The Aftermath

by Jen Alexander

  “I’m sorry, Virtue,” he says. “For making you think I’d go traitor on you.”

  We’re standing out in the open, where any player can see us, and he chooses to apologize? Crazy, strange, gorgeous Declan. I feel a little surge of joy in my chest, though. “No harm done,” I say. My words are muffled because his finger is still over my mouth.

  He smiles and moves a little closer to me. I notice how flushed his cheeks are, how strands of black hair cling to the sweat on his forehead. How heavily he’s breathing. “Do you still want to know about deletion?”

  “Yes.”

  He drops his hands to his side. “It’s not pretty.”

  “Nothing about LanCorp is,” I point out. “You’ve already said he’ll die. I can’t imagine death being anything but ugly. And I’ve seen so many people die it’s pathetic. I can handle whatever you tell me.”

  “Virtue...”

  “Don’t Virtue me. Don’t lie to me, either. You never break your promises, remember?”

  His smile wavers, then fades completely into a frown. He’s usually so calm under pressure, and everything about today has caught me off guard. He places his hands on either side of my shoulders, bends until we’re eye level.

  “Why do you need to know this?”

  “I’m not immune like you are, Declan. Every moment I’m with you and not out of this game I’m at risk of my gamer finding out what I can do. Don’t tell me you don’t think she’ll have me deleted in a heartbeat?”

  But in the back of my mind, I’m curious. Maybe I am invulnerable to deletion. If Olivia tries to do away with me by severing my connection, would the result be the same as Declan’s signal jammer? Back at the mall he was so sure I’d go idle with the rest of the characters, but it didn’t happen. What other LanCorp technology do my head and the chip inside it challenge?

  “I’ll protect you from her,” he says, interrupting my thoughts. “She’s not going to hurt you.”

  “Please tell me the truth.”

  He entwines his fingers with mine. Static rushes through my arm, and I suppress a gasp. He doesn’t seem to notice as he leads me away from the building. The sun is setting. Over the dry vegetation springing up out of the sidewalk and street and the broken buildings, it’s lovely. Heartbreakingly beautiful.

  I shiver and he looks down at me. “I am being honest, Virtue. Nobody will hurt you when you’re with me.”

  For some reason, this time, I believe him.

  Flesh-eaters don’t frequent this area. I’ve paid close attention to Olivia’s map, and the only names nearby are highlighted in green. Still, I fumble around to make sure my gun and knife are easily accessible.

  We don’t go far—to a child’s playground a few blocks from the shelter. It’s a pointless landmark in this game. Only an idiot would use it for shelter and the few younger children in The Aftermath who aren’t quickly killed by flesh-eaters are too busy running for their lives to find any enjoyment in it.

  Yet, here I am, next to Declan, on corroded swings that creak as they sway back and forth.

  “Reminds me of being a kid,” he says, squinting up at the sky.

  “Deletion,” I prompt him.

  He looks down at a patch of dirt and rakes his boot through it. The corners of his mouth lift just as his shoulders sag. “They’ll take him to a deletion facility.”

  “A deletion facility. Like a special place just to kill characters?” I ask. He nods, and I almost shout, “Why not just shoot them or electrocute them to death?”

  “Who knows? That’s just the way LanCorp does it.”

  “And once the character reaches the deletion facility?”

  “They’re operated on by a physician.”

  I listen to the squeaking of the swing and close my eyes. Deletion is done by a doctor. In an actual facility using a method that requires physical contact. I suddenly see myself, lying inside a coffin, unconscious, with my face swollen and dozens of clear tubes running into my body. I swallow hard.

  “And they do something to their head, huh?”

  He nods. “Total deactivation. They break the link between character and gamer or player. Fry the Cerebrum Chip.” He reaches over and taps the top of my head. I duck, push his hand away. “The character is brain-dead in thirty seconds, a minute max. LanCorp doesn’t want their technology duplicated, but deletion doesn’t happen that often. Usually characters are picked up by contractors after their gamer’s done with treatment or decides to buy another character. Then they’re put back into the games as villains with hired workers playing them. Like the flesh-eaters. In order to be deleted, you have to be so damaged, the effort and cost to fix you isn’t worth it.”

  The image of me in the machine evaporates from my mind. It’s replaced by another memory—the woman who reminded me of Mia in the courthouse grabbing at her head and screaming for me to get something out of her. I tighten my grip on the gritty metal links. “But what if a character finishes LanCorp’s sham of a Rehabilitation? What then?”

  When he shoots me a look out of the corner of his eye, I immediately know that no character has ever gotten through Rehabilitation and it’s very likely that no character ever will. I breathe in deeply to calm myself. “And you’re okay working for someone who does this to other humans? Who offers people jobs to play flesh-eaters?” I demand.

  “Virtue—”

  But he doesn’t finish. We just sit there, swaying, people watching. Character watching. Only a few pass by, and none of them pay us any attention. Someday, any of these people might regain control of themselves only minutes before their brain explodes.

  “Do you think they feel what’s happening when they’re being deleted? The characters, I mean?” I ask.

  He exhales sharply. “Yes, sometimes.”

  “Then...can it be stopped?” When he raises one of his eyebrows, I continue, “Can the games be destroyed and deletion be stopped? If there’s the technology to jam several chip signals, isn’t there something that could—I don’t know—free a mass of characters at once?”

  And then what? Return their minds to the right place just to make them fight to survive?

  Declan looks down at the ground. “It’s possible.” Then he snorts. “One of LanCorp’s rivals is probably already on it.”

  “I hope they are.” And I hope it’s in time to save Ethan. I don’t realize I say his name aloud until Declan clears his throat. I glance over in time to see him roll his eyes. “What?”

  “Why do you care what happens to him?”

  “Because he’s a boy who might die because some asshole has the right to just discard him.” Because there’s an enormous part of me that’s emotionally attached to Ethan’s voice and his kind face.

  And to Landon’s personality.

  Declan stops swinging and shakes his head to each side. “He could be completely unlikable, you know. The real Ethan could be a killer or neurotic. He could kick puppies.”

  “I could be any of those things, too,” I point out.

  He inches closer. The swing makes a grating noise that causes me to shudder. “You’re none of those things.”

  “I’ve killed,” I say. “Many times.”

  “You killed because somebody else made you do it. You’re not her, Virtue.” But even he doesn’t sound entirely convinced.

  “It still feels like me, especially when it’s my finger pulling the trigger.” I release a choked noise from the back of my throat. “I can try all I want to pretend like it’s not, but it doesn’t change anything.”

  He tilts his head to the side and stares at me for a few seconds. I feel like I’m a bug under a magnifying glass, and I bite my lip and look away.

  “What?” I ask.

  “You’re going to tear yourself to pieces with all that guilt, Virtue. Do me a favor and just
relax for a minute. Here, close your eyes.”

  “Why do I—”

  “Just do it. Close them and go someplace else. Anywhere but The Aftermath.”

  I grumble, but then I do it. I squeeze my eyes shut. And the moment that I do, a memory hits me.

  I’m standing on a ledge, between two windows, with my back pressed against a limestone building. This isn’t anywhere I’ve ever been inside The Aftermath, but it’s familiar. I can taste the fear. Feel my damp palms slide against the glass on either side of me. Hear my heart pounding in my ears. There is nothing but havoc all around me—the other buildings are up in flames, and people are fighting in the streets ten stories below me.

  I slide open one of the windows and climb in carefully. Just when I think I’m safe, I grab a gun propped against the wall. It’s a sniper rifle, though I’m unsure how I know that. Leaning against the window, I lift the gun and look through the telescopic sight. Then I fire all ten rounds perfectly at people on the street.

  Reload.

  Repeat.

  Reload.

  Chest shot, head shot, chest.

  When I finish, I close the window. The breeze ruffles my hair—it’s twice as long as I ever remember it being, and dark brown. I push it back from my face. Tuck it behind my right ear. I realize there’s not a chunk of it missing. But when I open my mouth to mention this, I’m unable to speak. And when I try to touch my skin again, my hand won’t move.

  “See, I told you I could handle it,” Olivia had made me say. “I’m the only one who can play her.”

  When my eyes fly open, I discover Declan leaning over me. He grips the seat of my swing, holding it still, his hands brushing my legs. “You look terrified—I thought I told you not to think of the game.”

  But I didn’t, I want to say. I thought of a different game where I was a different type of gamer. And worst of all, I’m not sure where the memory came from or if I’m simply imagining even more violence.

  And the craziest thing of all is that I hope that’s it—that it’s my imagination, that I’m going off the deep end; that there isn’t more blood on my hands.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  We barely make it to the bar in time. Declan questions me the entire way home about what I saw when I closed my eyes, but I run too fast to reply. I go as fast as my legs will carry me, as fast as I can without my heart exploding. I run away from the images of burning buildings and bodies hitting the ground. And I don’t care that he’s left without answers. It’ll give him something to think about while I’m away. Approximately ten minutes after I position myself the way Olivia left me, in the chair by the door, she logs in. She’s early—hadn’t she told Jeremy’s gamer she wouldn’t return until tomorrow morning? Next time I leave, I’ll check in with her more often, I promise myself. Next time, I won’t let my emotions or Declan cloud my judgment.

  And next time he tells me to think of something other than The Aftermath, I won’t listen, because every time I close my eyes now, I see people falling from the bullets I shoot at them.

  During the following day and a half, I don’t regain control of myself for longer than an hour or two. But then Olivia has me corner Ethan while he’s checking his inventory behind the bar. “I’m going back to Calwas until tomorrow afternoon,” I tell him. “You’ll stay away with me, right?”

  As I wait for him to answer, my breath hitches. Besides Olivia, Ethan’s my only real obstacle when it comes to navigating The Aftermath on my own. He’s the sole member of my clan who keeps track of Olivia’s schedule, the only one who will ask questions if I up and disappear. If they’re both gone, there’s so much I can accomplish. She forces me to rest my forearms on the counter. I cross my fingers for luck, but then I realize what I’m doing—controlling my body while Olivia’s playing me. I pray she doesn’t notice.

  “Yes,” Ethan agrees. I wish he’d question why she’s going there—I’m curious—but at least she’s releasing me for twenty-four hours. Once she’s gone, I’ll use the glitch to my advantage; go inside her mind to figure out what’s so important she’ll abandon the game for a day. Ethan counts the last of his jerky and water. Then we return to The Save, hands clasped and smiling at each other.

  “See you tomorrow,” I say. “Four o clock.”

  “I’ll be here.”

  “And, Ethan,” she makes me say. “I—I’ll miss you.”

  Then I feel the hold on my head disappear. I sink in and out of her head for the next hour and a half, waiting for something to indicate she has no plan to come back to The Aftermath. At last, I drop in on her and her mother; they’re boarding a small silver jet. It’s parked on the roof of one of the skyscrapers. As Olivia sits down and takes out her tablet, the pilot’s voice booms over a loudspeaker.

  “Thank you for traveling Province Air today. Please fasten your safety belts and review the travel data sent to your AcuTabs. Today’s trip to Calwas—1,749 miles—will be concluded in approximately three hours and nineteen minutes.”

  Nearly two thousand miles in just over three hours. The thought of going just about anywhere I could imagine in the time it takes me to walk five or six miles leaves me breathless with envy.

  Olivia turns away from her mother. As the aircraft takes off, she closes her eyes, cutting off my view of her world.

  Not that it matters to me right now.

  The rest of this day and a portion of tomorrow belong to me.

  Jeremy and April are on a side quest helping another clan defend their base from flesh-eaters. Since they left an hour ago, I have to rush if I’m to make it out of the building before they return. I gather my things from the corner. Glock. Ammunition. Knife. Backpack. Although they’re just as threadbare, I change into a different T-shirt and another pair of torn jeans after I wash off in the bathroom. I don’t have many clothes, and often Olivia makes me wear the same ones for days at a time, but at least these are clean. I stuff the dirty garments in my bag—I’ll wash them the best I can when Declan and I come home—then I leave The Save.

  The back of my hand brushes Ethan’s shoulder as I drift past him.

  Declan is already waiting for me. He sits at a table in the bar, sipping water from his canteen. When he sees me, he grins. So much time alone in the cellar is probably making him half-senile because he looks pleased. “Looks like you’re all mine until tomorrow.”

  He sounds much too excited for my liking, and I glare over my shoulder at him as I drop a few bottles of water into my bag. “Guess you were listening in.” I don’t bother pointing out how he’s breaking his own rule by being so blatantly out in the open. What if one of the other members of my clan returns early? Or all of them at once—then what will we do?

  Then again, what does it matter if they do barge in on us? He has an electroshock gun that will prevent them from moving more than two steps in his direction.

  I shiver, dropping a plastic bottle to the floor. It rolls across the hardwood, but Declan stops it with the toe of his shoe. I bend over to pick it up, pausing for several seconds when our eyes lock.

  “I hear just about everything that goes on in here,” he says, breaking the silence.

  Way to make me uncomfortable.

  “Before we go anywhere, we’ve got to move him,” he says, pointing up toward The Save. He gestures downstairs. “To the cellar.”

  “But why—”

  He waggles his eyebrows suggestively. “The other gamers won’t ask any questions if you two disappear together.”

  Olivia and Landon. Sleeping together. And using us, their characters, to do it. My mouth quivers, and I feel as if there’s acid in my stomach. Declan tucks his finger under my chin. “Come on, Virtue.”

  Ethan’s body is heavier than I imagined. I carry the trunk end of him. Every five or six steps, I stumble, bumping his arms into the wall or against the handrail
.

  “Try not to kill him, Virtue,” Declan teases.

  I glare down at him as he wiggles the doorknob to his hideout. “Then next time do this by yourself.”

  We lay Ethan on the floor, on top of a sleeping bag. Before we leave, Declan reactivates the save point. He holds his AcuTab high in the air, punching the hologram passcode deliberately, like he’s mocking me. I grind my teeth back and forth. Link my thumbs together behind my back so I won’t smash his device to the floor. “You’ll cry the whole time if you’re not sure he’s safe.” I can’t help but notice the growl in his voice.

  “I rarely cry,” I say, but he rolls his eyes.

  “You’ve been self-aware for less than a month. You rarely do anything.”

  I bite my tongue until I taste blood—it’s the only thing keeping me from telling him off. Or hitting him. After a minute, I close my eyes and give him a strained smile. “Where to?”

  When he asks me to take him to all the places where I’ve encountered flesh-eaters since becoming sentient, I don’t flinch. I’ll personally escort him to each and every flesh-eater within a twenty-mile radius if it gets me out of this game any faster. I lead him to the closest location first—the courthouse where I met him. The electricity is no longer working. The building is shrouded in darkness and sticky heat. I carry the Glock. Declan doesn’t seem to be worried about what’s lurking behind the doors or wooden stands, since he only totes his AcuTab, using it as a guiding light.

  “What exactly is the point of this?” I ask as we creep past the elevator on the third floor. A fly lands on the back of my neck. I swat at it, and a vivid picture shoves itself into my head. It’s as if the double doors swing open and the object in Declan’s hands flies at me all over again. The center of my skull throbs just imagining it.

  He shrugs. “Maybe we’ll find some type of clue. Something he left behind.”

  Wouldn’t he have noticed that here before since he’s been here more than once?

  “How do you know he’s not dead? Hell, he could’ve been the boy I killed last week,” I say. I can’t mistake the way Declan’s shoulders instantly tense up. “His name was Reese. Is that your assignment’s name?”