Countdown

by Michelle Rowen

  He reached around to the back of his head to feel. “Maybe they made a mistake when they were digging around. Put it in the wrong spot.”

  “Maybe.” My gaze traveled to his wound. “What Jonathan did to you back there. That antidote. How do you feel now?”

  He gingerly touched his shoulder. “It worked. I feel stronger already. It doesn’t even hurt much anymore.”

  I couldn’t figure it out. “Why did he do that? Seems kind of risky for him to help somebody he doesn’t even know. Just another contestant.”

  “Don’t know.” A grim smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Must be my charm. I’ve always been able to win people over. Make them do whatever I want.”

  “Yeah, sure,” I said. “It’s working so well with me so far.” I glanced around again. I could see the main mall from where we were, but they’d tucked us down a hallway that was roped off for maintenance. I looked at Rogan. He wasn’t hunched over anymore, and I got a better sense of his height. He was tall—I’d guess a couple inches over six feet. Also, even with all that dirt and grime he was…well, I had to admit that he was far from ugly. I wondered what he might look like all cleaned up.

  Like a cleaned-up mass murderer, probably.

  I was fooling myself if I thought there was more to this guy. Wouldn’t matter if he was the most gorgeous boy in the universe. What he’d done made him hideous.

  He seemed to f linch at my appraisal. “You don’t seem to like what you see.”

  That wasn’t entirely true, unfortunately. But it was better for both of us if he believed that. “Should I like you, Rogan?”

  He gave another half laugh that sounded pained. “Absolutely not.”

  “Then I guess we’re in agreement.” I turned my back to him and tried to focus. The mall. I hung out here all the time and so did a good friend of mine. “Come on. I think I know someone who might be able to help us. Got to find him before that camera catches up to us.”

  Before I got too far, his hand on my shoulder stopped me. “What are you talking about?”

  “I know a guy, he’s like a computer genius. At least that’s what he’s always telling me. If I find him, he might be able to help us get rid of the implants—disarm them, remove them, whatever—and we can end this once and for all.”

  “You think it’s that easy?”

  “I think it could be.” I tried to pull away from him.

  His grip on my arm increased. “You touch these implants, and unless you have the right tools, they’ll explode. Turn your brain to goo that’ll drip out your ears while you finish dying. Is that what you want?”

  I grimaced at the thought. “You sound pretty certain. I guess I didn’t get the manual when I woke up on the do’s and don’t’s of implant ownership. Did they give you a quick course in juvie?”

  He glared at my sarcastic tone. “People talk.”

  I turned away again. “Doesn’t mean I have to listen.”

  Without waiting to find out if he was or wasn’t going to follow me, I made my way out of the hallway and into the mall. Finally, I was somewhere I knew. It felt good, like I’d been returned home. It gave me some sense of control in this crazy situation.

  Pre-Plague, this had been one of the largest malls on the east coast. Over a thousand stores in a complex that spanned blocks and blocks. Now there were about thirty stores still open. Three places to eat in the food court. Some old people said that it had an eerie, ghost town kind of feeling for them, just like the entire city now did. It didn’t seem that strange to me since I’d never known any other way. It was a good place to hang out indoors, and that was all I cared about.

  I glanced over my shoulder. Rogan trudged after me. Just looking at him made me realize that we’d better make this quick. We didn’t have too much time before we got kicked out. Security wasn’t all that tight, but torn, dirty and bloodied clothes did not represent your average mall shopper. Luckily I knew where I was headed.

  The food court. My friend Oliver hung out there a lot. If he wasn’t there, then he was at his other main haunt, some basement in the city where he disappeared for days at a time to play networked games with other geeks. I meant that term fondly.

  I actually let out a small whimper of relief when I saw him sitting in his usual spot, tapping away on his laptop, an extralarge soda in front of him on the table. There were about ten other people in the large food court, scattered around at different tables. A clock hung from the ceiling in the center of the court. The glass on it had been broken months ago but hadn’t been fixed yet. It still worked, though. It was just after five o’clock.

  I walked right up to Oliver and stood in front of him. He didn’t immediately look up from his screen.

  “Oliver,” I said.

  He finally glanced at me, and his eyes widened. “Kira, hey. I’ve been looking all over for you. You totally disappeared yesterday.”

  Yesterday? How long had I been unconscious before I woke up in that room? How long had I been unconscious before this level?

  I let out a shaky breath. “I need your help. Badly.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “You look serious.”

  “You have no idea.”

  “Are you in some sort of trouble?”

  Rogan’s hand curled around my arm. “Kira, this isn’t a good idea.”

  Oliver’s gaze shifted to him, and his eyes widened again. “New friend?”

  I looked at Rogan and then back at Oliver. Rogan outweighed the shorter, scrawnier kid by at least fifty pounds of muscle.

  “Uh, this is Rogan Ellis.” I gulped. “We both need your help.”

  “Rogan Ellis…” Oliver’s eyes widened even more at hearing the name. I guess I was the only one who hadn’t heard of his crimes before today. “Kira, do you have any idea who this guy is?”

  “Yes, but you have to listen to me…” I trailed off. I suddenly felt something. A strange sensation like we were being watched.

  I glanced over my shoulder and was positive I saw a silver digicam slide behind the far corner.

  “We can’t involve your friend in this,” Rogan whispered only loud enough for me to hear. “Unless you want to get him killed.”

  Oliver’s knuckles were white, and he gripped the edge of the table. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on, Kira, but if you need my help, you know I’d do anything for you. But him—” His voice caught a little with fear. “I don’t want him anywhere near me.”

  Oliver had a crush on me. Thankfully, he’d never acted on it, but it was always there, an undeniable presence in the room with us. And I’d admit it, I took it as a compliment. It was nice to feel wanted. I was banking on that crush to make him want to help us. To help me. But the last thing I wanted to do was to put him in danger.

  And that was exactly what I was doing by even talking to him.

  Damn. Rogan was right.

  “Where do you want to go?” He closed his laptop and stood up from the table.

  “You know what?” I swallowed and shook my head. “Never mind.”

  He moved a step toward me. “Kira, you look really stressed. Tell me what’s wrong.”

  I took a step back and felt Rogan behind me. “This was a mistake.”

  He eyed Rogan with a mix of fear and hate. “Is it him? Is he forcing you to do something?”

  “None of your business what I’m doing,” Rogan growled.

  Oliver’s jaw tensed, and he turned his glare from Rogan to me again. “I can help you. You just have to come with me.”

  “Help her? Yeah, you look so tough.” Rogan snorted. “You think you can save her from me?”

  I really wanted him to shut up and not make this worse than it already was.

  “If I have to.” Oliver gave me another confused look. “Is he hurting you?”

  I shook my head. I had to back away. I couldn’t get Oliver involved in this. It had been a mistake to approach him. “No…Rogan and me…we’re together.”

  “Together?”

 
I nodded. It was better to hurt him now if it would keep him safe in the long run. “I just wanted you to know so you… so you stop bothering me.”

  He put a hand to his chest. “I’m bothering you?”

  “Just leave me alone, Oliver.”

  He blinked. “He’s a murderer, Kira. Don’t you know that?”

  I gave him a blank look and turned my back to him. “Maybe I don’t care.”

  Wow, what a huge lie that was.

  “Kira—”

  “Don’t follow us,” Rogan snarled at him.

  “Or what?”

  “Or you’ll regret it. Trust me on that.”

  I didn’t look back as I left the food court with Rogan at my side. I never should have gone there in the first place. Oliver must hate me. I hadn’t wanted to hurt him. He had nothing to do with the mess I’d somehow gotten myself into.

  Tears of frustration slid down my cheeks. “You didn’t have to be such a dick to him.”

  “I did what I had to do.”

  I brushed my tears away before Rogan could see I was crying.

  Two men in security uniforms approached us.

  “We’re going to have to ask you to leave the premises,” one said. He had a hand on the gun at his side. “Now.”

  Rogan’s lips twitched. “My, how times have changed. How do you know I wasn’t about to do some shopping with my daddy’s gold card?”

  One of the guards eyed his dirty clothes and the bloodstain on his shoulder and then glanced at me. “Is this boy bothering you, young lady?”

  They didn’t seem to recognize Rogan like Oliver had.

  Tell them! my mind screamed. Tell them everything. They can help you.

  I caught a f lash of silver out of the corner of my eye. The digicam.

  “The level’s already begun, hasn’t it?” I asked Rogan quietly.

  “Yeah, it has.”

  I knew then, without a shadow of a doubt, if I told the security guards what was going on, I would be severely and painfully punished. And the guards themselves would probably not walk out of here alive.

  “He’s with me, actually.” The words felt thick and unnatural leaving my mouth.

  The other guard grabbed my arm. “Then you’ll both have to go.”

  “Fine. We’ll go.” I wrenched away from him.

  We cleared the food court and headed down a mostly abandoned hallway toward the exit. More tears burned my eyes, but I forced them back. Crying wouldn’t solve a damn thing.

  “What are they doing to us?” I asked after a moment, mostly to myself. “How could anyone find this entertaining?”

  “You’d be surprised. Some people are sick.”

  Yeah, he should know. “Why did they even put us here in the mall? Just to mess with our minds?”

  “Something like that.” Rogan’s arm tightened around my waist then, as if he was trying to comfort me. Weird. A moment later, as if he realized what he’d done, he pulled away from me and crossed his arms over his chest. “Do you remember what Jonathan told us this level is all about?”

  I tried to think back through the thick storm cloud of memories. “The accountant.”

  He nodded. “Take a look.”

  I looked in the direction he pointed to see the man who had been featured on the holoscreen. Bernard Jones. I recognized his balding head and bland features. He emerged from an electronics shop with a bag of purchases, then turned left and started walking toward the same exit we were headed for.

  I heard the whir as a camera moved behind us. It was moving behind things to stay hidden from any regular people.

  Rogan’s attention was fixed on the man. “We’ve got to follow him.”

  “He’s got a wife. And a kid.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. And we can’t let him leave our sight.”

  “There are ten minutes remaining in this level of Countdown.”

  I turned to meet Rogan’s gaze.

  “You know what we’re supposed to do,” he said, his jaw tensing. “And we have ten minutes to do it.”

  To successfully complete level three you are required to assassinate him, Jonathan’s instructions echoed in my mind.

  I shook my head. “No. It’s not going to happen.”

  “Do you want us to die?”

  I blinked at him as a sick churning steadily grew in my gut. “I don’t want us to die. But I also don’t want to kill a man I’ve never met before. Somebody who doesn’t deserve it or even see it coming. There’s no way.”

  “Come on.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me along with him. “We can’t let him get away.”

  “You can’t kill him.”

  “It’s him or us.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “We’ll see if you’re still thinking that way in a few minutes.”

  “I’m not capable of murder. I’m not like you.”

  Rogan let go of my hand but kept walking. He didn’t look at me. “You don’t know what I’m capable of. You don’t know me.”

  “I don’t want to know a sick bastard like you.” I pressed my lips together to keep from saying anything more. That had sounded crueler than I’d wanted it to.

  That earned me a sharp look. “We’re running out of choices. Get that through your pretty head. There are no choices. We do what they tell us to or we die.”

  “Maybe I don’t care. My family was murdered. I’d never do that to another person’s family. I’d rather die first.”

  “I’m not in the mood to argue with you, Kira. We don’t have the time.”

  I watched as Bernard Jones exited the mall through the swinging doors.

  “So you’re going to follow him and then what?”

  “And then I’m going to kill him.” He raised an eyebrow. “But then again, I am a sick murdering bastard, right?”

  “So it’s that simple for you?”

  His fists clenched at his sides. “You’re acting as if I have a choice.”

  “There’s always a choice.”

  “Not for me,” he said grimly. “Not anymore.”

  And with that he stalked out of the entrance to follow his prey. I raced to keep up with him.

  Kill or be killed.

  There had to be another way. And I needed to figure it out. Fast.

  BERNARD JONES WALKED DOWN THE SIDEWALK outside of the mall completely oblivious to the fact that he was being stalked.

  “Where’d the camera go?” I looked around the area, gray and bland, and noticed that we were alone again.

  “It’s around, I’m sure.”

  “You seem to know a lot about how this game works.”

  He raised a dark eyebrow. “Do I?”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “Yeah. You do. Who are you, Rogan? Who are you really?”

  “I’m nobody.” He f linched and looked away from me, but not before I saw a hint of pain slide through his gaze. “You’re imagining things.”

  Was that a moment of vulnerability? It was enough to unbalance me again. “I—I’m not imagining anything. I swear I’m going to figure out what your real story is.”

  “Sure. Good luck with that.” His gaze returned to mine, but this time it was more guarded. “You think you can figure out what makes me tick other than the countdown in my head?” “Don’t make fun of me.”

  “But you make it so easy.” He gave me a sideways glance, a bit of humor returning to his eyes. “Do you give all the guys in your life such a hard time?”

  “There are no guys in my life.”

  “What about your boyfriend, Oliver?”

  I made a face. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

  “And what the announcer said about you using your body to get whatever you want?” His gaze slid down the length of me.

  I ignored the sudden heat in my cheeks. “It’s not true. And even if it was, it wouldn’t get me what I want right now.”

  “Which is?”

  “To get out of this game.”

  “So, that’s all you want? To get out of th
is game?”

  “Yes.”

  “And then what?”

  Bernard slipped behind a corner of a crumbling building ahead.

  “Then I want to figure out how to get into the Colony,” I said.

  He smiled thinly. “Everybody wants to get into the Colony. What’s so great about that place, anyway?”

  “It’s not here. It’s a place where somebody can make a fresh start and have a chance at a better life.” I crossed my arms as I trudged along. I didn’t want to reveal too much of myself to Rogan, considering how little I knew about him. It made me uncomfortable. “What about you? If you don’t want to go to the Colony, what do you want?”

  “Revenge.” He said it so quickly that it surprised me.

  “Against who?”

  He smiled cruelly, showing his perfect white teeth. “Against everyone who’s screwed me over. Trust me, it’s a long list.”

  His cold words chilled me. “I’ll try my best to stay off it.”

  “Good idea.”

  “There are seven minutes left in this level of Countdown,” the disembodied voice announced.

  Rogan’s shoulders tensed, and he picked up his pace.

  “Wait.” Panic welled in my chest. “There has to be another way.”

  He met my gaze, and I could see his was strained. “I have a theory. This guy…this Bernard Jones…he’s a plant, a paid actor. Something. Maybe he’s not as innocent as you think. Maybe he knows what’s going on, and this is just another test.”

  “Why would you think that?”

  He shook his head. “I’m not positive. But, the game…they don’t bring in outsiders. They don’t target civilians who have nothing to do with Countdown in the first place, it’s just not their style.”

  “You keep talking about the game like you know all about it. How?”

  “You’re going to have to take my word for it, Kira. Just listen to me. If they start bringing in unassuming civilians, then they run the risk of being exposed. The last thing the Subscribers want is to have their friends and family learn their dirty little secret—that they pay money to see torture and murder on live TV.”

  It made sense. Even though the cops might not care what happened to criminals, they’d definitely care what happened to the regular civilian. The city might be a mess, but it wasn’t total chaos.