The transceiver blipped as Griffin closed and pocketed it. Griffin steepled his hands over his nose and breathe deeply. From where he stood with his back against a vine-shrouded tree, he could hear sounds of merriment from the campfire. The voices were tired but happy, and a he listened, Mary-em began to croak out a song.
“It was good enough for Odin,
Though that croakin’ was forebodin’,
Till at last the Giants rode in;
Still it’s good enough for me!”
He wanted to smile but couldn’t. Business first, Alex. Business. There’s a killer and thief to find before you can relax—
“Gimme that old time religion,
Gimme that old time religion,
Gimme that old time religion,
It’s good enough for me!
Montezuma liked to start out
Rites by carrying a part out
That would really tear your heart out,
And it’s good enough for me.”
No, he couldn’t relax then, either. There would be paperwork and conferences. Then court appearances and depositions. Then a complete redesigning of the security procedures at R&D. Then—
He shook his head. Keep this up and you’ll start thinking that all you do is work your ass off, go home and crash, back to work, sleep for a few hours, work . . .
Well?
“Hi,” Acacia said, materializing out of the dark. The beige denim safari outfit she wore was appropriately stained by the day’s activities, and she looked tired. But tired or not, she had pinned back her flow of dark hair, and it framed her face beautifully.
“Hi, yourself.” A smile wormed its effortless way onto his mouth, and he moved a half-step closer to her. “What brings you out here?”
She gave a mischievous giggle. “Well, Tony wanted to sing, and I got bored. And a little lonely.”
He perked an ear in the direction of the fire, and picked, up McWhirter’s thin but pleasing tenor beneath Mary-em’s roar:
“—Old time religion,
It’s good enough for me!
It was good enough for Kali;
Though embracing her is folly,
She’d be quite an armful, golly!
So it’s good enough for me.”
“What about Eames? Did I notice some knowing smiles passing between you two?”
“That was for last night.” She leaned against the tree, shoulder to shoulder with him, and stretched luxuriously. “It was no big thing, really, mostly talk. He’s not as much my type as I thought he was.”
“What is your type?”
“Aha. That is what they used to call a loaded question.”
“What do they call it now?”
“An unnecessary one, given that I’m out here in the Woods with you.” She smiled uncertainly, searching his face. “I don’t know about you, Gary.”
“What don’t you know?”
“Well, I can’t help getting the feeling that you’d rather watch than participate. You like to stand aside and observe.”
He cleared his throat. “Is there anything wrong with that?”
“No, not really. It’s just that there’s something about you that I like, and I get the feeling that you’re not getting as much out of the Game as you might be.”
“What am I missing out on? I mean, I’m having a ball.”
She frowned at her boot-toes. “You’ve got this attitude and I can’t put my finger on it. You go through the moves enthusiastically, even, but there’s something businesslike about it. As though you’re afraid to have too much fun. bet you take your job very seriously, don’t you?”
“Oh, I guess so. I see what you’re driving at. But why would someone who’s afraid to have fun work at Dream Park?” He ran his finger softly along the side of her neck “Or join a Gaming party?”
The voices floated to them:
“It was good enough for Dagon,
A conservative old pagan
Who still votes for Ronald Reagan,
And it’s—”
“Since I don’t know anything about you, I guess it’s all right if I make a few wild speculations. It seems to me that Cowles Industries is a perfect place for someone who like their fun vicariously. How often do you actually use the facilities?”
“Not very often,” he admitted, “but . . .”
“And I bet you’ve got some job with a killing amount responsibility, don’t you?”
“Oh . . . hell, maybe so. Running a restaurant is much work as you want to make it,” he quoted Gary Tegner, too woodenly. (Then he remembered answering “Come to think of it, so is being a Security Chief.”)
There was a flicker of disbelief in Acacia’s eyes, quickly hidden. “I would have figured you for a different job. And actually, I wouldn’t think that coming on this expedition was your idea, either. You don’t really fit in Gary. Did your doctor tell you do it for your health or what?”
“Tell me,” he said, putting his arms around her and locking his fingers together “If I promise to try to and have some fun from now on, what do I get?”
She answered him.
“You know,” she said, pulling just far enough away for her eyes to focus on him, “there was even a bit of business in that kiss.”
“Well, maybe I mean business.”
“I just bet you do.” She kissed him again, longer this time, and hotter. When she broke away, her questions were temporarily subdued. She ran her hands along his chest, feeling the hard muscle and the questions flared again. “You know,” she said in a near-whisper, don’t really add up, Gary, but I like you.”
“Why?”
“Because you ask too many questions, that’s why. And damn few answers. Which means that behind the strong silent man routine the is the kind of little boy I like.” She snuggled up close to him. “How long has it been since you told that little boy that he’s worked enough, and it’s all right to play for awhile?”
He shrugged uncomfortably. About ten minutes. Damn! “I guess that’s why I’m here. Maybe it has been awhile.” He tried to kiss her again, but she turned her head slightly to one side so that he grazed her cheek.
“Gary, you use kisses to get away, not to get closer. You don’t have to say anything to me, but ask yourself how long it’s been. And if you feel like talking to me, I mean really talking, you know where to find me.” She kissed hire with a strangely subdued energy, and disengaged his hands from her back, and walked back toward the campfire.
Griffin watched her go with mixed emotions: relief at being free of her prying, and a little confusion at the sadness he felt. She had no right to pry into his mind or life. He wasn’t there for her pleasure, or even his own
“It was good enough for Isis,
She will help us in a crisis,
And she’s never raised her prices,
So she’s good enough for me!”
Quietly, hands in pockets, he joined the Gamers at the campfire. There was a lull in the singing, and the pork and beans were dished out. Eames came balancing two plates. He carried one of them to the small honey-blond girl who had been the captive of the Foré, and sat down beside her. Alex had seen her dossier. Her name was Janet Kimball and like Harvey “Kasan Maibang” Wayland, she was actress participating for straight points and a small percentage.
She was perched on a rock, listening intently to Alan Leigh. Her ragged clothes were covered with a black cloak from Bowan’s pack, but even in her state of disrepair she seemed totally at ease.
“—wanted to see how the other half lives,” Leigh saying, “so I signed up as an actor in Muhammad Porter’s Slaver Game. “Your objective is to free your fifty purchased tribesmen from the frigate Tante Marie before it reaches market in New Orleans, and without causing the crew to drop their cargo overboard—”
“I watched the tape. Yes, I remember you now. Brrr.”
Leigh nodded complacently. “I made a good slaver. Suave, evil, ready to sell my own mother if she’d been the right color .
. . Come to that, you’d fetch a fine price anywhere, my dear.” He allowed his gaze to linger on Janet’s exquisitely shaped legs with obvious relish. For that moment Alan Leigh looked evil, and Janet looked like she liked it. Then he broke the spell by consuming a fat forkful of savory legumes. It blurred his voice somewhat. “So who exactly are you supposed to be, Janet?”
“Lady Janet, if you don’t mind. I’m a British noblewoman, captured by foul natives on my way to Australia.”
“Were you ravished?”
“No, “ she said wistfully. “I rather think they hoped I was a virgin.”
“No chance of that, huh?” Eames put in.
“I wouldn’t have put it quite like that, Mr. Eames . . . ah! There’s one of my brave rescuers now!”
Griffin nodded acknowledgement. He squatted in front of her with a plate of beans balanced in his lap. “You’re well worth the saving, too.” She curtsied where she sat, and he went on. “So you’re going to lead us to the dreaded Foré, eh?”
“Yes. Just don’t mention their name during the Game unless you’re ready to die. I can, because they gave me permission. I supposedly spent three weeks among them, while they waited to sacrifice me under a new moon.” She turned to Leigh. “I find barbaric customs very stimulating.”
Leigh leaned close to her. “Madam, beneath this civilized and cultured exterior you will find the heart of an absolute beast.”
She seemed fascinated. “Teeth and all?”
“Especially teeth. Perhaps you’d like to see my horn sometime . . .”
“Warriors are a lot more basic and earthy than wizards,” Eames sniffed. “I’d think you’d be a little more attracted to my type.”
“Yes, you’d think so, wouldn’t you?” Leigh said warmly. He and Janet giggled without malice.
Eames was growing increasingly frustrated. “Listen . . . Janet, would you like to go for a walk?”
“Love to,” she said, gazing into Alan’s eyes. “Shall we?” And the two of them left the campfire.
Eames stared after them, biting his lip. “I’ll be damned. Who’d think she’d prefer a faggot to a real man?”
Griffin politely said nothing. Eames looked at him, challenging. “What do you think?”
“I think she’s a Gaming groupie. She went after Alan because he has more I.F.G.S. points than you do.” might even be true, Alex thought.
Eames grunted, somewhat mollified. “Yeah, that must be it.” He gave Griffin a “just-us-men” smile. “You know you can’t ever figure women out.”
“No, I guess you can’t.” Griffin directed his attention mightily to his rapidly cooling food. To Eames’ verbal sallies he merely grunted his replies. The warrior lost interest and grumbled away into the woods.
Alex let his mind following an earlier track. Leigh has a good many Experience points. Leigh played a previous Game in Gaming Area A. And if Leigh noticed, some time last night, that Eames was safely occupied with Acacia, then . . . but would he count on Acacia keeping Eames occupied?
Mary-em bounced down next to him. “How ya, Gary?
“Doing pretty good. Feel a little tired, I guess.”
“Big strong man like you?” she cackled. “I would have thought you’d wear out the lot of us.”
“ I just haven’t slept well for the past couple of days, “ he said truthfully. “That always tears me up.”
“Well, get some rest tonight, you’ll need it soon enough.”
“How so? These things don’t seem so tiring. Nobody’s fallen over yet.”
“And the real fireworks probably start tomorrow. Lopez has just been testing us. By tomorrow night the last of the replacements will be in, and that’s when we’ll get hit with everything in the book.”
“But why should that be so tiring? It’s just a game.
She looked at him incredulously. “Take a look around you, sonny. Do these people look like they’ve been playing a game?“
He did look around. And Mary-em was right. Fatigue was etched into every face, dark rings under eyes and noticeable trembling in fingers and hands. He focused for the first time on the amount of touching and cuddling going on around him. Tony and Acacia cuddling in the shadows, Bowan and Dark Star touching each other with almost embarrassing intimacy, and Chester snuggled with Gina in their double sleeping bag. Oliver and Gwen had retreated from the campfire altogether.
It was a little like a battlefield, he realised. The highly charged sexual atmosphere was no mere tease, and anything but casual. The immersion into a fantasy world was total; the exhaustion was real. The real need to reach out and touch . . .
Where did it all fit together? And how did it relate to him, and his problem? He looked at Mary-em, who was waiting patiently for his response. There was no electricity in her face now, but there was poise, and purpose. How did she fit in?
“You’re right. It doesn’t feel like a game. But it sure isn’t real life. So what is it?”
“It’s not that simple, Gary,” she said, and he realise with a start that he had never before heard her speak softly. “It’s a little different for everyone.” Her eyes twinkled at him, and he was startled again to find himself considering her attractive. “Mostly, it’s just fun. What you bring is what you get, sonny. Now, me, I do some pretty wild things all the time. Some of these folks never do anything more exciting than talk to a filing computer. So they come for straight out adventure. Some come for the Game challenge. You know, chess with living pawns. Puzzles. Some come for the people. I mean, when you’re into Gaming as deep as this, sometimes it gets hard to find friends who don’t think you’re from Mars. That’s all too simple, really. It’s little bits of all of the above, different for every Gamer.” She chucked him under the chin. “That’s what makes it fun. So think about it. I think you’ll make hell of a Gamer when you figure out where you fit in.”
She waddled off to her sleeping bag and zipped herself halfway in. The bag rustled, and she started handing clothing out, making a neat pile by her head. Griffin felt sudden and inexplicable wave of affection for her; he fought an urge to hug her goodnight. Instead, he deposited his dish in a grimy pile and found his own backpack.
He was within touching distance of half a dozen sleeping Gamers. No aspiring killer would try anything with so many potential witnesses nearby. The Griffin unrolled his superlight, heat-reflective sleeping sack, wishing for moment that it was plain cotton. He slipped into it and too, a final look around. All was quiet, all was peaceful, except the half-formed questions that raced through his mind in unending circles, like dozens of tiny dachshunds chasing their tails.
With a supreme effort of will he pushed the questions out of his head and settled down to rest. He heard crickets in the bushes. He was wondering whether those chirps were live, or just more Dream Park magic, when his mind fuzzed out in sleep.
Chapter Seventeen
THE LAST REPLACEMENTS
The dream was too vivid for comfort. It began with the Nibek chasing Griffin through the halls of R&D, and ended with the creature cornering him in the first floor lounge. A spear materialized in his hand, and Alex threw it into the monster’s head. It screamed thunderously and collapsed to the floor, melting into the form of Albert Rice, trussed and gagged and sitting dead by the drink dispenser.
“I’m sorry. . .” Griffin found himself saying automatically. A small crowd of people materialized, tsking the still form of the guard. A little gray-haired lady waved a disapproving finger at Alex. “He may not have been well balanced at the end, but he was a fine, upright boy,” she said.
Someone in a snowy-white doctor’s smock spoke with Bobbick’s voice. “I knew the lad well, and he wouldn’t take this sitting down . . .”
And just before the morning mists dissolved into the sounds and smells of breakfast, a third voice whispered, “Believe me. He was for real until he got his back up against it. Believe me . . .”
“Hey there, sleepy-head!” Acacia grinned at him, squatting to look into his face. Griffi
n parted gummy eyelids and groaned aloud. “What’s the matter, tough guy?”
“That’s simple, Cas. This sleeping bag doesn’t go over too well with my water-bed body.”
“Well, how would some bacon and eggs go?”
“Fresh eggs?”
“Absolutely. Kibugonai showed up this morning toting a cache of fresh eggs, bread, and orange juice.”
“Me for cargo.” The last niggling speculations about his dream were swept away by the sudden hollow in his belly. “What time is it? How long till Game time?”
“About an hour. Come on and eat. Kasan says that there’ll be a place to bathe up ahead.” She sniffed under her arms, dubiously. “Frankly, I need it.” She bounded up and made for the next bedroll, where S. J. lay curled into a compact lump.
Griffin yawned. He split the velcro seal and rolled out of the bag. His legs felt a little sore, and he massaged life into them with the practiced edges of his thumbs. Breathing deeply and slowly, he stretched out to touch his toes and twisted to each side, feeling the circulation return to the muscles in his back. He finished the warm-up with a few slow push-ups, then got to his feet.
The mood of the group was highly charged again. A night’s sleep had refueled their fantasy engines. Alex remembered the nuzzling going on yesterday evening, and wondered whether sleep had much to do with it.
Henderson was holding court against the bole of a tree munching a sweet roll while balancing a plate piled high with eggs and fresh bread. Kagoiano served Alex his breakfast, and the security man ambled over towards Chester to eavesdrop.
“What did you think of last night’s Opposition?” Bowan asked between bites of egg.
“The natives?”
“Typical orcs,” was Chester’s answer. It’s really shame nobody has figured a more realistic way to conduct personal combat. Dream Park is too worried about injuries and lawsuits. So no rough stuff—”
“Orcs?” Griffin asked.
Henderson was brusk. “Generic term. The old role playing games were overrun with these little beasties out of Lord of the Rings. They were ridiculously easy to kill. Now it’s a nickname for swordfodder in general. Okay?” Griffin nodded mutely. “Now, Lady Janet is going to lead us as far as she can. She was blindfolded much of the time, but believes she was kept on the water somewhere. Is that right?”
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