Game World

by C. J. Farley

  In Xamaica, thanks to the special powers he had, people called Dylan the Duppy Defender. It had a better ring than Loopy.

  Dylan looked around to get his bearings. Right beside him was Eli—his avatar was a Rolling Calf, kind of like a Minotaur that’s on fire but never gets burned. When Rolling Calves stampeded they were an unstoppable force. Eli scraped the ground with his hoofs, throwing off sparks. His tail lashed back and forth, trailing flames and smoke. Fire blew from his nostrils. Dylan liked Eli this way.

  There were forty-two other avatars in the contest, including a Steel Donkey, half-shark half-vulture Luscas, and a couple slinky Dlos (part-snake, part-human, mostly trouble). They were gathered in the field of combat, a large grassy plain fenced in by palm trees. Dylan had never seen so many magical beasts—it was a fire-breathing, shape-shifting, wind-walking, magical mystery melee.

  “Okay, I have a plan.” Eli’s voice sounded bigger, more bullish, when he was playing the game.

  “Not again,” groaned Dylan, whose own game voice was distant and echoey, like something rattling around in an attic. “Is this new plan anything like what you pulled in the JV football locker room?”

  “Dude—it’s not like the super glue didn’t come out eventually.”

  “So what do you have this time?”

  “Teamwork.”

  “Teamwork? That’s the plan?”

  “It’s the Fellowship of the Ring. Harry Potter doesn’t get anything done without his amigos. The Narnia kids have each other’s back. If you want to survive a fantasy situation, you have to roll with a crew. We’re the real Game Changers, man! These other brothers are just playing!”

  “So we do everything together? Coordinate every attack?”

  “Exactly. Most of these clowns are working together for the first time, or they’re in it for themselves. We work together, we got a shot.”

  Dylan figured they had more than a shot, because he had a secret, a way to game the game that nobody else knew. He cupped his hand over his mouth to cover his lips. Many video games had cheat codes—secret ways of gaining access to new levels that were known only to a few. Dylan had stumbled onto the ultimate cheat code for Xamaica—a secret word he only had to say once out loud to unlock and multiply the powers of his avatar. He whispered it now, to himself, and his avatar became supercharged.

  About half the competitors went down in the first few seconds. The Luscas were pretty vicious. There was a pair of them and they worked well as a team. They circled the air like flying sharks and swooped down on their victims, seizing them with squidlike tentacles. They were merciless—a couple kids whose avatars were Wata Mamas, seal-like creatures as bulky and as useless as waterlogged mattresses, never had a chance. The last things they saw were six rows of teeth diving down on them from the air. Dylan thought that was a pretty grim way to get offed, even if it was just a video game.

  Eli was good at this combat stuff. As a Rolling Calf, he was one of the most powerful creatures. He burned like a forest fire without the forest, and after he took out a couple zombies, nobody else wanted to come near him. His attacks were a one-two punch: he’d throw flames first and trample over anything that was left, which was usually just ashes. Dylan was his advance man, snooping out opponents hiding behind ferns or in the branches of banana trees. With his enhanced powers, nobody could stop him.

  “Sweet!” Eli said to Dylan. “You’re a beast!”

  Meanwhile, two Seven-Tailed Lizards were doing some damage. Each of their tails could cause an earthquake—and they had fourteen tails between them, each one covered, naturally, in Richter scales. Other avatars were getting crushed by the tremors the two creatures were setting off. Eli couldn’t even get close to them because the ground kept giving way. For a while it looked like the lizards were going to win the battle in a rout.

  But, as it turned out, the lizards weren’t much of a team. They kept squabbling with each other about which avatars to go after next. Eventually they began to chase after each other’s tails. That was the end of the tale of the Seven-Tailed Lizards.

  There was one other Loopy in the fight. Anjali was an Airavata—an oversized elephant with nine trunks and too many tusks to count. When she tooted those trunks she sounded like that French horn she was always playing. She was paired with a floppy Wata Mama. Anjali used her trunks to pull the vulturous Luscas out of the sky—but they ended up falling right on top of her and her partner. They were all knocked out of the battle and trunks, teeth, and dorsal fins went flying. The crash took out the nearby Steel Donkey, which gave a last tinny bray before collapsing in a heavy metal crash. Just to be nice, Dylan and Eli saved a few sweetly useless Wata Mamas from getting crushed. The creatures, who it turned out weren’t even players, bleated and waddled away toward a stream.

  A Dlo whose partner had gone down early was mounting a challenge. He was slithering in and out of holes in the ground, striking quickly, and slipping away. Dylan couldn’t figure out which hole he was going to pop out of next. The Dlo was taking out the field one by one, and nobody could do anything about it.

  Eli had a solution. He blew fire into one hole until smoke came out of all the rest. Pretty soon the Dlo was smoked out. Hacking and hissing, he was an easy target.

  Soon, Eli and Dylan were one of two pairs left. They were up against Chad and his partner, Ivan, who were both towering Moongazers. Even with Dylan’s supersized powers, this was real trouble.

  Moongazers were among the most fearsome creatures in Xamaica. Because their bearlike bodies were made of mist they were hard to get ahold of. Their claws, however, were long and sharp and could tear through wood, metal—and the hides of other beasts.

  “End of the road, Dylan. That’s right, I said it.” The twin Moongazers looked exactly alike, but there was no mistaking Chad’s typically insulting tone.

  “Teamwork,” Eli cautioned. “Don’t let him bait you.”

  “That’s right, Loopy, listen to the cripple!” Chad barked.

  “Shut up!” Dylan warned, even as Eli tried to hold him back.

  “Make me!” Chad caught a Wata Mama sunning itself near a stream and flung it by the tail.

  Dylan caught the poor creature, put it down safely, and flew at Chad in a rage—but then he remembered the other Moongazer. He just ducked a swipe from the creature’s massive claws. He wasn’t, however, able to dodge the beast’s backhand, which knocked him back twenty feet. Dylan was a spirit creature, so blows like that usually went through him. But there was something about the Moongazer’s vaporous body that allowed it to have an effect on noncorporal beings.

  Chad howled and took two menacing strides forward to finish the job.

  A blast of fire shot between the Moongazers and Dylan. Dylan scrambled behind a rock where Eli was waiting, his eyes flickering with flame. “Teamwork—remember!”

  “Teamwork’s cool,” Dylan panted. “But we need to change the playbook.”

  His extra cheat-code powers were wearing off—they never lasted long. He needed a new approach. As a duppy, Dylan could shape-shift into any creature. But what form should he pick?

  “I need to turn into something that can fight that thing,” Dylan said.

  “Like what?” Eli asked.

  “A Rolling Calf?”

  “Dude—my fire blast barely fazed him.”

  “An Iron Lion?”

  “Seriously? You’re not gonna be able to hold that form long.”

  The Moongazers were sniffing around the rock. They were closing in. What form should he choose? Then it hit him. If you can’t beat ’em . . .

  Dylan turned into a Moongazer.

  “Sweet!” Eli said, picking up on the plan.

  It was a powerful beast, so he wasn’t going to be able to maintain the shift, but he should be able to do it long enough. He charged.

  “What are you trying to pull, Loopy?” said one of the Moongazers. Based on the sneer in his voice, Dylan figured that one was Chad.

  Dylan tackled the other one. T
hey wrestled and rolled on the ground and it was impossible to tell who was who—which was exactly what Dylan was counting on.

  Chad looked confused. After hesitating, he attacked anyway. One of the Moongazers howled in pain. By mistake, Chad had done in his partner.

  Working together, Eli and Dylan handled their opponent quickly. Dylan blocked Chad’s escape while Eli fireblasted his gaseous body into smoke. You know how a lit match can air out a room after someone has let one rip? Same principle.

  “You lose,” Dylan said to Chad. “That’s right, I said it.”

  Dylan and Eli had won the Tournament of Xamaica.

  Eli bumped his fist against Dylan’s. “Dude—that was epic! How did you know he’d attack the wrong Moongazer?”

  “I didn’t. But I got a tip this morning about the kind of guy Chad is. So I figured he’d attack first and ask questions later. I guess we just had to get a little lucky.”

  The twin wounds across Dylan’s chest began to ache.

  “What’s the matter?” Eli asked.

  “It’s those scratches. I don’t know why they’re hurting so bad.”

  “How bad could it be?”

  “Ever put the tip of your tongue against a frozen metal pole? Imagine doing that with your bare chest—and then ripping it away.”

  “Gross. Let’s get out of here. Game over.”

  Xamaica faded away. Then Dylan and Eli were in the arena and the crowd was cheering all around them. A group of uniformed Xamaica officials came out and ushered the two boys to a circular stage in the center of the arena while the crowd yelled louder.

  “So what’s the Grand Major Triple-Secret Prize?” Dylan asked.

  “It better be straight-up cash,” Eli said. “If only the dinero in the game was real! Then we’d be talking serious money.”

  The circular stage descended beneath the floor of the arena. Emma was waiting there, clapping and waving her bloodstained pirate doll. Dylan, Eli, and Emma were hustled into a hall, through a door, and outside the building. Their escorts left abruptly, slamming the door behind them.

  The kids were standing there in an empty alley as a light rain began falling.

  Eli scowled. “Well, this sucks canal water. What about the friggin’ Grand Major Triple-Secret Prize? If my wheelchair rusts, I’m gonna be pissed.”

  At that moment, a black stretch limo pulled up. A tinted back window rolled down. Someone was clapping. Dylan recognized the dark gaze and the peek-a-boo hairstyle.

  “That was beyond awesome!” Ines Mee purred. “Now it gets hard.”

  The limo raced down the slick streets as the rain kept falling. Dylan, Eli, and Emma were sitting in the spacious backseat of the car across from Ines. Like an online video that hasn’t quite downloaded, Dylan’s brain was still buffering after winning the tournament.

  “Your hair is . . . amazing,” Emma complimented Ines, to break the unsettling silence and because her hair really was amazing.

  “I know, right?” Ines stroked the glossy locks that flowed shimmering over the right side of her face. “It’s easy to maintain; the real hassle is flying my styling staff in every weekend from Dubai.”

  “Where’s your camera crew?” Emma asked.

  “I gave them the evening off. I have important things to do tonight—”

  “So when are we going to get our prize?” Eli interrupted.

  Ines looked at Eli like she was noticing a stray thread on a designer dress. “So that’s your famous slanket. I saw it in your file.”

  “It’s a snuglet,” Eli shot back.

  “I know that—Mee Corp. owns the company that makes them. Or we did. We may have sold them off. Something about extreme flammability. Nothing you need to worry about unless you smoke in bed, use a toaster oven, or get an extremely high fever.”

  “And why do you have a file on me exactly?”

  “How interesting!” Ines said, clapping. “That’s exactly what your file said you’d ask!”

  Ines suddenly leaned forward and the tinted glass divider between the driver’s seat and the passenger seat slid down. “We’re being followed,” she informed the driver.

  Dylan looked out the back window and saw a pair of red lights. Then he realized they weren’t coming from the car. The motorist behind them was wearing a dark hood that hid his face, though Dylan could see one thing: he had glowing red eyes.

  Dylan swallowed hard. “Who’s chasing us?”

  “Let me worry about that, kitten,” Ines soothed.

  She leaned forward and whispered a series of directions to the driver. “Buckle up,” Ines commanded the kids. “But don’t worry—the same thing happened on the twelfth season of my show. We were in Venice, and we were being chased by gondolas, but the situation was basically the same.”

  The car accelerated and everyone was thrown back in his or her seat. Eli’s glasses flew off and as the vehicle jerked around, Dylan stepped on them and felt something crunch. Emma picked up the glasses, which looked fine, and handed them to Eli.

  “Gracias,” Eli said, sliding his glasses back on. He turned to Ines. “I’ve had enough of this crap! When do we get our cash prize?”

  “Adventure is the prize!” Ines declared, her black eyes blazing. “Mee Corp. has files on both of you. You’re now the best Xamaica players in the region. If you’ve seen my show, you know what I live for. It’s what we’re all about to go on. Three words: Greatest. Adventure. Ever.”

  “You mean we’re going to play Xamaica again?” Dylan asked.

  “No,” Ines replied. “We’re going there—for real.”

  “Seriously?” Eli said. “You’re seriously serious?”

  “I’m beyond serious. You’ve made it to the forty-third level. Now we’re going to the forty-fourth.”

  “So you think magic . . . is real?” Eli said.

  “I believe Xamaica is a real place. That’s why I think we can go there. Don’t be a hater—I need you to trust it’s true.”

  “Yo, here’s what’s true: you are a total nut job,” Eli said. “No offense.”

  “I believe!” Emma said to Ines. “Picasso said, Everything you can imagine is real.”

  “I just don’t know,” Dylan muttered. He wondered if Ines knew about his cheat code.

  Ines was unflustered. “By the end of tonight,” she said. “You. Will. Believe.”

  The limo pulled into the Mee Mansion and the vast gate came down, shutting them in.

  “Will that gate keep out the freaky dude with the red eyes?” Dylan asked.

  “We have a pretty tight security system,” Ines answered. “Now and again a mailman or a Girl Scout gets electrocuted, but it’s a price I’m willing to pay.”

  On the outside at least, the Mee Mansion looked more like an ancient castle than a modern-day home. It had stained-glass windows, gargoyles mounted on the walls, and even a couple of drawbridges. Dylan imagined it was the kind of place where a mad scientist and an evil wizard could spend some quality time together. “This is incredible.”

  Ines shrugged. “Everything isn’t everything. I sent the help home for the day so we can have some privacy.”

  Everyone exited the limo and Ines led them to a large stone door. She pressed a button and it slid open. The inside of the Mee Mansion was even wilder than the outside. The exterior was brooding and medieval; the interior was shadowy and futuristic, in a retro kind of way. Dylan thought it was sort of like what people imagined the future might have looked like a couple generations ago; the place felt modern and antique at the same time. There were cameras and mirrors and video screens everywhere. It was hard to tell what was a door, what was a window, and what was a hallway.

  “They call this the Mee Mansion,” Ines told them. “I call it Uncanny Valley.”

  “You named your home?” Eli scoffed. “We’ve got cats at my place that we haven’t gotten around to naming.”

  “Doesn’t it get lonely in this big house?” Emma asked, her voice echoing a bit.

  “Yes a
nd no,” Ines said, stroking her own hair. “Me and dear old Dad spend a lot of time together, so it’s all good.”

  She led them through a room with an Olympic-sized swimming pool, another with Olympic-sized pianos, and then into a spherical room with a massive dark globe in the middle.

  “Is this where you plan world domination?” Eli asked.

  Ines smiled. “Oh, we’re beyond that, kitten. Mee Corp. has factories on every continent—including Antarctica . . .”

  “Spare us the infomercial,” Eli said.

  Emma walked over to the globe.

  “Don’t touch that! It’s personal . . .” Ines began.

  Too late—the globe lit up. A 3-D image of a child—age seven?—appeared above the continent of Europe, somewhere near maybe Azerbaijan. “Greetings, Ines. This is Artur from Shemakha. You’ll never believe . . .” the child started to say.

  Ines put her hand on the globe and the image vanished.

  “What was that about?” Eli asked.

  “I told you, it’s personal,” Ines said. After an awkward silence, she continued: “We have a lot of rooms—a piano room, a cheese room, a tapestry room. If I had to explain them all, we’d be here all night and never get to where we’re going.”

  “A cheese room?” Eli asked. “Is that a thing?”

  “Duh—to go with the cracker room,” Ines replied. “Follow me.”

  After a long walk, Ines led them into a huge chamber in which the walls, ceilings, and floors were all a brilliant white. “Welcome to the game room,” Ines announced. “This is where we’ll go to the forty-fourth level.”

  On one end of the vast room was mounted a black tablet, a little bit bigger than a Bible, that looked like it was made from solid rock. “What’s that?” Eli asked.

  “That’s the master portal to Xamaica,” Ines explained. “The tablet was my father’s greatest invention. It’s the nexus for every Xamaica gaming experience. Once we link to it, because we’re so close, we should have the strongest possible connection to Xamaica.”