Gauntlet

by Holly Jennings

  Together, they made me who I am.

  I realized something right then. Virtual or not, life is only as real as you make it.

  “I can’t believe you did this,” I told him, taking another look around the pavilion and to the mountains beyond. “It’s . . . unbelievable.”

  He simply looked into my eyes, and smiled. “No, Kali. You’re unbelievable.”

  Oh. No.

  That’s when the tears started.

  I blinked rapidly, trying to contain them. They spilled over and down my cheeks. He wrapped me in his arms, and I fell into him, pressing my ear against his chest. His heart beat soundly, and his breaths were deep. I could have stayed there. Forever. Not because of the pleasures of the virtual world. Not because of the beauty of the moment.

  Because of us.

  Because of everything we’d gone through. Individually. Together. And as a team. We each had our weaknesses and strengths. But somehow, we balanced each other out. Just like the team, we were strong individually but even stronger as a whole.

  I turned my face to rest against his neck, and pressed my lips against his skin. Once. Twice. He whispered against my forehead something that had me yearning for the knives again.

  “I told you we should practice this virtually.”

  CHAPTER 19

  My whole body was electric.

  I gathered with my teammates in our virtual base, waiting for the countdown to begin. The shield shimmered in the doorway. Rooke and I stood ahead of everyone else, preparing for our run for the enemy’s flag.

  Cole flashed through my mind. Right now he’d be doing the same as we were—gathered in his base with his team, hoping they’d win and make it to the championship. For the next few seconds, anything was a possibility. But in the end, either he was going home or we were. I thought about his kind smile, his calm and friendly personality. Even on different teams, he’d treated us as both allies and friends. But now he was the enemy. He stood between us and the ultimate glory.

  The countdown began.

  “Everyone stick to the plan,” Derek said behind me. “Only deviate if you have to. Just get through tonight, and we’re in the championship. We practiced hard. We’re ready for this.”

  This was it. The final matchup of tournament play. Whoever won this would be in the championship and competing for the hundred mil. No NPCs. No tricks. This was just team on team. Player on player. The best wins.

  “It’s best out of three,” I reminded them. “Make the first round count.”

  The shield dropped. We ran.

  Rooke and I bolted ahead while the others remained behind to guard our flag. Our feet pounded the pavement as we raced down the street.

  “Rooftop?” Rooke asked through the mic, nodding at an upcoming fire escape.

  I nodded. “Go.”

  He reached it first and propelled himself up the ladder. I followed close behind. We hit the rooftop and bolted across the map. The sky glowed with shades of charcoal and midnight blue, and the full moon was a smudge against the dark canvas, shrouded in heavy clouds. In moments like these, it was easy to understand why a gamer might get lost inside the virtual world. The moon wasn’t real. The air wasn’t real. Hell, I wasn’t even really looking at a night sky. But the wires and electrodes stimulating my body, nerves, and brain told me it was real even when it wasn’t.

  We reached the final rooftop, knelt in the shadows, and peered over the edge. A single member of Oblivion guarded the flag. There must have been more of them, hiding in the darkness. I scanned the rooftops.

  “There,” Rooke said, nodding at a rooftop the next building over from the flag. Against the midnight sky, the faintest outline of a silhouette shifted in the darkness.

  Rooke glanced at me through the shadows of his hood. “You ready?”

  I grinned. “Always.”

  We backed up on the roof together, drew our swords, and charged. As we hit the edge, we pushed off. Our blades streaked through the air, cutting against the midnight sky with flashes of gray. I reeled my sword back as I flew. Together, we smashed into the guard on the flag, driving our blades through his body. He landed on his back, eyes wide, gasping. His hands absently grabbed at the blades protruding through his body, leaving thin cuts along his fingers. Blood pooled around him. He gurgled twice, convulsing, and went limp.

  I dove for the flag.

  The attacker on the roof slammed into me, knocking me to the side. I hit the pavement with a hard smack, and the air whooshed out of my lungs. I lay on the ground, gasping, trying to force myself to take a breath. The Oblivion attacker appeared above me. He grinned, gripped his sword tight, and slammed it down.

  Inches from my face, Rooke’s sword caught his. The sharp clang of metal echoed through the street. My attacker turned his attention on my teammate, swinging with all his strength. Rooke blocked two of his attacks, knocked his arms open, and punched him hard across the jaw with the hilt of his sword. Oblivion stumbled back several steps. He spat blood.

  Now it was my turn to grin.

  As I got to my feet, another member of Oblivion jumped down from behind us.

  Surrounded.

  The flag shimmered just feet away.

  Rooke and I exchanged glances. We didn’t even need to communicate.

  We went back-to-back.

  Well, this felt familiar.

  We’d fought like this before, the first year we were on the team together. It was sort of a specialty of ours. We moved like magnets. When one moved, the other perfectly countered. Derek was right. Our chemistry was back.

  I pressed my shoulders against his back, feeling his own muscles tighten, ready for the fight. Our attackers closed in. We moved. Together.

  Sword met sword as our attackers swirled around us, trying to break our defenses. We moved as one, bowing in, stepping back. Our arms became a blur as we fended off our opponents.

  Then a sound called out into the night that ground my heart to a halt. Rooke had howled in pain. The muscles in his back went slack, and he dropped to his knees. I whirled around. A blade had impaled his chest, dead center. I watched him fall.

  No.

  That’s not what was supposed to happen. We were supposed to win. Together.

  A blade ripped straight across my arm, slicing my right tricep open. My arm went numb, and my sword clanged to the ground. I scrambled to retrieve it with my other hand.

  Amateur move.

  His blade plunged into my left side. I gasped, my whole body going rigid as the hot steel pierced through my body. He ripped it out again. Blood spattered down my legs and all over the ground. I dropped to my knees, clawing at the wound in my side as the nausea rolled through me. He cocked his fist back and released, delivering a hard blow across my jaw. Bones cracked and crunched, and my brain felt like it had been punted fifty feet away. My eyes rolled back, and I collapsed onto the pavement. Everything went black.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid.

  Maybe it was nerves, or maybe we were vastly outmatched, but I was playing like it was my first matchup ever. Get it together, Kali.

  For a few seconds, I hung in suspended animation. I had no body, no feeling. There was only darkness, and the ever-present game breathing all around. Not really alive, but still there, cloaking me in its darkness, like shadows closing in on a single, flickering flame before snuffing it out.

  When I reloaded into the base, I slammed into my body like I’d jerked awake from some horrifying dream. Except this wasn’t a dream, and something wasn’t right. The side of my face pounded. My stomach ached, like I was about to vomit, and my arm stung, as if I was still cut. I grabbed at my arm, but nothing but smooth skin slid under my fingertips. The churning feeling in my stomach went cold. The wound was gone, so why wasn’t the pain?

  Beside me, Rooke leaned against the base wall, hugging his arms to his chest—e
xactly where he’d been stabbed. I leaned toward him, covered my mic with my hand, and lowered my voice.

  “Are you still hurt from that last round?”

  He met my eyes and gave a curt nod.

  “Do you think it’s on purpose?” I asked. “They said no tricks for this matchup.”

  “No tricks for Oblivion, maybe. I doubt they’re hurting right now.”

  I went cold. “It’s a setup?”

  “Hard to say.”

  The rest of the team materialized in the base, panting hard and grimacing. Damn it. We’d lost the first round, and it looked like their injuries were lingering, too.

  The thirty-second countdown flashed across the map’s screen.

  I moved to the middle of the base. “Guys, huddle up.” I wrapped a hand around my mic again. “Cover your mics. Drop your voices.”

  Once they’d each wrapped a hand around their mics, I lowered my voice to a faint whisper.

  “Everyone else still feeling the pain from the last round?”

  They nodded.

  “Looks like this is the final attempt to take us out of the tournament. That pain you’re feeling right now isn’t real. But the kind we’ll show Oblivion will be. Remember that. We have to win this one, or it’s game over. So, just win. There are no other options. Push through the pain and show this game what you’re made of.”

  “Even if we win and push it to three rounds,” Derek began, his voice quiet yet strained, “will our injuries from this round carry over?”

  “And compound with the injuries we already have?” Lily concluded.

  The coldness in my gut went subarctic. If it did, would we even be able to stand on our own feet? I shook my head.

  “Don’t even think about it. Just kick ass.” I glanced at the timer. Seven seconds. “New strategy. All of us guard the flag. We’ll bring them to us, take out as many as we can, then go for their flag. If we’re hurt, then it’s best to fight as a team. As one.”

  Everyone agreed.

  When the shield fizzled out, we walked out onto the street and surrounded the flag. All five of us. The air was silent. The game hovered all around us, that omnipresent feeling that never left. I looked up to the sky and realized that, with all its emptiness, there was still beauty to be had in this digital world. The moonlight glowed, catching highlights in the windows and across every hint of glass. The Japanese lanterns dotted the street like hanging poppies. It hit me then. Part of me was going to miss this place.

  Then another realization hit, and I pushed this one as far away from my mind as I could.

  This could be my last time inside the game.

  Three members of Oblivion appeared through the closest alleyway and charged. We held our ground, bringing them to us. Their feet pounded the pavement in a steady thrum. Twenty yards, now ten.

  We smashed together. It was a messy fight. Swords clanged. Fists bashed heads and ribs. Somewhere in the chaos, a foot slammed into my chest. I stumbled back, and surged forward again, ripping my sword through anything that wasn’t a teammate. Blood sprayed across my face, speckling my skin with red dots and splotches. Yelps and screams rang out, along with moans of pain. Male or female, my team or not, I wasn’t sure.

  A back turned toward me, marked with the white highlights in Oblivion’s armor. I pounced, wrapping my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck. He flung around wildly, trying to knock me off. Gripping my dagger, I slashed it through his neck. He went rigid, dropped to his knees, and collapsed to the ground. I followed him down, landing hard on his back.

  It went quiet. The fight was over.

  Breathing hard, I stumbled to my feet and surveyed my surroundings. The flag still shimmered in its place. Lily and Hannah were helping each other up. My male teammates hadn’t fared as well. Derek and Rooke were on the ground, pools of blood around their bodies. Slowly, they faded from view.

  I sighed. It wasn’t a bad scenario. Oblivion had two players left, and we had three. Not a guaranteed win, but we were on our way. I surveyed my remaining teammates. A deep gash tore through Lily’s calf muscle. She could barely stand. Hannah was in better shape, but her complexion was pale, and she breathed slowly through her mouth. Her injuries from the previous round must have been rough.

  “You go. You’re the least injured,” she said. “We’ll guard. Just get the flag.”

  I nodded and took off running. The pavement pounded beneath my feet. I should have taken to the rooftops, but the ache in my gut and the dizziness in my head told me that jumping between buildings was not going to happen right now. Running on compounded injuries felt like mile twenty of a marathon. Every cell in my body was begging, pleading with me to stop, but I pushed myself onward.

  The farther I crossed through the map, the more my stomach prickled. Oblivion was nowhere to be seen. I reached the edge of the map and peered around the corner where their flag stood twenty feet down the street, in front of their base. There was no one else. At least, no obvious guard. I surveyed the rooftops and alleyways for a movement in the shadows. The air remained silent and deathly still, the way it always did inside this game.

  I went for it.

  I pumped my legs as fast as they would go, every nerve on full alert. Nobody came for me. Looked like Oblivion was scrambling, too, or setting a trap for us. My suspicions were on the latter. We outnumbered them three-to-two, but that would only motivate them to come up with a more desperate, ruthless plan.

  I zipped through the flag, and sprinted back for our base. I became a blur, a streak of white-blue against a background of gray.

  “I’m coming in,” I said into the mic. “Oblivion is nowhere to be seen.”

  Only silence answered.

  “Hannah?”

  A few grunts cut through the audio.

  “Got one here—” Hannah’s voice cut out into a scream. Then it went silent again.

  “Lily? Hannah?”

  Nothing. Uh-oh.

  “Guys?”

  A horn rang out. Shit. Someone had picked up our flag. Only a faint, static hum buzzed in the comms. I was alone. It was two on one, and I had to take their flag carrier out in order to score. On my own. With injuries from both rounds. And if I didn’t score, we were out of the matchup and the tournament. What was that I usually said about liking a challenge? This time, my stomach swirled.

  Now my best bet at finding him was from the rooftops. I spotted a fire-escape ladder. I grasped the first rod and started to pull myself up. A blinding pain shot through my side and I collapsed back to the pavement. Damn it. With my compounded injuries, there was no way I was making it to the roof. With no other choice, I started my search on the streets. My sides ached, my head pounded, and only adrenaline and sheer determination kept me pushing onward.

  The pavement clacked under my feet as I darted around corners and through alleyways. I could run right past him, but he wouldn’t be able to score as long as I had their flag. Right now the hunt was for each other.

  Somewhere around the middle of the map, a white-blue glimmer caught my eye a hundred feet out.

  Gotcha.

  I slipped into an alley and peered out. The glow took on the outline of a man as he raced down the street, heading directly for me. The flag carrier. I’d found him, and he appeared to be alone. Given the possible scenarios, he was probably running our flag to his base, where he’d wait for his remaining teammate to take me out, leaving him open to score instantly. But his teammate was nowhere to be seen. Probably split up to search for me.

  It dawned on me then. Did they even know I was alone? At the beginning of the match, three of their players went for our flag and were taken out. Maybe the remaining two didn’t know that Rooke and Derek were already out of the fight. Maybe they thought there was more than one left on my team. Either way, the advantage was mine, and now I just had to take out their flag carrier wi
th as little conflict as possible, and I was on my way to scoring and taking the match.

  I backed up several feet and knelt, listening carefully to the pounding of his footsteps. Thirty feet away. Twenty.

  I bolted.

  I ran full speed toward the alley’s mouth and, once I hit the street, slid into a dive, feetfirst. I slid right into him as he passed and twisted my legs through his. He tripped and sprawled face-first onto the pavement. As he lay there groaning, I pounced on his back, fisted a hand through his hair, wrenched his head back, and slid my dagger through his neck. Blood sprayed out and pooled on the pavement. He went limp, and the glow faded from his body.

  I did it. Our flag had reset, and I still had theirs. Now all I had to do was run it in and either avoid or take out my final opponent.

  I released his head, stumbled back from him, and caught my breath. Every part of my body ached. Injuries from the last round throbbed with my newly acquired scrapes and bruises. All I wanted to do was curl up and rest my head. But I had to keep moving. If I made it back, I’d score and push the matchup to a third round. It was down to one versus one now, and my final opponent was nowhere to be seen.

  I pushed up to my feet and took off for our base. My legs pumped as I darted through the map, zigzagging between the narrow alleyways and the open roads. I rounded the corner to our street, where our flag shimmered brilliantly. My heart rate rose ten notches. There was fifty feet between me and the flag.

  Fifty feet to victory.

  Movement caught my eye from above, and a shadow appeared on the rooftop above me. The last of Oblivion. I took off running toward our base, just feet beyond the flag. So did he, along the rooftop’s edge. I crossed half the distance before Cole jumped down and landed on the street, blocking my path. I skidded to a stop, and so did my heart. The final fight of the matchup was coming down to me and the guy who was on my team just weeks ago.

  We both looked at each other, then at the flag, and back again. What was his plan? He could go for our flag and try to stop me from scoring. If he got to the flag before me, I couldn’t score unless I took him out of the game.