by Sean Platt
“Are you enjoying the parade?”
The boy nodded without looking up at his father. “It’s my favorite.”
“Which part?” he asked, though he already knew because Joshua’s answer was always the same.
“All of it.”
“Pick one,” Keller insisted, not because he wanted to know so much as that he hoped knowing might prolong the illusion.
“I like the drums best, but I also like the horns.”
“Why do you like the drums?”
“Because songs don’t sound right without them. Drums make everything better. Sometimes I like to close my eyes and see if I can hear the different kinds. You can’t do that with a regular song, but the parade always has so many.”
“Are you doing that now?”
“Yes.” Joshua turned and met his father’s eye, not wanting to keep his wide grin to himself.
“How many do you hear?”
“I think I hear seven.”
There are six.
Keller said nothing, just squeezed his son’s shoulders and stared at the parade, watching the band marching by.
“There are six drummers! I was wrong.”
His son smiled wider. As he did, the sun grew hotter and brighter. The sky turned the blue of an iris and the clouds nearly disappeared into white. Keller had been inside the dream so many times in the years since he’d lost Joshua. Now it was as if he could control the hues in his dream’s waning seconds.
Keller smiled back at his boy . . . then everything was gone.
The explosion was deafening wrapped in sleep’s infinity.
The sky withered to black and clouds turned into coal.
The sun went bright white, then started to scream.
Keller woke in his office, tears streaking both sides of his face.
He wasn’t surprised to wake up in his ugly world—he’d been doing so since long before he woke in City 1. He was half startled to find himself behind his desk, though, a puddle of drool soaking his cheek. He should be hugging his pillow or pressed to his wife, like he usually was upon waking—twice each night: once to piss and the other to weep.
Keller picked up his tumbler, swallowed the scotch, and winced at the burn in his throat. He glanced at the half-empty bottle, thought about a refill of liquid sorrow, then wiped his mouth and pushed the glass toward the edge of the desk, slightly out of reach.
It was only noon, and he was already plastered and falling asleep at his desk. He needed to get something to eat and freshen up.
He had planted his palms to the wood, ready to push himself to standing, when there was a slight knock on the door—three raps without waiting for an answer. The door opened a crack. His wife poked her head through the wedge.
“Hi, sweetie. Would you like to watch the replay of The Opening Rush? I’ve seen it but would love to watch it together.”
“No, thank you.”
He couldn’t meet her eyes, knowing his were guilty, and likely bloodshot.
She opened the door and stepped into his office. Her eyes flitted to the open bottle, then to the empty tumbler, and finally back into his soaking wet—and likely red—eyes.
Her pity filled him with hate.
“How long are you going to be like this?”
“Please. I’m busy. I don’t have time for this conversation. I have Cities to run. Evil to root out.”
“I know that—”
“You don’t know anything, Jacquelyn. And be grateful you don’t. Now I have work to finish before I can leave my office, and I’d appreciate it if—”
She didn’t wait. Nodding, she said, “I’m sorry,” then slipped a step back and shut the door on his tirade.
Keller stared at his wall, the monitor set to “Off” and showing nothing but black. He kept flinching with the thought of flicking it on. After five minutes he was certain he wouldn’t.
He should apologize to his wife. Get something to eat. Maybe step outside and get some fresh air.
Again Keller planted his palms to the wood, ready to stand. And again he was interrupted, this time by a call.
He looked at his phone: Kern.
Accepting the call, he barked, “What is it?”
Kern’s breathing sounded nervous. “We failed to get Ana and Liam, Sir.” Before Keller could explode, Kern added, “We’re confident this is controlled.”
Through gritted teeth, Keller said, “Do you have any leads?”
“We’re working on it.” Kern, an unflinching man, was clearly trying to keep the quiver from his voice. He cleared his throat. “Freedy wants to know if you’d like to activate Adam’s bracelet.”
“No,” Keller said. “We continue as planned.”
Episode 2
CHAPTER 7—ADAM LOVECRAFT
“We’re not gonna hurt ya,” Derek Colton assured him, reaching out to help Adam up.
The man hefted him to his feet, eyeing Adam toe to nose along the way. “You remember me, son?”
Colton drilled his deep green eyes into Adam’s, hard enough that he forced the boy to blink.
“You were a friend of my dad’s, right?”
“Yeah.” Colton grinned, just like Adam remembered from ages ago. “Man, last time I saw you, you were what? Six? Seven?”
“I dunno,” Adam shrugged. “It’s been a long time. Where have you been?”
“I moved to City 5 about 10 years ago to head up The City Watch unit when they had some corruption issues. They needed an outsider to come in and help clean things up.”
“So,” Adam asked, “if you were doing that, why are you here in The Games now?”
“Let’s just say I learned that the real corruption was coming from the people I worked for.”
“Come on,” said the giant bearded man who had been standing behind Colton as he and Adam caught up. “We need to move.”
“This is Hooper.” Colton jabbed his thumb at the man. “He’s good people.”
Hooper reached out a massive paw. Adam expected the man’s grip to swallow his—like Commander “Trunk” Avery at City Watch—but it was surprisingly soft, a lot like his smile. Adam noticed a leather strap across his chest and a sword’s hilt sticking up over his left shoulder. He wondered how they’d landed such excellent weapons so quickly in The Games. It didn’t take a ton of imagination to guess: both men’s coveralls were splattered in crimson, evidence of what they’d had to endure in The Opening Rush.
“Hi,” Adam said to Hooper, before turning back to Colton. “What do you mean you’re going to get me out of here?”
Hooper answered for Colton as he turned and started toward the stairwell. His voice was soft and raspy. “We’re with The Underground. We got ourselves put into The Games on purpose.”
“But . . . why?” Adam said, hesitantly following the two men back down the corridor, watching them creep into the dim stairwell leading with their drawn blasters.
Colton nodded back, letting Adam know that the path was safe. He followed the men down the first flight feeling safer by the step. He had been vulnerable without a weapon other than his puny hammer; now he saw himself as having two weapons—both walking in front of him and each one capable of pulling its own trigger. That gave him enough confidence to at least keep putting one foot in front of the other. Once the silence became too much, though, he broke it.
“Why would you get yourselves put into The Games on purpose?”
Colton paused, one landing up from the lobby. He turned back toward Adam, looking at the boy a half flight up. “After your father’s execution, The State mandated that The Cities crack down on The Underground. Watchers weren’t just grabbing ‘traitors’—they were taking spouses and children, torturing and executing entire families. Had never seen anything like it. They were looking for something and willing to do anything to find it. The Underground had always been good about keeping its own secrets, but once the Watchers started going after families, people began talking, betraying their comrades. Who knew The State could go that l
ow?”
Adam thought of his own betrayals and his own place in The State. Feeling awful enough that he barely knew what to say, Adam managed, “So, is The Underground gone?”
Colton licked his lips, looking like he was in a hurry to get going. But he answered anyway.
“No, The Underground’s not gone. But it might as well be. It’s broken for sure. A few members left, and the rest of ’em are too terrified to come out of hiding. The State will do anything to ‘get the rest of the roaches’ as they say.”
Colton turned from Adam and headed down the final flight.
“The Underground’ll fight.” Adam stopped his father’s old friend after only a step. “They’ll come back.”
Adam’s confidence was growing as he spoke—until Colton brought him back down to Earth. “Not this time, kid. Not with Keller in control. No one’s seen Jack Geralt since what happened with your dad. We’re assuming the Leader of The State is dead. And like I said, The State’s never been so aggressive. They aren’t just rooting out the threat in order to till the soil, they’re salting the earth so nothing can grow.”
Colton looked as angry as he did beaten, like Hooper beside him. He kept on talking, nostrils now flaring.
“They started in City 6, since that’s where the resistance was strongest. They got to my sister’s son . . .”
Colton’s face flashed with a pain so wrenching Adam was sorry to witness it. But Colton carried on, “They also took another girl from City 6, a girl named Zelle.”
“Zelle?” Adam asked, the name uncommon enough he figured it had to be the same girl he’d known. “Zelle Howes? She lived two doors down from us.”
“Yes, they grabbed her and her parents. They were trying to get her father to spill his guts about The Gardens. When he refused, they killed his wife. Then they threatened to kill the girl. Way I heard it, he died during questioning, and they put the girl into The Games.”
“What are The Gardens?”
Hooper cut in. “A home far away from The State’s reach: a place where they can’t touch us.”
“Sounds like a good place to be right about now.”
Colton responded, “Which is why you’re going to help us find the girl.”
“She’s in these Games? Now?”
“Oh yeah,” Colton said. “And she knows where The Gardens are.”
“How do you know that?” Adam asked. “She’s like ten, isn’t she?”
“Yes, but she’s got one of those photographic memories. There’s no way her father didn’t tell her how to get to The Gardens.”
“That’s a pretty big assumption,” Adam said. “My father never told me any of his secrets . . .” And he never will.
“It’s a hunch, but the word is that Zelle and her dad were very close. It’s risky, looking for her, but it’s a risk we’re willing to take.”
“OK.” Adam swallowed. “So we’re just going to head into The Outback, find her, and hope she trusts us?”
“Exactly. Unless you’ve got a better idea.”
Adam didn’t.
Nor did he have a reason not to join them. For one thing, Adam liked the girl. He had played with her a few times when Ana had been asked to babysit. And though she was six years younger than he was, Zelle was smarter than any kid he’d ever met—probably smarter than most adults. But she was still a child, and no child deserved to be in The Games.
If there were a way to save her, he’d do his best.
“I’m in.”
“Good,” Colton said. “Let’s get going.”
They had just started on down to the lobby, when Hooper hissed and reached out an arm to stop them. He put a finger to his lips, then pointed down to the lobby where a trio of zombies were milling about in the open doorway.
They made their way down, slowly. A few steps up from the lobby, Hooper turned back to Adam and handed him a blaster.
“You ever fired one of these before?”
“A bunch of times,” Adam nodded, loving the cool touch of the smooth black steel and nylon polymer. Hooper handed him two energy cartridges with 12 shots each, which Adam slipped into his coverall pocket.
“Good.” Hooper nodded as he drew the sword from its sheath on his back. Without another word, he left Adam and Colton and glided silently into the lobby, then ran up to the closest zombie and swung his sword in a heaving arc that sliced through its neck like scissors through string.
The zombie’s head flew from his body and landed with a sickening thud. Adam managed not to gasp. Colton smiled and lifted his rifle, balanced it with his left hand, then lined up his shot and pulled the trigger twice.
THWAP! . . . THWAP!
The two remaining zombies dropped to the floor.
Hooper was standing back, sword at the ready, as though giving Colton the first shot while staying on standby in case things spiraled out of control.
“Your gun has a silencer.” Adam said in awe, pointing at the muzzle he’d not noticed until the pair of muffled pops.
“Yeah,” Colton nodded, eyes full of pride. “This was worth The Rush.” He petted the rifle’s stock and turned back to Adam. “You OK back there?”
“Great,” Adam nodded. “You’re a really good shot.”
“Thanks,” Colton said, still holding his grin. “I was the best City 5 had to offer, but that was only because I’d left City 6 and your old man behind. No one shot like Jonah.”
Hooper dragged his sword across his pants, cleaning the blood from the blade before sheathing it. “We’ll roast marshmallows and jaw later. We need to go.”
Colton clapped Adam on the shoulder and led him down the few remaining stairs. Hooper was already waiting by the outside door as they hit the center of the lobby. “Ready, kid?” Hooper asked, looking out through shattered glass at the broken city.
Adam followed the man’s stare past the windows to the long steel fingers of the destroyed city. It was still early, but the sun was high and blinding on the snow. During the last several months of nights alone, Adam had believed that anything would be better than his cell. Now, with the living waiting to kill him and the already dead starving to feast on him, he almost missed the loneliness of prison. Outside this lobby, the shadows whispered a promise of death. The only thing that kept him moving forward at all was the fact that Hooper and Colton were already going through the doors. He shrugged off his shudder and stepped out into the city behind the two men.
He stayed silent as the three of them cautiously walked the snow-covered streets. Only after Colton and Hooper began to trade mumbles did Adam finally think it safe to speak up.
“How are we going to find Zelle? And how do you know she’s not already dead?”
Hooper said, “Because you can’t trust The Network to tell the truth, but you can always trust ’em to do what’s best for themselves.”
“I don’t understand. What’s best for them in keeping Zelle alive?”
Colton answered. “Because The Network likes a good story they can sell the people to keep ’em watching. You, son, are the star of these Games. But Zelle: she’s young, scared, and everyone likes to root for—and bet on—an underdog. I guarantee that The Network is trying to keep her alive as long as possible. They’ll find ways to manipulate The Games—have her ‘find’ some supplies, or maybe an orb will take out some zombies if they get too close to her.”
“Not that the folks back home will ever see that,” Hooper chimed in.
Colton nodded, but the doubt must have shown on Adam’s face.
Hooper said, “When’s the last time you remember a kid dying this early?”
“Never,” Adam admitted, then without a breath between thoughts added, “But like Colton said, things have never been like this. I still don’t get why they put her in The Games in the first place. Just to get even because her dad wouldn’t tell them where The Gardens are? Seems extreme.”
Colton said, “You’re right. Zelle’s never done nothin’ to no one. But her daddy, Daniel Howes, was one of t
he most notorious Underground leaders. The kind even Hooper and I here thought went too far . . . the kind responsible for at least four bombings.”
Hooper cut in. “That ain’t her fault.”
“Didn’t say it was,” Colton finished. “But fact is fact. Her daddy did what they said, and when he refused to give up The Gardens, ya knew they’d make an example of the family.”
“That’s so cruel,” Adam said. “To go after his daughter. She’s just a little girl, not a threat to anyone.”
“You spent months with Keller,” Colton sighed. “You should know all about the sins of the father by now.”
***
A few hours later
“But why here?” Adam repeated, though his first three times asking had yielded no answers. “What makes you think she’s in this apartment?”
Colton finally looked up. “We’re not looking for her in here.”
“Then what are we looking for?”
From back in the room’s far corner, behind Adam, Hooper said, “This.”
Adam turned and saw the giant fiddling with a long black monitor. It looked like maybe it could have carried a signal a century before. He didn’t bother to ask. He knew he only had to stand back and watch and he would see for himself what the black screen was for.
Sure enough, Colton was by Hooper’s side a moment later, kneeling down and pulling a small, cobalt-blue metal cylinder from a pouch on his belt. It looked like a blunted flashlight. He handed it to Hooper and the man did something to the rod’s side. Once he did, several prongs jutted from the rod’s base. Hooper eyed the rod, then something on the back of the monitor. Whatever it was made him smile—Colton too. Then he seemingly inserted Tab A into Slot B—Adam had to guess because he couldn’t see—and the screen lit up with The Games.
Hooper then handed Colton a small blue circle that looked like it had come from the tip of the blue device.
“Wow,” Adam said. “Cool.”
“Yeah,” the grown men agreed. “Cool.”
