. “You’ve quite a walk back to town, and very little time to do it in.”

  “Fine.” Kitty rose, manoeuvring her skirts around him with difficulty, and clacked down the steps. Lucy stood to follow, but she spun around and stabbed her fan toward him, narrowly avoiding his eye.

  “Hey! You still owe me a health potion,” Kitty said, mouth tightening.

  “Are you serious?” Lucy blinked at her. “Now, here, that’s your biggest concern?”

  “What if you don’t come back?” She crossed her arms over her chest, fan blurring beside her face.

  Lucy snapped open his inventory, grabbed the first health potion he could find, and dropped it. It bounced down all three the carriage’s steps and rolled, tinkling as it struck Kitty’s pointed boot. Kitty grabbed it, disappearing it into her inventory.

  “Now,” Lucy said, speaking through his teeth. “Are you ready?”

  Kitty pushed back her shoulders, doing interesting things to the ample bosom her dress displayed, and gave him a fierce nod.

  “Let’s do it.”

  “Bit busy now. Maybe later,” Lucy murmured.

  Confusion creased Kitty’s brow for an instant, and Lucy managed to suppress a chuckle as he exited the carriage and pushed past her.

  . . .

  The wind chased around Devil’s Peak with the enthusiasm of a child, tugging at Lucy’s hair and trying to peek beneath Belinda’s skirts. The girl had stopped crying a few minutes after he’d hauled her out of the carriage. She stood with a down-turned mouth, staring over the edge as if calculating how long it would take her body to strike the canyon floor.

  “About twenty seconds,” Lucy provided. “Give or take a few.”

  Belinda started, eyes fluttering as they settled on his face.

  “You got it all wrong you know,” Belinda said. “I’m not what ya think I am.”

  Lucy leaned closer, the wind whipping her words away almost before he could hear them.

  “You’re exactly what I think you are.”

  “I’m just like you all,” Belinda drawled. She lifted a hand to her cheek, where the imprint of his palm still showed up red against her porcelain skin. “This hurt like hell. And that’s gonna hurt even worse.” She pointed her chin to the canyon.

  Lucy pinched the bridge of his nose and turned away from Belinda’s accusing stare. There had to be a better way. Then again, there was a better way, wasn’t there? But it wasn’t an option. Not now. He had to be careful. He had to bide his time, at least till he got himself to Polaris. There, if the pattern persisted, he would know the feline had officially vacated the hand-held luggage and could do what needed to be done, but until then… It was best to just keep playing The Game.

  A dust cloud mushroomed up in the distant horizon — the sheriff was on his way.

  “Look, sweetheart—”

  “Belinda,” the girl interrupted.

  “Look, Belinda,” Lucy said. “I don’t care what you say, ‘cos you’re programmed to try and persuade me otherwise. You did it last time, and you’re doing it this time. I got no beef with you—” Lucy gave her a crooked smile “—long as you do what you’re s’posed to.”

  Belinda shook her head. The ringlets dangling down on either side of her face were dishevelled from his earlier manhandling.

  “I ain’t never seen you ‘fore,” she whispered. “And I ain’t never done nothing to y'all, neither.”

  “All of us?” Lucy asked, but his eyes moved away from the new tears spilling over her cheeks and back to the approaching lawmen.

  The dust cloud humped out into
the silhouettes of six men on horseback. The one in the lead had a hand to his hat to keep it on his head. Two of the men trailing behind him wore black bandannas over their mouths.

  “Now best you keep quiet, girl, and let the grownups do the talking from ‘ere.”

  “Ain’t never done nothing to y'all,” Belinda said. “Ain’t never done nothing.”

  “Shut it,” Lucy snapped.

  The sheriff’s dappled mare reared when the lawman reined her in. Once all four hooves were on the ground again, the sheriff dismounted and strode over to Lucy, one hand resting casually on the grip of a sawn-off shotgun tucked into his belt.

  “Folks in the Rusted Mug said you’s up to no good,” Sheriff Thundergun said.

  The sheriff took a step closer. Lucy’s hand closed over Belinda’s upper arm, halting him.

  “Now just take it easy, son.” The hand not caressing the sheriff's gun lifted, palm up. “We can sort this all out toot-sweet.”

  “She’s going over, Sheriff. One way or the other.” Lucy tried to suppress a rising irritation.

  He was exhausted; he’d been in-game for more than fourteen hours.

  And while, back in the real world, his body was in a recumbent position, he doubted it was true sleep of any kind.

  His brain felt like an elastic band being tightened. And eventually, it would snap. He knew it like he knew Belinda was going to flutter up to the angels in heaven in a few minutes.

  Lucy shook his head, blinking until the sheriff’s face swam into focus again.

  “You looking a bit piqued, son.” The sheriff took a slow step forward, upraised hand twitching. “Wanna tell me what’s on your mind?”

  “Nothing,” Lucy said. “Ain’t nothing on my mind except throwing this chit off the cliff.” Lucy shook Belinda for emphasis.

  How much time did Kitty need? He’d watched her scrambling back toward Tumbleweed until the carriage’s dust cloud had obscured her. She wouldn’t make the best time in those skirts, but hopefully—

  “What?” Lucy said. The sheriff’s lips had been moving, but not a word of what the man had said had been translated by Lucy’s mind.

  “All I’s saying,” the sheriff drawled, “is that we don’t need to do nothing rash here. How about you let loose Belinda, and walk over here with me?”

  Lucy shook his head, eyes narrowing. Belinda whimpered as the grip around her arm tightened.

  “How about I level with you, sheriff? It don’t matter anyhow, does it?”

  The sheriff’s ruddy face creased. “Go on, son.”

  “You should remember me. I’ve been here before.” He pressed the toe of his boot in the sand, drawing a short line. “Right ‘ere in fact.”

  The sheriff crossed his arms over his chest, frown deepening. He opened his mouth to speak but Lucy ploughed on without waiting.

  “Not that I think your limited NPC brain can even wrap around this fact, but this—” Lucy’s free hand made a rough gesture that encapsulated Helical “—it’s not real. None of it. It’s all bells and whistles.”

  He shook Belinda.

  “Not her…”

  His finger stabbed toward the sheriff.

  “Not you…”

  A wiggle of his fingers picked out the men standing stalwartly behind the sheriff.

  “Not any of your men. You get that? You understand what I’m sayin’ mate?”

  Again the sheriff opened his mouth, but Lucy snorted and gave Belinda another shake. She began weeping.

  “So here’s how it’s going to go. I’m going to haul Belinda over Devil’s Peak. There’ll be a minute or so cut scene where we all go at it and you start sobbing like a little girl, ‘cos secretly you were in love with the little chit despite a huge age gap.”

  The sheriff’s face became blank.

  “And then—” Lucy grinned at the sheriff “—then I get magic-smagicked back to the town jail. Which, I hasten to add, is exactly where I want to be.”

  The sheriff shifted his weight to his left leg, both arms releasing their grip around his chest and falling to his sides.

  “You done, boy?”

  Lucy shrugged.

  “So, if you’re done.” The sheriff took a step closer. There was less than two metres between him and Lucy now.

  The skin between Lucy’s shoulder blades began to itch. This hadn’t happened last time.

  “I’ll let you in on a little secret too, shall I? Since none of this matters anymore, ’ccording to you.” The sheriff’s tone of voice altered slightly. The drawl leached away, replaced with a familiar if untraceable accent that definitely was never included in The Game’s voice libraries.

  “You can’t—” Lucy began, his voice unsteady.

  “You? Me?” The sheriff pointed at the trembling Belinda. “Her? Those blokes behind me? We’re all real.”

  The sheriff’s solitary finger lifted, drawing a wide circle that took in everyone.

  “And we’re all stuck here. So you’re not the only one having a bad day, okay?” The sheriff’s gaze grew sharp and unyielding. “We’re all in the same metaphorical boat, up the same metaphorical creek of excrement, all of us completely lacking any damned metaphorical paddles.”

  The sheriff drew a breath that puffed out his chest and strained the thick fabric of his sheriff’s uniform.

  “So why don’t you stop with the bullcrap, son, and do what you came here to do, so we can all go back to doing what we’re supposed to be doing?”

  Lucy had released Belinda at some time during the sheriff’s monologue.

  “Kept trying to tell him, but no one listens to this pathetic Belinda,” the girl complained. “Oh no, who would listen to me?”

  “Shut it, Fifi.” The Sheriff’s eyes hadn’t left Lucy’s but his mouth tightened when the girl carried on speaking.

  “I don’t got to listen to you, Urkel.”

  Lucy’s chest grew tight. “You’re not NPC’s?”

  “Are you?”

  Lucy shook his head, but the movement was slow and jagged.

  “When The Game first glitched, I was all of a sudden in Helical. In the jail. Behind the sheriff’s desk. Which I find strange, seeing as I’d been on the back of a horse in Chimera ten seconds before.” The sheriff gripped his belt, hoisting his pants up. “That’s when things got weird.”

  “Yeah? I was a level forty-three gunslinger,” Fifi's jaw muscle tightened. “Think that stopped The Game throwing me in this body? All my stuff’s gone. Everything! And you want to know what’s worse? I can’t leave.”

  Lucy turned to Fifi. Her ringlets swung as she shook her head.

  “Yeah, that’s right. I can’t leave Tumbleweed, not unless I’m in pa’s carriage or someone kidnaps me.”

  She pointed a finger and drew an imaginary line from left to right in front of her.

  “Tumbleweed, Devil’s Peak. Tumbleweed, Devil’s Peak. That’s all I’ve seen for the past three hours.” She crossed her arms over her chest, cheeks glowing red. “And you think it doesn’t hurt, slamming into the ground? It hurts like hell, every… single… time.”

  Behind her, a pair of vultures began circling the sky. Lucy was still staring at Fifi, tongue cleaving to the roof of his mouth, when a third joined them.

  The sheriff strode forward, gripping Fifi’s arm and jerking her around to face him.

  “Listen, Fifi, we get it,” the lawman said. “We all get it. But ain’t nothing any of us can do ‘bout it. No use complaining, is there? Just get on with it.”

  Lucy took a step back from them.

  “But you’re NPC’s,” he said. “You have to be. How could The Game have replaced NPC’s with real players? It doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Gee, ya think?” Fifi spun around to face Lucy. “How the hell am I supposed to quit The Game when I can’t even get into the menu? Huh? I have to like…” her cheeks grew crimson.

  “I have to pee and stuff,” she whispered.

  “You didn’t get the message?” Lucy struggl
ed through an increasingly thick cloud of mental confusion. “The mods said you have to get to the Arena. All the players have to get to the Arena.”

  “The who?” Fifi glanced at the sheriff. “Any of you hear about this?”

  Lucy’s eyes scanned the lawmen. Those that weren’t clutching the handles of their various weapons had their arms tight over their chests. Some shook their heads, others cast confused glances at the person beside them.

  “The mods, they—” Lucy opened his inventory and jerked out the parchment inside. “They sent every player one of these.”

  Lucy glanced down at the bulletin he’d stolen from Kitty earlier in Chimera. The one he’d given back to her would look identical to hers, except for six minor alterations. He cleared his throat.

  “Here ye, here ye. There was an unexpected malfunction in several of The Game’s shards. Please use the closest exit, indicated below, to reach the Arena, where moderators will assist you in exiting The Game.”

  When Lucy looked up again, the players were watching him with hawk-like silence.

  “We never got that.” One of the men with a bandanna around his mouth stepped forward. “Why we never get one of those? How’s we supposed to know we got to go to the Arena? Been trying to exit for more ‘n four hours now, already.”

  The sheriff held out his hand, and the man reluctantly closed his mouth.

  “Who else got one of those?”

  “Every player I’ve met since the first glitch,” Lucy said. “You really didn’t get one?”

  “No reason any of us’d lie, son.” The sheriff glanced at Fifi, who was glaring at Lucy. “Fifi, you look like you’re planning something stupid.”

  “Give me the letter.” Fifi stuck out her hand. “I want to see if it really says all of that stuff you jus’ read.”

  Lucy took a step back. “Why would I lie?”

  Fifi flicked her fingers at him. “Let me see it.”

  Lucy hastily put the parchment back in his inventory.

  “Listen, I don’t know why you didn’t—”

  “Give it here!” Fifi shrieked.

  The girl leapt at him. Lucy twisted in a desperate effort to evade her. But Fifi struck him and clung on like a leech, her teeth bared and her face pale as the desert sand. They spun around, feet shuffling under them in a quick, intimate dance. Then they ran out of dance floor and the air snatched at Lucy with greedy fingers.