by Sean Platt
Hooper leaned the large screen against the far wall. The two men sat on the floor, palms to the wood, with Adam in front and between them.
Colton pressed a button on the blue thing, flipping through several different feeds.
“What is this?” Adam asked.
“It’s a Network receiver. It allows us to bypass what The Games shows the citizens. We can see the raw feeds—the same ones the producers see back at The Network.
“Where did you get this?” Adam asked. “Was it in The Opening Rush?”
“No,” Colton said. “The Network wouldn’t put something like this in The Rush. No, I smuggled it into The Games.”
“How did you manage that?” Adam asked, knowing he’d been thoroughly searched many times himself.
“Let’s just say I had some help on the inside. Being a former City Watcher has its perks. As for getting it in here, well, I had to hide it in a place I’m not too proud to talk about.”
“Oh, man,” Hooper said. “I wish you’d told me that before you handed it to me.”
“Please,” Colton said, “That’s probably the cleanest thing you’ve had in your grimy hands this week.”
Hooper laughed as he playfully wiped his hands on Colton’s coveralls.
“That her?” Colton asked a second later, when Zelle appeared on-screen on a rooftop.
The girl was wearing a long black coat, with straggly blonde hair hanging over her face. Adam could see enough to recognize the mousy girl as she walked out from between two tall air towers, dragging a large chair.
“Yeah,” Adam said. “What’s she doing?”
As the orb filming her pulled away, Adam saw her location: the large spired building he’d spotted piercing the skyline while he was searching for a place to hide.
“That’s the tallest building in the city,” Adam said.
“Fortunately half its height is that spire,” Hooper added. “Let’s get going. I figure it’s gonna take at least a day to get there from here.”
“Wait,” Colton said, pointing at the screen as the orb circled the girl, revealing a small fort made of furniture she must’ve dragged up the stairs. In front of it, a small fire. “Looks like she’s settling down.”
Zelle had somehow managed to start a fire, likely for warmth since it wasn’t yet dark. Just seeing the fire reminded Adam of how damned cold it was. His coveralls were mercilessly thin against the cold wind that was just starting to pick up. Adam was both surprised and impressed at how quickly the girl had managed to get a coat, climb to the rooftop, and build a fort of furniture not to mention a fire.
She’d already proved more resourceful than he had—he would’ve jumped out a window to his death if not for Colton and Hooper happening along.
Zelle dragged the chair and set it in front of her homemade hideout. They couldn’t see what was inside the fort because the orb’s angle was wrong, and it seemed the entrance was just large enough for the girl.
She sat, retrieved her gun from inside her coat, laid it in her lap, then looked up at the orb and glared.
It zoomed in on her face and her defiant hazel eyes. Adam felt the distance between them melt.
Her eyes were hard, exposing the ghost of the happy girl he’d lived next to for so many years. Haunted but hard. As if she were daring whoever was watching to come try and get her. She would use that gun, he had no doubt. But even with a weapon, she was only a child, ill prepared to fight zombies, bandits, and—perhaps worst of all—other players.
We’ll save you, Zelle.
The orb pulled back and descended who-knew-how-many stories to the street, where a horde of more than a dozen zombies were milling about as if waiting for something.
“Jesus,” Hooper said. “How long you think she can last up there?”
Colton said, “Well, they don’t seem to know she’s up there yet. But come nightfall, that fire may give her location away. If not to the zombies, then definitely to other players.”
“We need to hustle,” Hooper said, looking up and trying to find the sun in the hazy gray sky. “Looks to be around two, and that building’s at least a mile and a half away.”
“A mile and a half through hell,” Colton corrected.
“Like I said: probably take a whole day to get there.” He grabbed the blue receiver from the back of the monitor, handed it to Colton, then stared down at the city.
“Let’s go get Zelle,” Colton said.
For the first time in a long while, Adam felt like he had a purpose other than drawing breath. And it felt good to have a purpose.
CHAPTER 8—ANA LOVECRAFT
Ana sat in the chair staring down at her hands, unable to meet Egan’s eyes.
How could she look into the stare of a distraught father desperate to save his baby girl from becoming a zombie and tell him “no” because she had to leave and save her own kin—especially after his daughter had saved Liam, and Katrina and her?
She looked up and met his gaze. “How do you even know I’m the cure? That’s only a theory.”
Egan asked Ana to hold that thought, then left the room, leaving her to stare at the piles of papers on his desk. Part of her wanted to peek and see what was written on them, but then the door opened behind her and it was too late to snoop.
Ana turned to see a welcome sight—Dr. Oswald, the zombie cyborg she’d last seen in Hydrangea, the man who’d helped secure passage for Liam, Katrina, and her. He’d risked everything to save them. She’d wondered and worried ever since, imagining that Oswald’s betrayal had surely been discovered by the madman, Sutherland.
Ana stood and hugged him, thankful that he was fully dressed in a long, dark shirt and pants, because as fond as she was of the man, she didn’t want to touch his decayed skin or metal chest and arms.
“How are you?” Oswald asked.
“Good.”
The doctor looked Ana over. “No further signs of the virus?”
“No. I haven’t felt anything since Hydrangea.”
“Amazing!” he said, his human skin stretching awkwardly up his face to greet alloy in a wide smile. “Please, have a seat.”
Ana sat, as did Egan opposite her. Oswald stayed on his feet, standing to her left at the end of the desk so the three of them formed a loose triangle.
“I was just telling Ana about your work,” Egan said. “Can you fill her in?”
“Sure. I’ve been continuing Dr. Goelle’s research as promised. Using your blood samples, I’ve managed to degrade the virus and temporarily arrest the effects within the host. However, I’ve not yet been able to kill the virus outright without harming the host’s blood cells, nor have I managed to replicate your reversal. But I feel close to a breakthrough. We have a few subjects in another part of The Station responding positively to my latest course of treatment, though it’s still too early to tell.”
“And is Calla one of those subjects?”
“Not exactly. I’m using a variant of the treatment Dr. Goelle prescribed for your old friend, Duncan. In other words, we’re holding the virus at bay, but there’s no telling how long these treatments will stay successful. The antidotes I’m working on are unstable, so we can’t use them to dose the child. I’m hoping with your help to further Dr. Goelle’s plans for a true cure.”
Ana turned to Egan, unable to hold her question. “Why isn’t Calla with the other subjects, away from the population?”
Egan nodded, as if expecting Ana’s question. He’d probably heard it plenty from his own people. “Because I’ll not have my daughter locked up like a dangerous animal.”
“You do realize you’re putting people at risk, don’t you?” Ana felt herself getting angry. “I watched my friend turn and it only took seconds. One moment Duncan was feeling a little off, then the next, we were dinner.”
Oswald intervened. “While I do understand your concern, Ana—especially since you yourself were quarantined—I believe this is best for the child.”
“How’s that?” she asked, incredulou
s.
“We believe that patients who are locked away from others degrade at a faster rate than those allowed managed interactions. Calla is supervised at all times by one of her elders, who has been instructed what to do should she turn.”
Kill her? Ana wondered.
Egan added, “She’s had a hard life. If these are her last days, I want her with loved ones. Of course, it is our hope that these aren’t her last days, and that you will help find a cure for my daughter.”
“Can’t you just take my blood and let me go? I have to save my brother. There’s no way in hell that Keller would ever allow him to walk away even if he were to somehow win The Games.
“I understand, and I agree with your assessment.” Egan met Ana’s eyes. “But you must see beyond your brother. What you have, in your blood, is a gift for the world. For you to risk that for one life, even your brother’s, is incredibly selfish.”
Ana’s cheeks flushed. “And tell me, Mr. Egan, would you not do the same in my place? If it were Calla in The Games, and you held the cure in your blood, would you be so generous?”
Ana knew Egan’s answer, though the man said nothing.
“As far as I’m concerned, Adam is my world. If that makes me selfish, I’m fine with that. I never pretended to be anything other than what I am.”
“Ah, the Lovecraft streak.” The man’s words were as sour as his smile. “Always so charming.”
“I’m done here.” Ana stood. “Thank you for your hospitality and for saving us from the hunter orb. But I need to go find my brother.”
She turned, ignoring Oswald’s gaze, and headed toward the door.
“Wait!” Egan said sharply.
His tone felt like daggers in her back. Goosebumps raced up her spine as she turned.
“Yes?”
Egan propped his elbows on the table, folded his fingers, and leaned his chin into his hands. “Leave, and you will never find your brother.”
“Is that a threat?”
“Not at all. Learn to distinguish, Miss Lovecraft. I’m simply stating a fact. The Games have changed, both their rules and location. Head to the Halo, and you’ll find it empty.”
“Where is he?”
“It seems we both want something, Miss Lovecraft. You wish to save your brother and I wish to save my daughter. Whatever shall we do?”
CHAPTER 9—ADAM LOVECRAFT
Adam couldn’t believe it was taking so long to reach the tallest building. They’d been walking forever, changing routes several times to avoid other players, zombies, and bandits. What would have taken an hour to walk in any other city had become an epic trek in The Outback.
“I’m starving,” Hooper said.
“Don’t look at me, I’m too skinny,” Adam said to the big man, daring to joke.
Hooper surprised him with laughter.
“We’ll eat in an hour if we’ve not yet reached the building,” Colton said. He then smiled and joined in the joke, “But please, try not to eat us.”
“I’ll try to contain myself,” Hooper said.
As the sky darkened to a bruised violet, the light snow stopped, along with the howling wind. The world would have been silent, if not for the horrifying sounds that came in echoes off the concrete and glass jungle around them.
Adam heard the scraping of metal, the crunching of glass, the ragged breath and grunting of zombies mingled with the rushing hushes of men, like when he had first entered the streets from the arena, except now it was dark and somehow worse, despite the two large men by his side.
After a few more blocks, Colton stopped cold, Hooper a tick after that. Adam was last to halt, and when he did, he found himself a few full steps ahead. He turned back toward them as the two men traded a look.
“Exactly,” Hooper said.
“What?” Adam asked, sick of feeling like he was more in the dark than ever. Half of him wanted to know what they were talking about, the other half wanted to hide.
“When’s the last time you heard a zombie?” Colton asked.
“A few blocks back.”
Hooper said, “I’m wondering if they’re swarming somewhere or maybe something’s got their attention. Could be a trap set by one of the players, or more likely a group of them. Maybe bandits. Could be The Network. No way to know.”
There was an awful crash from somewhere far off, chased by a horrible grunting—first from the undead then immediately followed by a human—female—scream.
“In there!” Colton nodded toward an old storefront without a face. Hooper grabbed Adam, flung him over his shoulder, and followed Colton into the hollow before Adam could think to move on his own.
He didn’t dare to ask what it was as the trio huddled behind a shallow dusty counter. He peeked around the side, through the shadows of what was left of the store, and into the wide street outside that was draped in snow and littered with debris—cars, lumber, and fallen metal poles—as first one, then two, and finally a moaning mass of zombies swarmed by in a wave through the street.
A group of men trailed the last of them, all wearing blue. They had to be contestants. Outside the hollowed storefront, close enough that Adam could see it as he peered around the counter, a half dozen contestants attacked the lagging zombies, hacking them to bits with hatchets and swords. Blood sprayed from the falling bodies in red rain, looking black against the shadow-covered snow. The men dispatched the horde with their blades, keeping things quiet, not one of them so much as brushing their blasters.
Though Adam couldn’t see the zombies ahead, he assumed that whatever was calling them to the swarm was more enticing than the possible dinner behind them. Colton slipped from his spot behind the counter to a position behind a shelf and out of Adam’s sight.
Adam started to follow.
“Don’t move,” Hooper growled a whisper into his ear as he held him in place. “They’ll kill us for sure. We couldn’t stand before we’d be dead.”
Hooper surely wanted to say more and was probably biting his lip as he fell into silence.
The silence was almost too much to bear. Adam had so many questions and couldn’t ask one. Hooper and Colton wouldn’t know the answers, but one of the things he wanted to know most, they’d both know for sure. Adam had already asked them each a bunch of times to please tell him what happened during The Opening Rush. With so many contestants, everything about The Games seemed different than he’d ever seen before. Colton’s weapon was impressive, with a silenced muzzle to keep sound from the zombies and a scope to allow him to eliminate enemies at a distance. But as Adam looked over the counter, outside into the street—the half dozen players were taking their time, surveying kills, and laughing loudly—Colton’s weapon didn’t seem quite as capable.
The men outside carried giant guns. One had a weapon so huge it made Adam think of a cannon. He could see why even a brave man like Hooper would be frightened. He couldn’t see Colton from where they were huddled, but Adam figured it had to be true for him as well. And if his two protectors were scared, he didn’t stand a chance.
Why didn’t the men outside leave? It was taking forever, and every second felt like the last he’d have before he died. His heart was beating so hard, Adam was certain the men outside could hear it. The only thing that gave him comfort was Hooper’s matching beat.
He held his blaster, tight in his grip, ready to leap up and empty it into the bad guys outside, knowing that even his best attempt would be futile.
“It’s OK,” Hooper whispered, now softer in his ear, as if reading his mind. “They’ll be gone soon. They’re just assholes, celebrating kills.”
“How much longer?” The whisper felt dangerous as it slipped through his lips.
“Not long.”
Not long was too long.
Black seemed blacker, every sound was a boom. He couldn’t help but picture Zelle on the rooftop and wonder how she was doing—and try not to think she was probably dead.
As crunching glass grew faint enough to promise the men’s
departure, Adam suddenly realized why The Special Edition offered so many guns.
“They need to get rid of more people,” he said, louder than he meant. “So they gave more guns to the players!”
From outside: “What was that?”
Adam heard Hooper swallow.
A long three minutes of silence followed, then the counter exploded in chunks as bullets ripped it to pieces. “Come on!” Colton cried out, crawling across the floor toward the rear exit.
The door had no handle but gave way as Colton slammed his body against it. He stood on the other side, away from the line of fire, holding the door open for Hooper and Adam. Once through, all three ran as bullets flew into the building.
Colton kicked the kitchen’s back door hard. It splintered at the knob and swung out into the alley. They ran as fast as they could, rounding the corner before the other players made it through the store, buying seconds from their pursuer’s confusion and the chance to gain distance or hide.
As they reached the alley, Hooper’s Games bracelet began to scream, a high-pitched whistle.
“Fuck!” Hooper yelled, slapping furiously at his wrist. Colton looked up and down the street as the bracelet screeched even louder. Hooper’s bracelet was bright blue, pulsing with beats of crimson and glowing in time with the screams.
All at once they heard a chorus of undead. It sounded as if the zombies were approaching from every direction, just out of sight.
“Come on!” Colton yelled. He turned to Hooper. “You need to ignore it, it’s not gonna stop. We have to run.”
Hooper nodded, and for the first time Adam thought the giant looked not just scared, but terrified. They ran down one short alley then turned down a longer one, as the armed players and zombies gave chase.
The long alley ended, branching right and left.
They stopped behind a van with no wheels at the alley’s end, not knowing which way to go. It was as if The Outback had suddenly become a maze. They could hear the groans of zombies echoing from seemingly every direction, along with the whoops of players eager to kill them.
Adam hoped death would be quick and not too painful. He thought back to his flight in the building before meeting Hooper and Colton and wished for a window.
