Battlecraft VR

by Linden Storm

  The landscape flows by, unrelievedly bleak and flat, with tan and gray-green scrub. Belle falls asleep.

  She wakes up in time to pass through an old town full of boarded-up buildings, then falls asleep again.

  Waking suddenly, she feels Harold pushing on the back of her seat. Before she can say anything, he reaches forward and rolls the window down. Everyone’s hair starts flapping around. Rupert’s hat flies off his head.

  “Harold?” Rupert says. “What are you doing?”

  Harold leans his head out the window and stares into the side mirror. Rupert looks over his shoulder at Nick. Nick shrugs.

  “Grandpa, could you put the window up?” Nick says.

  “Damn!” Harold says. “There’s someone following us. I knew it.”

  “Nobody’s following us, Harold,” Rupert says.

  “Yes, boy, there are in fact two vehicles pursuing us right this minute,” Harold yells over the buffeting wind. “Big black haulers with mirrored windows. You know what that means.”

  “What does it mean, Harold?” Rupert says.

  “Black ops, boy,” Harold says, picking up Rupert’s hat and putting it on.

  Everyone but Harold groans.

  “There’s only one way to deal with this. Pull over,” Harold says.

  “I’ll pull over if you give me back my hat,” Rupert says.

  “No!” Nick says. “You cannot be serious about confronting these guys.”

  “Black ops?” Belle says. “What does that even mean? What are you talking about?” Belle wonders how she’s going to stand being trapped in a vehicle with four unhinged men for several hours. Jail had been quieter and saner.

  “We’ve got to snip this in the butt,” Harold says, holding the hat on his head as he puts his head out the window again.

  “We’ve got to what this in the what, Harold?” Rupert says. “I don’t understand half of what you say.”

  “Right back atcha, Hat-Boy,” Harold says.

  Belle feels her stomach knot. She consults a map on her phone.

  “There’s a town up here. Maybe we should stop and see what the black ops people do,” she says.

  “Good idea,” William says.

  “I see it,” Rupert says. “It’s called Tonopah. The site of one of the state’s largest silver mines, circa 1906.”

  “They’re not black ops people,” Nick says to William. “He’s making that up.”

  “I’ll punch them in the nose,” Harold says. His own nose has turned the color of boiled beets.

  “Haven’t we had enough of that, Harold?” Rupert says, with an unmistakable note of warning in his voice.

  “What does that mean?” Nick says suspiciously.

  Harold turns around and nods at Nick, smirking. “Back at Rupert’s office, I popped the guard. I didn’t hit him hard. I was making a point. It wasn’t my fault he tripped and fell over.”

  Nick groans. “Please don’t fight the people in the other cars, Grandpa.” He turns to William. “He will, too. He’ll do it.”

  “That looks like a good place,” William says.

  Rupert throws the wheel to the left and bumps into the parking lot of the Tonopah Station Hotel and Casino. The van rocks on its squishy shocks.

  Belle looks in the side mirror. The two SUVs continue speeding down the highway. “They aren’t following us.”

  “We’ll see,” Harold says.

  “No, we won’t, Grandpa, they’re gone,” Nick says.

  ∆∆∆

  Nick is much relieved when Rupert the van rolls to a stop behind the Western-themed casino.

  “I’m going to use the restroom here because no one wants to hear an old man urinate,” Harold says. “And the toilet in this thing is practically right out in the open.”

  “Ugh,” Belle says.

  “Sorry,” Nick says.

  “You can stop apologizing for me, now, son, it’s a fulltime job,” Harold says. He climbs out and heads for the bathroom. Belle, William, Nick, and Rupert stand near the van.

  “All the way to Oakland in this van with Harold? Really?” Belle says.

  Nick feels miserable. His grandfather is so embarrassing. He wants to apologize again, but he decides that’s getting embarrassing too.

  “I thought it would be fun,” Rupert says. “But I didn’t know he was going to steal my hat.”

  “You’re children,” Belle says.

  Rupert looks at his feet. “The truth is, I need a diversion. Some ingrates are trying to get me fired.”

  “They can fire you? You started the company,” Nick says. He is truly horrified. Rupert is the technical genius behind Spigot Games. He’s the innovator and visionary.

  Rupert shrugs. “I’ve been a little distracted lately. Spigot HQ has been insane for weeks while we’ve been preparing for the public stock offering, and I may have become a little erratic under the pressure of the thing. Now Jason and his army of lawyers are launching a coup, and I’m fighting back the only way I can—by disappearing for a while. That’ll get them.”

  “Oh,” Nick says.

  Rupert wags a finger at Nick. “Let me tell you something, Nick. I like the perks, but being a CEO is not worth it.”

  “Is the jet one of your perks?” Belle says suspiciously.

  “Yeah, but it’ll take time for them to take that away. The pilots are loyal to me and they’re going to be out of touch for a few days. That’s another reason we can’t take the jet right now.” Rupert turns to Nick. “Nick, can you calm Harold down somehow? Talk to him or something?”

  “I love my grandpa, but I can’t control him.”

  “You have a hyperactive grandad,” Rupert says. “Has he tried pharmaceuticals?”

  “He’d never take drugs,” Nick says. “Except his heart drugs. He has to take those.”

  “Maybe we can spike his water bottle,” Rupert says. “When he takes an old-man nap.”

  “I’m going to fly back to Seattle from Reno,” Belle says. “I’ll need you to drop me off at the airport.”

  “I thought you were broke,” Rupert says.

  “Not anymore, she isn’t,” Nick says. “You should see her play blackjack.”

  Belle glares at him. Nick’s not sure why Belle’s gambling prowess should be a secret.

  And then Nick feels William’s hand on his shoulder. “Hey,” William says, “will you check something out for me?”

  William points his forehead down the row of cars. One of the SUVs from the highway is pulling in, its black surfaces shiny and threatening.

  William moves several yards closer to the SUV and places himself behind a truck. Belle follows him. They peek around the truck to examine the SUV.

  “There’s a guy in a weird cowboy hat,” Belle says.

  “I think I’ve seen him before,” William says. “Where was it?”

  “Phoenix. He was in Phoenix. I remember a black SUV, and I definitely remember that hat. Don’t you remember? See how the brim’s curled down in the front? That guy was parked outside Wishkowski’s apartment.”

  She runs toward the SUV, but it peels out in a cloud of dust just as Grandpa Harold is coming out of the bathroom. He half jogs, half limps to the van.

  “You should have come in. There was a stuffed bear and a diorama of a pioneer doll and a tiny toilet,” Harold says, adjusting the hat.

  “A diorama of what?” Belle says.

  “Don’t encourage him,” Nick says.

  “Harold, it’s possible you were right,” William says.

  “Really?” Harold says.

  “We think that was an associate of Jimmy Wishkowski’s,” Belle says. “In the SUV.”

  “She wanted to fight him,” Rupert says. “You two have more in common than one would think.”

  Harold shoves his hands in his pockets and kicks at some gravel. “What’s it going to take to get you people to realize we’re dealing with real bad men here? That Wishkowski asshole, he did something to Marina. And obviously he has friends in law
enforcement who are helping him try to track her down. They probably think we know where she is.”

  “We’d better get to Oakland, then,” Nick says. “And pick up Marina and Paul. Get this crazy trip over with.”

  “I just hope she’s there when we get there. We still don’t know for sure where she is or where she’s going,” Belle says.

  “She’s going to Paul’s,” Nick says. “She has to be.”

  ∆∆∆

  Paul sits alone on the lumpy bed in his motel room. The colored lights from the street shine sickly greenish light through the dusty, crooked window blinds. He scrolls through pictures of Marina on his phone and remembers the day he’d met her in the mall. It had been about a year ago. The day she’d recruited him for the team.

  She’d seemed uncharacteristically timid, approaching him slowly and holding out her hand. She’d been wearing that red dress. Her dark hair was pulled back in a loose bun. She was thinner than the last time he’d seen her, and even then she’d been very slender. She wore no makeup. She was as beautiful as ever.

  He’d pulled her in for a brief hug, and he could feel her shoulder blades, sharp and delicate under his rough hands. She’d insisted on buying him coffee.

  He was in bad shape, then. Carolyn had kicked him out after their melee, a nightmarish episode he remembered only hazily. He’d moved into base housing at Luke while he waited for his court date. He knew he looked like hell, despite the dark glasses and cap pulled low. His face was bruised from the kicks Carolyn had dished out, and under the frame of the sunglasses, the yellow and purple edges of a black eye were visible.

  But the shame was the worst part. He hadn’t hit Carolyn, but he was pretty sure he’d grabbed her, frightened her. The rage had been like a wild thing coiled in a forgotten part of his mind, waiting for a chance to strike out, like a deadly eel in a stone cave in the dark sea.

  No wonder she’d kicked the shit out of him. She’d gotten scared when she’d seen what he was capable of.

  After Marina arrived, they’d visited the Starbucks—a tall drip for Paul and a triple shot of espresso for Marina—they'd sat at a small table, and Marina told her story. Things had gotten worse in Tashkent. She didn’t have a regular job—just periodic hacking gigs that paid reasonably well but were going to get her arrested, if she didn’t get arrested for the violent offenses she’d already committed. More than one thug had received skull fractures from a blunt rebar club she employed when necessary. She needed to get out of Uzbekistan, and she’d always wanted to come to the U.S. to find her sister and try her hand at turning pro in Battlecraft. When Jimmy Wishkowski had made his offer, she’d used her last favors to find a way out of Uzbekistan and on to Phoenix.

  She’d been there nearly six months already, and she’d found her half-sister, Belle. Not only that, but she was on Belle’s Battlecraft team, and miraculously it was already ranked higher than she could have predicted. She thought the team could win some big tournaments. They were that good. She really wanted to stay. But she didn’t want to marry Jimmy.

  It had taken Paul a few seconds to understand what she was saying. She was asking him to marry her.

  He knew then and he knows now how much this request had to have cost her. She was proud, self-reliant. A virtuoso prevented from using her full powers.

  “You see, I like you,” Marina said. “It’s embarrassing, but—"

  “—I like you, too,” Paul said. “You saved my life in that riot.”

  She shrugged. “It didn’t feel like I had a choice.”

  “You took a big chance,” he said.

  “Maybe,” she said, shrugging.

  “How are your brothers coping?” Paul said.

  “They’re running an underground operation filled with some of the worst brutes in the city.”

  “At least they’re running it,” Paul said.

  “True,” Marina said. “But I worry about them every day.”

  “The thing is, Marina,” Paul said. “I didn’t tell you before, when we were over there—”

  “You’re already married,” she said, pointing at the tan line on his ring finger.

  “Yeah, she’s divorcing me, but it’ll take some time,” Paul said.

  “I don’t have much time,” Marina said, nodding gravely. “But that does not matter so much. I will cope.”

  “I’m really sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” she said, waving her hand in front of her face. “Anyway, that was not the main reason I hunted you down.” She smiled. “I want you to join the team.”

  “Your Battlecraft team? I’m not that good,” Paul said.

  “I looked you up. You’re ranked,” she said. “And I can help you get better.”

  And she had. She was a great coach.

  He played endless hours in the game venue near the base, and she monitored him from her apartment across town, correcting every mistake, pushing his play to a level he never thought he could achieve.

  Within a month, he was on the team, playing hours every day. With constant practice, he’d gotten better quickly. He’d never thought they’d end up in the finals, but no one had.

  The more he’d learned about Marina, the more he’d liked and respected her. She was the smartest person he’d ever met.

  Her disappearance had shaken him. She’d seen so much in her life. She was tough. So she must have encountered some truly terrible trouble.

  There’s a half-empty pint of vodka on Paul’s bedside table, and he takes a long pull on it, washing down a couple of his favorite little red pills. He’s drifting off to sleep, finally, when there’s a quiet knock on the door.

  He rolls off the bed, goes to the door, and looks through the peephole.

  He flings the door open.

  Marina is standing there in her red dress, looking up at him through her long black hair, which is being whipped around by a sudden gust of wind. She looks him up and down, then glances over his shoulder, checking for new dangers. She sweeps her hair out of her face.

  There are fading yellow bruises on her throat.

  Paul throws his arms around her. “Get in here,” he says.

  Chapter Eight

  They’re on a Mission

  Belle watches the landscape wearily as the van traverses Highway 95 through the desert toward the California border. Her first impression had been that it was ugly out here, but now she’s beginning to appreciate the colors and textures, the vastness of an azure sky unobstructed by trees or high terrain. She pushes away the panic-monster that had been awoken by her incarceration. She’ll deal with it later, she thinks, when she has less at stake.

  Everyone’s devices buzz all at once, and they all look at their alerts.

  “Okay, so it’s confirmed now,” Rupert says, tapping his glasses and swinging into the oncoming lane to pass a slow self-driving truck. “Marina is in Oakland, so that’s good. She’s debriefing Paul, and we’re next. All we need to do is get to Oakland. Should be less than six hours from here. But let’s make sure nobody is following us.”

  “Damn straight,” Harold says.

  “Or we could go back and see what they want,” Belle says. She hates loose ends and surprises, and she’s terrified that her enemies will sneak up on her again. Thoughts of the jail make her shudder. She’d thought that part of her life was long over. She feels a hot pit of shame in her gut.

  Then she catches herself and brings that line of thought to a sudden end. What’s she ashamed about? None of this has been her fault, except maybe the original confrontation with Deputy Smith.

  But no, even if Nick thinks getting arrested was her fault, it’s not true. Smith had been sent after them. He was going to haul them in regardless of how they behaved.

  Rupert accelerates as quickly as the RoadTrek will go. “Captain Belle, I appreciate your need to know, but there will be no more confrontations right now. My bailing-Untouchables-out-of-jail budget is busted for the year. And Harold, give me back my hat. The sun’s in my eyes.”

/>   “No,” Harold says. “Can’t those fancy glasses darken themselves?”

  “That’s none of your business,” Rupert says. “The hat. Now.”

  Harold laughs.

  “Can you two juveniles stop?” Belle says. “You are not funny.”

  Harold says nothing, but he does something with his face that Rupert can see in the rearview mirror. Rupert snickers.

  Belle sighs.

  She catches movement in her peripheral vision and examines her side mirror. There’s a square, black blot moving fast, closing on them. The SUV. “Damn, here they come again.”

  Harold pats the top of Rupert’s hatless head. “Yup, they’re back,” Harold says.

  “Two SUVs. One of them is back a couple of cars, but there’s definitely two of them,” Belle says.

  “I’ll simply pick up the pace,” Rupert says.

  Belle feels an unpleasant adrenaline rush. She’s not sure if she should give credit to the SUVs or to her trepidation regarding Rupert’s driving.

  “We are not going to outrun them guys in their overpowered, optimized Suburbans. Not in this thing,” Harold says.

  “Oh, God,” Nick says. “I think I’m going to vomit.”

  “Don’t vomit,” Belle says.

  “For once, I have to agree with the lady,” Harold says.

  “Maybe we can hide?” Belle says.

  “Where?” Rupert says.

  They’re on Highway 395 now, heading north into Yosemite, just south of Mammoth Lakes.

  “See those buildings?” Belle says.

  The metal building and a couple of trailers are just visible through scrub and rock outcroppings. There’s a large, deserted parking lot covered in a deep layer of gravel.

  “Got it,” Rupert says.

  Rupert passes a self-driving bus on a curve, speeds up, and careens around the next curve, rocking the van so radically Belle fears it’ll roll. He then guns the van into the gravel parking lot. The van kicks loose and slides sideways. Belle screams a little. She thinks they might slide into the building, but Rupert corrects the slide and places the van neatly behind the building.

  It takes a moment, but when Belle realizes what Rupert has accomplished with his virtuoso driving, she whoops in surprise and delight. She watches the SUVs rush past them and then peeks back at the passengers.