Avatars Rising: SILOS I

by David R. Bernstein

  Several minutes later, I come across a large camp. I can’t believe this is here, in the middle of the woods. Swallowing down the fear my nerves have surfaced, I stick to the tree line’s edge and remain hidden until I draw mental map of the area. Who set this place up, and why? Hanging lanterns outline the clearing, dipping between the trees. A dozen or so tents are the only structures in the camp. Several torches protrude from the ground near the tents, creating a primitive-looking environment. The flames dance in the air and beckon me into the camp.

  Dozens of people mill around, all dressed in similar outfits as my own. My heart lifts with excitement. I’m sure to find answers among these people.

  I step into the encampment, leaving the security of tree cover behind. My heart thrums in my chest as my gaze darts over the people. I don’t have the urge to kill anyone, but I can’t be too sure. I clench my hands at my sides, hoping the movement keeps me in my own head until I get some answers.

  A blonde girl hurries by me, her gaze fixed on a small tent nearby.

  “Excuse me,” I say to her.

  She dashes past without replying, not even turning her head to acknowledge me “Rude,” I mumble.

  Not wanting to start a fight, I don’t push her.

  I approach other people in the camp, and they all have the same reaction. They walk by me as if I’m a tree or a shrub in their path, not a person. Heat pumps through my veins. I’m here for answers, not to be ignored.

  In front of a tent, a smaller girl stands in a line. She just stares into space. If she wants to fight me, I’m sure I can take her down.

  I place my hand on her shoulder. She blinks, but otherwise doesn’t move. “What is this place?”

  Still nothing. At least these people aren’t figments of my imagination. They’re real, but there’s not much in their heads.

  I give up on them and explore the camp.

  Looking around, I find that none of the tents are labeled, so I have no idea what I’m walking into. I’m surprised no one approaches me, or asks what I’m doing. They all appear to be on a mission and can’t be disturbed. Each tent contains a specialty shop. Peeking into the closest one, I find a wide variety of outfits. Each clothing option boasts different colors, but the style is very much like what I’m already wearing. Function over style, I guess.

  The tent with the spaced-out girl has a large screen inside, with multiple weapons situated on racks. A man, holding a long shotgun, stands in front of the screen’s beach scene, pointing the business end of his gun at the screen. A beach, I realize, similar to the one Myco and I came from.

  Moving on, I enter and quickly exit a tent next to the weaponry one. Several people sit and watch two girls in skimpy outfits dance on a stage. My cheeks burn with embarrassment, and I'm not even sure why. What kind of place is this?

  Circling back, I notice the weapons tent has the longest line. People are trading various weapons and other goods. Most of the tents near this one contain weapon simulations. Goosebumps shoot up my arms. This place appears to be a training camp of some sort. Was I expected to learn how to shoot guns, too? The battle between Myco and me was purely fought with our bodies but, if these tents are any indication, I fear for what my future holds.

  I travel deeper into the camp. It’s much bigger and more populated than I thought it would be. I wish at least one person would talk to me and explain something—anything—about where I am.

  A familiar battle cry sounds in the distance, drawing my attention to the opposite end of the camp. My chest tightens. There are no tents over there. Instead, a roped off area leads to a massive circular arena made from the same white sand as the beach. Two people stand in the center, circling each other. Both bounce on their toes as if they’re gearing up for a fight. Myco is one of them. A short, muscular guy stands opposite her. He has a grin on his face and his eyes are wide.

  As if on cue, Myco attacks her opponent first.

  I call out to her. We’re supposed to protect each other. I race forward, but stop a few feet from the arena’s edge. For some reason, I can’t go any farther. All I can do is watch and hope that Myco makes it out of this fight alive. There isn’t an ocean or a silo nearby so, if she doesn’t win, what’ll happen to her?

  Myco’s face shows her determination. She’s laser-focused on her opponent. Shivers roll down my spine as I recall seeing that exact expression when we fought. I cross my fingers and pray that she ends up the victor.

  Myco uses her feet a lot, just as she had in our fight. Her opponent is quickly and easily taken down with a few roundhouse kicks. The moment he hits the ground, Myco is on top of him. I cringe, as the death blow is sure to come.

  Instead, Myco holds his shoulders down, and then a bright golden light forms above them.

  My lips part. The light takes shape. An orange, ball-like object floats in the air for a few seconds before it pushes itself into Myco’s chest. I take in a sharp breath.

  Myco stands, proudly displaying her chest, turns away from the guy, and then heads off in a different direction.

  I chase after her. I hope she’s not too upset that I hadn’t intervened, but there was no way I could have. Besides, she was the one who wandered off.

  “Myco!” I shout. She doesn’t even turn my way.

  I narrow my eyes. She’s really pissed at me. I sprint to her and grab her shoulder.

  She whirls on me, her eyes blank, just like the rest of the people I tried to talk with earlier.

  “Myco, why did you leave the beach?”

  She shoves my hand aside and walks away from me. I try again, but she gives me the same wordless, dismissive response. I don’t push too hard in case her attitude flips and she wants to fight me again.

  Please, this can’t be.

  I don’t want to be alone again. I need answers.

  I trail behind Myco a bit, hoping she’ll snap out of it but, as the crowd grows, I lose track of her. A tightness in my chest forms as I get up on my tippy toes, but it’s too late. She’s gone.

  Scanning the area, I contemplate where to go next. No one wants to talk to me, so I’ll have to make my own plan.

  As I walk back in the direction of the tents, a familiar warmth trickles through me. All of my questions disappear when I change direction and head back toward the arena. Purpose fills my soul as I walk through the invisible barrier that had earlier prevented me from stopping Myco’s fight.

  My body courses with adrenaline. I feel energized, just as I did when I leaped up to the hatch and after defeating Myco. My hands itch to make violent contact with another person, but not Myco. I’m looking for a bigger fight. A challenge.

  As anticipation floods my mind, a large body steps into the arena. He’s at least a foot taller than me and three times my weight. Toned muscles ripple down his torso and arms and move as if they have a life of their own. With a sneer, he struts toward me, each stride long and purposeful.

  Now, there is a challenge.

  CHAPTER 6

  AS THE HULKING man lumbers toward me, I grit my teeth, ready and willing for what’s to come. On the edge of my thoughts is the need to question this desire. I step away from him. The movement, however, proves difficult. An invisible force moves me forward. The sensation is so strong, I have zero chance fighting against it. Even so, hesitation lingers in the back of my mind while fear coils up my spine.

  This is how the fight between Myco and me started.

  And I’m ready to kill this man, too.

  There’s no fear in his narrowed eyes or the flashing of his teeth. He cracks his knuckles, making me cringe.

  I lift my chin and glance around the arena. A crowd quickly gathers at the edge of the flagged-off area—the people’s faces still blank and void of life. I spot Myco among the fray. She seems anxious, looks around at the others, then back at me. Where was that concern a few minutes ago?

  Everyone who ignored me earlier now pays attention and probably only because I’m about to fight to the death. Their priorities are
seriously twisted.

  Two serious-looking men in red uniforms step out of the crowd, holding long swords in their outstreched hands. Fire from the torches reflects in the gleaming metal, making the blades glisten as the sun sets. Neither sword-carrier look at the hulking man or me as they cross the line between the camp and the arena.

  Once they reach us, my opponent grabs a sword and holds it out in front of him as if he's done this a thousand times. He twists his wrist, whipping the sword around in the air. His lips curl into a wicked grin as he shows off. A low chuckle rises from his throat. I guess this is meant to intimidate me, but it doesn’t work.

  I clutch the sword’s hilt and slide it away from the blank-faced man who hands it to me. The sword-carriers sprint off and melt into the crowd.

  Balancing the weight of the weapon, I face my opponent. The sword is more than half my height, but light. The razor-sharp blade could easily slice through anything it comes into contact with.

  Without warning, the man charges me, the blade pointed at my chest. I jump away. He twists his body, snarling, and then changes tactics. I avoid several of his clumsy attempts before he stops and reassesses. He exhales sharply, nostrils flaring as if the movements have already exhausted him.

  He seems awkward with the sword, almost as if those fancy moves from before were the only ones he had. Each missed strike rattles the earth beneath me. Where he lacks in finesse, the strength behind each of his strikes takes my breath away. There’s no room for error with this fight. I don’t want to kill him, but I don’t have time for this.

  I finally accept the strange need to compete and partner my body and mind, switching instead to survival mode. He’s not going to take me down. Not if I can help it.

  His roar shatters my thoughts right before he charges again, his sword cranked behind his head. He tears the blade down, but I block the blow with my own sword.

  The clashing of metal against metal reverberates through to my hand. I cry out and let go of the weapon, flexing my hand to bring the feeling back.

  He chuckles, a deep throaty sound, as he kicks the fallen sword away from me. He brings his blade down again, this time brandishing the full length of the sword as if he’s an executioner. I roll out of the way and pop up on my feet as his blade slams into the ground.

  Dirt kicks up everywhere and tickles my nose. Squinting through the dust, I see my weapon behind him. Even though this beast is strong, he’s slow. I dash under his arm, still recovering from his last move, and retrieve my sword. I flip the hilt around in my hand and find the perfect grip.

  He twists around, raising his arm, but before he can bring his weapon down, I swipe my blade across his midsection. He stumbles back just enough that I don’t slice through him. But the tip connects with his shirt, tearing a hole through it.

  He glances down to assess the damage. In that split-second distraction, I plunge my blade into his gut.

  Eyes wide, he drops the sword at his feet. His arm wraps around his middle as he drops to the ground. My breathing is slower and even now that his death is imminent. A gurgling sound from his throat makes my stomach lurch. Blood pours out from the wound. He convulses for a few seconds, and then nothing. It’s a quick death. His body lays motionless on the ground while his unblinking eyes stare into nothingness.

  I drop my sword and turn to face the crowd. A glowing red orb floats in front of me. It’s similar to the one I saw before with Myco, but hers was golden.

  I freeze, staring at the strange, hazy object. A numbness spreads through me as it floats closer. The bright ball of light pulses like a beating heart that makes my blood run cold. But, once again, my mind and body battle each other. I don’t want this thing to come any closer to me and absorb into my body like the orange one that Myco absorbed. I want to run, but my legs will not move.

  Why is this one red? What will it do to me?

  The orb rises in the air until it's above my head. I lean away from the red mass, but feel its warmth inside my bones.

  Now that I sense the orb’s strength, there’s nothing I want more. I reach into the air but, before I can touch it, the orb explodes into a burst of vibrant particles. I blink as the brightness spreads out over me. For a moment, the entire world is tinted red. I inhale sharply, feeling the orb’s properties before I even finish the breath.

  A surge of adrenaline fills my veins and pumps through my thrumming heart. My muscles tense and relax. I’m feeling much stronger than before the fight.

  My excitement over the victory is short lived. A sudden heavy sensation takes over again. It’s as if someone cut out a chunk of my soul and threw it away.

  My skin crawls as the realization of what I’ve done settles on my shoulders. It’s the same feeling of guilt I experienced after watching Myco’s body float off into the ocean. I glance at the body on the ground and draw in a shuddering breath.

  I killed again. I didn’t want to, but I did.

  My breathing quickens and my head spins. I can barely look at the crowd before I dash out of the arena and toward the forest. Heat pools at the back of my neck as their steady, judging stares follow me.

  My only saving grace is speed. I’m much faster than I remember, and I know the orb helped with that. Though, I wouldn’t be running so fast if I hadn’t killed that guy.

  Scrambled thoughts race through my mind as I run farther away from the arena. I should have stayed on the beach where it was safe. Now I have two kills under my belt. Two kills that I remember. My biggest hope is that he's somewhere alive once more, like Myco.

  Not one muscle in my body aches as I run. The world swirls around me. I blink through my tears. My harsh breathing echoes in my head. I’m almost halfway out of the camp when someone calls my name.

  “Esa!” the voice calls again.

  I slow. No one else knows me here.

  Myco catches up with me and grabs my shoulder. “Esa, wait.”

  I swat her arm away from me. “Now you want to talk?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you know what’s going on here?” My voice trembles, but I don’t care. I’m not sure how much more killing I can take. I hate that I’m not in control of my body at all times. Someone or something is forcing me to do these terrible deeds, yet no one wants to give me answers.

  Myco’s hair is up in a bun now. The few loose strands ebb and flow around her face as she shakes her head. “I don’t know.”

  “What happened when you fought in the arena?” I ask. “Why didn’t you kill that guy?”

  Why did I kill my opponent? Protecting myself wasn’t the only option. Myco won her fight more peacefully than I had. Well, as peaceful as any fight could be.

  “I don’t know,” Myco says. “I just didn’t. Getting him down was enough to win. It doesn’t make sense. None of this does.”

  “It wasn’t enough for me.” I rake my hand through my hair. “Why isn’t anyone else here questioning anything? Is everyone just going to kill each other for sport?”

  “I have no idea. They’re all, like, zombies,” Myco says.

  She was a zombie a little while ago, but I don’t push it. I need her and she needs me.

  My shoulders start to shake and my eyes well up with tears again. “I don’t understand why I need to kill. It’s awful, but I couldn't control it.”

  “I have a feeling no one here is going to help us,” Myco says.

  I sniff and rub my hand against my nose. There’s no use crying over our situation. We need to fix it. “We should leave. This place already forced us to fight again. Maybe if we leave, the urge to fight will leave too.”

  “Where will we go?”

  “Anywhere is better than here. I’m sure there are more areas to explore on this island.”

  “What if we want to fight again?” she asks, her gaze searching for people nearby.

  “We’re together this time,” I say. “We’ll be fine.”

  “Then, let’s get out of here.”

  We avoid the arena, giving wide berth
should any murderous needs crop up again. When we’re a safe distance away, my breathing finally regulates.

  “Over here,” I say, tugging Myco alongside me. More tents line the edge of the forest. I have no desire to explore, so we quickly squeeze between two makeshift walls and jog away from civilization.

  The forest is only a few steps in front of us when two guys appear out of nowhere, blocking us. They’re dressed similar to everyone else: dark, form-fitting tank tops and pants.

  I stop in my tracks and Myco slams into my back.

  She grabs my arms and squeezes. “Let’s go the other way.”

  “You need to come with us,” one of them says.

  The small alley between the tents doesn’t offer much light, so I can’t make out the finer details of his face. His digital name badge is torn from his top. He’s several inches taller than me, with dark hair. The other one is more striking. Even taller than his companion, this beast of a man has light blond nearly-white hair and muscles that rival the guy I defeated. He, too, has removed his identification badge.

  I square my jaw. I know the strength that’s inside of me. At the very least, I feel confident in taking down the shorter of the two. “We’re not going anywhere with you.”

  “We can help,” he says. There’s an edge to his voice. He’s alert and talking to us. There’s life in his brown eyes.

  The blond guy crosses his arms and looks away. He seems bored with the conversation.

  My gaze tears away from him and back to the other male, who steps closer to me. There’s no rage in his face. He doesn’t appear menacing, but I don’t trust anyone. Especially when its two guys against Myco and me. I’m not looking for a struggle.

  “We don’t need your help,” I say. Why couldn’t these two guys ignore us like everyone else? We were almost out of the camp!

  Neither one moves.

  “You have to listen to me,” the brunette says.

  “We’re not listening to anything.” I grab Myco’s hand and start walking back toward the camp.

  “Please, don’t—” the guy in front says.

  “Hurry,” Myco whispers.