The Seventh Glitch

by Ronel van Tonder

  Kitty cried out as the silver AMG plummeted down the road.

  Lucy watched until the car was out of sight. Then he glanced at the clock on his HUD and took a deep breath. He slid a hand over his heart, clutching his avatar’s pectoral muscle as he spat on the rain-slicked tar.

  . . .

  The auto-workshop was unevenly lit by the fire that still blazed inside. Surges of red-orange light flickered through the rectangular windows set near the eaves. Lucy crept along the outside of the building, keeping a careful eye on his stealth metre as his back scraped against the rough bricks. He paused by the door and straightened to peek in through a grimy window.

  He still had at least ten minutes to get the fuck out of this rift before Ilyena did — or didn’t — do what she was supposed to.

  But he could spare the few minutes it would take to have a look at the players that offed Kitty’s man in such an unsavoury way. Something about them hadn’t been right, other than the complete failure of their moral compasses. Just a tiny detour. A few minutes at the most. He had to know, despite the growing pressure he felt to reach Fantasia.

  To check on Cherry. To make sure she was still there. There was no rush. She would be there, waiting. She had to be.

  He tried to send a message to her again, but there was still no response. Communication between his other contacts had been severed after the second glitch. Which made it impossible to know what was happening in the other rifts, what was happening with the other seeders. Was he doing this for nothing? Was there any chance he would ever make it to Bang-Bang Island on time?

  Lucy’s hand closed around the handle of the auto workshop’s door, pushing it open with slow, measured movements. Before sliding inside, he hesitated. He’d expected a cry of alarm, but none came.

  Once inside, Lucy again kept to the wall, his eyes darting as he did a quick scan, noting the position of everyone inside. Most of the players were still studying the flames where William had been grilling. All, except one.

  One man stood to the side, thick arms crossed over his chest, face impassive as he studied Lucy. Lucy straightened and ambled over, forcing his eyes to stay glued to the man watching him. It was difficult: the watchers kept drawing his gaze, their zombie-like stares creeping him out.

  “The fuck you want?” the man asked when Lucy was within earshot.

  “Hey.” Lucy lifted both his hands in mock surrender. “I come in peace, mate.”

  “Right.” The man spat out a gobbet of phlegm that landed somewhere beside Lucy’s boot. “Don’t we all, friend. Don’t we all.”

  Lucy let his hands sink down, judging to see if this was met with any kind of suspicion. But the man seemed disinclined to jump him, shoot him, or even say nasty things about his mother.

  “You’s a player?” Lucy asked.

  The man frowned at him. “What, you can’t tell anymore? How long you been in town, friend?”

  “Too long,” Lucy replied, but it was a murmur not meant for the man’s ears. Then, louder: “Dunno. Ran across some NPC’s a while back. Turned out they weren’t NPC’s. So yeah… the distinction ain’t as fucking clear as it used to be.”

  “Well, let me make it real clear for you, friend. Name’s Billy the Kid, and I’m a player.” The man’s arms tightened. “So’s all of them.” He cocked his head toward the dumbstruck players huddling around the fire. “Not the brightest bunch, but hey. Beggars can’t be choosers, right?”

  “Yeah,” Lucy said. “So, what that guy do to you, anyways?”

  “Guy?” Billy the Kid frowned. “What guy?”

  “The one you… you know—” Lucy pointed his chin to the pyre “—torched?”

  “Oh, that guy.” Billy’s mouth turned into an upside down smile. He gave another shrug. “Not sure. But that bunch were adamant he had to die. I don’t try and stop ‘em when they’re being that fucking relentless, you know. Not worth it to me.”

  “I thought you were the team leader?”

  “What?” Billy burst out laughing, his hands releasing their tight grip to slap his thighs. “Nah, man. Got thrown in here after the second glitch. These blokes found me. Kind of saved me, I suppose. So I’m just hanging around for now.”

  “What about the mods? The Arena?” Lucy took a step closer. “How you planning on exiting The Game if you don’t head over there?”

  Billy’s arms were back around his chest, tighter now. He gave his huddling saviours a single glance. When his eyes returned, they flickered uneasily over Lucy’s face as if afraid to settle.

  “When I got here—” Billy interrupted himself with a cough. “I read the bulletin. But that lot said I shouldn’t go.”

  Lucy flung a hand at the group of players. “And you’re gonna listen to them? They’re out of their collective fucking mind. They no doubt went mental when The Game glitched. Or ‘cos they been in-game too long. Why the fuck would you—”

  There was a strange, moaning keen. Lucy twisted, his chin ducking as a player branched off from the group and made its shuffling way toward them.

  “The fuck…” Lucy said.

  Billy the Kid stepped forward, grabbing Lucy’s upper arm. “Don’t stress. That’s Matty. She’s like their spokesperson. You want info, ask her.”

  Matty sauntered toward them, her steps slow but deliberate, as if she was trying to walk through sludge. She stopped a few metres away, narrowing her eyes at Lucy.

  “Who dis den?” she slurred. Her head swung, her eyes fixing unsteadily on Billy. “Who dis?”

  “Didn’t tell me his name, Matty. He wants to know why you torched that player.”

  “Wha…?” The head swung back. Matty took a wavering step forward. “You wanna know? You real’ wanna know dat?”

  Lucy recoiled, halting his avatar with effort. The player’s eyes were unfocused, roving around the region of his head as if she couldn’t see more than a blurred outline of him. Back on terra firma, Lucy’s body was growing tight with apprehension, his heart picking up tempo.

  Slack lips formed words with difficulty. “’Cos we don’t wanna die, das why.”

  “Die?” Lucy managed. “How the hell’s killing players going to stop you dying? Getting to the Arena’s the only way you’ll exit The Game. You stay here—” Lucy stabbed a finger toward the ground “—killing players, then you’ll die for sure, mate.”

  Movement behind the girl shifted Lucy’s eyes up from Matty’s eternally searching gaze. The fire had gone out. The huddling group of players were slowly turning, heads swinging as they searched. They found Matty. They started forward, moving with the same slow deliberation toward Matty and Lucy.

  “Right…” Billy's voice grew softer as he stepped away. “I don’t like the way they looking at you. They looked at that other player like that, just before they fucking torched him. I’ll wait outside.”

  And with that, Billy was out the door.

  Lucy spun back to Matty, but she hadn’t moved. Her lips were working, jaw moving as if she was trying to chew something really big.

  “Why would you think that?” Lucy asked.

  “Too many…” Matty said. “Players. Kill ‘em… den there’s… like… not so much anymore.”

  “What?” Lucy stepped forward, gripping Matty’s arms. “What do you mean?”

  Matty’s head was lolling backwards and forwards. Lucy realised moments later that it was because he was shaking her. He jerked away his hands, eyes darting to the shapes slumping their way closer.

  “Matty. The only way you guys are getting out of here is by going to the Arena. Do you understand me? Can you even fucking understand me?”

  Lucy leaned back. What the fuck was wrong with these players? Why the hell were they moving so slowly?

  “Matty, what happened to you?”

  The player’s head lolled to the side, her eyes sliding away, settling on the floor.

  “Matty?” Lucy’s spine went stiff. “Matty?”

  Matty’s head snapped straight, her gaze focusing suddenly
, intently, on his eyes. Lucy’s throat tightened around his breath, his legs moving under him until his back crashed into something, impeding his unbidden escape.

  “Hectic fucking latency issues,” Matty said, her voice clear, crisp, harsh. “Spose trying to play The Game on a network built in the fucking stone age wasn’t the brightest idea. But hey—” she lifted her hands “—we wanted to know what all the fuss was about. So, it’s kinda simple right. Too many players, too little server resources. Less players, less latency.”

  “You can’t stay here,” Lucy said. He wanted to move closer, to add weight to his words, but his body was rigid and disobedient, his hands gripping the wreckage of Kitty’s Nissan without any intention of letting go.

  “Can’t stay?” Matty laughed. “We can’t fucking do anything.”

  Behind her, some of the players’s movements became slightly more animated.

  “We have like less than a minute of proper bandwidth, then the network freezes up and we’re fucking useless again. You try organising anything—” Matty’s mouth worked for a few seconds, but no sound reached Lucy.

  “—like—” she jerked forward a few centimeters, face contorting.

  “—know—” her hand twitched violently.

  “—don’t—” frustration flashed over her face, gone an instant later.

  “…dat stuff…” Matty finished.

  Her shoulders melted into a slump. She regarded Lucy for more than a minute. Then she blinked.

  “Who dis den?” Matty slurred.

  Lucy slammed the door closed behind him. Outside, Billy the Kid was smoking a cigarette. He flicked it into a puddle of rain, turning to Lucy.

  “Was thinking ‘bout what you said,” Billy said, ignoring the shocked confusion Lucy knew writhed over his face. “’Spose I’m kinda looking out for them, you know? But it’s like…” Billy’s hand toiled in the rain-soaked air “—kinda like looking after a bunch of psychos in a loony bin.”

  “You shouldn’t be here,” Lucy said, when he’d found his voice. “You have to leave.”

  Billy shrugged. “Where else would I go?”

  “The Arena.” Lucy was surprised at the calmness in his voice: he’d felt like shouting the words. “You get there, you find a mod—”

  Billy’s eyes slid away from him as the player turned up the collar of his jacket.

  “Yeah… but… you know? Who’s gonna look after them?”

  Lucy’s hand slid over his wet face, dragging water off his skin as it trailed down. He flicked away the rain, half-spinning way before striding up to Billy.

  “What the fuck’s wrong with you?” Lucy snapped. “You’re going to die.”

  Billy’s serene, thoughtful expression didn’t alter. Instead, he gave Lucy another shrug.

  “Who knows, friend,” Billy said. “Maybe I’m already dead.”

  Lucy stared at him. “But you’re not.”

  “You know that for sure?” Billy asked. “You some sort of fucking expert on determining the state of someone’s mortem?”

  “That doesn’t even make sense.”

  Billy stabbed a finger toward Lucy. “Listen, friend. You don’t get to—”

  But the player was interrupted, rudely and spectacularly, by the fourth glitch.

  . . .

  Kitty’s fingers delved into the foam of Ilyena’s car seat. “Let me the fuck out.”

  Blue hair shimmered as Ilyena glanced at her over her shoulder, the woman’s attention immediately returning to the road.

  “No can do. Promised Lucy I’d get you to your guy.” The girl’s voice became tight. “Sit back, will you? I’m not going to get you killed, honey.”

  A hand closed over Kitty’s. Borris drew her fingers off the seat, pulling her away before releasing her. The man’s gray eyes studied her for a moment. Then he turned to face forward, shaking his head.

  “You got to get out of this rift pronto, Kitty.” Borris slid his hand over Ilyena’s thigh. “You get your guy, and you two make a beeline for the exit, hear me? Things are going to get messed up here.”

  “Messed up?” Kitty demanded. “You mean more messed up than it’s already been? Please, do fucking explain.”

  “We smell a glitch coming,” Ilyena said. “And we’ve got good noses for this sort of thing.”

  “Another glitch?” Kitty strained forward, but a warning glance from Borris made her fall back into her seat. “How do you know?”

  “How long you been teaming up with Lucy?” Borris asked in a deep, rumbling voice.

  Kitty crossed her arms over her chest, turning her face to the smoky window glass.

  “We don’t bite, chick,” Borris said. “How many rifts?”

  “Long enough to think he wouldn’t just jump out of a car and leave me with you two,” Kitty said. “Long enough that I thought some of the stuff he told me might be true.”

  Ilyena snorted. “Naïve much? Lucy’s never has, and never fucking will be, a boy scout.”

  “Then what is he?” Kitty yelled. She surged forward, Ilyena’s hair shuddering as she grabbed hold of the seat again. Even after a determined glare from Borris, Kitty didn’t relent on her position. “Everyone I meet in this fucking place keeps telling me he’s bad. That he’s up to something. So what the hell am I missing, huh? What’s he gone and done that’s so bad?”

  Ilyena was quiet for a moment, but her hands tightened around the steering wheel. She steered the Merc into a drift, its headlights coruscating over the drenched tar. Beside her, Borris began grumbling under his breath.

  “It’s not what he’s done, honey,” Ilyena said. “It’s what he’s going to do.” She glanced over her shoulder at Kitty. “Just sit back, okay? You’re totally fucking up my concentration, getting all up in my face like that.”

  Kitty sank into her seat, her eyes flickering between Borris and Ilyena. Ilyena straightened her arms and pressed her lips to her sleeve.

  “Babe…” Borris began softly, but Ilyena’s snort cut him off.

  “It doesn’t matter.” Ilyena tossed her head, giving Borris a brief, fiery glare before fixing her eyes on the road again. “You ever take two seconds to think why Lucy’s hanging out with you anyways?”

  “He…” Kitty cleared her throat. “He’s helping me find William. Was, anyway. Said he was headed to the Arena because of the glitch and the mods and stuff, so we might as well go together.”

  “He’s not helping you out of the kindness of his heart,” Ilyena said. “It makes him less conspicuous, hanging around with a newb.”

  Kitty lifted her eyebrows, mouth working for a few seconds before she found words.

  “Newb?” she asked quietly. Then, “Less conspicuous?”

  “Yeah, newb,” Borris broke in. He swung around, gripping the back of his headrest and leaning toward Kitty. “One look at you, no one would suspect nothing.”

  Light flooded the cabin of the vehicle, but Kitty couldn’t tear her eyes away from Borris. His mouth turned into an unhappy crescent.

  “You’re the perfect camouflage.” Behind Borris, the light resolved into two bright points. “Means he can move around The Game without—”

  The shrieking crunch of metal slamming into metal silenced Borris.

  “Fuck!” Ilyena yelled.

  The AMG swerved. Kitty’s head cracked against the window, washing her body with electrical tremors. She clawed out wildly, trying to find something to hold to as the car went into a spin.

  “Ilyena! Stop fucking around!” Borris cried out.

  “It’s fighting me,” Ilyena yelled back. “Damn piece of shit wet road is fucking with my grip. I can’t—”

  Kitty was weightless. The car soared through the air, its nose dipping. Kitty couldn’t even scream before they hit the tar below. Her head struck the back of the driver’s seat. More pain erupted over her real-world body, but it was the same as it had been for when she’d bumped her head earlier. Despite the coiling tension in her stomach, and an intense fear that lurked in t
he back of her mind that she was going to die, there was little pain. Too little pain.

  Her avatar crumpled around the driver’s seat, her health bar jerking down with every roll of the car. She found the handle, slammed it back, and was torn from the car by invisible hands. Her avatar tumbled end-over-end, coming to a halt a few seconds later. She scrambled up and spun around, eyes scanning Torque’s architecture to locate Ilyena’s car.

  “No!” The scream left her so suddenly, she couldn’t be sure it was hers.

  Kitty ran. There was nothing she could do. But she couldn’t stop herself trying. Metres down the road, Ilyena’s car rolled, rolled, struck the barrier, and disappeared into the night. Kitty was at the torn-open barricade when the silver AMG struck the water. The electricity pulsing through Kitty’s body had dissipated before the car sunk beneath the midnight waters. She came to a halt centimeters from the cold steel of the barrier, hands over her mouth.

  Panting — not from exertion but from fear — Kitty waited.

  No one emerged.

  There was a flash of light, its source hidden in the depths of the black water. Kitty started, straining forward, her hands clutching at the barrier. For long minutes nothing happened. Had the light been the two doing something to escape the deathtrap of the sinking car? Maybe they’d respawned in town like Will—

  A purple door appeared, suspended five metres above the toiling surface of the water. It glowed faintly, as if its paint held flecks of luminescence. It was beautiful, entrancing, and to date the weirdest fucking thing Kitty had ever seen; and she’d had tea with Cecil.

  The door swung open to reveal the silhouette of a tall, thin, cone-shaped being. It stepped out from the doorway, sliding out over nothing and coming to a halt directly over the patch of water where Ilyena’s car had drowned. The white light streaming from the doorway was so bright, and angled so directly into Kitty’s eyes that making out any features on the being was impossible.