The Riser Saga

by Becca C. Smith

  “Downtown. I wanted to keep my friends out of this and they knew where we were meeting.”

  “Gordo’s Virtual Reality Bar off of Pico and Central. Seven-thirty.” Click.

  The suddenness of Jason hanging up the phone made me jump a little, but I took a sigh of relief. At least, Nancy, Ryan and Bill wouldn’t know where I was going. And a virtual reality bar was as seedy and sleazy as they come. The complete opposite of Alby’s Bar and Grill at the Riverside mall. I had an instant pang of fear going to place like Gordo’s, but the more I thought about it the safer I felt. It would be the last place Turner or anyone would expect me to go.

  I looked at the digital clock on the pay phone: six-thirty. I had an hour. I decided to head over to Gordo’s to get a feel for the place. I wasn’t sure how long it would take me.

  Once I started walking off the beaten path, there were fewer and fewer people, only the distant sound of whirling hover cars above to keep me company. The closer I came to Gordo’s the dirtier and more rundown the area became. The trailer park looked like the Ritz Carlton compared where I was now. Cluttered metal lay in clumps in alleyways, stacked up to eight feet high. It felt like I was walking through the dumping ground of Los Angeles. No wonder Jason chose this part of town. Geoffrey Turner wouldn’t be caught dead at a place like this.

  I turned onto Pico and that’s when I saw the blazing holographic sign of “Gordo’s Virtual Reality Bar,” hovering over the square metal building like a cloud. There were no signs of windows anywhere on the structure, only one opened door in the front with an attendant waiting for customers. I couldn’t find a clock anywhere so I had no idea what time it was. I figured I’d wait inside. I knew I was early. It felt like a good thirty-minute walk over here, which meant I had a half an hour more before Jason arrived.

  I took a deep breath and marched up to the entrance of the bar. The attendant was a guy dressed all in black with a pencil-thin mustache that made him look like something out of a villain encyclopedia. Appearance-wise he was mid-twenties, which, judging by his occupation, put him in the category of black market Age-pro or actually in his mid-twenties, you never knew. He was skinny like his mustache and smiled at my approach.

  “We don’t get very many pretty ladies that often. What brings you here? Street fight? Mugging?” He paused for emphasis, “Murder?”

  “None of those. Just meeting someone here.” I tried to sound as casual as possible.

  Virtual reality bars were humanities solution to working out all their pent up aggression. When Age-pro hit the market, I guess society used to be full of violence and war, but when given the option of living forever, people didn’t want to be killed or locked up in prison where they’d have to live a life without the anti-aging pill. But according to leading scientists in human genetics, humans needed to satisfy their violent tendencies hence the creation of virtual reality bars. A place where you could be anywhere or anyone and kick the crap out of something. Virtual reality technology had been around for over three hundred years and hadn’t changed much.

  “Are you sure? You look so innocent on the outside, but I’m sure there’s a demon ready to jump out of you.”

  Was that some sort of pick-up line?

  “No demons, just meeting someone.” I didn’t really want to engage in this conversation he thought we were having.

  His face fell a little as he smoothed his creepy mustache with his hand. “Go on in. Bar’s down the hall to the right.”

  I moved past him without a glance or a word. I was afraid he’d ask me to thumbprint, and then Turner would know where I was. I figured this was probably the reason why Jason picked this place. It didn’t look like they thumbprinted people that often.

  Once I entered the building, I had to walk down a long corridor lined with glass doors. It was hard not to peek in at the inhabitants of the padded virtual rooms. It would have been almost comical, if it didn’t make my skin crawl. Everyone was dressed in the official blue spandex suits made for comfort and flexibility. Each suit was laden with sensors to make the experience as real as possible. To top off the outfit was a black helmet contraption with a visor that made the whole virtual experience happen. There was an array of padded props in each room, I guess depending on the individual fantasy of the person inside. The first lady I passed was literally strangling a life-size dummy. She was pouncing and throttling the poor stuffed person like she wanted to rip it into a million pieces. She screamed a triumphant and terrifying screech that chilled me to my bones. After that, I diverted my eyes from the rest of the rooms. It felt like I witnessed a crime the way that she strangled the stuffed man. And knowing that to her eyes, she really was killing someone somehow made the virtual reality experience a little too real for me.

  I hurried past the rest of the doors and turned right. There was a run down bar waiting for me with exactly zero people in it. Only the bartender was there, wiping down the counter out of what looked like boredom. His face perked up when he saw me. I couldn’t tell if he was a letch or if he was just happy to see someone at the bar.

  “What can I get you?” he called out to me with a large smile. He was a heavyset man with dark circles under his eyes and a five o’clock shadow. He looked like he was in his early-twenties, another black market Age-pro would be my guess.

  “Nothing. I’m just waiting for someone. What time is it anyway?” I asked as I walked over to the bar.

  He didn’t seem to mind that I wasn’t ordering anything, he just looked happy he had company. “It’s…” He looked at his watch, “Seven twenty-five. Who ya’ll meeting?” His smile hadn’t left his face since I had walked in the room and it was beginning to creep me out a little.

  “Just a friend.” I tried to sound as casual as possible, but I could feel myself starting to sweat slightly. I really wished Nancy were here. She’d have this guy wrapped around her finger and I could just sit back and watch and not have to participate in any kind of social behavior. I wanted to order a water just so I could have something to fidget with, but I couldn’t thumbprint, Turner would find me in a second. It was completely awkward sitting there at the bar with absolutely nothing to do but wait.

  “Awfully strange place for a rich girl to meet someone,” he leered at me. It was so grotesque and repulsive I flinched instinctively.

  “I’m really eighteen, I’m not rich.” He had assumed I was wealthy because I looked eighteen. And from the expression on his embarrassed face, the thought had never occurred to him that I actually was eighteen.

  “Whoa,” was all he said. He suddenly found that the other side of the bar was where he wanted to be at that moment.

  Apparently, my age really freaked him out.

  Good. I was thankful that he left me alone.

  “Would you like a drink?”

  I whirled around to see Jason Keroff smiling an annoyingly cute lopsided smile at me. “Good girl, keeping away from thumbprints. You must be parched.”

  “Yeah, a little.” The butterflies Jason gave me weren’t the same as the ones Ryan did. This was more like wanting to throw-up because I was about to give an oral report in front of class. I tried to remember yesterday when I was devoid of any emotion whatsoever at seeing him just to remain calm in his presence.

  Why was I such a freak?!

  Jason motioned to the bartender. “Two waters, please.”

  The bartender didn’t even acknowledge me as he slid the two glasses of water in front of Jason and I.

  Jason turned to me, still smiling. “What’s up with him?”

  “I think my age scared him a bit.”

  “You told him your age?” Jason’s smile faded. He looked worried.

  “I didn’t tell him my name or anything. He thought I was a richy and hit on me. It was gross,” I said, hoping I hadn’t done anything wrong.

  “Well...” Jason trailed off as if thinking of some horribly long math problem in his head. “It’s probably fine.”

  “So what is going on? I’m not even sure w
hat I’m doing here. I’m freaking out. My mom is dead, my whole trailer park is now an oak forest, my grandpa is Geoffrey Turner…” I began my panicked rant.

  “Wait. What was that about Turner?” Jason interrupted me with wide eyes. He searched the surrounding area as if he was expecting an army to suddenly appear from out of the shadows.

  “Um…” Oh yeah, I hadn’t told him that part of the story yet. “Yeah, he’s my grandpa.”

  “Does he know he’s your grandpa?” Jason was actually sweating at this point.

  “I don’t know.” And that was the truth. I really didn’t know. “What can you tell me about what happened to my mom?”

  “First off…” Jason pulled out an object that looked like a stylus and placed it on the bar counter in front of us. He hit an invisible button and the whole thing lit up blue like a glowing mini-cylinder from space. “This is a frequency jammer, just in case someone has this place tapped.”

  The blue glow lit up Jason’s face in an almost eerie way. I felt like we were in some kind of covert spy mission huddled over the gadget that would turn into a weapon if needed. Then it hit me that reality wasn’t that far off from my fantasy. “That thing doesn’t blow up, does it?” I couldn’t resist asking. No more surprises for me thank you very much.

  Jason’s eyebrow lifted in what I can only describe as amusement. “No, it doesn’t blow up.” Jason leaned in close so there was no chance of the bartender overhearing. “Listen, you mentioned the green smoke. Tell me everything you and your step-dad saw. Is he with your friends? Is he safe?”

  “No, he’s dead.” I didn’t know how much I could share with Jason yet, but the look on Jason’s face went from concerned to panicked in about two seconds.

  “They got to him already? You’re in more danger than I thought. We have to think about this.” Jason was shaking his head as if he had some kind of tick.

  “No. He died eleven years ago.” I let that hang there for a second. I wasn’t ready to tell Jason my secret yet, but at the same time, I couldn’t let him think that my grandpa or the government killed Bruce or whomever else he thought did the deed.

  “Wait. What?” Jason looked genuinely confused, and a little bit put off, as if he thought I was messing with him.

  I needed to show him. It was the only way I could leave no doubt in his head that I was telling the truth. I searched the room.

  There was a dead fly a couple of feet away on the bar. “Will that device block any surveillance cameras as well?” I asked, just to be cautious.

  Jason’s eyebrows crinkled in genuine curiosity at this point. “Yes. Why?”

  “Just sit tight.” I jumped off my stool and grabbed the dead fly, bringing it over to Jason. I plopped back on to my stool and placed the fly in front of the blue glowing device. “Dead, right?”

  Jason nodded, his interest apparently piqued from the greedy sparkle in his eyes.

  I reached into the fly’s black swirling center and made it fly around the frequency jammer. It did somersaults, spins, twirlies, everything I could think of and then when I was certain I had made my point I let it drop to the bar with a slight thwack.

  Jason swallowed hard and was silent for a good two minutes. My palms were definitely sweating. I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t think of what to say. I wish I knew what Jason was thinking, but his face was unreadable.

  “I brought Bruce out and made him say that about the smoke because the Mayor didn’t believe me.” There. I broke the oppressive silence.

  Jason nodded slowly. “We’re so dead.”

  “Yeah.” It was really starting to sink in that I was in way over my head.

  “I’ll tell you what I know.” Jason was talking slower as if he was in shock.

  Which, let’s face it, he probably was. Before he came here, he was most likely thinking he was going to help some poor teenage girl who accidently witnessed something she shouldn’t have. He wasn’t prepared for the granddaughter of the Vice President of Population Control who could raise the dead. I was shocked myself that he was still here. But he was a reporter and I’m sure the juiciness of the story far outweighed the danger for him.

  We’ll see, I guess.

  “Let’s start with the green smoke,” he began, “I’ve been trying to uncover this story for years, fifty to be exact. I’ve only been a reporter for a little while. I was a lab assistant for forty-five years at the International Laboratory Sciences Institute.” Note to self, he’s definitely over the age of seventy, Nancy would freak, she thought he was around our age. “Our purpose was to find new ways to help the environment and population problems such as developing hydroponics for crops and finding new chemical treatments for re-generating plants. I was good at my job and moved up through the ranks. The higher up the ladder I went the more disclosure contracts I thumbprinted until I was dealing with chemical solutions that by my calculations would kill effectively and efficiently rather than re-generate life. When I started asking questions, I was terminated immediately. Three attempts were made on my life soon after I was fired. That’s when I became a reporter, just to put myself in the spotlight so it would be more difficult to kill me without people noticing. I admit, I tried my hardest to become the “teen idol,” anything that would make me more valuable and harder to kill.” He paused, taking a deep breath. “Your… grandpa…” He shook his head and ran his hand through his black wavy hair. “We’re so dead.”

  “So my grandpa is exterminating people?” I tried to keep Jason focused. He seemed to do better when he was focused.

  “Yes. Your grandpa’s definition of population control is literally that… he controls the population by killing off people he feels the public won’t miss. He takes run-down areas like trailer parks and comes in with his armies of poisons. Poisons I helped create.” Jason couldn’t make eye contact with me when he said the last part.

  He was ashamed of himself. I could tell immediately. “Hey.” I reached over and squeezed his hand supportively. He let his eyes meet mine, but they were full of guilt and horror. “I don’t blame you. If not you then someone else. All I know about my grandpa is that he’s one stubborn determined guy. If he wants something done, he won’t stop until he’s succeeded.” And in the spirit of the moment, and the glowing blue of safety, I told Jason all about my mother’s vision and the ceremonies that led to my unique talent.

  Jason responded with a raise of the eyebrow, as if remembering something he had tucked away in the back of his mind. “I know what he did to you…”

  Before Jason could finish his sentence the bartender swooped over and smashed Jason’s frequency jammer with a baseball bat. It was so sudden and violent Jason and I couldn’t move for a good three seconds. Jason was the first to respond with cat like reflexes, grabbing the bartender’s bat and yanking it away.

  The bartender didn’t even struggle. He just placed his hands up in supplication and nodded toward the doorway as if trying to communicate some hidden message to Jason.

  And apparently Jason understood this strange language of bats and nodding because he turned to me and grabbed my hand. “Jig’s up. Gramps has found you.”

  This froze my insides as if someone had poured liquid nitrogen down my throat. “He’s here?”

  Jason carefully led me off the stool and toward the back door of the bar, away from the entrance. “Chances are the big man himself isn’t making an appearance, but his extermination squad is here.”

  “The poisons?” I gulped. I didn’t want to die the way my mom did. It was somehow more terrifying than the act of dying itself.

  “No, worse: guns.” Jason tried the back door, but it was locked. He looked at the bartender for help.

  The bartender shrugged almost apologetically and then screamed, “They’re in here!”

  “Great.” Jason took matters into his own hands by letting go of mine and using his strength to slam the bat onto the door handle. It smashed into pieces. He kicked hard and the door’s wood splintered enough to fly op
en.

  Gunfire cracked loudly from behind us. A few stray bullets lodged themselves into the wall. Jason took my hand once again and practically threw me into the adjoining room, which happened to be one of the virtual reality padded cells.

  The man inside didn’t even notice we had interrupted his fantasy. He was throttling a stuffed dummy with every ounce of energy he possessed. Jason pulled me toward the exit, swinging the door open and throwing us both to the ground of the hallway beyond, just as another round of gunfire whizzed overhead. I managed a quick look back just in time to see the poor man in the padded cell turn into Swiss cheese from the onslaught of bullets ripping through his blue spandex suit and the dummy he was strangling. He was dead before he even knew what had happened.

  I screamed. I couldn’t control myself. I had seen way too much brutality in the last two days and my brain couldn’t take it.

  Jason pushed me forward. We were half-crouched as we ran through the hallway. More men with guns appeared in front of us and started firing. Jason shoved me into another padded cell with a woman punching the wall in front of her. Glass shattered into a million pieces as the rain of bullets tore through our room, killing the lady in front of us, her black spinning hole already formed before she hit the ground.