Z

by Michael Thomas Ford

  The communicator went silent. Before he could talk himself out of it, Josh pushed through the opening in the tent and found himself outside. It was raining even harder now, and he could barely see anything. But off to his right he saw a black figure entering one of the attractions. It had to be Stash.

  He made his way along the arcade until he came to the spot where Stash had disappeared. “Great,” he said, looking at the ride. “The Tunnel of Love.”

  Sighing, he ran up the ramp to the start of the ride, where a bunch of little boats that carried riders through the tunnel were gathered. The water in the imitation stream had long ago dried up, but the rain had filled it halfway. As Josh made his way to the heart-shaped opening of the ride, the water sloshed around his feet.

  Josh walked carefully down the track and through the entrance. The inside of the ride was a mess. Overturned boats blocked his path, and pieces of fallen timber lay across the floor, crushing whatever they’d fallen on. Holes in the roof let in even more rain, and it was almost impossible to see anything. Josh tried using the light on his flamethrower, but it did little to help. Fortunately the flamethrower itself remained lit even in the rain.

  He saw no sign of Stash or the zombie. How could they have disappeared so quickly? As far as Josh could tell, he was alone.

  “Stash,” he whispered. “Stash, do you copy?”

  There was a hissing in his communicator, but no answer from Stash or anyone else. All he heard was static. He tapped his ear. “Stash? Freya? Charlie?”

  There was no answer. Either something was blocking transmissions between the communicators or his was malfunctioning. Again he wondered if perhaps he was being tested. Maybe they’d turned off his communicator on purpose to see what he would do without it.

  He worked his way deeper into the tunnel, becoming more and more certain that he had made a mistake. Stash had probably looked inside, seen no sign of the z, and left. Most likely he was looking for Josh right now and getting madder and madder. What a great first game, Josh thought miserably.

  Then a loud creaking broke the silence, and a boat came rolling backward out of the rainy darkness toward Josh. He had to scramble sideways to avoid being hit, and just barely managed to get on the narrow walkway beside the track before the boat slid by him. It crashed into the stationary boat behind it, and Josh saw that it wasn’t empty. Stash was in it, and he was being pushed over the edge by a zombie.

  The zombie was a clown. Its face was painted white, with blue stars around its eyes and a big red mouth that grinned stupidly. It was wearing a red and white polka-dot suit with giant pom-pom buttons down the front, and its bushy pink hair stuck out like a cloud around its head. It had its hands around Stash’s throat, and its face was hanging over his. Stash struggled, but he couldn’t scream because he was being choked. Instead he writhed like a bug stuck on the end of a pin.

  Josh readied his flamethrower but quickly realized there was no way he could use it without hitting Stash. Thinking quickly, he dropped the weapon on the walkway and rushed the boat. Jumping into it, he grabbed the zombie around the chest and wrenched it off Stash. The z hissed angrily and clawed at Josh’s hands.

  “Stash! Run!” Josh yelled.

  Josh twisted to the side, still clutching the clown, and fell out of the boat. The zombie hit the floor first, with Josh on top of it. Scurrying back, Josh grabbed the barrel of the flamethrower and swung it up to firing position. He found the trigger and pulled, and the z burst into flame. To Josh’s surprise, the zombie rolled over and over, trying to put the fire out. He’d never seen a meatbag do that before. Usually they just beat at the flames uselessly. This one seemed to be trying to save itself. But it was doomed.

  Having taken care of the zombie, Josh rushed to the boat to make sure Stash was all right. He was sitting up, but he was holding his hand to his shoulder. “The damn thing bit me,” he said, wincing in pain.

  Bit? Josh thought. Since when can animatronic zombies actually bite? Before he could say anything, several figures emerged from the tunnel behind him. He whirled around, his flamethrower aimed at chest level.

  “Weapon down!” he heard Scrawl shout.

  Josh lowered the flamethrower. Scrawl jumped into the boat and took a look at Stash. Behind him, Seamus and Finnegan exchanged glances.

  “I’m okay,” Stash said weakly.

  “You’re bit,” Scrawl said. “It’s game over. You know the rules.”

  Stash began swearing, but he didn’t argue. Scrawl turned to Josh. “That was a big risk you took,” he said. “That z could easily have gotten you too.”

  Josh couldn’t decide whether Scrawl was angry or not. He shrugged. “Stash needed help,” he said.

  Scrawl looked back at the injured player. “Yeah,” he said. “He needs help.”

  “What happens now?” Josh asked. “Do we keep playing?”

  “You do,” Scrawl said. “We’ll get Stash out of here. You meet up with the rest of the team. They’re at the roller coaster. You know where it is?”

  Josh nodded. “You’re sure you don’t need help with him?”

  Scrawl shook his head. “We’re good,” he said. “You go. And hey, congrats on your first kill.”

  In all the commotion, Josh had forgotten about the zombie. He looked over at the smoking mess on the floor. “Thanks,” he said.

  12

  Peering into the terrarium on Charlie’s desk, Josh watched as the mechaspider spun its web. Its delicate body moved from side to side as the silk played out from its spinnerets. The mechaspider’s intricately jointed legs moved in a slow ballet as the creature made its way around its web, spiraling out from the center and connecting to the glass walls of its enclosure.

  “Isn’t it beautiful?” Charlie said. “It’s a golden orb weaver.”

  “It’s really pretty,” Josh agreed. The spider’s oblong body shimmered in browns and golds, while its long legs were banded in black. A pattern of small white dots speckled its carapace.

  “If it were real, I would feed it moths and bees,” Charlie said.

  “Have you ever seen a real one?” Josh asked her.

  Charlie shook her head. “Biologists are supposedly growing them in labs from frozen eggs, but it will be a long time before most of us see real ones.” She sighed. “Yet one more thing our ancestors ruined.”

  “My parents won’t let us have any mechapets,” Josh said. “My mother is freaked out by them.”

  Charlie laughed. “But doesn’t she make imaginary animals real?” she said.

  Josh laughed too. “I know. It’s weird, right? But she says that at least those are real animals.”

  “I’m saving up for a tarantula,” Charlie told him. “I know exactly which one I want. Avicularia avicularia, the Guyana pinktoe.”

  “Pinktoe?” said Josh. “That doesn’t sound very spidery.”

  Charlie shook her head. “You should see them,” she said. “They’re all black except for the ends of their feet, which are pink. They live in trees and never touch the ground. That’s what I like about them. They’re always looking down on the world.” She smiled. “I have almost enough to get one,” she said. “Two more kills and it’s mine.”

  Josh walked away from the spider terrarium and stood at one of the windows, looking out at the street. It was Sunday afternoon. This time he’d told his parents he was going out to take pictures for a photography-class project. He felt bad about lying to them again—particularly when they’d told him to have a good time—but he’d really needed to talk to Charlie.

  “How’s Stash doing?” he asked. It was still raining. A woman was walking by, holding the hand of a small child in a red raincoat. The woman was trying to cover them both with an umbrella, but the child wanted to walk in the rain and was pulling on the woman’s arm and laughing.

  “I guess he’s fine,” Charlie answered. “Clatter was fixing him up.”

  “Do people get bit often?”

  “Not often,” said Charlie. “But sometim
es.”

  “Have you?” Josh asked her.

  Charlie shook her head. “No,” she said. “And I don’t want to. The meatbags may not be real, but they can do some damage.”

  Josh had been thinking about what had happened, and it bothered him a little bit that Clatter’s cyber-zombies could really hurt the players. Torching the meatbags was one thing. They couldn’t feel pain. But Josh and the other players could, and putting them in danger like that seemed … strange. “Don’t you worry about getting hurt?”

  “It’s all part of the game,” said Charlie. “The wagerers like it to be realistic.”

  That made sense to Josh. After all, they were paying big money. The more real the game seemed, the more interested they would be. And ultimately he benefited. He thought about the money sitting in the box in his closet. He’d been shocked at how much Clatter had given him at the end of the game. It was more money than he’d ever had.

  “You were lucky to get that bonus,” Charlie said. “If I’d been a little quicker on the draw, it would have been mine.”

  The woman and the child turned the corner and disappeared. Josh looked at Charlie, who was now lying on her back on her bed, her head hanging over the side. “Sorry,” Josh said. “I didn’t mean to steal it.”

  “It’s okay,” said Charlie. “I’m just teasing. You played a great game. It wouldn’t surprise me if clients started betting on you.”

  Josh felt a swell of pride at the thought that after only a couple of games he might be one of the favorite players.

  “That’s what you really want,” said Charlie, sitting up. “Then, on top of bonuses, you get a bigger cut. Scrawl gets something like twenty percent of everything people bet on him.”

  Josh whistled. “That’s impressive,” he said.

  “I’m up to ten percent,” Charlie informed him. “I bet you’ll be there soon. Clatter likes you.”

  Josh turned around. “I’m having a blast,” he said. “Thanks again for recruiting me.”

  “Thank you,” Charlie said. “Clatter was so impressed by your game that he gave me a bonus for finding you.”

  Josh gave her a stern look. “And you’re not giving me half?” he said, pretending to be angry.

  Charlie laughed. “No way,” she said. “That’s one eighth of a mechaspider. It’s all mine. Besides,” she added, “I told you about Z. You can consider that your bonus.”

  “That stuff is intense,” he said.

  “It’s great, isn’t it?” Charlie said. “Wait until you try playing a game while you’re on it. It’s like you and the z’s are connected. You find them a lot faster.”

  Josh cleared his throat. “Where can I get some?” he asked, trying to sound casual.

  Charlie sat up. “You’re in luck,” she said. “I think I can spare a couple.” She got up and went to her dresser, returning with the silver vial. Unscrewing the lid, she poured half a dozen tablets into her hand, which she held out toward Josh.

  Josh walked over to her and reached for the pills. As his fingers came near them, Charlie made a fist, hiding the Z from him. “I didn’t say they were free,” she said.

  Josh looked at her. “How much?” he asked.

  Charlie’s dark eyes sparkled. “It’ll cost you a kiss,” she said.

  Josh hesitated. Was she kidding? He looked at her closed fist, then back at her face. She was staring him straight in the eye, not blinking. Slowly he leaned toward her. He saw her close her eyes and open her mouth. His lips touched hers. Her mouth was soft. He kissed her quickly and pulled away.

  Charlie opened her eyes and lifted one eyebrow. “I think that was worth one,” she said. She opened her fist and handed Josh one pill. “How many more do you want?”

  Josh kissed her again. This time he lingered longer. He felt her arms go around him, the fist holding the Z pressing against his back.

  When he finally pulled away, Josh felt himself blushing. Charlie smiled. “Okay,” she said. “I think that one is good for the rest of these.” She tucked the Z into his hand and closed his fingers over the pills.

  “Um, I don’t want you to think that these are the only reason I did that,” Josh told her as he put them in his pocket.

  “Oh, I know,” Charlie said. “I figured you just needed a little incentive.”

  Josh looked down. “Okay, then,” he said, not knowing what else to say.

  “Besides, now Bess owes me twenty bucks,” Charlie said.

  Josh looked up. “She bet you I wouldn’t kiss you?” he said.

  “It was a sucker bet,” said Charlie. “I knew you’d do it.”

  Josh didn’t know whether to laugh or be offended. “I can’t believe you bet on me!” he said.

  “I said I knew you would do it,” Charlie reminded him. “It wasn’t much of a bet. Come on. Let’s get something to eat.”

  They went down the stairs. But as they entered the second-floor workspace, Charlie suddenly stopped. A man was standing in the middle of the room, a welding torch in his hand. He turned and looked at them, and Josh saw that one half of his face was badly burned. The skin there was thickly scarred, and his eye was missing.

  “Dad,” Charlie said.

  The man’s eye moved to Josh, then back to his daughter. “Who’s he?” he asked.

  Charlie didn’t answer. She seemed to be frozen.

  “Josh,” Josh said. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  The man grunted in reply.

  “I didn’t hear you come in,” Charlie said quietly.

  “Is he one of your Torcher friends?” her father asked.

  Charlie shook her head. “We have a class together,” she said. “We were just doing homework.”

  Her father looked at Josh again but didn’t say anything. He turned back to the sculpture he was working on and began welding a piece of metal to one of the outstretched arms. A hand had formed, and he was adding a finger to it.

  “Let’s go,” Charlie whispered to Josh. They skirted the room, avoiding her father, and went downstairs.

  “I’m sorry about that,” Charlie said when they were out on the street. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, and they walked through the puddles left behind.

  “It’s okay,” Josh assured her. “He seems …” He looked for a word to finish his sentence.

  “You don’t have to say anything,” said Charlie.

  Josh reached out and took her hand, and she let him. “What happened to him?” he asked.

  He felt Charlie stiffen.

  “He got bit,” she said.

  “By a z?” Josh asked, shocked.

  “Yeah,” Charlie replied.

  “Then shouldn’t he be—”

  “Dead,” Charlie said. “Yeah. He should be. But when he was bit, he torched himself. He burned the bite.”

  Josh couldn’t believe it. “He burned his own face?” he asked.

  “It killed the virus before it could infect him,” Charlie said. “They weren’t sure that it had really worked, so they kept him in quarantine for six months. When he didn’t show any signs of turning, they let him out.”

  Josh tried to imagine what it would be like to torch his own face. There was no way he could do it.

  “That’s why he doesn’t want me playing the game,” said Charlie.

  “He knows about—” Josh began.

  “No,” Charlie interrupted him. “Not about the real game. He thinks I only play the hologame. If he knew about the real game, I don’t know what he would do.”

  “Well, I think I can handle being your study buddy,” Josh joked.

  They walked in silence for a minute. Then Charlie spoke. “I told you my mother was dead,” Charlie said. “That’s not true. She couldn’t handle it when my father came home. They fought all the time and finally she left. I don’t know where she is.”

  “But how could she leave you behind?” Josh asked before he could stop himself. “I mean … sorry.”

  “It wasn’t all her fault,” Charlie said. “My dad was real
ly angry. Violent. But he was never bad to me,” she added. “Never. My mother said I was the only one who could take care of him.”

  “And you don’t know where she is?”

  “No. It’s better this way,” Charlie answered.

  Josh wanted to ask her how it could possibly be better, but he didn’t.

  “I’m sorry I lied to you,” Charlie said. “About my family being normal. Remember, I told you we were the only ones on the team with boring stories.”

  Josh chuckled. “Oh yeah,” he said.

  He saw a tear slip from Charlie’s eye.

  “Don’t start crying on me,” he said.

  “I’m not crying,” Charlie objected. “It’s the rain.”

  “Okay, then,” said Josh. “Because I’m pretty sure that’s the Seventh Rule of Torching: No crying.”

  Charlie laughed as she wiped her eye. “That must be in the revised edition,” she said. “I’ll try to remember that.”

  “You’d better,” said Josh as they continued to walk. “You never know when there will be a pop quiz.”

  13

  On Monday Josh was at his locker, hanging up his coat, when Firecracker appeared. “Where were you yesterday?” he asked.

  Josh shut his locker. “Why?” he said. He hadn’t spoken to Firecracker since the incident with their report, and things were still a little weird between them. In addition, he had a headache. He’d taken a Z the night before and spent almost all night playing the hologame with Charlie.

  “I called,” Firecracker said. “Your dad said you were out taking pictures.”

  “So?” said Josh.

  Firecracker snorted. “Come on,” he said. “What do you think I am, stupid?”

  “You said it, not me,” Josh snapped. He started to walk away.

  “Hey!” Firecracker called after him. “What’s your problem?”

  Josh ignored him. He wasn’t in the mood to talk to Firecracker. Last night he’d played a zombie for the first time in the hologame. Now he understood why Charlie liked it. The Z had really helped him get into the zombie mood. He’d seen things differently, felt things differently. Everything had been more intense—primal. He’d hunted the Torchers like they were animals, smelling them out and following the sound of their hearts beating. He’d killed four of them and gained sixteen experience levels.