“She needs to stay out of this,” I press. “There’s no debate about this. She doesn’t deserve to be caught in the middle of this. This is something you and I have to do alone.”
“They only threatened her life like that to scare us. They think they can punish me, they have no idea that they can’t stop me. Their actions are only making me want to destroy the system more, to obliterate the engine that allowed my own father to be a monster.” He grins, shaking his head as he looks at the grooves in the oak planks on the ceiling. The entire office building is made of wood, a new eco-friendly trend in modern mid-rise buildings in urban areas.
“No, listen to me.” I refrain from yelling, only because I know he doesn’t know the horrors of last night. “They drowned her. Literally drowned her. Like she’s lucky her lungs didn’t collapse and that she doesn’t have permanent brain damage. The only reason they didn’t kill her is because I told them I would never talk to her again. And I’m not going to. I can’t.”
“Okay.” He shifts in his seat, biting his tongue so that he doesn’t spit out anything he will regret, a habit my father has always had. He erratically taps his fingers on the desk in front of him, causing a dull ping to sound in my ears.
“Okay. Okay. Great, I don’t know why I expected more of a response from you.” I look at him and smile, trying to imitate the way I have seen so many arrogant forty-year-old women give polite looks of displeasure to poor random workers who don’t meet their expectations in stores. “Maybe the police will be more of a help in solving this. Yeah, I’m sure they will be more concerned than you.”
“The police?” He raises his eyebrows, looking at me as if it is the most preposterous thing in the world.
“The police, yes. Jake called them last night. They were the ones that found Riva. They are probably gonna call me in as a witness at some point today. After all, I was technically a victim of the crime too. I guess I might as well tell them everything I know.”
“The case has likely already been dropped. The Sy—” He cuts himself off before he can spit out the name of the people, the name of the group trying to destroy us. “They never face any consequences; they are the ones that deliver them to other people. You don’t even have a chance at stopping them. Like I’ve said, the police are pointless with these people. They aren’t above the law; they are the ones who write them.”
“Are these guys a secret group of senators trying to kill us?” My tone has way too much excitement in it; to an onlooker, it almost seems like I am honored to be kidnapped by them. “’Cause I have to admit I still hate them, but that is pretty cool.”
“No, nothing like that.” He shifts in his seat, his eyes seeming to search the ceiling for the right words. Something about his demeanor feels so fake. “Now is not the time to tell you. Very soon, though, very soon I will share everything with you. At first, I thought this was all fun and games, a way to see if you are up for the pressure, but now I know that I was wrong. I wanted to prepare for you your position as CEO of Chimera. I wanted you to get used to the stress you will have to live with. But the people who I thought were my friends, the people who I thought were my brothers, have betrayed me. I now know that they are being serious with their threats. Their desire is to rip this all away from me for good, and I refuse to let that happen. They have turned on me, and I will make them pay. You will learn the truth, be cleansed with it, and after that happens, there is no turning back. And I will make sure you’re safe. In my dream to change the world, you are the one that I want at the helm of it.”
He smiles and stands up. In the silence that prevails, he walks over to me, the dull sound of his footsteps on the carpet causing shockwaves to course through my body. He puts a hand on my shoulder, the same way he always used to when he was my basketball coach as a little kid. I was way too nerdy for that to last a long time, and my dad worked way too much for him to have the time, so we both quit that relatively quickly without any regrets.
“I want to know the truth now.” We both make eye contact, and I know I have tears in my eyes—the droplets, after all, are quite noticeably blurring my vision, but for once I don’t care. I don’t care that my voice is on the verge of cracking and that my body is shaking. I want him to see how I truly feel—on the verge of collapsing—and maybe then he can help me back up.
“I haven’t decided when I’m going to tell you or even if I ever will.” He takes his hand off my shoulder, and instead lets it awkwardly rest on his side. My dad always has had long arms that he has no idea what to do with.
“Ha ha ha.” I don’t laugh, I literally enunciate each syllable, spit accidentally flying from my mouth. “Very funny. You’re going to let me be killed by these people without an explanation, without ever knowing why. That’s not even an option. Like, please, if I’m going to die, at least let me know why. I’m tired of waiting. This is insanity.”
“You’re not going to die.” He speaks with emphasis, on the verge of yelling but not quite there yet. “I promise you.” He has an interesting glow in his eyes that I can’t pinpoint. An uneasy feeling smacks my stomach, making me feel like I have to expel liquid from either end of me simultaneously, which means that my body is just as confused as my mind.
“How do you know that?” I step away from him. For once, after years of idolizing what my dad is capable of and all that he has achieved, I find myself glancing outside the window of his massive office that most people would die to have, feeling fearful of his accomplishments—of who he has become.
“Because I know these people. I know them better than anyone.” He pauses. “After all, I am one of them.”
“Wait, what?” I back away even further and put my hand on the smooth glass door behind me, readying myself for a quick exit. All of a sudden, everything feels like an elaborate trick, one fucked-up lie. Is this not even my dad? Is this all a hallucination?
“Yes. But it’s not what you think. It’s not what you think at all.” He sighs, stepping backward and returning to his leather desk chair, attempting to put me at ease.
“Then what is it? What is going on, Dad? Because I’m losing my mind. I’m losing my freaking mind right before the two biggest weeks of my life. You have put so much pressure on me the past year, especially after not going to college, that I have to win the championship this year. We both know well enough that if I don’t, I’m gonna have to be shoveled off to a four-year university across the country before I can work with Chimera. I’m going to have to give up on my own dream forever, my own goal, my own purpose to win this championship for good. If I win this year, I will be the only rookie in the history of the Deadwave World Tour to win the championship.
“I have to win, Dad. I have to win. Why are we doing this now? Why is everything blowing up now? Right when I need life to support me most.”
“I want to tell you,” he says. “But I can’t now, and I don’t know if I ever will. When I was a few years older than you, I was presented with some issues in my life. And I chose to take the easy way out. I didn’t want to deal with the pressure, I didn’t want to deal with the threats of doing something new—of pursuing something that would break the system. So I pressed a few people to tell me the truth. To give me access to all the connections, all the wealth, all the secrets to the inner workings of the system. But in doing so, I made a deal with the devil. One that I can never take back. This is permanent. And I am chained to this truth, to this power, for the rest of my life. And it’s my biggest regret.”
“I want to know the truth.” My mind flashes back to the night before and the spray of the cold water hitting my face. “I don’t freaking care about the consequences!”
“You don’t know that yet.” He pauses, his face completely devoid of emotion and his voice monotone. By this point in my dad’s life, he has likely been put through so much that he has nothing left to feel, nothing left in him except the desire to work. “I want to let you decide if it’s worth it. But I’m not sure I’m going to have a choice. I want
to protect you, but by keeping you in the dark, I may be hurting you too. I may be killing you in the long run.”
He gulps as his feet tap against the floor. “It’s just that there’s no going back. And I don’t want that for you, I don’t want that for my son. But right now, this is all games. The real stuff, the real power, isn’t even close. The real threat to everything hasn’t even come out of the shadows. And when it does, you will be prepared.”
He looks me right in my eyes, his pale skin seeming to look even paler in the shade of the bookshelf behind him. “You will be prepared. You will live a better life than me. But for now, this is all games. This is all just a game, trust me on that. They used to be playing with us, but now they have turned against us. All that is important is that at the end of the day, you come out on top. I promise you will live. I promise everything will be okay eventually, even if it’s not good for a while.”
“So what, are they lying about killing me after the Deadwave Finals if I don’t give them the patents? Is that all just a game that you set up? The killing of innocent people? Is all of this just a game? Because I don’t wanna play. I don’t wanna play.”
“You must. You don’t get to choose what games you play in life. You only get to choose how long you fight in it.” He stares out the window. The midday sun causes the two other tall glass buildings in the valley to glow like golden rods. “Stay in this fight. It will be long, and it will be tough, but the prize is everything. They won’t get it from us, they will lose. It all begins with you winning the Deadwave World Championship. It’s not about you just proving something to yourself. You have to prove something to the world.”
My heart practically pounds out of my chest as he says the words. The last thing I need is even more pressure to exacerbate the incessant knot in my chest.
“There are people watching out there.” He grins. “They are watching. So go out there and win. I have a plan. I have a plan, and it will work. It begins with the Life Pods, with Chimera. And it ends with you on top. I promise.”
I open my mouth, but I am too shocked and angry to respond. I am about to explode. I am about to completely lose it on him, on these people, on the entire world. I have to win, if for nothing else just so I can stick it to them so far up their asses that they lose all feeling. Okay, maybe that is too graphic, but you get the point.
I can’t let anyone stop me. I can’t let anything stop me.
I walk out the door, more determined than scared for the first time in weeks.
And that’s all I need to win—to survive.
Chapter 26
I haven’t talked to anyone in six days.
And when I say that, I don’t mean I’ve been texting a few people and feel like I have talked to no one. I deliberately have not had any interaction with a human for over six days. Well, that’s a lie. I suppose I did make awkward eye contact with one of my neighbors. All week I have been ordering my meals, having drones or self-driving cars drop off my food that the robotic doorman in my apartment building can take up to my door. But the other day, a young man knocked on my door to deliver me my food, stating that it was delivered to him incorrectly.
I thanked him, quickly closed the door, and then peacefully ate my sushi in silence.
Now, my lack of human interaction hasn’t come without any opportunities. I have had multiple calls, texts, and emails from Jake, that only keep increasing as the week has gone on. He wants to know if he is still my manager, which I am still trying to decide, because I’m still not convinced I’m gonna be alive much longer to have a life to manage. There were even a few dull knocks on my door, followed by three extremely loud bangs that I ignored. My dad gave up on calling me three days ago; he knows all too well the state both our minds can enter. The state where nothing matters but the goal in front of us, where nothing matters but winning.
He calls it a killer instinct. I call it crazy. Either way, they are one and the same, and that part of my mind has overtaken me. It even made me forget about Riva. I barely felt anything when I saw that she texted me. It was the all too common but extremely vague We need to talk text. Normally, this text, when received from a girl, strikes fear into the heart of any man, but I don’t care. Well, I did care—I do care—but I don’t allow myself to feel that.
Instead, I focus on training for the Deadwave Semifinals in San Diego, relentlessly reviewing gameplay from past competitions, taking notes on the strategies of other players and joining private games where I can experiment with my own tactics to combat them. The entire week I didn’t even stream for a single hour, taking the longest break I have had in years from showcasing my game for anyone to see in the world. Instead, I completely removed myself from social media, from the outside world, and let the anger inside me fester until it was bound to explode.
Now is the time.
I look around at the crowd. Thousands of people all scream relentlessly as the countdown timer approaches zero. Just ten seconds until all of us are transported to some outlandish virtual world, battling to the death to see who will win. The top five finishers of the night will move on to the World Championship, which takes place one week from now, on October 7, 2034, in Madison Square Garden. The competition pool has already been narrowed down from one hundred to fifteen to form the semifinal. But now is when the real games begin, and everyone knows it.
The tension in the crowd and the almost frenetic pitch at which everyone screams adds another level of pressure to the environment. Even with my helmet on, I can sense that everyone in the newly built eSports complex in the heart of downtown is going wild, causing the building to likely shake from the force of the sound.
The last ten seconds before the game begins are always like this, with hundreds of neon light sticks piercing through the darkness, rainbow-colored spotlights affixed to the stadium roof dancing throughout the audience, and all the players on stage breathing a nervous sigh.
This time, though, I don’t feel nervous. I don’t even feel the normal butterflies in my stomach that always manage to emerge from their cocoons in my mind right before a big moment like this.
I feel in the zone. I feel ready to kill, and normally that thought never crosses my mind.
The timer hits one, and the blackness encapsulating my vision transforms into a crisp blue sky and bright rays of sun, causing the edges of my vision to be hazy. It is hot out; like within seconds I can feel the heat seeping through my pores, dragging the sweat out of me.
I am standing on a dock, and the second I shift my weight and begin to step forward, the wooden planks beneath me rock backward, causing my balance to completely disappear. I manage to catch myself before I fall on the splintered, rotting wood that makes up the rather small dock which sits at water level above the lake. For a moment, I find my mind not worrying about finding my first weapon or armor, and instead enjoying the beautiful scenery around me as I stand straight up, being careful not to fall over again. The deciduous trees surrounding the lake are in full bloom, with their stunning pink leaves stretching across the hilly landscape for miles. The lake itself, which likely has tens of thousands of feet of shoreline, had dark blue yet pristine waters that contain the reflection of the massive snow-capped mountain behind me.
Am I on some alien planet?
Everything looks way too pretty to be inspired by anything on Earth, but oftentimes Deadwave has a mind of its own. But either way, I like the mind of Deadwave today, because the second I turn around to glance at the massive mountain, my eyes connect with the lake house behind me. It sits right at the base of the steep gradient that makes up the stone face of the mountain, and is surrounded by the same deciduous trees that surround the rest of the lake.
This is exactly what I need. I run forward, dodging the parts of the dock that contain broken planks or are too unstable. Everything is eerily quiet, save for the chirping of a few birds in the distance; there are no gunshots, no vicious growling of zombies, and no yelling from any players.
I feel safe. I loo
k around, frantically scanning the land and water for anything out of place. Something must be wrong.
I pick up my pace, running forward as I step off the dock and down onto the gravel path. It is a winding, narrow path that makes its way up the hill to the house a few hundred feet away. Calling it a house, however, would do the massive structure an injustice. It looks more like a billionaire’s weekend getaway than a quaint lake house. It is three stories, with a massive glass façade overlooking the lake and the birch-like wood of the trees making up the walls on the other ends of the house. On the third floor, it appears as if there is a massive porch, with tiki torches visible even from down here. I have already planned out everything. I will run inside the house, scavenge for materials, and camp out on that porch, having a clear shot of anyone inside the house and outside it.
Except my plan gets utterly fucked before I even take another step forward.
A wide section of earth explodes, chunks of dirt and grass flying dozens of feet into the air as a deafening bang shakes every bone in my body. I watch in part amusement and part horror as someone’s body lands on the ground amidst the hundreds of pounds of earth displaced by the mine. There must be a minefield around the house. I check the count of people still living in the lower-left corner of my vision: fifteen people are still alive.
The player survived that, but he or she won’t be living much longer. I sprint towards them, their body still unmoving dozens of feet away from me in the grass. I have to admit I do feel slightly bad for them. After all, I would have ended up like them in a few moments if they hadn’t run into the minefield first. But sometimes life literally blows up in your face and you can’t do a thing about it.
I can relate to that feeling—high key I can relate. Although my avatar is alive for now, I know the feeling of trying to dig the shrapnel out of your own skin when life explodes in your face. I hope my story ends up differently than this avatar’s story. I rapidly approach the figure on the ground, trying not to look too close at the pain in their eyes and writhing body before I knock the last bit of health points left out of them.
Deadwave Page 19
