Frags

by Thomas K. Carpenter

  "Hey fellow Frags," whispered Mouse's voice from the Coder's body. "We've been looking for you two."

  "You have?"

  "Yeah," said Coder/Mouse, "we saw Jaxon at his place. Figured you'd want to go talk to him."

  "Lead on."

  Jaxon's place wasn't far, a one-story ranch with a broad porch and a collection of rocking chairs on it. The man who she assumed was Jaxon rested across a hanging swing, doubly reinforced with thick chain.

  "Gabriella, Song, Milton and Michael, I presume." Jaxon tipped his ten-gallon hat backwards with a finger in the same manner the imposter had when they'd first arrived in Double Eagle.

  "How do you know our names?" asked Milton.

  "Word gets around. And there are other ways."

  "But that interface is impossible to use," Milton complained.

  Jaxon gave them a big smile. "That's just the way we like it. Makes it harder for outsiders to come here and mess with us."

  "Wait a sec," said Gabby, stepping in front of Milton. "How do we know you're the real Jaxon?"

  "I see by your viruses, you met our town prankster, HR. And frankly, I don't care if you think it's the real me or not. That's your responsibility." Jaxon rested his meaty arms across his great belly.

  "I thought you were the town mayor. Why do you let that sort of thing happen? If something happened to our friend Michael, he wouldn't be able to tell us what was wrong. He could die because of your 'prankster.'" Gabby put her foot on the first step of his porch. She wanted to throw a rock at him.

  "HR feels it's his duty to remind people not to trust each other. Once people get too friendly they start thinking they can band together and tell others what to do. I wouldn't expect youngsters like yourself to understand a concept like liberty. Especially LifeGamers like yourselves. You traded your liberties for fun and cartoon smiles."

  Gabby checked back to make sure no one was lurking near Jaxon's house. Besides the four of them and the big man on the swing, the street was surprisingly empty.

  "Can I come up?"

  Jaxon nodded. Gabby took her time settling onto a rocking chair. The others followed and took positions around her. Gabby slowly inhaled in a cleansing breath before speaking again. She didn't want her anger to ruin the argument.

  "But what if the whole town was in danger?"

  Jaxon's cheek twitched slightly, but otherwise he stayed mute.

  "What if the Southlands was going to invade the Double Eagle? To steal the programming expertise of its citizens?"

  Jaxon shrugged. "I've heard the same rumors. If they invade, they invade. It's not my problem."

  "But you're the mayor!"

  "If they invade, we'll disappear into the Freelands and come back when they're gone." He seemed about as concerned about the invasion as he might by a fleck of dirt on a fingernail.

  "Why not fight? You have the people to do it. At least form a watch so you don't get attacked unaware. Make sure more can get away," she pleaded.

  "Life is what you make of it, girl. And here in the Double Eagle, we don't make rules for stupid. If they can't get away on their own, well then they deserve what they had coming to them."

  Gabby withheld the urge to call him a heartless bastard, but she still hadn't asked the question she'd come all the way to the Double Eagle to ask. When she opened her mouth, a girl with blonde pig tails poked her head out the front door. She couldn't have been more than seven years old.

  "Guests, Daddy? Would you like me to make some lemonade for them?"

  Jaxon frowned, his thick jowls hanging over his chins. "Go back inside, Patricia. These guests are leaving."

  "Okay, Daddy," said Patricia sweetly. "Can we have story time after they're gone?"

  His jowls softened into a weak smile, while his eyes twinkled lovingly at his daughter. "Yes, sweetpea, we can. Now go back inside."

  "We'll go," said Gabby after his daughter closed the door, "but I have one more question."

  Jaxon glared passively at her.

  "Do you know where the losers of LifeGame go? I was told you know and I have a friend I'm trying to find. She was taken six months ago."

  Gabby was hopeful as Jaxon seemed to wrestle with an internal decision. He even glanced toward the door where his daughter had been. Maybe he wasn't as heartless as he'd seemed. Eventually, he opened his mouth and Gabby's heartbeat began to beat like a thundering stampede.

  "I do know the answer." Jaxon paused. "But I'm not going to tell you."

  Gabby slumped into her rocking chair.

  "I don't like the way you've come here to my house and told me how I should live my life. We call people like you 'Gomers' which stands for Get Out of My Reality. So stop bothering other people about your little problem. You've got more important things to worry about if you're going to survive this invasion you're so worried about."

  The four Frags shared worried glances.

  "That virus HR gave you is a nasty one. If you try to leave the Double Eagle, even if you're escaping for your life, it'll completely shut down your eye-screens and sense-web until you can't move. You'll be easy pickings for the Southlands then."

  A series of beeps and buzzes erupted from Michael. Mouse whimpered and even Milton's new perky self seemed to deflate. As Jaxon chuckled, Gabby kept her gaze locked onto him, until the fat man's low laughter dissipated into a wry grin.

  Gabby, along with the other three, left Jaxon's porch to head back to the hotel. Their journey to the Double Eagle was getting worse at each turn.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The Liberty Hotel had a stairway that went up the roof. Gabby found her way up there when the walls of the room closed in on her.

  The view helped calm her concerns that the Southlands army was speeding into town with no one sounding the alarm. Farmland stretched south amid clusters of woodlands. The Game Train had taken her further east so the mountains were just ideas in her mind.

  After studying the maps, she knew how easy it would be for the Southlands to send troops north and scoop up the citizens of the Double Eagle. All the more reason to be leaving, but they'd been unsuccessful so far in removing the viruses, though at least they hadn't made them worse.

  And Celia and Drogan wouldn't arrive for another couple of days at least. Without a way to communicate with them, they could drive the Caterpillar right into the jaws of the invading Southlands army. Gabby hoped Celia's insects would keep them safe if they couldn't contact them.

  Gabby picked up a rock and launched it at the little brick building that housed the stairs. She'd come all this way, risking life and limb and indentured servitude, only to be stymied by a prideful mayor clinging to an absurd set of ideals.

  Even if she could get him to give up the truth, the Frags were stuck in Double Eagle until they could remove the viruses. What she needed was more time.

  Staring at the distant clouds hovering over the south, Gabby didn't hear Coder/Mouse sneaking up until she spoke.

  "Gabby."

  Spinning around, Gabby had to resist the urge to flee when she found herself staring into the Coder's red eyes.

  "It creeps me out seeing you like that, Song."

  Coder/Mouse made a mewling noise that sounded like an apology. Her red eyes glanced downward.

  "It's not your fault," said Gabby. "No need to apologize."

  Coder/Mouse smiled hesitantly. The contradiction of form and behavior gave Gabby a headache.

  "The others were wondering when you were going to come back down," said Coder/Mouse. "We haven't made progress on the viruses since you came up for air."

  Gabby nodded. "I'll come back down—" Coder/Mouse started to leave. "—but first I need to know something, Song. Are you really on our side?"

  Coder/Mouse turned around, her lower lip pushed out defensively. "Why would you say that? I came all the way down here to help you."

  Gabby sighed, putting her hand to her head trying to make sense of her feelings before she spoke. "I know, Song. It's almost unfair of me to say
this, but I have to. I know I saw that red box back at the hovercraft tower. You can't keep lying about it and expect me to trust you."

  Coder/Mouse's eyes flickered from Gabby to the door and back. The red eyes confused Gabby's read of what she was thinking, but Gabby thought she detected a brief thought of fleeing. Gabby remembered watching Mouse fight during the Final Raid and wondered if she could take the diminutive girl, especially hidden under the Coder skin.

  "There was a red box," Coder/Mouse said.

  The tension between reduced a hair, but Gabby kept her focus up. Coder/Mouse seemed to shrink slightly as if she had been reduced by her lie.

  "What was in it?"

  Gabby expected Coder/Mouse to tell her there were secret instructions in it, or a communication device so she could send messages to the Coders, or even some weird weapon to be used when all their defenses were down. But what she said surprised her more.

  "Medicine."

  "Medicine? Why would you risk getting caught for medicine? And why keep it a secret?"

  It had to be a lie. Medicine didn't make sense.

  "Because one of the Frags is dying."

  Gabby's hand went to her mouth. Michael. The emaciation and circles under the eyes made perfect sense. Why hadn't she seen it before?

  When the name of the dying Frag whispered past Coder/Mouse's lips, Gabby almost didn't hear it.

  "Celia."

  Gabby's relief at hearing Celia's name was followed by guilt. True, they'd never gotten along, the two of them, but no reason to feel glad that it was her dying and not Michael.

  "Something about the M.A.S.S. unit causing it. Celia was a test case and they didn't get everything right."

  Gabby shook her head. "I don't understand. Michael's the one that looks terrible. For Mario's sake, his ribs are showing on his chest and his eyes look like black holes. And now that I remember it, I even saw Melinda drawing blood from him back at the Farm."

  "Blood transfusions," said Coder/Mouse. "And he's been giving Celia his food so she can stay strong. It's why she hardly moves. She has no energy."

  Gabby's hands shook with concern. "But why keep it secret? Why not tell the rest of the Frags?"

  "Because Celia's going to die," said Coder/Mouse, "and all these things are just keeping her alive a little longer so she can help you get your friend back. They knew if you or Milton knew that, you wouldn't go on with the plan. Finding out what happens to the losers of LifeGame is more important. And there's nothing we can do to help her anyway."

  Tears threatened to burst from Gabby's eyes, but she swallowed them back. Part of her was wounded that Michael had confided in Mouse and not her, but she understood the reason.

  Coder/Mouse pulled a bottle from her pocket and handed it to Gabby. The clear bottle was filled with little white pills. Aspirin.

  "That's what I was searching for that day you found us on the street. They'll help Celia with the pain. I just hope we get to see them again soon."

  "Me, too."

  Gabby handed the bottle back and gazed south, her heart pounding like a drum in her chest. "I wish I knew how long until the Southlands invaded. We need more time. I wish I could just send my projection south and ride the cameras until I saw the army, but the Double Eagle doesn't allow projections."

  Coder/Mouse sidled up to her and took her hand. Their fingers entwined. Gabby gave a squeeze. At least when she wasn't looking at Mouse, she could keep her image in her head, rather than the Coder skin she was sick of looking at.

  "Yeah. I wish we had Celia's insects. Or maybe that hovercraft we took. We could ride it south and see what's coming," whispered Coder/Mouse.

  Mouse's words hit Gabby right between the eyes. "Mouse! You're brilliant! Why didn't I think of that?" Gabby hugged Coder/Mouse.

  "What? I am? What did I say?"

  "The hovercraft! We need our own version and I know where to find it. I saw an old model airplane in a storefront. We can hook up a camera and fly it south."

  Gabby moved to go back down.

  "Wait, Gabby," said Coder/Mouse. "You can't tell them you know. Michael swore me to secrecy."

  "I'll keep your secret." Gabby nodded.

  They broke the model airplane idea to the other two. Michael beeped and buzzed, while Milton fanned his face with manicured hands. Gabby was beginning to wonder if Milton would give up his new form once they solved the virus.

  They purchased the model plane after bartering with the store attendant. The plane was at least three decades old, but they barely had it back in the room before they were designing new software for its interface. Finding spare cameras was as simple as taking apart a broken teddy bear they found in a dumpster.

  The struggles with the virus had given them working knowledge of the Double Eagle interface and programming syntax. Working around the clock in shifts, they had the plane operational by the next evening. It was already dark, so they had to wait for morning, anxiously tweaking software while they waited.

  Gabby had the most experience flying so they voted her the pilot. The next morning the spy plane launched from the roof to a raucous cheer.

  Flying over the farmlands reminded Gabby of the word puzzle on the Game Train. She configured the controls to be similar to using her wings, utilizing the muscle memory she'd developed.

  The little plane only had enough juice for an eight-hour flight. Once she reached hour four she'd have to turn around or risk losing their flying spy.

  Gabby rested comfortably on the roof while her perception flew with the plane. She rotated its camera, gazing at the landscape beneath, searching for signs of the Southlands army.

  Right before she was going to turn around, Gabby decided to circle around a hill. As she crested the peak, she caught reflections deep into the valley. Gabby soared toward the source and was rewarded when she saw the line of trucks and armored vehicles rumbling up the dirt road.

  Years of games in the GSA had taught her the colors and styles of the Southlands. She knew instantly that she'd found the invading force. Gabby tilted her wings to return when a dark object darted out of the sky. Her contact with the spy plane ripped away from her vision, leaving her dizzy with vertigo.

  "What happened, sweetie?" asked street walker Milton.

  "Southlands. Two days."

  Despite the grim news, Gabby found herself buoyed by their recent teamwork. Gabby put her hand out into the middle and the other three put theirs on top.

  She looked them each in the eye before saying: "We're going to survive and I have a plan."

  The Frags gathered around and she explained her idea. The idea had been forming during the flight. After a number of confused glances, they began nodding their heads in agreement and adding suggestions to improve. There were so many factors they couldn't plan for, but they did the best they could given the circumstances.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Gabby hesitated at the gate of the farmhouse after leaning the borrowed bike against an old barbed wire fence. She didn't see any dogs, but that didn't mean there weren't any. Last house she'd stopped at she had to leap the fence to get away from a pair of spotted dogs full of teeth.

  Gabby had agreed to make the circuit to the surrounding homesteads since she wasn't affected by the virus. After a busy night of decoding, they'd fixed Mouse, but the bike was too tall for her legs.

  She hoped they'd better luck than she had so far. The goal was to fan out and rally the town to repel the invaders. They didn't even have to drive them out permanently, only keep them at bay long enough for the Caterpillar to arrive with Celia and Drogan.

  And Gabby had figured that the citizens of the Double Eagle could easily stop the invading force, if they all banded together. The invaders numbered only a few hundred, though they had the advantage of light armored vehicles. During her flight, she'd counted thousands of houses and farms, not including the few thousand that lived in the town proper. Even a quarter of the population could stop the Southland's force.

  The gate squeale
d as she stepped through. The pungent scents of fresh grass reminded her of home, though the grass stood ankle high. She paused, listening for growling or rapidly approaching canine feet. After a minute, she strolled up the gravel walkway, keeping her head on a swivel.

  The lawn was filled with crumbling artifacts of a previous age. Any one of them could hide a cunning canine. As she passed a rusted hulk that had once been a vehicle of some kind, a creature darting from its underbelly made her jump. The speedy rabbit disappeared under the porch behind a row of scraggly bushes after zigzagging through a fallen swing set.

  Gabby stopped at the porch and called out, "Hello?!"

  A whining hinge made Gabby cast her gaze around to find the source. Gabby was about to leave the creepy house when the front door opened. An old woman with wispy gray hair peered through the screen door.

  "What you doing on my property, girl?"

  "I came to warn you," said Gabby tentatively.

  "Warn me about what?" The old woman's tone was accusatory. When she stepped up to the screen, Gabby could see the woman had a shotgun at her side.

  "The Southlands. They're sending troops to round people up and take them back to be enslaved."

  The woman came out onto the porch, firing a vicious gaze Gabby's way. Shaking her shotgun, the old woman muttered, "I'll give 'em a taste of Betty here if they try and take me. Now go back to wherever you came from and stop bothering an old woman trying to get her rest."

  The old woman went back inside, but before she left, she stuck her face against the screen, making it bulge out obscenely and turning it into a witch's face.

  "And if something needed to be done, I'd think our esteemed mayor Jaxon would contact us. Not some carpet-bagging tramp obviously not from the Freelands." The screen door banged a few times after the old woman went back inside.

  Gabby wandered back to her bike hoping the other Frags had actually accomplished something other than agroing the locals. She'd visited fifteen houses and not one had agreed to the mutual defense plan Gabby had drawn up. The Frags had made holograms detailing the positioning and the statistical chances for winning. She thought the presentation would easily win over a quarter of the citizens, but not one person had agreed to look at it.