Dream Park

by Larry Niven;Steven Barnes

  “No, Cas. It’s all right. I just don’t think it’s fair that every time you do this to me, everyone ends up thinking I’m the villain.” He turned and dived and was gone beneath the waterfall.

  Griffin swam over to her, although he didn’t try to touch her. She watched Tony go, and some of the vibrancy had gone out of her.

  “I’m sorry,” Griffin said, not knowing what else to say.

  She didn’t look at him. “I’m sorry too.” Her voice was painfully flat. “I think maybe we had better get back to the others.

  Through the rippling vertical sheet of water, the retreating figure of Tony was indistinct and growing smaller with each stroke. Acacia started to speak but the words wouldn’t come at all.

  Griffin followed her out through the thundering turbulence. He had let his mind stray from business. He wasn’t here for fun. And the more he thought about it, the less it seemed that anybody else was, either.

  Chapter Eighteen

  SNAKEBITE CURE

  Griffin was pulling his boots on when Mary-em slapped him on the shoulder . . . gently. That startled him. “Hey, Gary. Did you know this Rice guy? The guard?”

  Griffin didn’t let himself react. “Rice? I dunno. Does he work in Dream Park?”

  “He did. Owen and Margie were telling us about it. Seems he got killed in the Research building a couple of days ago. The whole place was buzzing with it when they were being prepared for insertion this morning.”

  Griffin kept his eyes on his boots. “Hmmm. Maybe I did hear something about it. I’m sorry. Last week was really hectic.” He pulled the laces tight and tied them. “I wasn’t paying much attention to gossip.”

  “Well, I just thought maybe you knew him. Maybe he ate at your restaurant now and then?”

  “It’s likely enough. What happened to him?”

  She jabbed him with the tip of a short strong finger. “I thought maybe you could clear that up, handsome. Ah well, get your pack on. Playtime’s over.” She waddled away whistling tunelessly to herself.

  Well, that solves one problem, Griffin thought. He had considered dropping a comment about Rice’s death into a group discussion, just to see if anyone flinched. For the role of the thief he had too many suspects; and nobody seemed to be acting like a hunted killer. Now the news was out, and he could sit back and watch the results.

  It seemed likely that the killer didn’t know the guard was dead. The Griffin’s prey might well believe that Rice woke up with a headache and a sore neck. That would make it a game, a complex exercise in ingenuity and daring. But murder, that would be different. The Gamer who had chuckled privately about his marvelous coup might now begin to show signs of panic.

  And who was left as suspect? Well, high on the list were Bowan the Black and his lady, Dark Star. Mary-em, S. J., and Tony McWhirter had no apparent alibis for Thursday evening. Neither did Oliver or Gwen. All of the other Gamers were covered, assuming that those who had already been killed out agreed to submit to the voice stress analyzers.

  Unless . . . Acacia? Was she covered for the entire night? Pride be damned, the lady seemed uncommonly interested in the Griffin’s past. And my body. Damn Fortunato! Did he have no sense of tact?

  Come to think of it, what about Kasan Maibang? He was in the Game at that point, and would have to account for his actions like any Gamer.

  And what of the workmen who entered Gaming Area A to change the sets? Could one of them have sneaked away from the others . . . ?

  “Holy mother of mercy,” Griffin whispered bitterly. This was quickly getting out of hand. He would have to have Bobbick check that for him as soon as possible.

  He stood, breathed deeply and shouldered his pack. The line was forming again, but this time he had a new partner: Acacia. She stood next to him, waiting for Chester’s call to move out. She didn’t speak.

  “Hey, lady. Who’s not communicating now?”

  Her smile was faint. “I’m sorry, Gary. Do you mind if I walk with you?”

  “I’d like that. Things aren’t good with the boyfriend, eh?”

  A sigh. “On and off. Off right now. I don’t really feel much like talking. Do you mind? I’d just kind of like to walk with you.” She looked up at him, and for the first time he saw no strength, no assurance in that beautiful face, only confusion and loss.

  So Griffin walked with her as Chester started the column on its way. Together they wound their way into the mountains, silently sharing the sights and moods of the day.

  Together they huddled beneath the branches of a gnarled dead tree as the Foré sent a storm against them. Dora, the spirit of nature, raged in the sky and in the earth, and dark clouds gathered, spitting splintered lightning into the mountains. Protected by the Clerical power of Gwen and Owen Braddon they still shivered in the cold rain. The wind plucked at them, and torn brushwood tumbled through the air at frenzied speed. When lightning struck, the ground trembled ominously, and rocks began to fall.

  It seemed that half the mountain was failing on them: waves of mud, a hailstorm of boulders. They saw the earth open and swallow one of their bearers. before the storm was over Acacia and Griffin were cuddling for warmth, still unspeaking, shivering as they held one another.

  “. . .costing us time!” Henderson muttered, while Mary-em bellowed a song into the storm.

  “I have a magic Wizard’s staff, I think it’s really swell,

  Whatever tries to slow me down, I blow it straight to Hell—”

  They could barely hear her, and nobody would join her. She desisted.

  When at last the rain stopped, and the storm clouds boiled away into vapor, the Gamers crept out and looked anxiously into the sky, shaking water from their hair and bedrolls.

  Acacia kept her eyes on the ground as she straightened herself up. She was barely audible as she answered Chester’s roll call, and Alex watched her, worried.

  Only Kagoiano had been killed, which left eighteen people in the Game: the fifteen players, Lady Janet, Kasan, Maibang and the bearer Kibugonai. As soon as everyone had their breath back, they continued on.

  After another mile of silent companionship, Griffin finally asked, “Does he do this to you often?”

  “I don’t know who’s doing what to who, right now. Hell, maybe I am too bossy. Maybe I do play around too much . . .”

  Alex chose to ignore the implied question. “Come on, Acacia. Yesterday you were telling me that I needed to get more involved in the Game. Okay. So do you, now.”

  “You’re telling me to ignore the fact that the man . . . that someone I love has been hurt through my actions? I can’t do that.”

  “Then go talk to him.”

  “No,” she said softly. “I can’t do that. Not yet. We might be able to talk later. We’ve had this problem before, and it’s always worked itself out. before. Maybe tonight we’ll be able to talk.” She looked up at him with the same pleading eyes he had seen under the waterfall. “I hope you don’t think that I’m a tease, because I really do like you. I just don’t think that you and I should take things any further than they’ve gone.”

  “I can understand that. Really. Listen. Let’s just forget that all of this happened, all right? If you help me believe that I’m a Thief out to steal back precious Cargo, then I’ll help you remember that you’re a beautiful Warrior heading for the fight of her life. How does that sound?”

  She creased her neutral expression into a smile and said nothing.

  The route they traveled was turning green again, but now the trees and bushes seemed stunted, twisted, as if the soil itself contained alien nutrients. No branches bore leaves, but strange golden fruit hung from them, and Griffin wrestled with the temptation to pluck and taste one.

  He couldn’t explain it, but somehow he knew they were being watched by hostile eyes. He found himself thumbing the hilt of his knife and whistling tunelessly, nervously, his eyes roaming the crags above and the occasional gullies below.

  The other Gamers were restless too. Alex caught Ton
y McWhirter looking back at them. Tony’s eyes shied away when they met Griffin’s. He seemed not resentful, but afraid.

  “What do you think, Cas?”

  “I feel it too. Something’s happening. It’ll be soon.” She shivered, and drew her sword, holding it at ready though there was no visible foe.

  Fear. That was what he felt, pure fear, something on a level he couldn’t touch intellectually, something more primitive than reason.

  Up ahead, Chester called the line to a halt. The mass of Gamers grouped around the Lore Master in a ragged semicircle.

  Chester raised his hand for silence. “We all feel it, so I don’t need to tell you that there is danger up ahead. I think we’re nearing Cargo. What form it will take I haven’t a notion. If we have to break the line for combat, let’s see mixed couples. Try to pick someone of a different guild to stand with now. We can’t afford to lose two of any category. Let’s try to spread the damage. All right? Anyone who needs to exchange partners, now’s the time. S. J., up here with me.”

  The youngster whooped and raced up to stand next to the Lore Master. Some of the players scrambled around, but Alex and Acacia stayed together.

  The path narrowed and led through a slit in the rock wall. Owen Braddon, a Cleric, provided a gentle white glow to protect and illumine their way as they passed through a long, roughly triangular tunnel. The tunnel was cool and dry, but there was slippery moss underfoot. When it opened out again, there was a collective sigh of relief.

  They were on the other side of the mountain now, heading into a wooded area filled with clumps of disturbingly twisted trees. They seemed to be on a plateau, and Alex watched Lady Janet point to another range of mountains beyond, and saw Chester smile.

  One tree stood apart from the others, its branches spreading in all directions for a radius of a dozen meters. Looking at it, seeing the unhealthy brown of its mottled limbs and the manner in which its roots crawled snakelike along the ground before burying themselves, Griffin felt fear again.

  Chester stopped the group with a raised hand, and walked toward the tree a few paces. He studied it carefully, then came back. “S. J.,” he said brusquely, “I think that this one is for you. We’ve got Cargo.”

  “Subsonics,” S. J. nodded. “I can feel it. Okay, we’ve been lured and warned. How do we handle it?”

  “I’m not sure. . .” Chester was watching the tree with a practiced eye. “The Cargo won’t be buried under the tree. That would be too much like last time . . .” He watched the branches swaying in the wind. “Wait a minute. The air currents here aren’t strong enough to move the tree that much.”

  “Look at the shadow, Chester.” S. J. pointed.

  The tree’s shadow was behaving even more strangely. It weaved, out of synch with the movements of the tree. The shadow-branches strained out, spectral fingers pointing towards . . .

  “The cairn of rocks.” About twenty meters from the tree stood a pyramidal pile of large stones.

  “S. J., Margie, Eames and Griffin. Come with me. The rest of you, stay back.”

  The quintet of Gamers walked slowly to the pile. Chester halted them, and walked forward and around in a wide circle. At one point he stopped, backed up a bit, then turned and came back to them. “All right. S. J., you and Eames take the far side. Margie, you and Griffin work this side. Let’s get some of these rocks cleared away so we can see what we’ve got.”

  Alex thought he saw a guilty wince crease Chester’s face When S. J. answered with a perky, “Yes, chief!” and bounded around to the far side. Something wrong here . . . but what? Alex bent to the job of clearing the rocks. Margie, as an Engineer, had to help supervise, but at her age she could scarcely be expected to move the small boulders herself.

  He grunted, rolling away a stone. “What do you think, of . . . ” He heaved another aside, “. . . of this Game? I mean, so far?”

  “Heavens. I’ve hardly had a chance to get into it. I’m hoping that I have a chance to rig something really interesting before too much longer.”

  “Don’t you get points for everything you do in the, Game?”

  “Of course, but it’s more fun to do something elaborate. Besides, the Gamers vote for bonus points at the end, so it never hurts to be flashy.”

  Chester’s voice cut in on them. “Don’t worry, Margie. You’ll have plenty of opportunity to show your stuff.”

  “I certainly hope so, dear.” She stepped around toward the other side of the five-foot heap. “S. J.? How are you—”

  Chester moved quickly around to intercept her. “Let’s keep our teams divided until—” Griffin watched, suspicion chewing at his nerves. Margie ignored Chester and walked smoothly around him to the other side. Chester took another step, turning. His legs were crossed when a rock rolled under his feet. As he stumbled, he grabbed at one of the rocks on S. J.’s side—

  From his angle, Griffin saw only a small white snake with red and yellow trim slide out of the pile. Chester’s face went slack and pale as he saw it, and paler still as it expanded its hood and reared back hissing. “Kill it!” Henderson whispered in a ghastly quiet voice, his eyes riveted on the reptile.

  Alex hurled a stone at it. The snake disappeared.

  “Damn.” Chester said it with intense feeling. His face, already pale, had taken on a yellowish cast. “Oh, shit.”

  Margie helped him to his feet. “What is it, dear? The snake didn’t touch you, did it?”

  “ It didn’t need to. Oh no. . . ” He seemed dazed and disoriented. Gina had broken away from the rest of the Gamers and was beside him, steadying him. “Don’t you see?” He spread his arms wide. There was a pale yellow glow all around him. “That was a bidi-taurabo-haza. I’m dead, Margie. I’m walking dead.”

  By now the mass of Gamers had broken ranks and were grouped around him. Acacia pulled Alex to the side. “Did you see what happened? Why the hell didn’t he scan that pile for danger?”

  Griffin lowered his voice. “He knew it was there. He tried to kill S. J. and Eames out of the Game. He got caught himself. Rough justice.”

  “Whew. So Chester finally got caught.” A leashed chuckle. “I wonder how he’ll get out of it?”

  Gwen stood by the rock pile, concentrating with her eyes closed. Her aura glowed around her, then spread to envelope the heap. It too glowed white, fading as Gwen opened her eyes. She glanced around at Chester. “It’s clean now.”

  “Great.” He crooked a finger impatiently at the rest of the group. “All right, let’s see what we have here.” He motioned Gwen and Owen to his side. “Pool your strengths. Do you think you can save me?”

  The two Clerics meshed aura for a few moments, then shook their heads. The older man clasped Chester on the shoulder. “I’m sorry, Ches. It’s too strong for us.”

  The king was dying. Was that check, or mate? Griffin asked, “What does that do to us? Is the Game over?”

  Chester flagged a hand impatiently. “No. Something, that deadly, that struck without warning? And even worse a snake? Not after the hell I raised about the snow vipers, he’s too eager for a clean kill. No . . .” Henderson’s gaze unfocused, and he scratched his side reflectively with a bony thumb. “No, I think our Mr. Lopez has prepared a way out for me. He’s having another of his little jokes.”

  Bright red hair streaked with dust, and one slender arm scraped from wrist to elbow: Gina had moved a good many rocks very quickly. “We’re almost finished, hon.” She picked up her power staff and brushed it off. “What happens next?”

  “We wait and see, Gina.” The Lore Master reached out, an unsteady hand for her, and when she took it he pressed it desperately hard against his cheek.

  He looks like he thinks he’s dying, Griffin thought. He looks like he is dying. How can he let a game do this to him?

  As the rocks were pried loose or rolled away, three wooden boxes surfaced. Faded stencilled letters showed, and the Gamers began to laugh.

  Chester walked over to the others, and, in spite of himself,
began to smile. Still partially covered by pebbles and dirt, there lay three battered cases of Coca-Cola.

  “Well, children, this is our way out,” Chester said. “I hope.” He motioned to Kasan, and the guide jogged up without hesitation.

  “Yes, oh dying bwana?”

  “Are your Cargo gods strong enough to save me from this disease?”

  “Oh, most assuredly, Mr. Henderson. The only real concern is what the gods may want of you in return for your life.”

  Chester seemed only mildly surprised. “You mean the undertaking of the quest is not enough?”

  “Oh, no. You do it more for the sake of other Europeans than you do for us simple island folk.”

  “All right. Scan these boxes, ah . . . Owen and Bowan. We don’t want any more screw ups just yet.”

  The pile glowed white and green, with no hint of red. Chester said, “Open them.”

  Margie produced a slender crowbar and, with an economy of movement that was delightful to the eye, she levered slats from a box. S. J. and Oliver attacked the others.

  Each box contained twenty wasp-waisted bottles of caramel-colored fluid. Warm.

  “All right. We’re going to have to appeal to the gods of Cargo. That means we need to be as high and holy as possible. For this group, I’m afraid that means about three bottles each.”

  Kasan held up his hands. “Ah . . . none for me, bwana. You can count me out of this one.”

  Kibugonai deferred also, as did Lady Janet. “I’m allergic to caffeine,” she said sweetly.

  Chester sighed. “Then it’s four bottles each. Let’s get started.”

  Griffin sat cross-legged next to Acacia in the semicircle. Gwen and Owen were at the hub, the opened boxes of Coca-Cola at their sides.

  “Hear us, Jesus-Manup. Hear us, God-Kilibob. Hear and observe,” they intoned slowly. Gwen opened a bottle and passed it to Owen. Owen gave it to Alan Leigh, Leigh Passed it to Mary-em; it passed down the line until it reached Chester at the far end. Gwen continued opening bottles until all held twelve-ounce containers of lukewarm cola.