Multiplayer

by John C. Brewer

  The man sighed deeply. “We need something to believe you too, son. Do you have any proof of this? Anything at all?”

  “They were having a dress rehearsal in Alanya. What more do you need?”

  “How do you know it wasn’t just a multiplayer match?” the woman asked. “Did they say they were kidnapping the President? Anything like that?”

  Hector shook his head. “Not exactly. But there was this guy in the game, al-Nib. He said it was too great an opportunity to let get away.”

  “Target says that every time they have a sale,” his mother added curtly.

  Then Hector blurted: “Chaz died in the game just before he got killed in real life! That proves –”

  “Nothing,” said the man, cutting him off. He glanced up at his partner. “I think we’re finished here.” Then he looked back at Hector. “You can’t keep doing this, son. To yourself, or to us, or your mother.”

  “But it’s only two weeks –”

  The FBI man stopped him again. “We don’t have time to waste on tips like this. I understand you’re angry about your father.” Hector reeled and tried to interrupt, but the agent held up his hand to stop him. “Hatred of Muslims isn’t evidence of a crime. If it were, every Muslim in the country would be either in jail or deported. There’s too much of this. This has to stop.”

  “But I saw it!” exclaimed Hector. “They were training! I know they were!”

  “I play Omega Wars, too,” said the woman, trying to sound understanding. “It’s very realistic. But what you saw was nothing more than a variation of a hostage game-type. A multiplayer match. There are millions of subscribers to Omega and a lot of things going on. It’s almost like a real world.” She glanced up at Hector’s mother with an accusing glare. “Sometimes I wonder if children should be allowed to play.”

  “My thoughts exactly,” added his mother.

  “I know the difference between real and fake,” Hector countered, feeling desperate. “You have to check it out!”

  “Check it out?” said Agent Russell, and stood up. “MegaSoft isn’t even an American company. So even if I believed you, there wouldn’t be anything I could do other than play the game for myself. And Special Agent Hanson tells me newbs don’t usually last very long.”

  “Well, can’t you tell your boss?” said Hector. “Or call the President?”

  “And tell him what? Give me something concrete and you’ll see some action. Otherwise, you’re wasting the government’s resources.”

  “I’m sorry you had to come here again,” said Hector’s mother, and shot Hector a wicked look. “It won’t happen again. I promise.”

  They walked to the door where the man stopped and looked at Hector. “Have you ever heard the story about the little boy who cried wolf?”

  Hector nodded and stared at the floor. They didn’t believe him. They weren’t even taking him seriously.

  When they had gone, Hector’s mom spun on him with rage boiling in her eyes. “Do you remember what happened to the little boy who cried wolf? Do you?” she snapped, demanding an answer.

  “He got eaten because nobody believed him,” Hector growled.

  “Exactly!”

  “Exactly!” Hector shot back. “There was a wolf. The wolf was real!”

  “There’s no wolf, Hector!” she shrieked. “No wolf. This is all in your head.”

  “This is real,” Hector pleaded. “I’m not making this up. I’m not making any of it up.”

  She put her hands on her hips and glared. Her face was tight as she said in a controlled voice, “We’ll talk after the funeral. You can eat your eggs cold.”

  Ch. 23

  The chapel on the campus of the university where Chaz’s parents taught, had a white steeple that pointed at a brilliant blue sky. Hundreds of people filled the tiny sanctuary until it seemed ready to burst. Chaz’s parents were crying. His grandparents were crying. Numb friends stood staring into space with bleary, red-rimmed eyes and swollen cheeks. Tyra was in shock. There were pictures of Chaz in his baseball uniform. Pictures of him accepting an award for winning the national science fair the year before, playing piano, waterskiing. Such a waste. The body in the coffin didn’t even look like Chaz except for the red hair cradling his head like a scarlet pillow.

  Hector looked down at his pasty, motionless form lying in the casket. This was his first dead body, because when his father had been killed, only pieces were left, and they didn’t open caskets for pieces. The waxy, lifeless thing in the coffin made him queasy. It wasn’t Chaz. It was a shell. Like his father’s vanguard. All that Chaz had been, was gone.

  Hector wondered what it would be like to have dead bodies strewn all over the street with blood everywhere and people screaming, and buildings and cars on fire, and shattered glass glinting in the sun. His father had seen such things. In Baghdad. In Ramadi. In Mosul. Ultimately, it was how he’d died.

  As he stood by Chaz’s coffin, Hector was again struck by his role in Chaz’s death. He’d egged Mal-X into stealing his sniper rifle. He had dragged everybody to Alanya to get it back. He had talked Rada into going with him to the castle that night. It seemed meaningless compared to the life that had been snuffed out. But how could he have known the two were connected?

  Sabrah and Tyra appeared beside him at the casket. Sabrah wasn’t in her Goth makeup, just a bit of eyeliner and some mascara but none of the pale white base. She was dressed in a straight black dress that clung to her willowy form, and Hector found it difficult to take his eyes off her. Tyra seemed smaller and more vulnerable, her features pinched in anguish.

  “He was my best friend,” Sabrah said with a wavering voice. “When my parents split up, I went a little crazy, and he was the only one who stuck by me.” She wiped her eyes, trying to keep from smearing her mascara. Then she smiled and laughed nervously. “I guess I’m still a little crazy.”

  Tyra reached out and touched a lifeless hand. “I only wish I’d known him longer. I feel so strange. There was something between us. Something… It might have been –” She swallowed hard and stroked the deep red locks. “That’s the worst part. I’ll never know.”

  Tyra stayed by his side, as Sabrah pulled Hector away. “Hector, Are you okay? You look pale,” she said softly.

  He almost wept at the question. The burden of what he knew, what he’d done, was too much. He couldn’t keep all this bottled up inside him. “It was my fault Chaz got killed,” he blurted.

  Sabrah pulled back in surprise. “Your fault?” Then she screwed up her face. “This is the same thing you did with your dad.”

  Hector nodded and bit his lip. “I need to tell you something,” he said, and led her into the hallway. They were just going out the door when they ran into Deion. Hector motioned his friend should follow and he led them both to a quiet corner. He took a deep breath and dove in. “You know how I told you guys about Operation Scimitar?”

  Deion nodded. “Yeah, their invasion of Athens.”

  “That’s not it at all. It has nothing to do with Athens. I went to the castle last night. I watched the big rehearsal.” He stopped, afraid to continue, afraid not to. They would think he’d lost it.

  “And,” said Sabrah.

  “And they’re not going to attack Athens.”

  “You drug us over here to tell us that?” Deion exclaimed. “Now? Hector you really –”

  “Would you just shut up Deion? For a second! Please?” Hector closed his eyes and opened them again. He could hear his words. They sounded crazy. But he had to say something. “No. It isn’t something in Omega Wars at all. They were…” He paused again.

  “What?!” Deion and Sabrah said impatiently.

  “They’re going to kidnap the President at the Alanya summit. Or kill him. I don’t know.” There. He’d said it. “They killed Chaz because they thought he found out about it.”

  His friends stared. Sabrah’s mouth dropped a bit, aghast. Seconds ticked by until Deion finally narrowed his eyes and asked, “What are you ta
lking about, man?”

  So, Hector laid out his whole theory. Everything he’d seen or heard in Alanya. Deion kept shaking his head, but Sabrah believed him, at least a little. She wanted him to report it, and was disturbed when he told her the FBI wouldn’t even check it out.

  “You sound like a nut job,” Deion half joked when Hector had finished. “You think the game is real.”

  “This is serious,” Sabrah barked at him. “Stop fooling around.”

  “It’s a game,” said Deion. “You’re making way to much out of it.”

  Hector saw his mother coming their way. “Don’t say a word about this to my mom, okay! I’m already a dead man for that FBI thing.”

  “I think I agree with her,” said Deion, and turned, suddenly plastering on a fake smile. “Oh, hey, Mrs. West.”

  “Hello, Deion,” she said, and nodded politely to Sabrah but didn’t say anything.

  “Mom,” said Hector, “this is Sabrah Moody. She was at the house the other night playing Omega Wars.”

  Hector’s mother did a double-take. Looked at Hector in shock, then back to Sabrah. “I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize you without your –” She paused and pointed at her own face. “You look lovely.”

  Deion grinned eagerly. “You’re right Hector, she is hot. The hair is awesome.”

  Hector felt his face flush. “Dude!” He punched Deion in the arm. He wanted to punch him in the face. Sabrah blushed, too, and she and Hector exchanged an awkward glance.

  “Well, you look very nice,” said Hector’s mom, and Sabrah smiled and thanked her. Then his mom turned back to Hector. “It’s time to go inside.”

  They drifted into the sanctuary with the rest of the mourners and joined Pappous in a middle pew. He recognized Sabrah just fine, and gave her a pat on the back to comfort her on the loss of her dear friend. Hector watched them for a moment, thinking it was odd. They’d only met once, yet there seemed to be some sort of bond.

  The Martins broke down too many times to count during the glowing eulogy of their son’s accomplishments and of a life cut short. Then everyone stood while pall-bearers carried the casket outside and slid it into a hearse which bore his body to the cemetery.

  The day was cloudy, warm and humid as they regrouped at the graveside. Gnats buzzed through the heavy air. Three gravediggers stood nearby on a knoll, watching over where the family sat under a canopy surrounded by hundreds more crowded around. Hector shivered. When the service was finally over, the gravediggers would lower the casket and cover it with dirt and all that would be left of Chaz would be memories and a stone slab. A poor substitute for a living, breathing person.

  The thought made Hector nauseous and he pushed his way out of the crowd. The last thing he wanted was to puke on Chaz’s casket. He held his stomach and staggered through the tombstones. When he looked back up, the three men were standing nearby, watching him. Not gravediggers. They were dressed casually and had no shovels. Two of them were dark skinned and the other was a white man with a thick beard, long hair, and piercing blue eyes. For an instant, their eyes met and a chill passed through Hector. Then, the men turned quickly and walked away.

  The funeral and reception at the country club were solemn. Sabrah stayed at Hector’s side, avoiding their friends who sat drinking cokes and nibbling on Swedish meatballs. Instead, they wandered slowly around the tent, hearing the adults console Chaz’s parents or speak to each other in hushed tones. Hector must have heard the phrase, “Just awful,” a hundred times. An understatement, he thought to himself.

  Some of them talked about the car that hit Chaz. It had been stolen from a neighboring state, and found abandoned in another part of town. Everyone was asking why it was in their neighborhood. Hector knew, but no one would believe him. No one, except Sabrah.

  As uncomfortable as the funeral had been, the ride home was worse. Painfully silent. Tense. His mom dropped off Sabrah, but still didn’t speak as they headed for home. If she still had a problem with Sabrah, she needed to get over it. Or was she just upset about Chaz?

  Mom pulled into their driveway, still not speaking. But when she shut off the motor, she stared straight ahead as an accusation flew from her mouth. “You just had to blab your little theory at Chaz’s funeral!”

  Deion! Hector thought, his face flushing hot. That loudmouthed, little douche! Hector decided to play dumb. “What are you talking about?”

  “That Chaz was murdered by characters in your game. With everything his parents must be going through, to pile that rubbish on top of it. You should be ashamed. What if someone had come up to me at your father’s funeral and told us one of his own men had killed him on purpose.”

  He was going to kill Deion. Kill him! “I just mentioned it to De –”

  “You need help, Hector,” his mom spat. “I think it’s time to go back to the shr –”

  “I’m doing what the doctor said!”

  “We’re all grieving, Hector, but you’ve taken it to a new level. You need to stop playing Omega Wars. Permanently. I’m going to cancel your subscription and make an appointment with a doctor.”

  “But Mom!” Hector shrieked. “What about the President? And Chaz?”

  She swung her legs out of the car, then turned halfway back. “I love you, son.” she said, before climbing out, and leaving Hector by himself.

  Ch. 24

  “Can I go up to the school?” Hector said. His speech was slurred and he wiped a drop of spittle from the corner of his mouth.

  His mother looked at him with deep concern in her eyes. “Are you going to be okay to get there and back? Do you need me to drive you?”

  Hector nodded. “No, no, no. It’s a lot better today. Really. Please? I haven’t been anywhere in three days. I got to get out. I think it’d make me feel better.”

  She nodded. “Okay. But take your cell phone with you. If you need anything, just call.” She smiled feebly. “See? You’re feeling better already.”

  “Thanks,” he said when she gave him his cell phone back. She’d taken it from him after the funeral as part of his punishment. “What a load of crap,” he muttered, as the door closed behind him. “Another week of that garbage and I’ll be dead!” When he was sure his mother could no longer see him, he dropped the stagger.

  It was a dreary day but not raining. The weather was turning from late summer to early fall and dry leaves skittered across the street. But the temperature was comfortable and he jogged to Sabrah’s house without stopping.

  “Where have you been?” she blurted, when he reached the door.

  “This house is huge!” Hector exclaimed, peeking inside to a foyer that rose three stories and was dominated by an enormous, crystal chandelier. The outside was impressive, but didn’t give a clue to its massive size.

  “Forget the house. You don’t answer your phone. You won’t return my texts. No Facebook!”

  Hector stumbled in the door, his mouth still agape. He told Sabrah why he’d disappeared from the world while she showed him the mansion’s seventy-two inch plasma screen in the game room and flat panel TVs in all the others. Pool-sized bathtubs. Acres of marble in the kitchen. Mahogany paneling in the dining room where a real Van Gogh hung on the wall. And an actual Ferrari in the four-car garage. Sabrah even let him sit in the driver’s seat, as he completed the story of his purgatory of the last few days.

  Sabrah made a face, sitting beside him in the passenger’s seat. “I took those anti-depressants once. They turned me into a zombie.”

  “Me, too,” Hector said with satisfaction. “Which is why I’m not taking them this time. I’m only pretending to.”

  “That’s what I do!” Sabrah squealed. “They still think I’m on them.” She rolled her eyes. “Parents spend half your life telling you not to take drugs, then as soon as they screw your life up, they turn you into a junkie.”

  Hector smiled and looked at Sabrah. She was makeup free and lovely. He climbed out of the car then helped her out. “Good to see you,” he said, and hugged her
neck.

  Her parents weren’t home – which would have sent his mother into hysterics – so they ended up in the game room nibbling on cookies. “I guess you’re off Omega Wars then. Is Izaak still… alive?”

  Hector gave her a clever smirk. “Actually I still have a few weeks left.”

  “I thought you said your mom –”

  “She did,” Hector blurted proudly. “But she had to get me to help her do it. All I did was cancel payments. The month was already paid for so I’ve got a little time left.”

  “So what are we supposed to do?”

  “The FBI guy said they needed evidence before they’d look into it. So, I’ve got to find it. I owe it to Chaz. It’s my fault he’s dead.” Sabrah started to protest but Hector waved her off. “No!” he said firmly. “It is. And we’re going to make sure his death wasn’t for nothing. The summit is nine days away. My account runs out the day before that. We have plenty of time.”

  “Just use my credit card to make a new account,” said Sabrah.

  “You have a credit card?”

  “Yeah, don’t you?”

  Hector frowned, feeling particularly deprived. “Uh, no. But it wouldn’t help anyway. Omega Wars ties characters to accounts. You can swap equipment in-game but not characters. Keeps you from building up characters and selling them. I’d have to start with a brand new character.” Sabrah winced. They both knew that wasn’t going to work.

  “Could you use my card to credit on your own account? Or a prepaid debit card?”

  Hector frowned again and shook his head. “My mom changed the password and won’t tell me what the new one is.”

  “Your mom knows how to change the password? I don’t even think my mom knows how to turn the game console on.”

  “No, she doesn’t,” said Hector bitterly. “Helen showed her. I can’t stand that fat bi –”

  “Hector!” Sabrah snapped, then softened and nodded. “Yeah, that’s pretty bitchy.”