by J C Lane
And then Nerys found her.
Amanda had used a fake name in the contest where they’d fought together, disguising her origins so she would be hidden from those involved. After Nerys killed her avatar, she deleted all of her information from the game’s system, even the phony stuff. There was no way he should have been able to reach her. But there he was, larger than cyber life, on her game console, asking her to play. That’s exactly how he put it. “Can I come over and play?”
After installing several firewalls and safe shields, and insisting Nerys sign a Behavior Agreement, Amanda agreed to one game. Nerys thought she was crazy, asking him to promise a) no profanity b) no sexual innuendo c) no killing each other’s one specified handcrafted, multi-layered avatar. All others were fair game. But most important of all was d) they would not attempt to find out the other’s true identify through nefarious means, which really meant no cyber stalking. With only a little arguing, Nerys agreed. He introduced Amanda to his homemade conglomeration games, and she never turned back. Since Nerys abided by the Agreement, Amanda had no reason to stop playing. He infuriated her, annoyed her, and was a complete hormone-fueled male specimen, but he had an over-the-top sense of virtuality, and no one else made as complete a partner for her.
Until today. After this crap, which completely defied their Agreement, she was done with him.
Jerk.
She glanced at the watch phone. 21:15. Stupid countdown. 21:13. What was supposed to happen when the countdown hit 0:00? Nerys would win? Dumbest game ever. If he wanted her to play Tag, he needed to be a little clearer about what he expected. And not crash her system. How were they supposed to play virtual Tag if he didn’t start the game?
Whatever. She popped a Hot Pocket in her mouth. Maybe this was all a sign she should be done for the day.
She got settled on the couch with her food, set up her TV for streaming mode, and turned on PBS. But instead of the comforting sounds of a British drama, she heard that same strange Asian avatar’s voice telling her she was losing her head start, and his-her face filled the screen. Stupid avatar.
She switched off her TV completely and turned to her iPad, where she had several epic fantasies waiting to be read. She shut off the wireless so Nerys couldn’t hack his way in, snuggled into her pillows, and scrolled to the first page.
The smartwatch lay across the room, counting down to zero.
Laura
The train was as soothing as something could be in Laura’s situation. Her eyelids drooped, and her head rested against the window as the countryside flashed by in shadows and lights. The clacking of the wheels on the rails and the hum of the wind was enough to make even a terrified, confused, teenage girl sleepy. Not surprising, since it was four-fifteen in the morning. Thanks to her stupid hiccups, though, she couldn’t actually fall asleep.
Only one train car was open, and Laura had taken the very back seat so she could see anyone who got on. So far it was just her and the two men, since Manhattan had been the first stop of the line. She couldn’t imagine it would fill up much more by the time they reached downtown. Seriously, again, who went to work that early on a Saturday?
Jeremy was asleep, as were Laura’s brothers, parents, even Rosie, who was supposedly hosting her for the night. Laura should be asleep, too. She was supposed to spend Saturday watching her little brothers’ soccer games, followed by the new X-Men movie with Jeremy. Jeremy had been counting the days until he could see Wolverine on the screen again. Comic book heroes weren’t exactly Laura’s thing, but the guys were hot, so she didn’t mind all that much, especially since it made Jeremy happy.
“Ticket, miss?” The conductor jolted her out of her thoughts, puncher poised. She looked about as awake as Laura felt, but she still smiled.
“I need to buy one, please.”
“Sure. Where you headed?”
hic
“Downtown Chicago.”
“Union Station?”
“Yes, please.”
The conductor told her the price, and Laura paid with money the man had given her. The lady stuck a punched ticket on top of the seat in a plastic slot and hesitated. “Everything okay, honey?”
Laura’s eyes pricked, but she forced herself to smile. “I’m fine. Thanks.”
“You don’t look fine.”
Laura blinked at her. How do you respond to that kind of a statement?
“I can help you, hon, if you’re running away. I know a place where they’ll take care of you.”
Laura knew a place, too, called home, but she couldn’t go there, or she’d put them all in danger. Just like this lady would be in if Laura didn’t get rid of her before the Referee grew suspicious. If there was any way for the Referee to know. Was she plugged into the security cameras on the train? Laura searched the train car for telltale red lights.
“Sweetheart, please tell me. Do you need help?”
Laura sat back. “Really, I’m okay. But thank you.”
The conductor didn’t look convinced, but what was she going to do? It wasn’t like Laura was a ten-year-old or something. She patted Laura’s ticket and walked up the aisle to punch the tickets the two men had already attached to their seat backs. After taking care of them, the conductor stood in her spot at the front of the car and waited for the next stop. Laura could tell the woman was trying not to watch her, but she wasn’t hiding it very well.
hic
A new batch of people got on at the next station, which refocused the conductor’s attention. Laura studied them hard, wondering if any of them was someone to be worried about. Most looked like businesspeople with their suits and briefcases, and one wore a full warm-up suit. Probably going to the gym. Again. Saturday.
Laura re-read the Rules on the smartwatch. Thirty minutes after Go, It would be notified of her whereabouts, and the coordinates for Home Base. Eight minutes had passed. She had no idea how long it took to get from Manhattan to Union Station. Longer than thirty minutes? Shorter? How long, once It knew where she’d started out, would it take for her to be found? If the Rules were to be trusted—and that was one big if—It had no idea where she’d be starting from until the first transmission, so It would have to travel to that point. Or make assumptions about where she would be going.
If she were the It and found out where the Runner had started, alone and without a vehicle, she would assume the Runner had gotten on the train and headed straight for Chicago. Maybe Laura needed to change her plan.
The train clacked on, stopping to pick up passengers, lulling Laura almost to sleep until the car was full enough that someone sat with her. Laura made herself as small as possible, huddling in the corner, hoping the lady wouldn’t talk to her. She didn’t. She listened to her iPod and read a romance novel, chomping on gum and blowing bubbles, completely oblivious to Laura and her problems. The woman wore a uniform with a name tag and a patch that said, “EverKleen.” Laura smelled lemons.
hic
Laura kept an eye on her phone, and when it got close to thirty minutes after Go, she watched for the next station. As soon as she saw the signs, she stood up. “Excuse me.”
The woman didn’t hear her.
Laura poked her. “Excuse me.”
The woman swiveled her legs, and Laura passed her and walked up the aisle.
“Thought you were going to Union Station,” the conductor said when she reached her.
“Changed my mind.”
The conductor ripped a piece of paper from a pad and scribbled on it. “Here’s the number for that place. They’ll keep you safe till you’re ready to go. Won’t even tell your folks, in case they’re the ones chasing you.” She also took Laura’s ticket and punched something on it. “That’ll get you back on, if you decide to keep going. Or it will get you on another train.”
Laura fought a fresh round of tears. “Thank you.”
The train slowed, a
nd the conductor opened the door. The people waiting at the stop stepped back in surprise. They obviously weren’t used to people getting off that time of morning. Laura climbed down and stood on the platform. Once the passengers were on, the conductor followed, keeping her eyes on Laura as she closed the door.
Laura held up her hand in thanks, and the conductor mirrored her wave. The train hummed away from the station.
Now what?
Laura ducked into the platform shelter and checked the schedule. The next train wouldn’t be along for an hour. Maybe this wasn’t the best plan, because an hour was long past the time. It would be told where she was. She sat on the bench, but realized if It was following on the next train, she would be in plain sight. She looked around for hiding places, but the only thing that made sense was the parking lot, where there were only three vehicles, one of them a truck. Checking for signs of an alarm, Laura climbed into the truck’s bed and rolled against the tailgate, where she couldn’t be seen from the train. She was so tired she fell asleep, but woke with a jerk when her watch vibrated, indicating her location transmission had been sent, telling It exactly where she was.
She shouldn’t be sleeping. And she couldn’t stay there. It was on the way.
She went through the same routine she had at the first station, checking for a key in the parked cars, and this time was rewarded with a hidden key pouch in the wheel well of an old Taurus. She stared at the key. Could she really do it? Steal a car? But it wouldn’t really be stealing, right? She had no intention of keeping it. She could tell someone where it was. She could even drop it off at another train station.
Yes. That’s what she would do.
She took a deep breath and opened the car door, immediately smelling smoke, dog, and something else she couldn’t identify. Perhaps she should drop the car off at a carwash. She started the car. It sounded about as good as it smelled, and she prayed it would get her to her next destination.
She raced out of the lot, realizing she couldn’t just get back on the same train line she’d been traveling. It would be watching, for sure. She pulled immediately to the side of the road and opened the Chicago rail service website. Another line had a stop twelve miles from her current location. Sixteen minutes, according to the software. So…she rubbed her temples. If she stayed at her present spot until the next transmission, It would think she was still at the old line, waiting for the next train. But It would only be a short amount of time behind, since Laura would be giving up—she checked her phone—twelve minutes, which is the amount of time until it gave up her location once again. Would it be worth it? It was a gamble. Also, It was already on the way there, since the first transmission had pinpointed that particular train. It couldn’t get to this station and find the new train in less than a half hour, right?
If the Ref was telling the truth, and that had been the first signal It had actually gotten…
Laura decided to take the risk, and as soon as the five o’clock transmission went, she sped off from the parking lot.
4:30 a.m.
Robert
Robert Matthews paced from the door to the window to his bedroom and back. His father sat at the glass-topped table, drinking coffee and working on his laptop. His mother was back home in Gary, Indiana, under the impression that her husband and elder son had taken a hunting vacation in Alaska to bring down a moose. She was right about the hunting. Not so right about the state or what their prey would be.
Robert’s little brother, Matty, had begged to come along. Robert didn’t blame him. It would be hard to stay at home with Mother while Robert and their dad were on some great adventure. But when Robert had suggested they let him join in the fun, his father said it was idiotic to even consider it. Robert didn’t agree. Matty may have been only twelve, but he wasn’t stupid. He could keep a secret. And it would be nice to have someone who actually believed he could win. Matty thought Robert was the star of the basketball team, no matter what anybody else said. Or how many minutes Robert spent on the bench.
But Robert would have to play the Game without a fan section. He had explained to Matty that moose-hunting was dangerous, and you had to be sixteen to get a hunting license. He didn’t know if that was true or not, but it was the only thing he could think of to convince his brother it just couldn’t happen. Not this time, anyway. Maybe the next time they “went to Alaska” Matty could be a Player, too.
The Referee had suggested that the Alaska pretense was the only way to protect Robert, since he’d insisted on chasing someone he knew, one who knew him just as well. Robert had spent a couple of weeks laying the groundwork at home and school, dropping a hint here and there about time away, requesting homework from his teachers, shopping for cold weather hunting gear and posting photos for everyone to see. Ashley, a friend who was still a friend despite Robert’s push to become more, even bought him a new stocking cap, a woolen one, with earflaps. He looked like a dork in it, but she said he was adorable. If that’s what she liked, he’d wear it.
“Broadstreet should’ve gotten the signal by now,” Robert said. “Why hasn’t the Ref called?”
“He’ll call when it’s time.” His father didn’t look up from his computer.
“I’m ready,” Robert said. “I’m ready.”
“I’m ready, too, for you to be gone. Sit down, or at least shut up.”
Robert stopped at the window and gazed out over the city. It had to be Chicago, where the Game would end. What if the Ref began it there, too? He didn’t think the Ref would make it that easy, but he wanted to be prepared. Besides, where else in the region was big enough that Robert wouldn’t be recognized? Or his father, at least. His father’s face had been on billboards and campaign ads for almost a year. He couldn’t go anywhere without people hounding him. Why his dad had decided to go into politics was beyond him. Nobody was ever happy, and you had to kiss butts to get anything done. Not what Robert wanted to do with his life. But he did his job as the loving son, stuffing envelopes and posing for the family picture they stuck on the wall above the fireplace to impress important people who came to visit.
He couldn’t wait for next year. Blow off his hometown, head for college, get far away from his father. He’d miss Matty, but he could come visit. Stay overnight in the dorm on Little Sibs weekends, stuff like that. It would work out.
But most of all, Robert couldn’t wait for college ball. Finally, he’d be playing without Broadstreet blocking his every move toward scouts, college reps, cheerleaders. All of them panting after the “inner city star,” who “came from nothing.” Bunch of crap. Broadstreet had a lot more than nothing.
“The Illinois coach wrote to me again, wondering why you hadn’t been in touch,” Robert’s father said. “I thought I told you to respond to him three weeks ago.”
“You did,” Robert muttered.
“Excuse me?”
“Yes, sir, you did.”
“And?”
“I haven’t gotten around to it.” Robert tensed, waiting for the yelling. It didn’t come. Instead, his dad jumped up, grabbed Robert’s shirt, and banged him against the wall.
“You haven’t gotten around to it?”
Robert hovered over his dad, fists clenched, wanting nothing more than to punch that smug, well-maintained face. Robert had no idea where he’d gotten his own size, his broad, Scandinavian looks. His dad kept himself fit, but he didn’t have the height, or the wide shoulders, or even the big hands, that his son had. He exuded money and breeding, those things he found most important, and he made it clear that was what he desired in those he knew. Especially his family. Robert’s mother wasn’t big, either. She was a little mouse of a woman, running off here and there to fat camps or day spas or whatever she didn’t really need. Matty was small, too, a little shrimp. Back when Robert was his age, he’d already outgrown both of his parents.
“Explain.” His father’s anger radiated from him like his e
xpensive cologne.
Robert took his time, sidling to the other side of the room behind the ornate couch. “It didn’t seem like a good idea, not when we knew this weekend was happening. It will change everything.”
“What, exactly, will it change?”
“He won’t be around anymore.”
“So Broadstreet will be gone. Do you expect your entire life to turn around?”
“Isn’t that the whole point?”
His dad stared at the ceiling, hands on his hips. “Look, Robert, Tyrese Broadstreet is big and fast—”
“I am, too.”
“—and talented. Tyrese Broadstreet is an athlete…no, not just that. Tyrese Broadstreet is a star.”
Robert gripped the wooden trim of the couch. “I could be a star.”
“In another lifetime, maybe. You think if you had the potential they wouldn’t be after you, too? Why do you think the scouts come, and there’s only one guy they want to talk to? Only one guy with a line after your games? It’s not because he’s pretty.”
But it was that, too. At least, that’s what Ashley said. What was the word she used? Glorious. Don’t feel bad, Robert. You can’t help it Tyrese Broadstreet is glorious.
“Universities want me,” Robert said.
“No, they want me and my money.”
“They call me. They talk to me. About basketball.”
“And then they talk to me. About money.”
“Because they don’t see me play. Not when Broadstreet’s on the court.”
“Robert…” His father held up his hands and let them fall. “Believe what you want. Maybe you’re right. Maybe this weekend will change everything. You’ll go home from your Alaskan hunting trip to find yourself the new star, and everyone in college basketball will be knocking down your locker room door. Stranger things have happened.” He sat down at the table. “But I wouldn’t count on it.”
