A Buried Spark

by P. J. Hoover

  “Is there any way to speed this thing up?” I ask Zachary.

  His eyes glaze over, and I realize that he must be accessing it through his heads-up display.

  “Not that I see,” he says.

  I focus my display on it, too, and a menu appears. But the only valid option is Stop Ascent which is not valid at all. I don’t know if the people are trying to stop us. Or maybe kill us? I don’t want to find out. But they are getting closer.

  Taylor nocks her final arrow and leans out over the blue bricks, way farther than she should be able to. Then she lets it loose.

  One person falls, but there are so many others. If I throw my ax, I won’t have it anymore. It’s not worth the trade. The platform continues to slowly spin upward. But just when I’m sure the people will reach us and climb onto the platform, it stops moving.

  “There!” Zachary shouts and he points at the sides of the white column. They glow with silver symbols and letters etched into them.

  “What is that?” Taylor says. She’s clutching the bow, ready to hit anyone who comes too close.

  But as soon as I see the combinations of the symbols, it falls into place. “It’s the segment of the key,” I say. “We each need to collect it.”

  I focus my heads-up display on it, and sure enough, a menu option appears.

  Interact

  Collect

  Discard

  Help

  I select Collect immediately, and the piece of the key—code of some sort—is transferred to my inventory.

  Zachary and Taylor do the same, and it’s not a second too soon. Fingers grab at the sides of the blue bricks, but the people begin to fall away, down to the ground of the arena. When they hit, they vanish, as if they had never been there.

  The platform glides back to the ground, spiraling once again around the column. When it touches down, the bricks pull apart, creating an exit for us. But no sooner do I take out step out of it, something slams into the column, sending fiery shattered remains everywhere. It’s a fireball, like we’d seen before. The hunter is back.

  XXI

  "You're not supposed to be here, Edie,” a voice says, booming across the now-empty arena. It’s a female voice but sounds robotic, like it’s actually a computer or someone trying to mask their voice.

  This is the cost of revealing myself. And even though I’m terrified, I can’t let whoever is out there know that.

  “But I am here,” I shout back. My voice also carries.

  Another fireball hits, again smacking into the column. This time it cracks in half. The upper piece begins to fall toward us.

  “Run now,” Taylor shouts.

  The three of us take off. The marble column smashes into the arena floor, making the ground shake like an earthquake. Another fireball hits the ground to the side of us. We dash around it and keep running.

  “Where’s the exit?” Zachary says. He covers his head which I think is silly until a shard of flying rock hits me in the forehead. We need to get out of here.

  At the word “exit” a pathway appears on the opposite side of the arena from where we entered. It’s the inverse of the other, a white road against a black backdrop.

  “There!” I shout, and we run toward it.

  It’s impossible to know where the hunter is because the next fireball hits behind us, as if fired from the way we’re going. Then another hits, off to the side. There is no sense in the source. Though we’re running as fast as we can, with nothing else around, we’re easy targets. I step on debris. I trip on broken rocks. I evade five more fireballs. And then the white road is there, beckoning us. A fireball hits just at the edge of the road, but no sooner than our feet touch the road, the robotic female voice says, “Watch your back, Edie.”

  I hold my breath as we race up the road, looking for the exit. But no more fireballs come. Black buildings line the roadway, but the farther away from the arena we get, the more the space between the buildings grows until there are no more buildings at all. Then the white road ends at a silver waterfall that reaches up as far as I can see. It’s our passage to the next zone.

  “Stay together this time,” I say, stepping close to Taylor and Zachary. Then, all at once, we press our palms to the flowing silver.

  Exactly like before it flows out, surrounding me, pulling me in. One second Taylor and Zachary are there. The next they are gone. That’s okay. I’ll find them in the Zone Beta.

  Like before, I’m encased completely in the silver. I focus on my heads-up display, expecting it to come to life. But instead a vision fills my mind.

  Raven and I stand back on the field in the arena. She leans close and presses a finger to my head. This is what had happened. I remember it.

  Except . . .

  As the vision fills my mind, it takes on new life and expands. We’re standing at the top of her temple. Animals flank her: a dragon, a tiger, a zebra.

  “Edie, I can help you find him,” she says.

  “Who?”

  “Cole. He needs help. I can get you to him.”

  Cole.

  I bite my lip as I try to harden myself against him.

  “He left me,” I say.

  Raven shakes her head, her long black hair with red tips shaking gently at the motion. “He didn’t. I told him he had to. I told him it was the only way.”

  “What was the only way?” I ask.

  “The vision,” Raven says. “You each got one.”

  “I saw Thomas,” I say.

  Raven nods. “And Cole say Pia killing you unless . . .”

  “Unless what?” My heart pounds, and almost like the animals can sense my discontent, the tiger paces toward me and rubs up against my leg.

  “He had to get Pia away from you,” Raven says. “Otherwise she was going to kill you.”

  Oh, how much I want to believe this. It would explain everything. It would reaffirm Cole’s feelings for me. I couldn’t have been so wrong. Not Cole. He wouldn’t betray me. I know that.

  “He left with her,” I say slowly.

  “To protect you.”

  Not to leave me. To protect me. This is the answer I want and need.

  “Where is he now?”

  Her face darkens and her eyes cloud over. “She found out. She read his mind.”

  “He’s in trouble,” I say. The image of him in electrical bonds screaming in pain returns to me. It can’t be real, except if what Raven is saying is true, then there is a very good chance that it is.

  “You have to free him,” Raven says. “I can help you find him.”

  “Where?”

  Raven purses her lips and a small smile forms there. “I’ll get Chaos to trust me. I’ll find out how to find him.”

  I shake my head. “We need to find him now. If Chaos has him, his life is in danger.”

  “No,” Raven says. “Not Cole. Chaos can’t kill him. If he could, he would have by now.”

  “Why?” I ask. But the second the words leave my mouth, I know the answer. “Oh. The gods can’t kill humans,” I say.

  Raven nods. “And even if he wanted to break that law, he can’t. The prophecy won’t let him.”

  If the world were normal, I would be relieved. But the simulation can definitely kill us as can the person who is hunting me. That person has definitely been sent by Chaos, first to keep me out of the simulation, and now that I’m here, to kill me.

  “How long will it take you to find out where he is?” I ask.

  Raven holds up a finger. “Not long. Look for a sign from me. I’ll use it to guide you.”

  Before I can ask what kind of sign she’s talking about, she presses the finger to my head once again, and the vision ends.

  I’m back in the cocoon of flowing silver. Back in the simulation. But I have another ally, or at least I hope I do. I have to tru
st Raven because I have to find Cole. A sign from Raven. I don’t know what that will be, but I hope that when I see it, I’ll know.

  My heads-up display comes to life as if no time has passed, and the silhouette of Chaos appears.

  “Congratulations,” he says. “You completed Zone Alpha.”

  He’s silent for a moment like he expects a response. I don’t say a word. I wait for this to be over. Unlike back in the colosseum, I don’t think this is truly Chaos interacting with me, but more of an interface with programmed responses.

  “Items granted in one zone may not be carried to another. You will have to leave your newly acquired weapon here.”

  The ax. That’s what he’s talking about.

  I place my hand on it. “I keep it.”

  “You don’t,” he says. Then the ax vanishes.

  Rage fills me. How dare that be a rule? Aside from not being fair, I rightfully should have that ax. My parents had left it for me. But I keep my anger inside, just under the surface.

  “I’m ready for the next zone,” I say, willing the silver barrier to vanish in front of me.

  Chaos laughs. “Are you really?”

  I glare at him through the heads-up display. “I’m ready.”

  “Then please don’t let me stop you.” Chaos’s silhouette disappears and the concentric circles appear once more. The outermost circle, Zone Alpha, has turned green. The second circle, Zone Beta, is lit up blue. The remaining ones inside that are grayed out. We’ve gotten through one. We have five more to go.

  I select the circle, and the others fade away. Then the barrier of silver around me peels backward, letting me through to whatever is next. When I turn back, the silver barrier is there, blocking any chance of returning the way I came. Not that I would consider doing that. Whatever is ahead, I have to face it.

  I step out onto a dull gray surface. Ahead of me is only the gray plane and a gray sky.

  “Hello?” I say, hoping Taylor or Zachary are within earshot.

  There’s no answer.

  “Hello?” I say again. My voice is sucked into the nothingness around me. There is no one here but me.

  I step out farther from the silver barrier, toward whatever is ahead. Maybe they’re here already and are in front of me. I’ll find them and we can face this zone together. Or maybe they haven’t gotten here yet. If I leave, I might not find them.

  I stand in the same spot for well over ten minutes. There is no sound. No objects. Only me and the emptiness. I call out for them every minute or so. I wait. But the longer I wait, the more sure I am that they have come and gone. They could have waited for me, and with time all twisted up, maybe they gave up on me.

  I wait five more minutes. That’s all I can take. I have to see if they’re ahead or if there is any sign of them.

  I count my steps as I start out across the ground. Ten. Twenty. The silver barrier gets farther away. I look back, scanning for Taylor and Zachary. I go over Raven’s words. Cole hadn’t betrayed me. I look for a sign. But there is nothing.

  Nothing.

  Give up, a voice in my head seems to say.

  I push the voice away and keep walking. I would never give up. Giving up would only result in death.

  You’re going to die if you stay here, it says. This place will kill you.

  I am not going to die. I am going to survive and get the pieces of the key and get into Main Control Room Alpha. I am going to defeat Chaos.

  You never will, it says. Your friends will die. You will be responsible. If you don’t die, you will live forever in stasis knowing that you couldn’t save them.

  My friends won’t die. And I will find Cole.

  Instantly the image of Cole appears. His hands and feet are bound and he still screams, as if he’s facing torture that never ends. I squeeze my eyes shut to try to make the image go away, but it’s like the more I think about it, the harder it is to get out of my mind. I have to save him.

  He doesn’t want you.

  That’s not true. Raven said it wasn’t true. She said he was trying to save me by leaving with Pia.

  Raven is a liar.

  I bite my lip. Raven has been deceptive, and she was behind the entirety of Simulation Avine. What if she did lie about Cole?

  She did.

  But what if she didn’t lie? Either way, I have to find Cole. Even if everything she said was false, I can’t know he’s suffering and do nothing.

  Give up now, the voice says.

  “Stop talking to me,” I say aloud. I’ve had enough of this voice of uncertainty. It has no place here.

  Yet the more I push it away, the more persistent it becomes. I hardly notice as the edge of the dismal gray ground comes into view. My own words have become a mantra in my head, trying to push away the negativity of the voice, yet knowing that many of the things it says are true.

  You will never survive, the voice says, and then it falls silent.

  I stop walking, searching in my mind for it, because it was there for so long that it almost became a part of me. Then I look down. The ground under my feet is no longer dull gray. It’s brilliant yellow, like a sunflower, even though the sky above is dark.

  I whip around, looking at the place where I just was. There are others out there, wandering aimlessly. Other players. I should help them. But I can’t force myself back onto the gray surface.

  I can’t die. I have to survive. Not only survive. I have to win.

  I call for Taylor and Zachary again, and this time, I hear something off to my right. Not crying. But a low moan, like someone whose world has ended.

  “Zachary!” I shout, and I run toward him.

  He’s sitting on the ground, knees to his chest, shaking. I reach down and place my hand on his shoulder. Only then does he look my way.

  “Are we going to die?” he asks.

  There is no way I can believe he’s a god right now. He’s too much like us in this moment. Too vulnerable.

  “We’re not dying,” Taylor says, hurrying up to join us. She no longer has the bow, the same way I don’t have the ax.

  “But the voice . . . ,” he says.

  “Is bullshit,” Taylor says. “Now get up. We’re only at the start.”

  That’s it. Each zone has an entry boundary that we need to cross. The lightning on the field of blue glass in Zone Alpha. The gray field of doubt here in Zone Beta. It doesn’t thrill me to realize this, but it helps cement the rules of this place in my mind. It would be great to know what to expect, but if that’s not an option, then at least we know to expect something.

  Zachary slowly gets to his feet. His face is ashen, and there are still a couple scratches from the fight with the creatures. But otherwise, he’s ready to go.

  “Let’s go,” I say, and I set out, forward. There are long lines that run in a grid pattern ahead, and we use these to guide our way. Soon, the lines extend out to the sides also, like a giant grid. And pretty soon, they are over us and under us, too, visible through the ground which is now transparent.

  I step on one, about to comment on how much it reminds me of a holographic grid when the square I step on lifts upward, separating me from Taylor and Zachary. The squares they stand on do the same. Taylor moves downward and off far to the right. Zachary heads forward at least twenty blocks. And in case I thought there was any chance I could run back over to join them, at least half of the other squares fall away, leaving huge gaps and no clear path.

  I wobble, almost losing my balance, but I shoot my arms out to the side until I’m steady.

  “What is this, Edie?” Taylor calls. Unlike me, she’s completely stable on her platform.

  Each square is about two feet by two feet and nearly transparent. I look down, through my square, but if there is something down there, I can’t see it. Ahead of me are four more squares, each the same size. A path.
>
  I step forward to the next square. The second my foot touches it, the square behind me shoots backward a good ten feet. But a different square comes over from the right, attaching to the new square I stand on.

  “What did you do?” Zachary shouts. His square is far above, at least five levels, and only attached to one other square.

  I moved to a different square, watching Taylor and Zachary as I do. Taylor moves up two levels and to the left. Zachary stays in place.

  “It’s a game,” I say. “Each time we step on a new square, it makes other squares move.”

  Taylor isn’t content to believe me. She steps forward, and the square I’m on pops downward one level. I wobble because I’m not expecting it. Zachary nearly falls off the side.

  “Don’t move!” he shouts. “Let me get stable.”

  Taylor scowls at him but stays in place until he’s standing once again. Then he turns to look at me. “I’ve seen stuff like this before,” he says. “It’s a game. We need to find the end.”

  “What?” Taylor says. “Like a board game? This isn’t Candyland you know.”

  Memories of playing Candyland with Thomas return to me. Granted, with all the game playing we did at home, he’d outgrown the bright-colored game quickly, but not before we’d played at least one hundred times. He always wanted to be the red gingerbread man.

  “Not Candyland,” I say. “But similar.”

  Taylor puts her hands on her hips. “I suck at games.”

  I can’t help the smile that creeps onto my face. “Well, then it’s a good thing I’m fantastic at them. The first thing we need to do is test out our movements. Don’t move unless I tell you to.”

  “What about me?” Zachary says. “You act like I’m an idiot. If you haven’t noticed, I’m pretty good with games, too.”

  “Yeah, well, I could beat you at Catan any day of the week,” I say.

  “Challenge accepted,” he says.

  “Anyway, it makes sense for one of us to be the main control point,” I say. “Otherwise, we won’t know what controls what.”