Multiplayer

by John C. Brewer

  His mother lowered her head and rubbed her temples. “I don’t know who you are anymore, Hector. You’re so angry.”

  “These people killed my dad. What do you expect?”

  “They killed my husband,” she snapped back.

  They stared at each other as the silence became heavy again. Hector wished his dad was here. He’d understand that Hector had done the right thing. “Why’d he have to go and get killed?” Hector moaned, then burst into tears. His mother reached out and put her hand on his shoulder, but Hector shoved it away. “He was just trying to help! I was trying to help. He wouldn’t have been there if I hadn’t bought that stupid leg for that stupid girl. They ought to all lose their legs!” Tears stung his eyes and streamed down his cheeks. “Those stupid, rag-head, murdering, Muslim, aaarrrgghhhh!” A chill shot through his body as rage took over. “They killed my dad! It was my fault! All I wanted to do was help!”

  He squeezed his eyes tight and clung to his mother. He tried to stop it, but the memory of that day poured into his brain and he was back there again, on the soccer field, as the ball flew into the air with Hector chasing after it. He studied its flight, lifting a foot to stop its motion. But he never made contact. Every kid in the yard stopped with him, their shouts falling to silence. A shiny black SUV that every Army kid knew cruised into view. Hector prayed it would not stop at his house. Not at anyone’s house.

  The dark Ford rolled to a silent stop and two men in uniform climbed out. Hector’s heart paused as they turned toward his door. His friends stared motionless, robbed of speech. Then, he was running. His breath came in ragged gasps as he tore across the springy, green turf. He jerked open the screen door as his mother’s scream tore through the house. Through his heart. The world began to spin…

  And it was still spinning.

  “Hector,” said his mother gently.

  He lifted his head and she wiped his tears and stroked his hair. “Your father dying is hard, but isn’t the worst thing that could have happened to our family,” she said. “Dying for your country is never the worst thing that can happen to you.”

  Hector rolled his eyes and when he spoke he could feel his voice was laced with cruel sarcasm. “I don’t know, Mom. I’m having a hard time coming up with something worse than death.”

  Her lips smiled, but her eyes remained sad. “Dying is easy, Hector. It’s living that’s hard. How do you think they get all those suicide bombers to blow themselves up?”

  “Okay, so what’s the worst thing that can happen to you?” he challenged her.

  His mother’s big brown eyes gave him a sad but hopeful smile. “You have to figure that out for yourself,” she said, and kissed him on the forehead. “Just remember your family loves you. Your father loved you. I love you.” With that she rose.

  “Mom,” Hector grunted thickly, as she was going out the door. He felt this day had been a thousand years long. She stopped and turned. He opened his backpack and held up his algebra folder. “The worst thing… This might be close.”

  Ch. 10

  Hector pulled on his pajama pants with a groan. It was Saturday morning and he’d been planning on sleeping late after the disaster of yesterday, but his mother had shaken him awake and ordered him downstairs. He stumbled to the kitchen, met by the scent of bacon. The TV was on, as it always was when his mother was home. “Sit down,” she snapped. “Look what you’ve done.” She turned up the TV and stood beneath it, glaring at him.

  Hector, in a near daze, looked up to the TV and his jaw dropped. They were showing images of agents outside the Zahedis’ house. He could see their own house in the background. Then Hector noticed a word at the bottom of the screen; ‘Live’. He ran to the window. The Feds were searching the Zahedis’ house! Press were everywhere. “Yes!” he hissed. “See! I was right!” Even as he watched, some agents opened the trunk of Mr. Zahedi’s car and carefully lifted out an assault rifle. Hector recognized the short, wooden stock and the long, curved ‘banana’ clip. It was an AK-47. His stomach went cold. Hector hadn’t wanted to believe the Zahedi’s were really terrorists, but now there could be no doubt.

  Halie wandered in. Her hair was disheveled and sleep hung in her eyes, but she was already wearing her soccer uniform that looked like she’d slept in it. Hector ate in silence, watching his mother sit down and consume the news in spellbound fascination. It went from the Zahedis to news on Middle Eastern fighting and terrorism. Then on to global warming, rising oil prices, sinking economies. What was the point in planning for the future when there wasn’t going to be one? Die in a war. Die from global warming. Or live a miserable existence on a withered planet.

  Pappous burst through the door. “Do you see what you have done?” he exclaimed in anger, pointing in the direction of the Zahedi house, then at the TV. “They have arrested Steve. They led him out in handcuffs!” His skin was brown as a nut from years of archaeological digs and his black eyes twinkled out from beneath brows that were as thick and gray as the stuff on his head. Hector thought he looked like a yard gnome but now, his usually jovial expression was thunder. He threw his black fisherman’s hat onto the bar. “You have done this. You, Hector!”

  Hector glanced at his mother and swallowed hard, but he knew he’d done the right thing, and now the FBI knew as well. He straightened slightly in his chair. “Maybe I saved fifty thousand people from dying,” he said, but it didn’t sound as strong as he wanted. His mother’s fork dropped to her plate, while her eyes and those of his grandfather bore into him.

  “In my village, in Greece –” Pappous started, but Hector’s mother cut him off.

  “Dad, what’s done is done. You and I know the Zahedis are innocent. By this time tomorrow the FBI will too and Hector will look like an idiot. It seems to be the only way he’s going to understand.”

  “Neighbors informing on neighbors,” Pappous grumbled. “Never thought I would live to see that happening in America. And from my own grandson!”

  He went on with a story from his youth but Hector tuned the old man out as always. Didn’t the old fart realize ‘the war’ had ended three-quarters of a century before Hector was born? His mother wasn’t even listening to Pappous’s story. She’d already become reabsorbed in the TV news reports. Hector remembered when she wouldn’t allow the TV to be on when they were eating. But that was before. Now, she never turned it off, studying the latest report as if her life depended on it – something about a meeting of the world’s top leaders that was going to take place in Alanya, Turkey.

  Alanya? He had just been there! He and Deion, last night! He sat bolt upright as the news anchor continued, saying that since it was a place that both East and the West had used throughout history, the Prime Minister of Turkey had suggested using it as a location to talk about the problems in the Middle East. Amazingly, the leaders of the world had agreed to come.

  “We need to get going,” his mother said, finishing her breakfast. Hector stayed glued to the TV. Alanya! What a weird coincidence.

  “Now,” she said a bit more loudly.

  Hector looked down from the TV. “Now what?”

  “Get ready. You’re coming with us.”

  “To Halie’s game?” he whined. “In Greenville? That’s two hours away! Bayern’s playing this morning. I was –”

  She glanced at the clock. “So record it, because you’ve got five minutes to get ready.”

  Helen didn’t have to go, claiming she was working the ball park concession stand today. Hector stuck his tongue out at her laughing face as he climbed into the minivan. Fortunately, it had a TV and he’d grabbed his game console so he wouldn’t waste the entire day. He logged on to a MegaSoft server with his cell phone, stuck in a pair of earbuds, and as soon as the link went green he went to matchmaking. By the time they hit the interstate, he was immersed in a ferocious multiplayer battle.

  “Surprised to see you playing a war game,” said Pappous, squinting at the game rendered in crystal sharpness on the tiny, overhead screen.

/>   Hector pulled out an earbud to answer. “It’s not a war game, Pappous. It’s called Omega Wars.” He stuffed it back in, hoping it would end there.

  “So what is this Omega? Other than the last letter of the world’s oldest alphabet.”

  Hector scowled. “Omega Wars. It’s a massively-multiplayer-online-game set after a war wiped out civilization.”

  “And this is fun?” Pappous asked, his face twisted in confusion. He was getting really annoying.

  Hector pulled both buds out. “It’s an adventure game, Pappous. Like playing cowboys and Indians, or cops and robbers. Didn’t kids in Greece back in your day do things like that?”

  “At the time, it felt like the end of the world.” A shadow passed over the old man’s kindly features.

  “He plays it too much,” Mom said, from the front seat. “But he’s going to study his algebra on the way home.”

  “I didn’t bring my book with me!” Hector answered triumphantly. His mother held it up from the front seat.

  “Whatever,” he grumbled. Algebra, he couldn’t escape it.

  “Algebra,” said Pappous, brightening. “You know, you cannot be a Greek historian and not be a bit of a mathematician, Hector. It was the Greek civilization that –”

  “Excuse me,” said Hector. Luckily, he’d just received a chat request from Deion. He accepted and they were able to speak over the game headsets. At the moment, Deion was headed toward a soccer tournament on the other side of the state and wanted to know if Hector wanted to meet him in Alanya for some more scouting. Hector headed back to the Sulako, re-supplied Izaak, picked up another limpet mine for Darxhan, and slipped into the Alanya basement where they had left the gate replicator the night before. He found Darxhan waiting for him.

  “What happened to you last night?” Darxhan asked, as soon as Izaak emerged. Fortunately Hector was wearing headphones.

  “Uh, later,” Izaak replied. “I’m not in –”

  “What are you doing now?” Pappous asked, when Hector emerged from the basement up the narrow stair.

  “Oh, you’re not alone,” said Darxhan.

  “Affirmative,” Izaak said to Darxhan, and half-turned to Pappous. “I’m trying to get back my sniper rifle, Pappous. It got stolen by this terr – This guy. And I’m going to get this portable slipgate when I’m there, too,” Hector told his grandfather.

  “That would make it much easier to get around, wouldn’t it?”

  Hector glanced at him in curiosity. How did he know about slipgates?

  “What?” said Pappous.

  Hector stared at him for a moment. The old man was completely clueless. “Nothing.”

  Darxhan went on to tell him about coming back down the peninsula the night before and almost being caught by two vanguards. He managed to eliminate them before they knew he was there. Then Izaak went into his tale and Darxhan was every bit as perplexed by the strange battle over the limousine. And every bit as intrigued by the prospect of a portable slipgate.

  “Man, if we could get our hands on that –” Darxhan trailed off.

  Hector had already thought about it. “Yeah. We could become the most powerful clan in Omega Wars.” Izaak turned to pan around the deserted street when the peninsula to the south swung into view.

  “Theos mou!” Pappous exclaimed, and his eyes lit up. “That’s Alanya! I never considered you could go there. I led an archaeological excavation in Alanya in the seventies!”

  “Yeah, you’ve told me.” Izaak turned back to some stripped, burned out vehicles to try to quell his grandfather’s interest, but it didn’t work. The old man kept rambling about what Alanya looked like and the ruins of the citadel, which Hector had just seen last night.

  “I wonder if they have my tunnel?” said Pappous, and Hector perked up.

  “Your tunnel?”

  “Well, it wasn’t ‘my’ tunnel. My team discovered a passageway.” He thought for a moment. “Nineteen seventy-eight. It went from beneath Adam Atacagi – one of the towers in the citadel there – down to an underwater cave.”

  “You mean, like, connected to the sea?” Hector asked, realizing it would be a stealthy way to get close to Mal-X.

  Pappous nodded thoughtfully. “That’s right. It is below sea level now. But there was a long stairway cut into the rock. Must have taken thousands of slaves a decade to chip it out.” The old man kept rambling, talking about the papers he wrote on it, and how the underwater cave had been lost to people now because tourism was more important than archaeology. Hector listened while directing Izaak to explore the northern edge of Alanya with Darxhan, but his mind was racing. A secret passage! And there was proof. All he’d have to do is file a Terrain Change Report with MegaSoft, showing the cave existed, and they’d add it to the game. And no one else would know about it! But that would have to wait.

  The northern edge of Alanya was so heavily infested with scarobs Izaak and Darxhan barely got back alive. The scattered piles of Triad military equipment had mostly been picked clean by the scarobs. There was no doubt that the old town was the only inhabited area. Why didn’t Mal-X’s clan spread out into the city like clans always did? It was chock-full of more salvage tech than any place Hector had ever seen – which certainly explained the number of scarobs crawling around. But Mal-X and company seemed more interested in isolating the peninsula and staying hidden than building an empire. Why would they –

  “We’re here,” said his Mother, derailing Hector’s thoughts. They pulled onto a street lined with soccer fields. Thousands of little kids, in neon jerseys of every color, ran in all directions like iridescent beetles. Hector had to jog his head to switch from Omega Wars to real life.

  They pulled into the parking lot and found an empty spot between two gigantic SUVs with stair-step family outlines on the rear glass.

  Hector groaned. “I’ll just stay in the car and watch from here.”

  “No, you’ll just get out and watch with the rest of us,” his mother said. “You need some sun.”

  “But I was going to study.”

  His mom turned off the engine. “You think I’m stupid, don’t you?” Then she growled, “Get out of the car.”

  They set up alongside a green field as smooth as carpet and awash in late summer sun. Hector’s mom struck up a conversation with other parents, as Hector looked for somewhere else to go. Another teenager, similarly sentenced to a Saturday of boredom, sat nearby in a folding chair with her legs drawn up. She was thin and had platinum hair bobbed off short. She looked directly at Hector as if she knew him and opened her mouth to speak. But he was in no mood for introductions, not even to a cute girl like this, so he turned away.

  The first half looked like two packs of dogs fighting over a rabbit carcass. He hadn’t played soccer in a while but was used to a very high level of play. At halftime, he strode onto the field with a ball where he kicked at the goal and did some juggling tricks, almost wishing he were with Deion. When the second half started, he sat back down on the grass and sulked. His mom’s phone showed the Bayern score was 2-2 with ten minutes left to go. As exciting a game as could be wished for, and he was sentenced to watch this crap.

  “You’re pretty good,” said a voice, and Hector spun around. The blonde-haired girl was standing there with the sun shining behind her. He noticed, then, that only the top layer of her hair was blond and that the layers underneath were jet black. “You should play on a team.”

  “Too much travel,” Hector stammered, shielding his eyes from the light and thinking that her hair, while a little weird, was kind of… nice.

  “But you’re here.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, I noticed.”

  “You don’t recognize me, do you?”

  Now he really felt uncomfortable. “Should I?”

  She sat down next to him on the grass and smiled, sending a little tingle through Hector’s gut. He’d remember that smile if he’d ever seen it. And the hair. And the eyes which were deep brown and bottomless. “I’m in your math class,
” she said, and Hector wracked his brain. “And your history class.” He squirmed with embarrassment and felt beads of sweat break out on his back. “And your English class.”

  “I’m really sorry,” he finally admitted, feeling ten times a fool, but he had never seen this girl. “I haven’t been here that long …” he shrugged. “It’s my first year.”

  “Sabrah Moody?” she said, seeming a little embarrassed.

  “Sabrah!” he exclaimed, and thought to himself, Sabrah didn’t look this good. At least not the Sabrah he’d seen at school. “I didn’t recognize you without- without the uh –”

  “Makeup?”

  “And earrings, and… Yeah. And, your hair. It’s –”

  “Blonde!” she laughed again. “It’s closer to my natural color anyway.”

  “I like it,” he said, strangely warm inside. “Especially the dark, underneath. Very –” He wanted to say sexy but came up instead with, “chic. So what are you doing here?”

  “My little sister plays on your little sister’s team.”

  “I’ve never seen you at any of the games.”

  “You haven’t been to any of the games.”

  Hector thought for a moment and a pang of guilt touched him. “I guess you’re right.”

  “So how’s algebra?” she asked quickly. “That test was pretty tough. I only got a ninety-two.”

  Only a ninety-two, thought Hector dejectedly, and decided to just lay it out there. “I’m flunking.”

  “What?” She seemed genuinely surprised. “But you’re smart. And it’s not that hard.”

  He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Of course it matters, Hector. If I were flunking, I’d die.”

  “I’ll probably just wind up getting killed like my dad, anyway.”

  He heard her quick intake of breath and she didn’t say anything for a moment. Then she said quietly, “I heard your dad got killed in Iraq.”

  He nodded woodenly. “And I’m going into the Army like him so I’ll probably get killed too.”