Armchair Safari (A Cybercrime Technothriller)

by Jonathan Paul Isaacs

  Megan tried to alleviate the boredom by talking, but it started out awkwardly when Kalam asked her about her personal life.

  “Sorry, Kalam. I’m not sure I’m ready to share that sort of thing with you yet.”

  “And why not?” Kalam asked.

  “It’s just not going to happen.”

  “Bah. Why—are you worried about some stupid privacy policy? Well then, I’ll start with myself. I live in Kalamazoo, Michigan and work as a C.P.A. There, was that so bad?”

  Megan rode next to him in silence.

  “More then, huh? Okay, I have two children, both boys, one still in high school. My dog is a Siberian husky named Rolf. See? You survived. I’m not just some avatar in a video game, Megan. I’m a person. And since we’re going to be spending a lot of time together, I don’t see any problem with sharing a little bit of that with you.”

  Megan was not used to this sort of dialogue. The world of Safari had always been a dangerous place where money was at stake, real money. That brought out the worst in people. She didn’t really want to share personal details. Megan the Thief and Megan the Student lived in two different worlds. But then, this wasn’t a typical adventure.

  Maybe it was worth the risk?

  “I’m a college student,” Megan blurted out.

  The huge triceps of Kalam’s arms flexed as he turned in his saddle to look at her. “Excellent, good for you! Where at, if I may ask?”

  Megan could barely believe the words were coming out, but they did so surprisingly easily. “Oklahoma. Go Sooners. I’m studying chemistry.”

  “I was never good at chemistry, myself. My reagents always turned the wrong color.” Kalam laughed. “Business for me was always tidier.”

  “I like chemistry,” Megan replied. “That’s usually what I’d doing when I’m not playing. Have you ever heard of the Journal of Organic Chemistry? One of my professors just got a research paper listed in it. I bet you didn’t know it’s the number one in total citations out of almost sixty different publications about Organic Chemistry.”

  Kalam frowned. “If that’s your reading list, it doesn’t sound like a lot of time left over for friends.”

  “I have plenty of friends!” Megan snapped.

  “Of course.”

  There was an uncomfortable silence between the two riders. Megan was surprised at how her voice had come out. She had three of the best friends possible, didn’t she? Courtney and Jill and Laura.... Well, she didn’t see much of Courtney—she was always going out, being invited to this party or that, on her phone with some guy. Come to think of it, Jill tagged along with her. Jill was a bit shyer but made for a good wingwoman. Then there was Laura. Laura was in the same sorority as the other two and they often were out doing house functions or mixers together. Megan didn’t want to join a sorority, but she had to admit that she kind of felt left out. Megan and Laura had known each other since middle school and they would always be close. But it did feel like even that connection was slipping as of late.

  That game’s not going to help you make friends or get a job, Laura had warned her.

  For a girl who had been told many times that she really could be very pretty if only she tried a little harder, it was difficult for Megan to break into a social world of cute boys, parties... of being wanted. It was so hard. It was easy to be good at chemistry, but the fulfillment she wanted around life didn’t come so easily.

  Megan opened her eyes, though she hadn’t realized she had closed them in the first place. Her lips tightened in resignation. She was in Safari. Thieves were needed here. She was needed here.

  “I’m sorry, Kalam. That came out awfully defensively. In any event, it’s nice to know a little about you.”

  “My pleasure.” Kalam gave her a warm smile. “So let me tell you a little bit about Kalamazoo.”

  “Is that where ‘Kalam’ came from?”

  “Absolutely,” was the reply. Megan laughed.

  Megan learned plenty about her companions over the next few days. Father Corman had been online since the game launched. It had taken some time, but he had eventually come to the conclusion that he could sport a modest side income as a healer-for-hire. Boris was really an Oracle consultant who was on the road a lot and played from his hotel rooms. He was in his mid-twenties and single, which Megan found intriguing. Sameer was really named Ravi and lived in California. He had been hooked on MMORPGs for years and felt that Armchair Safari was the Master-level class for online veterans.

  Then there was Haas.

  The ranger hardly spoke beyond functional, yes-or-no answers and rarely asked questions. Megan tried to pry out something—anything—just to round out her mental dossiers, but each time she was greeted with silence and an icy glare. What was more, she would catch the ranger staring at her when she was doing other things. To say it was creepy was an understatement.

  They were barely a week underway when the monotony of traveling really hit Megan. It was the same routine day after day. They followed a rotation schedule where one player would log in during working hours and auto-direct the other characters so that everyone could tend to jobs, meals, and other responsibilities. In the late afternoon everyone would get online together and get some serious traveling done. Then at night, a different person would stay up to provide security while the others logged out and their characters slept in camp. Megan found it dull, dull, dull. She began to wonder if this whole thing was worth it. There were castles she could be robbing, monster lairs she could be exploring... heck, classes she could be attending. There were so many other avenues to a quicker paycheck than this monotonous investment in endless traveling. Megan had to bring in money. That was something that she wasn’t doing by meandering through the remote wilderness. If she had wanted to adventure in the South she would have moved her home there. She was not inclined to tour the country just for fun.

  Thursday evening came and it was Megan’s turn to stand guard. She missed the days of when it was no big deal to logout safely in her stronghold and return to real life. Not on this adventure. Around midnight, Megan decided to patrol the camp perimeter and work off some of her caffeine-driven restlessness. She meandered around until she found a path that wound through the trees and eventually opened up to a rocky valley nestled in between the Granite Mountains. The graphics looked superb in the Condor Glasses. Off in the distance Megan heard a creek bubbling. Determined to watch the animation of flowing water up close, she made her way down a long slope with nodules of rock sticking out along the way. She passed one particularly large nodule, one that measured twenty feet wide and had a hollow cavity that extended toward the center. The water was close now, just past another drop-off. She was almost there.

  When she got to the edge of the drop-off, Megan stopped cold.

  She could see the stream. She could also see four armed men camped near the bank. Two sat on little stools and were poking at a small fire with sticks. The other two were laying on the ground, wrapped in blankets and their cloaks. Megan watched dumbfounded as one of the men stood up and pointed in her direction.

  She dropped flat. She had been a fool, standing there in the open. As she peeked back over the edge Megan’s fears were confirmed. The men were all awake and walking in her direction.

  This was not the city, where Sentinels would maintain law and order. This was not her stronghold, where carefully laid defenses would protect her as she slept. This was the wilderness. Robbery and murder were as common as were the stars in the sky as thugs looked for stolen loot. Megan knew she needed to withdraw, and fast, lest she become another victim.

  She quickly crawled backwards, then maintained a low crouch as she ran back the way she had come. Suddenly, as she neared the large nodule—she stopped moving. Megan the Student whipped the mouse around but nothing happened. Was something in her way? Was her character caught on a branch or impediment? Megan tried to run in any direction to no avail. What was keeping her from moving?

  Not good.

  A crossbow
bolt whistled by her head and clattered against the granite dome several yards away.

  Megan looked over her shoulder. All four warriors had climbed the slope behind her and were only twenty yards away. They had fanned out into a skirmish line and each had a crossbow at the ready.

  So very, very not good!

  Why couldn’t she move? This... stupid game... freaking clipping.... Megan smashed her fist onto the keyboard in frustration.

  She lurched forward. Whatever had grabbed her—a piece of the terrain, something around her boot, the errant edge of a 3-D polygon—was gone. Megan instinctively clamored towards the hollowed-out shelter of the rock nodule just as another crossbow bolt ricocheted off the ground behind her. She dove into the cavity and crawled all the way to the back in a panic. It was too late when realized what a foolish thing it was that she had done.

  She was trapped.

  “Where did she go?” a voice sounded out.

  Heavy footsteps clattered off the rock outside the hole. Megan sat confined in the narrow space just ten feet from the open air. She did the only thing she could. She stayed quiet and listened.

  “Benz, I just saw her. Over here somewhere.”

  A pair of armored legs stopped in front of the cavity. A moment later a man’s face peered into the hole. He had a black beard and dark eyes. “Oh. Here you are.”

  “What?”

  The bearded man stood back up. “Over here, Benz.”

  A second warrior trudged towards the cavity at an angle that allowed Megan to see what he looked like. He was tall, with blond hair that hung down in his eyes and cheeks that looked like a cherub. His armor and greaves were edged with gold and were expensively made.

  Benz bent down and peered into the hole at Megan. “Is she alone?”

  “I didn’t see anyone else,” replied the bearded warrior.

  “Easy pickings, then, Hooser. Give me your crossbow.”

  Megan gasped.

  So this was how it was going to end? What a lousy way to die—not on the job and trying to enrich her pockets like a proper adventurer. Like a cornered animal instead. She was a fool.

  Megan sat motionless, disgusted with her captors, disgusted with herself, and waited for it.

  “Stop! What are you doing?” said a third, panting voice.

  Benz paused in the middle of aiming the crossbow. “I’m going to shoot her, Kemil. What do you think I’m doing?”

  The third warrior continued breathing heavily as if its owner had been running to catch up. “And how are you going to get her out? Are you going to crawl in there and get her stuff? Do you think you’re going to fit in that hole?”

  Benz turned and there was some irritated discussion that Megan could not quite hear. She scowled at the thought of having just moments left to live, of her possessions soon belonging to a new owner.

  Her possessions. The Portable Hole. The most valuable item an adventurer could possibly hope to ever find, and she was about to lose it.

  Maybe not. Maybe it could save her?

  Megan slipped her fingers into her belt purse and drew out the magical cloth, neatly folded into a small square. The Hole’s magic was strong enough to make a passage through nearly anything as long as it was not required to be longer than about ten feet. Given that the rock outcropping that surrounded her was thicker than that in most directions, a passage was not an option. But, if she unfolded it beneath her, jumped in, and folded it back up from the inside of the extra-dimensional space that it created, the Hole would make a perfect air pocket that could be used as a hidden shelter. Until the air ran out, that is.

  Megan had the Portable Hole opened up about a foot when Benz stepped aside and a fourth warrior came into view.

  “So you think that will snag her?” Benz said.

  Megan saw the last warrior holding a pike, perhaps ten feet long and capped with a long blade that had a wicked-looking barb like a harpoon on the edge.

  “I think so. What other options do we have?”

  Benz didn’t look convinced.

  “You. Thief.” He was bent over and addressing Megan directly again. “You want to come out here and save us some trouble? Maybe we’ll just take your gear and let you go.”

  Megan didn’t believe him for a moment. “Go to hell,” she hissed.

  A sadistic, ugly smile crept over Benz’s face. “Just as well. I wanted to pop you a few times with some poisoned bolts anyway. Try not to break any bones from the convulsions.”

  They stared at each other for a long moment. Benz raised the crossbow. Megan felt her heart beat a maddeningly fast pace.

  Thunk.

  A rock the size of Megan’s fist flew into Benz’s face from above. Benz fell over backwards, blood streaming out of his nose and mouth.

  There was shouting and cursing as the other warriors scrambled in surprise. Almost immediately a large, black shape jumped down in front of the cavity and dashed towards Kemil. A sword blade flashed through the air and left a gurgled scream behind it. Kemil fell to his knees and crumpled with his hands clutching his throat. The other warriors recovered quickly, however, and spread out into a circle around the intruder. The warrior with the pike held it aggressively with two hands. Hooser and Benz both had swords drawn. Megan could see the green tinge of poison on the blades.

  Megan forced herself to control her panic in order to understand what was going on. She looked again at the black-clad shape now standing in the middle of the three hostile warriors.

  It was Haas.

  “Haas!” Megan screamed. “They’re using poison!”

  The ranger stood motionless at the center of the circle. He held his sword low, almost casually next to his right leg. The blade was unusual and had a wavy edge instead of the straight lines of a broadsword.

  Megan came to her senses and frantically worked to finish unfolding the Portable Hole. She could hear shouting as the brigands prepared to attack. Everyone knew that a ranger’s strength was archery, not sword fighting. Haas would not survive this battle. But if his bravado bought Megan a even few extra moments to hide, she was at least grateful for that.

  None of the warriors had moved. Haas was calm, almost as if he were in a trance. Benz and Hooser started to slowly circle the ranger, evil in their eyes, teeth bared in anger at the death of their companion.

  Then everything happened at once.

  The warrior with the pike lunged forward. Haas grabbed the shaft and yanked it sideways, pulling his attacker off balance and opening him up to a heavy kick in the chest. The warrior let out a heavy cough and fell back onto his backside, unable to breathe.

  Hooser and Benz charged simultaneously. Another flash of steel and Haas’s blade sailed through Hooser’s shins, brutally severing them and tumbling the warrior onto Haas’s shoulder. The ranger took the weight and pivoted on his feet with the body draped over him. Benz’s attack was already in motion as Haas stepped in closer, causing the strike to fall on Hooser and nearly splitting the body in two.

  Haas dumped the body and rolled to the side. From his new position he easily thrust the wavy blade of his sword around the edge of Benz’s breastplate. Benz made a small, awkward noise as blood welled out of his mouth and ran down the front of his armor. A last, massive jerk and the tip of the blade ripped out the back of Benz’s neck. The big man fell to the ground.

  The first warrior, the one with the pike, had finally regained his feet. He looked over the bodies spread around him until he finally met the icy gaze of the blood-soaked ranger. It took only a moment to fight the battle of minds. The brigand turned and ran.

  Emotionlessly, Haas stepped over to the outcropping where Megan was hiding. The thief was mesmerized as the ranger picked up Benz’s crossbow. Haas loosened his shoulder, raised the crossbow to eye-level, and took careful aim at the fleeing bandit. Megan had a perfect vantage to watch as the crossbow bolt flew with a snap of the bowstring. Seconds later and the bandit collapsed mid-stride. He began thrashing about in horrific convulsions as the po
ison coursed through his system. She could hear the moans and screams, the impossible positions into which limbs and torso twisted in agony. That was what Benz had had in store for her.

  Then, after a long, agonizing minute, there was only silence.

  Haas tossed the crossbow nonchalantly away. He pulled a short sword from an unseen scabbard and made his way around the bodies, methodically stabbing each of them to ensure they were dead.

  Megan was petrified. Part of her was still trying to lay out the Portable Hole as a shelter. But mostly she was trying to comprehend what she had just witnessed. The outcome was an impossible one. A lone man, who followed a profession known for archery, not melee, had just killed four seasoned warriors using poisoned weapons against him. Haas should have been dead. Haas should have been dead quickly. But instead, he had easily defeated his enemy in hand-to-hand combat with the nonchalance of a practiced swordsman.

  Satisfied that there was no more danger, Haas bent over and looked at Megan.

  “You coming out?”

  Megan gaped at him, frozen.

  Haas examined the rock cavity as he waited for a response. He saw the Portable Hole half-spread in front of Megan. The ranger considered it for a moment before looking back at her. He had no particular expression of caring or interest.

  “I said, are you coming out? Or are you injured?”

  Megan snapped to. “N-No. I’m okay.”

  “Then come out already,” Haas said matter-of-factly, and stood up and walked away.

  Megan frantically folded up the Portable Hole. God, she was a stupid fool. Haas had seen her one great secret, the tool that made her a master thief. The Portable Hole was infinitely valuable for what it enabled her to accomplish, and it was dangerous for others who might covet such an artifact to know of its existence. Megan should have finished laying out her magical hiding place before the Haas had won the battle.

  But the ranger shouldn’t have been able to win.