by Wyatt Savage
The plane did not stop, but the taxi inexplicably caught up. The driver expertly piloted his car down and around a bend in the road so that the plane would have to fly directly over it. The taxi shrieked to a halt and Will and Jackie bounded outside. The wind whipped their hair as they waved their hands, screaming for the pilot to stop.
“Jesus, it’s not stopping, is it?” Will asked, holding up his cellphone as if the pilots might see his QR code and stop the flight. A silly gesture that made Jackie judge him a little more than she felt comfortable with.
Jackie jumped and pumped her fists as the plane sliced directly over their heads, banking hard, flying up into the darkening sky. Her stomach did somersaults. How had this happened? How had they been left behind? They were stuck now, no easy way out. They’d have to go to the coast, try and hire someone with a boat to take them north and then maybe if they were lucky—
Her thoughts and worries were cataclysmically interrupted with a loud and thunderous crack. An explosion sounded, a blast that was so loud, so powerful, that the shockwave knocked Will and Jackie to the ground.
4
Out of the Frying Pan
Jackie couldn’t believe her eyes. It was as if the plane had run into an invisible wall. She lay there on the ground with Will, staring at the orange fireball smear across the sky, the remains of the plane fluttering down to the ground like parade confetti.
“Jesus,” Will said. “Jesus. What in the ever-living…”
“It hit it,” Jackie whispered to herself. “It hit…something.”
“There’s nothing up there, Jack,” Will said.
“It just…ran into it,” she replied, her breath coming in stabbing gasps, as she began to accept the truth—that this was really happening—that a plane, which was their only escape, had vaporized on impact with an object she thought was nothing more than a mirage or mass hysterical delusion. It was real, and it was happening to them directly.
She breathed in and out deeply, slowly, trying not to hyperventilate, trying not to think about the Xanax she should have taken. A fragment of the plane, some carbonized scrap of fabric, landed on her nose. It burned her nose and she swatted the scrap away. Then she placed her hand over her mouth to suppress the gorge snaking up the back of her throat, but it was too late. She vomited, chunks flying everywhere.
“You okay?” Will asked, gently patting her on the back, as if that would help somehow.
Jackie glared at Will, but before she could respond the driver said, “They won’t let anyone else leave.”
“What does that mean?” Will asked. “Even us?”
The driver shook his head. “They don’t want any more death…unless it’s connected to points.”
The driver strolled forward and handed Jackie a bottle of water. She took a long pull from the bottle to rinse the acidic taste of bile from her mouth.
“Who?” Will asked. “Who won’t let anyone leave?”
“The Noctem,” the driver answered. “The aliens.” The driver drew an imaginary structure in the air with both hands. “They have built things in the air. Things we cannot see. That plane must’ve flown into one.”
“That isn’t true,” Will said.
The driver shrugged. “There is no other explanation.”
“Mechanical problem,” Will said. “It’s rare, but it happens.”
“The plane’s nose crumpled,” Jackie said, still fighting off the shock of the last few minutes. “I saw it…it just…folded up.”
“You don’t know what you—”
“Like a fucking accordion,” Jackie added. “For God’s sakes I saw it, Will.”
The driver nodded. “Like I said, they do not want people to leave without permission and without following the rules of the game. The game is everything now.”
Jackie sucked in another breath, like a powerlifter getting ready to lift a heavy bar. She saw that the driver was turning back to the taxi.
“Hey!” He stopped and looked over his shoulder. “What’s your name?”
“Jorge,” the driver said. “My name is Jorge Arau.”
“I’m Jackie and this is Will.”
Jorge nodded. “Good luck,” he said, having completed his mission of delivering them to the runway.
“But where are you going?” she asked.
“Back to Mexico City.”
“What about us?” Will asked.
“I don’t know,” Jorge replied. “What about you?”
“We need to get back too.”
“This was a one-way trip, my friends,” Jorge said.
A bright-blue spiral of light suddenly issued up from the ground somewhere in the distance. Jackie watched it slice into the twilight like a spotlight. This was followed by a sound that filled the air; a deep, haunting boom; then an ear-shattering siren of some kind. The trio were pressed to the ground by the force of the sound.
Covering her ears, Jackie squinted, and when she opened them, there was a prompt in her line of sight. A message appeared—in the grid and boxes that made up her HUD, heads-up-display:
Congratulations, the Melee has begun. You have entered Level 1, the Onslaught!
Objective: Reach Wall Number One
Reward: 2000 XP (Experience Points)
Time limit: 6:00:00
Penalty for failing to reach the wall: you will reach your journey’s end
“Please tell me I’m not seeing this,” Jackie begged, a prompt on her HUD blinking:
“Self-delusion is only possible at Level 7 or higher,” a voice said. “In the meantime, please pay careful attention to your abilities and limitations. What you decide now will come into play later. Do not take any detail for granted. And do please take note of your profile. It will benefit both you and the Melee if you choose to pursue your destiny.”
These words were followed by a HUD prompt:
Species: Homo Sapiens (Leon, Jaqueline)
Chattel: None
Health:10/10
Level:1
Class:Mage (Assigned based on natural, innate, and experiential skills)
Kills:0
Vitals:BP – 123/80; T – 98.03f; RR – 12bpm
XP:0
What the hell is a mage? she wondered, even though the term sounded vaguely familiar. Will looked over. His face was ashen and his chest was rising and falling rapidly. Jackie’s HUD reflected his stats as well as those for Jorge.
“It’s begun,” Jorge said, his face a strange mixture of terror and exultation. “I got the message. The game has started.”
He scrambled back to the taxi and Jackie grabbed Will. They ran after him.
“You need to help us!” Jackie shouted.
“Why?” Jorge said, reaching the taxi, looking back.
“Because we have money,” Jackie said, pulling out the remaining money from her pocket, waving it. “You’ll need to have money.”
“Besides,” Will said, “there’s safety in numbers.”
He pointed and Jorge followed his gaze. The guards at the front gate were filtering into the yard, weapons out. A shortened version of the guards’ stats blinked on Jackie’s HUD:
Species: Homo Sapiens (4)
Level:1—1
Class:Fighter(s)
Health:10/10—10/10
“Points,” Jorge said softly. “They are searching for points…”
“They’re looking for us,” Will said, panicked as he realized what was at stake and how the power dynamics had shifted in only a few seconds.
Jorge’s mouth drooped open. One of the guards aimed his rifle and told the trio to get on the ground.
“Get in the taxi,” Jorge said, some heat in his voice. “Now.”
Jackie and Will crawled into the taxi as gunfire rang out. Jorge jumped behind the wheel, put the taxi in reverse, and floored it. Jackie and Will held on for dear life as bullets shattered what was left of the windshield.
Jorge ducked under the wheel, somehow contorting his body so that he could still drive. He two-handed
the wheel and pulled it all the way to the left so that the taxi swung back around.
Then Jackie saw him punch his right hand down on the gas pedal, peeping above the wheel only when he needed to. More gunfire rang out, clattering against the roof of the vehicle.
Bullets then thudded into the back of the taxi. One ate through the trunk and whistled past Jackie’s head, imbedding in the passenger seat. She began singing a Beatles song to herself. Silently mouthing the words to “Across the Universe,” which was what she’d always done when anxious. It was ludicrous, she knew that. The idea that she could sing her way out of a predicament by repeating lyrics about how nothing was going to change her world.
The rear windshield partially imploded.
The song melted away.
Jorge shouted and then plopped back down on his seat just as another gate, this one wooden, sprang into view.
“ESPERE! HOLD ON!” Jorge shouted.
The taxi hit the wooden gate and smashed through it. The bumper flew off, but the vehicle kept on running. Jorge cheered wildly, throwing mock jabs at the wheel, steering the taxi down through an alley that cut through an industrial area.
With much effort, Jackie pushed herself up and looked through the now-open rear windshield. There was nobody in sight. They’d made it out of the yard. They were safe, at least for the moment. They motored past an old man and two older women stumbling past. Jackie fixed a look on the three senior citizens, who unexpectedly burst into clouds of green dust. Biting back a scream, she closed her eyes and leaned back, finally convinced and willing to believe that the world truly was coming to its end.
5
The End Begins
The taxi continued on for another two miles. Then Jorge drove it around back of a deserted Pemex gas station.
“Where are you going?” Jackie asked, twisting her brother’s rubber band around her wrist, watching it quickly unravel.
“Agua,” Jorge replied. “We need as much as possible.”
She watched him exit the cab and move around to the rear. He popped the trunk and removed several empty plastic bottles. Then he darted to the back of the gas station and climbed a metal ladder bolted to the wall. He hauled himself up the ladder and stopped at a metal drum hook to a series of solar panels on the back portion of the building’s roof.
Jackie looked down at her hands. They were trembling. Will reached over and held them. “How you doing, babe?”
“Been a whole lot better.”
He hugged her.
“Please tell me we’re going to wake up from this, Will.”
Will was silent.
Jackie looked out her window, watched Jorge tug free a rubber hose hooked to the metal drum and water began issuing from it. Jackie watched him fill both bottles, then secure the rubber hose back in place, and descend the ladder. She and Will exited the taxi.
“The water’s a little warm,” Jorge said, offering them one of the bottles.
It was, but Jackie took a long pull from the bottle. The water was coppery, but it washed the sour taste from her mouth.
“Did you get the message?” Jorge asked, drinking from the other bottle.
Will nodded. “I see the boxes and grids and I heard the sirens too.”
“That’s the signal that the game has officially begun.”
“Doesn’t matter if it has or not, I’m not playing,” Jackie said.
Jorge capped the top of his bottle. “Senora, there are rules. Everyone between the ages of eighteen and fifty-four must play. Did you see those old people back on the road?” Jorge asked, scrutinizing her face and seeing that she paled at the mention of it. “Yes, I think you saw them. They exploded into green dust.”
“I don’t care. I still won’t play.”
“Then I suggest you talk to your inner person.”
“What?”
“Your voz…voice,” Jorge said. “Each participant has one. An alien guide.”
Jackie snorted. “That’s ridiculous.”
She searched Will’s face for support, but he took a liking to the ground. “You know it’s true,” he said. “You told me yourself. You’ve heard the voice before, the one that sounds like Jeff Goldblum.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“It’s exactly the same thing.”
Jackie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “This is insanity.”
“This is the Melee, Jackie,” Jorge responded, lighting a cigarette. “If you don’t play, if you don’t kill los jugadores, the other participants to get points, you will die.”
“I’m a doctor for Crissakes. I save people...”
“You are a mage now, do you know what that means?”
Jackie looked to Will who manufactured a smile. “Well, technically mages spend a good bit of their lives in the study and practice of magic. Course that all depends on whether you’re a good mage or a bad mage, and the attributes you acquire, so…”
“Seriously, Will? You actually believe this crap?”
“I’m talking to a woman who’s admitted hearing an alien voice in her head that sounds like friggin’ Jeff Goldblum, so yeah, I kinda believe it, hon.”
Jackie’s face flushed so Will motioned to Jorge as if to ask for a moment alone. Then he took Jackie’s hand and led her over to the taxi. “Sorry for being a smartass, but we need to think this through.”
“What’s to think?”
“Survival for one. We need to find a way home pronto and Jorge’s our best bet, so let’s not piss him off.”
“I’m not killing anyone, Will.”
“I’m not saying you have to, but we need to be smart about this. We need to consider the possibilities that this is all real.”
“What is?”
“The Melee, the game…”
“Listen to yourself.”
“I am, Jack. I don’t want to believe any of it, but I can’t deny what I’ve seen. For God’s sakes it’s like we’re stuck in the middle of the world’s biggest video game. You’re a friggin’ mage and I’m a fighter.”
“The whole thing’s absurd.”
“Maybe it is, but let’s not discount anything for the moment given what we’ve seen, okay?”
Jackie nodded and Will kissed her on the forehead. “We can do this, babe. If we play our cards right, we can make it out of here alive.” When Jackie didn’t reply, Will turned to Jorge. “We’re cool, Jorge. We’re good to go.”
“No, we are twenty-five points each, senor. You, me, her. That’s all we are now. XP. Experience points.”
“Lovely,” Will said, forcing a smile. “What’s the plan?”
Jorge flicked his cigarette away and shrugged with a light chuckle. “The plan is a simple one. We get the fuck out of here and try not to get killed.”
The taxi sped through the outer edges of Toluca. They traversed side streets and sped down deserted alleys, watching thunderheads of smoke rise in the distance. At one point they passed a string of bodies lying on the side of the road, desiccated and shriveled. Will asked Jackie what might have led to their deaths and she had no good answer. It appeared as if the bodies had been sucked clean of fluids.
They stopped at a rise near a church with a metal statue of the archangel Michael out front. Jorge turned on the radio and a man repeatedly shouted zero-nine-zero.
“Why does he keep saying that?” Will asked.
“Zero-nine-zero is the federal police radio code for homicide,” Jorge answered. “Soon the cities and towns will be emptied of people. The entire country will be one pueblo fantasma. A giant ghost town.”
The trio exited the car for a moment and looked down into the heart of the city. Buildings and cars were on fire, and hordes of people were attacking each other. The people were fighting in close quarters, many of them hacking and bashing each other with clubs and pieces of wood and metal. The fighting had become primitive. Several helicopters appeared and fired down on the people and someone in the crowd responded with a surface-to-air missile that kno
cked the helicopter out of the sky. Jackie watched it pinwheel down to the ground, disappearing in a solid sheet of flame that turned the city streets into an inferno. The acidic odor of fuel and burning flesh tanged the air and Jackie tore her eyes away from the grotesquerie.
“There are three primary law enforcement groups around here,” Jorge said. “Federal police, la policia comunitarios, the community police, and the auto-defensa.”
“What’s that last one?” Jackie asked.
“Self-defense forces.”
Will blinked. “Vigilantes?”
Jorge smiled. “It does not matter what they are, because it appears that they are fighting each other and the participants.”
“There’s no more law,” Will said.
Jorge shrugged. “There wasn’t much to being with. The police were in league with the Sinaloa Cartel first and when Chapo went away, the CJNG, the Jalisco New Generation Cartel. All of these places were under their control.” He cast a final look at the city, which was in flames. “Long may it burn.”
Jackie watched a building explode. A column of fire rose up into the air, smoke billowing in such a way that it assumed the shape of some demonic figure complete with horns and a tail. Jackie shivered and turned away.
Some of the smoke funneled up Jackie’s nose. She blinked, eyes watering, the smoke working its way down the back of her throat. Roasted meat. That’s what it smelled like. She fought off the urge to vomit and climbed back into the taxi. Jorge held up his phone for Jackie and Will to show a video. The same fits of violence were happening all around the world—Paris; Shenyang, China; Washington, D.C., you name it.
Jackie tried to send a text from her phone and call her parents, but still couldn’t. Jorge shut off the phone and messages appeared in Jackie’s HUD, text and videos sent by Jorge.
“How did you do that?” she asked. “How did you send those to me? I can’t even get a signal.”
“The voice in my HUD told me how. You can do lots of things with it. I think you need to speak with it, Jackie,” Jorge answered.
