The Aftermath

by Jen Alexander

  Well, thanks.

  “But,” he says, “if that does happen, even if I don’t get out in time, they’ll see nothing but an empty room.” At my wondering look, he adds, “Characters are expensive. LanCorp takes every precaution to protect their good name and reputation, so that means taking care of their gamers’ investments.”

  I feel as if he’s slapped me in the face. I’m an investment. The expensive belonging of a girl who lacks the decency to feed me enough food. The inner corners of my eyes burn and my vision blurs. I look away from him, at a dark smudge on the wall. At a centipede racing across the floor.

  At anything other than Declan.

  Taking a deep breath, I slide past him but pause before I try to open the door. I already know I’ll be shocked when I return to the room upstairs. The last thing I want is for it to happen multiple times in the course of a few minutes. “Is it safe?”

  The AcuTab beeps a few times. Then he says, “Now it is.”

  I go through the door and turn around to look at Declan. He leans against the doorway, rubbing his finger around the opening of his water bottle and staring closely at me. I fidget, tuck a stray strand of hair behind my left ear. “You’ll come back as soon as it’s safe?” he asks.

  He knows I will. He knows I want out of this place more than anything. But I nod anyway.

  “Be careful,” he says as I walk slowly up the steps. “And be smart.”

  I clean myself up as much as possible in the privy on the first floor with a jug of water and some harsh soap that burns my chafed skin. I study myself in the grimy, shattered mirror. A red-faced girl with blond hair, green eyes. A recognizable stranger.

  Three hours of rest is all I’m given in the room upstairs before Olivia returns. Much of that I spend staring directly across from me at Ethan’s open-eyed, blank face and fighting off the tremors that still shake my body from the electric shock I received when I came in—apparently what Declan did downstairs to the basement door failed to disable the shock in this Save.

  And the first thing Olivia has me say after she awkwardly manipulates my movements is, “Wake up—wake up. I want to go on a mission.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  We’re going on a rescue mission. From what I’m able to see when Olivia accepts the side quest on her mission screen, our objective is to save two captive Survivors from a flesh-eater den a couple of miles from here. We’re supposed to speak to one of the cannibals—a boy named Reese—to obtain critical information about the final game mission. And we’re supposed to leave him alive or forfeit all points from our last three side quests. My heart sinks as my clan plots the mission. More walking. More senseless violence. And more of me getting knocked around for no good reason.

  Someone is bound to die today, and I hope I’m not on the giving or receiving end.

  Jeremy pulls me aside as soon as I’m done speaking to the group. “I can’t stay for long,” he says quietly. “My family is hosting a party for my grandmother’s birthday at—”

  He stops speaking as Olivia shrugs me out of his grip. She turns my head in his direction, and I stare him down for a moment. Aside from his vacant brown eyes, he looks healthier than I’ve seen him in months. After he accidentally swallowed a mouthful of tainted water when we went on a mission to liberate a bunch of Survivors from the ruins of a showboat, he was nothing but skin and bone for nearly a year.

  “Okay...how much of your time do you plan to grace us with?” Although my voice is steady, I’ve no doubt Olivia’s tone is sharp enough to slice through metal.

  “Two hours.” Jeremy takes a cautious step closer. I press one of my hands to his chest and shake my head from side to side, pursing my lips together. There’s too much force behind my touch, even if Jeremy does tower over me. I wish I could do something—tell him that his grandmother is more important than Olivia and this game. He gives me that shaky, out-of-place smile. “Maybe three or four. Or, I don’t know, maybe I can just cancel. My parents might be upset at first, but they’ll get over it.”

  Olivia maneuvers my lips into a grin and makes me say, “That’s better.”

  My stomach twists into painful knots. I’m not sure if I should feel empathy toward a gamer, but I do. Whoever controls Jeremy is playing the game because he wants friends—he’d basically said as much the night he and April’s gamer were discussing my fate in The Save. And Olivia will take that need and exploit it as much as possible.

  Olivia plays the other gamers, her friends, just as often as she does me. My chest coils so tight I’m afraid it will rupture from the fury and panic coursing through me.

  None of us mean anything to Olivia but entertainment.

  “They’ve just recently moved in. We should get a move on. We’ve only got three hours to finish this mission,” I hear myself say just as I’m drawn into Olivia’s mind.

  We’re in her ten-sided gaming room again, but she’s seated, not standing like usual. She’s also not flicking her hands near as much. The only time she moves is when she swipes her fingers through the empty space in front of her to switch to a different menu or zoom in or out of the screen.

  Despite her lack of motion, I know she has me busy preparing for the side quest inside The Aftermath. It’s still stunning that she’s able to move me about while I’m inside of her head, but then, I’m certain it doesn’t matter what my mind is focused on—Olivia is in full control of my body.

  On one of the screens, I’m pulling a few protein bars and a couple of bottles of water from the storage closet. My arms are mottled from the five days I spent in the blistering sun. It’s so visible on the gigantic displays that I’m terrified she knows where I’ve been, what I planned to do, especially when she grips the armrests of her cushioned white seat and stares intently at the display. But then she moves her hand and changes the screen to look at my inventory. She lingers for a moment, studying the list, before returning to the view of the game.

  Black text flashes across the bottom of the screen. Then twice more. This has never happened before and the words are blinking so rapidly that I’m unable to comprehend what they say until the fourth time.

  The Aftermath

  Mind Experience

  Trial Version 1.2.0

  On-screen, I whisper something to Ethan, brush a strand of his golden hair out of his hazel eyes and touch my lips to his. The entire time I’m doing this, Olivia remains as still and as quiet as a statue. A terrifying thought worms its way into my head. Maybe Olivia doesn’t need to move any longer to control me. Maybe this trial version is a form of the game where her mind alone manipulates my body and words. A new level of power.

  Something new and even more dangerous than before.

  Is Trial Version 1.2.0 what Declan was talking about a few nights ago?

  “Why do you have my things?” a voice demands angrily, launching me back into my own head as my gaze snaps toward April.

  “What in the world are you talking about?”

  She dangles her weapons in my face, and my heart skips a beat. Oh, no. Somehow, in my exhaustion and frustration, I’d forgotten to return the knives to her backpack, where they belonged.

  “This was in your stuff. Why was it there?” she asks.

  Somehow, Olivia makes me narrow my eyes into tight slits. “Why the hell were you going through my bag?” There’s an edge to my voice that catches me off guard. Everything I say is typically dry and emotionless when I’m Olivia’s puppet. But maybe Trial Version 1.2.0 changes all that, too.

  April’s blue eyes don’t even blink as I rush at her. Buckling her belt, she says in the even voice I’m accustomed to, “My knives were gone. I needed them for the raid and—”

  “Here’s a suggestion, April.” Olivia moves my hand so that it locks around April’s throat, and I shove her against the wall so hard I hear the air being knocked out o
f her body. “Stay out of my belongings before you find yourself seeking a new clan. And I guarantee you’ll be nowhere near as lucky.”

  Olivia doesn’t give any further explanation. No denial. No wondering aloud about how April’s knives ended up in my bag in the first place. Olivia offers absolutely nothing but a cold glare before having me loudly declare to everyone else, “That goes for the rest of you, too.”

  A million emotions run through me as I threaten the people around me with words I’d never use. Fear that Olivia will find out where I’ve been and punish me horribly. Fury because no matter how bad I want to make myself shut up, I can’t do it, because she’s stronger than me. She has such a hold on me that I’m lost completely when she wraps her mind around mine.

  And I also feel hope.

  Hope that one day I’ll meet Olivia face-to-face and I can tell her everything I’m dying to say—all the horrible words I’ve learned from her.

  * * *

  The flesh-eater den is underground, inside an enclosed parking garage. Exactly the type of building I hate because it reminds me of the one I woke up in years ago. Part of me feels as if I’m the same as I was then. Still unaware of everything that’s happening. Still trapped. Still the loneliest person in the world. The little bit of safety and camaraderie I’ve allowed myself to feel over the past three years disappeared the moment I realized what my friends are.

  What I am.

  I give the orders as we huddle across the street from the entrance. April and Ethan will storm the cannibals outright, taking the elevator. It’s the perfect distraction. Just enough for Jeremy and I to sneak in, release the captives and snag a bunch of supplies. “It’s foolproof,” I say confidently when I’m done explaining the plan, and everyone else agrees in unison.

  This plan is anything but foolproof.

  It’s stupid. Someone’s going to die. Some poor soul, some character who eats other humans just because she’s linked to a sick, twisted player, is going to lose her life. Or maybe somebody in my own group.

  Possibly even myself. Then Olivia will have to find a new Claudia Virtue.

  Jeremy and I enter through the garage door at the back of the building. It’s already cracked. I lie on the ground, crossing my arms over my chest. Carefully, I roll under the door. The sharp, rusted metal at the bottom scrapes my raw shoulders. I come out on the other side gracefully, but my body is on fire. Jeremy comes through next. When he stands up, there’s a thin cut on the tip of his nose.

  You’re bleeding, I want to tell him, but Olivia has a different idea. “Come on—their gear is this way.” She pushes me onward, farther into the flesh-eater den. It doesn’t have the usual stench of decay and waste. It smells surprisingly clean. Like bleach.

  A scent that terrifies me for some reason.

  But no matter my fears, I continue on. After all, Olivia compels me to. The parking garage is like a junkyard. There’s so much stuff. A few weeks ago, I’d have attributed the random couches and lamps, the gutted car, to years of people seeking shelter here. Now I wonder if moderators strategically placed the scrap throughout the place to make the game more exciting.

  Jeremy and I crouch behind an armchair that’s more stuffing than fabric. He places his hand on my shoulder, and grins down at me. “Have you started your research paper for history?”

  “Shut up and stop breaking character.”

  “Sorry.”

  He’s quiet as we wait for Ethan’s signal to start the mission. My thighs hurt from the position Olivia’s put me in. I try to flush out the pain by thinking about how long Olivia would last, hunkered down like this at such an awkward angle. Or how irritated Jeremy’s gamer’s family must be that he’s shunning his grandmother’s party in favor of playing The Aftermath.

  Ethan’s cue comes loud and clear. Two gunshots. Did he put them into a flesh-eater or just fire at the ceiling? I wish I could close my eyes to it all, but Jeremy and I slink quickly through the piles of junk, heading toward the reason why we’ve come here.

  Two Survivors—a boy and a girl, both of them as young as the boys I met on my trip west—sit unguarded with their backs to either side of a pillar. Metal chains are wrapped around them. The girl glances up when I kneel in front of her, and if her face could show relief, I’ve no doubt it would.

  “You’re here.” She sighs. “I thought we were done for. The last thing I want is to have to restart my treatments with a new character and have my points reset and—”

  My hand claps over her mouth. “I’ll reset your points myself if you don’t keep your mouth shut,” I say, and they both bob their heads. I let go of the girl’s mouth. It takes a minute to pick the locks and two more to unravel the metal—quietly, so that the flesh-eaters don’t hear us.

  When I’m done, the pair hobbles to their feet and Jeremy tells them how to get out of the parking garage. The boy takes off, but the girl lingers behind, staring at me. I wonder if her gamer logged off. Or if there’s a problem with her chip, too. But then she moves toward Jeremy and me.

  “I hope to be as good as you one day,” she says. “There’s a whole gaming board about how your clan won the third main mission in less than half the time of any other clan. And you’ve done so many rescue quests that—”

  Olivia shrugs my shoulders. “Can you stop the hero worship before I decide to chain you back up?”

  The girl takes a step forward, shaking her head. “But—”

  “Why are you still here? Me saving you doesn’t make us friends. Now run along, before I decide to leave you here, after all.”

  The other character clenches her fists and takes another step closer to me, but Jeremy moves in her direction. He shakes his head menacingly. He could kill her with just his hands, I realize. And his character would make him do it if it meant protecting Olivia. His friend.

  Luckily, it doesn’t come to that. Without another word, the girl turns and leaves, making as much noise as possible.

  “What an ungrateful little idiot,” I hear myself say. “Come on—let’s fill our bags so we can finish up here and get out of this dump.”

  This is one of those rare moments when I actually agree with my gamer.

  These cannibals don’t have a supply of packaged food, something that many other flesh-eaters keep. What they do have is a gratuitous amount of ammunition and medicine. Steel and opiates. A stupid reason to risk our lives, especially when the storage closet at the bar is overflowing with weapons. “Jackpot,” I say.

  I shrug the three empty bags I’m carrying off my arms and drop them on the floor in the middle of the stash. I start loading one of them with a group of knives hanging up in a steel closet. I can hear the erratic sound of gunshots echoing through the building. I should be used to this. It shouldn’t bother me.

  It does.

  My fingertips flick across a curved blade that’s caked with blood and something else, and my stomach heaves.

  “Evening, ladies,” a male voice says. I’m up on my feet with the Glock drawn before my brain even registers that Jeremy and I have been found out. The flesh-eater lifts his hands above his head in surrender. “Holy cra— Are you serious? You’re Virtue. The guys in training won’t believe this. I’m getting a chance at Claudia Virtue.”

  There are many things that I’ve not been able to explain about The Aftermath, but I do recall everyone I’ve encountered. And I’ve never met this guy. He’s redheaded and freckled all over and at the most a couple of years older than me.

  “There’s no chance of that happening since I’m about to shoot you, love,” I tease, pulling the Glock’s slide back. It springs forward, and the boy just stares at it.

  “Wow,” he says. “This is epic.”

  I’m scared for so many reasons right now. Someone I swear I’ve never met knows me by name. But then again, hadn’t the female Survivor mentioned how
Olivia was well-known in some type of game boards? Claudia Virtue and Olivia are popular in the gaming community. Maybe that’s all this is, some game-obsessed weirdo who follows my actions online?

  “Good luck with your next job.” I pause for a moment, not moving. Olivia must be looking at a different screen. “Reese. Try to last a little longer than a couple months.”

  What does she mean by job? I don’t ponder on this for long, because Olivia has me inching closer and closer to the boy. She aims for me to kill him. This important part of our mission, the boy that we’re not supposed to harm. I should have known this would happen; Olivia’s itching to lose as many points as possible.

  Just two months in this game and Reese will die today by my hand. I’m livid. His player seems so gleeful and ready to die. Why should Reese be the one who suffers?

  I won’t kill him; this is something I cannot do. So I concentrate. I tune out the noises in the background, and Jeremy’s quiet voice urging me not to do anything that will affect the clan. The scene is too much like the day in the courthouse to my liking, but I have the chance here to change the outcome if I can just control my thoughts.

  I feel my index finger starting to bend.

  Don’t do this. I can’t do this. I can’t kill Reese.

  My fingertip touches the cold concave curve of the trigger.

  You’re not Olivia. You can control yourself because you’re not a killer.

  “Next time, shoot first,” I say.

  Do not kill him, Claudia!

  My fingertip freezes in the most uncomfortable, painful and yet utterly welcome position possible.

  “What the hell?” Olivia makes me ask.

  Jeremy rushes forward. “Claudia, what’s—”

  “Stay back,” Olivia growls.

  I can feel her trying to move my finger. There’s an uncomfortable itchy feeling in the center of my skull, and my head twitches to each side. A big grin stretches across Reese’s face.

  “And you’re glitching. Awesome.”

  “You’re wrong,” I snap. Before I can stop her, Olivia makes me close my other hand around one of the knives. I hurl it across the room and it sinks into Reese’s chest. He crumbles to the floor, still smiling.