He’s far too close, and too undressed, for my liking.
He finally releases me but doesn’t step aside. “I’m...intrigued. Virtue, your head is...” It feels as if he’s holding his words high above me, suspending them from a thread that’s impossible for me to reach. I grit my teeth. Waiting for him to speak is almost as frustrating as not being able to control what I say. His face twitches and something close to a smile bursts across it.
“Your head is different from anything I’ve ever seen, glitch or no glitch. It’s like your chip is on send and receive. And I can’t help but want to know everything going on inside your mind—it keeps me up at night.”
That’s it?
There’s some part of me that wishes he’d worded that differently. That he’d said thinking about me, not my head, keeps him up at night. But then I realize I’m probably not processing my thoughts clearly—I’m dehydrated from all the game play and I’m hungry, too. I swallow several times, trying to get rid of my sudden dry mouth. “What do you mean by send and receive?”
His eyebrows pull together as if he’s remembering something. At last, he says, “Characters and gamers both have the chip. Gamers are on send, characters set to receive. Your chip— Well, it’s like you’re on both.” He presses his thumb and forefinger together and flicks them back and forth as he would a light switch. “Your gamer can send you a signal, but from what you just said, you’re able to send one back. That’s not normal, Virtue.
“You’re everything LanCorp is afraid of,” he adds, almost as if he’s talking to himself. “If they even thought this was possible. Smart. Resilient. Self-aware. And now you can block your girl out? Put you in a gaming room and you’d be able to play her.”
“What do you mean?”
He backs away from me.
“Well?” I ask.
“Aren’t you listening, Virtue? If your chip is sending and receiving information, there’s little stopping you from controlling your gamer. You go in a gaming room where you can see what she’s seeing, you could do the same thing she does with you.”
I forget how to breathe. When I finally glance up, Declan is examining my face.
“You okay?”
I shrug as indifferently as possible and say, “Yes.” He doesn’t seem to notice the tremor in my voice. He’s too busy pacing from corner to corner, warning me about the dangers of coming to see him if I’m not ready to leave for a search.
“Don’t block her. Don’t ruin your chance to get out of this game because you want revenge,” he says, a little too sharply. He gives me a wild, desperate look. “Suck it up, Virtue. Let her do with you what she will.”
I agree with him. But as he continues to speak, my mind zeroes in on what he said before. Put you in a gaming room where you can see what she’s seeing and you could play her.
He doesn’t realize that I don’t need a special room to see what Olivia’s doing. That just about any hour of the day, I can slip into her head and know if she’s asleep or awake. I can witness her conversations and, in doing so, determine whether she’s livid or appeased.
“Let me out,” I say. “I’d better get back before she returns.” Or before I run into Jeremy. My head is such a mess right now, I’m not in the mood to talk, much less concoct a lie.
He disables the save point, then slides the rectangular controller into the pocket of his black pants. “You’re going to get tired of hearing this, Virtue, but be careful. You’re much too valuable to me— I don’t want you doing anything stupid that’ll ruin everything.”
I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of someone showing concern for me. Declan is the first person in three years who’s been genuinely worried about my safety, not the well-being of a costly toy. I appreciate that, even if his motivation is selfish.
“I’ll stay out of trouble.”
When he closes the door, my shoulders sag. I drag my feet up the concrete steps slowly. I don’t want to go back into The Save. Doing so will only give me more time to think, to let the questions eating away at my brain repeat on a loop until I do something irresponsible, like testing Declan’s theory on my gamer.
I go in the bar and lean my forehead against the unstable wooden door as I secure the locks. I try to shove the thoughts of manipulating Olivia out of my head. They won’t budge.
Frustrated, I turn around to walk upstairs. And I collide into a soft human wall. I swallow down a gasp, a scream. Fight the urge to stumble backward. Calmly, I brush my short blond hair out of my face. I lift my chin until my eyes meet blank hazel ones.
Ethan.
No, Landon.
I’m done for.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“You’re on early,” Ethan says. I’m suddenly aware of the shotgun cradled between his hands. I shift my gaze between him and it. This can’t be happening to me. Not now. I wish there were emotion on his face. Hell, right about now I’d be happy with natural body language. Then I could gauge whether or not he’s figured me out.
Slow down, I silently beg my heart. I have to keep calm, make sure he doesn’t suspect I’m not Olivia. I need to get myself out of this situation without getting shot in the face.
“No, I’m not,” I reply, my voice steady.
“But you said you weren’t coming on until later.”
“Things change.”
Blinking, he tightens his hold on his weapon. Does Landon plan to make Ethan hurt me? A month ago that thought would never have crossed my mind, but now I’m wary. Of him and the others. All the people I believed to be my friends.
Ethan slides forward. Now I’m completely pinned between him and the closed door. I draw myself to my full height, mostly because my body seizes up from panic, and even then I’m so short and he’s so tall, it barely makes any difference. I curl my fingers into my palms. He’s weak on his right side. Several months ago he was cut on a raid—a deep X-shaped wound on his back, under his shoulder.
If this goes badly, I’m prepared to use his injury to my advantage, to hit him with all my might. I won’t kill him, though.
Not in a million years, no matter who he really is. I’ve grown too attached.
“No, things don’t change—not for you, at least. You never log on spontaneously.”
Has he not noticed how random Olivia’s been since the last raid? She’s a terrifying combination of calculating and impulsive.
“I needed to come here,” I say. “To...get away from my mother.”
Because that’s what The Aftermath is to Olivia. An escape. She lives in a perfect world, but the only time she’s happy is when she pretends to be me. When she pretends she’s submerged in chaos and violence.
From what I saw the last time I visited her mind, she spends a large portion of her time away from the game teetering on the edge of insanity.
“Olivia, you never—”
“And that’s another thing,” I say through gnashed teeth. I try to keep my face under control, lifeless, but it’s hard. “Remember our rule not to break? You’re doing it right now, so stop. Stop bringing Olivia into this game.”
I expect him to argue. Or call me out as being an imposter—but he drops his chin. Then, to my relief, he relaxes his grip on the shotgun. “You’re right, if your dad had the mod files reviewed, we’d be...” He shudders. “Look, I’m sorry, Claudia. Do you want to go on a side quest with me?”
Another mission. Everything is about raids or quests to these people. The monotony and violence of it all makes me sick to my stomach, but I guess that’s the purpose of the game. Raid and kill flesh-eaters. Save the Survivors, the good guys. Take over a building and make it our new shelter. I push Ethan backward and walk away from him. Keeping my back turned, I try to catch my breath. After it slows to normal, I look over my shoulder at him.
“I have to log off for a little w
hile to do schoolwork,” I lie. This is not how Olivia would respond—she’s always game for good, bloody chaos, for any opportunity to be with him, with Landon—but leaving the bar to go on a raid right now is impossible. If she logs back in and finds me anywhere other than the armchair inside The Save, I’m most certainly finished.
“But you just said—”
“Let’s play a game, Landon,” I say. “You take me for my word and stop questioning me. I have no issue with kicking you out of this clan if you can’t do that. Or maybe I’ll just go off on my own.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“Try me. In case you haven’t noticed, there are small children with better game strategy than you.”
There’s a sharp pang in the middle of my chest because my words are so cutting. But he doesn’t say anything else. He cares too much about Olivia to risk making a big issue out of this. Even if I have to stay in The Aftermath for another six months, or ten more years, I’ll never get used to knowing that Ethan, the boy I believed to be my closest companion, isn’t the least bit concerned about me.
He only cares about Olivia.
“You know I won’t.”
“Then stop asking me questions. I’ll be back later, like I said before, and then we’ll go—” I fight to hide my shudder “—on a mission.”
He nods and turns his attention to the basement door. I nearly lunge forward to stop him from opening it, but I steady myself, clear my throat. Ethan looks over his shoulder at me, and I grab his hand, pulling him all the way around. I bring his lips down to mine. Our kiss is long and robotic, and I can taste the vanilla from an energy bar on his lips. But I use this moment as an opportunity to coax him into moving away from the door. I try not to let my thoughts wander to the boy on the other side of it. When Ethan draws away, he’s smiling. How can his gamer enjoy something that another boy is actually experiencing?
“I’m going to check inventory before we go,” he says.
My eyes dart over to the area behind the bar where our water bottles are stored, and I nod. “That’s probably a good idea.”
“Promise you’ll be back?”
“Of course. And, Ethan? Don’t forget what I said. No more breaking. It’s—” I pause. “It’s not good for us to do it.”
My heart beats wildly as we kiss again and I force myself to return the gesture. I go back to The Save and resume my spot in the chair, but there’s a suffocating weight holding me down. All it would take for everything to unravel into a million frayed pieces is for Ethan to bring up what just happened to Olivia.
I’ve a feeling she’d kill me if she were to find out.
* * *
When Olivia returns a few hours later, she’s more relaxed than I’ve seen her in days. Almost as if she’s heavily medicated. I slip into her mind for the briefest moment and discover the reason why: she’s playing the old version of the game, the one where she’s standing and flicking her hands every other second.
I pause for a moment before spiraling back into my own mind. I could try to take over right here. Right now. I could make her do something small—bend a finger, move her hand a fraction more in one direction. I could try to make her hit herself. But then I admonish myself. She believes all is well at the moment. If I try to control her and she realizes it, she won’t let go of me until she finds answers. If I’m ever going to get out of The Aftermath alive, I’ll have to be more disciplined than she is, control my impulses.
I’m back in the bar, inside my own head, just in time to accept an invitation from Ethan to go on a side quest. Wonderful. But he’s not as interested in the mission to find and return a lost Survivor kid to her clan as he is in talking.
After we find our objective’s location on Olivia’s game map, we skulk through the alleyways, his body so close to mine our arms rub. At first we compare inventory. We discuss how many weapons we have and what we hope to find on our next few raids. But then he stops me beneath a faded blue awning. Behind him is a neon sign for a blues club, dangling from its hinges. It looks as though it’s about to fall and shatter into a million pieces.
“Oli—Claudia—I can’t do this much longer.”
“Do what?”
“The game. And I know you hate it when I break character, but this is important. I don’t want you to come back one day and see that I’m just missing without an explanation.”
Olivia spins me around so abruptly that I nearly slam into a brick building. I rest my back against it so that Ethan and I are face-to-face. “What do you mean by missing?”
“My parents are making me quit.”
“Don’t joke with me like that.”
“No...I swear. They don’t want me playing The Aftermath or any of the other games.”
This is the first time I’ve heard about other games. How many are there? Are they all like The Aftermath? Suddenly I’m so cold, I feel as if I’m standing naked beneath a deluge of freezing rain instead of a fiery, relentless sun.
“Your parents are idiots,” she makes me say.
He reaches out to cup my face, but I knock his hand aside. I’m back to limited expression again, but I can only imagine Olivia’s face right now. Not too pleasant.
“When?” I demand.
He shrugs. The movement is so slight I wouldn’t be able to see it if I weren’t standing so close to him in the alley. “Mom contacted The Aftermath’s chief mod and requested that all my game footage be pulled so they can recount my points. Sympathizers or not, they still have influence.”
“So by the end of next month?” I ask, pulling back from him.
“Yes. They plan to challenge the results. Then they’ll practically stand over me while I do the final missions.”
“There’s got to be some way to slow them down. There’s always...something.” But she’s unable to make me finish the sentence. This is exactly what her mom warned her about. I wonder if she’s thinking that, too.
“What will you do with—” She pauses. Flicks my hand out until I’m touching Ethan’s forearm. “Landon, what will happen after you’re finished? What are your parents planning to do with this character?”
This character? It sounds as if she’s speaking about an object instead of a human being. I feel the muscles in my neck tighten and my toes curl.
Ethan is not a thing; he’s a person.
“They’ll do everything they can, but he’s got too many flaws. Too many injuries.” Landon doesn’t mention that Olivia just broke character. Instead, he makes Ethan pull my hands into his. “You know better than anyone how the contract with LanCorp works. If he’s not picked up within a few days of my leaving the game—”
“He’ll go up for deletion,” I say, and he nods.
I ping back into Olivia’s room. She’s on the floor with her legs folded over each other. Her pale fingers are clasped together, and she’s rubbing them up and down over her nose and between her eyes.
“Funny, your mom and dad swear they’re character advocates, but they’re willing to have yours deleted so you won’t have to be around me. Make sure you tell them what wonderful people they are.”
“Olivia...”
“My father can talk to them,” she pleads, her childish voice broken and raspy. She twists her fingers through each other as she waits for a response, and I wait, too, staring impatiently through her eyes at the screen. Ethan smiles down at her. His face is as sad as an emotionless shell can be.
“Your father won’t even let me talk to you.”
“I don’t want to play this game without you.”
“Then don’t do it. Let’s get our points. Be normal. We’ll...figure out another way to see each other.”
She shakes her head. “No. I can’t. I’ve already told you that. This treatment is the only thing that helps me. I have to stay until everything is right with
me.” She stands up. Moves her hands around wildly until I’ve grabbed Ethan’s fingers in mine and we’re walking again. I untangle from her head. The rush into my own is cold and dark.
“Do whatever your mom and dad tell you to do, but don’t use my feelings to try and make me do the same. If they make you complete the final main missions, then you’ll be doing it without me,” I say. “If we can’t see each other, then I guess it wasn’t meant to work out.”
Months ago—hell, a few weeks ago—I thought Ethan and I had something special. But now I know the slight touches, the teasing, was simply Olivia and Landon. Their star-crossed relationship played out between two gaunt teenagers inside a game.
It’s sick and twisted and, in a way, romantic.
It makes me want to hurl.
But I put aside my disgust and complete the mission. We find the missing Survivor girl hiding under a table at a restaurant with no windows and half its roof missing. Ethan and I help her back to her clan’s home base—a tornado shelter located under a garage floor. Then, just as I think Olivia’s over trying to lose points, she makes me rob their clan.
Ethan and I score an entire backpack full of energy bars and beef sticks, as well as a few bottles of water. He holds both of our guns on them while I bag their belongings. Right in front of their faces. They’re stone-faced and skinnier than we are. They remind me of the two boys fifteen miles from here with the bright blue bag.
These people will probably die soon, too.
“Good looking out for your own kind,” one of the boys says. He must be referring to all of us being Survivors. Olivia has me wiggle a packet of jerky in front of the boy’s face, taunting him. “Hope she chokes to death on that,” he adds.
Tilting my head to the side, I grin at him. “I doubt it. She’s pretty good at surviving. And he’s—” I gesture over my shoulder at Ethan “—about to be deleted. Learn better game play and you won’t be captured or robbed.”
The Aftermath Page 13
