“Someone has to come eventually,” I said, trying to comfort her. “We just have to wait it out.”
But even as I made the suggestion, I wondered. I mean, yeah, someone would come eventually. But everyone was working like crazy to meet their deadlines, and they expected us to be playing the game with our guide for a week—they’d have no idea he’d ditched us. And then there was the time-compression thing. How long had we actually been gone? And how long in game time would it take for them to discover our real-life disappearance?
My throat felt tight and I tried to force back the tears that had welled in my eyes. All this time I had been dying to play this game. But now that I was here, in the middle of it? I kind of wanted to go home.
Especially once I felt the first drops of rain. And especially, especially when the sky opened up a moment later, pounding us with a downpour.
“This isn’t happening!” I cried, vainly attempting to cover my head with my hands as thunder crashed above us, followed by a streak of lightning slashing across the sky.
Real thunder.
Real lightning.
At least it felt like it. Though I couldn’t be sure of anything anymore.
“Holy buckets of giant’s tears!” Lilli exclaimed, looking up in dismay. She was already drenched to the bone. “We need to find shelter—now!”
My gaze darted around the forest, assessing our options. Could we make it back to the rat house in time, maybe? Though I didn’t want to get trapped in there if the rat dragon respawned and the door locked again. There had to be something else, somewhere.…
Suddenly, my eyes caught a flash of something red, just beyond the trees. “Look!” I yelled, hoping Lilli could hear me over the raging storm. “I think that’s a house!”
“Great! Let’s go!”
We ran through the dense woods in the direction of the structure, trying not to trip on an upended root or get scraped by the thick brush. Finally, we reached what turned out to be a small cottage, nestled in a cozy clearing. Lilli pushed open the front door, which thankfully wasn’t locked, and we dived inside, slamming the door behind us.
“Wow,” I said, swiping back my sopping-wet hair. “That’s some storm.”
“Is it real?” Lilli asked, peering out the window.
“Did it feel real?”
She groaned. “I don’t even know anymore.” She looked down at her arm. “At least the cut’s stopped bleeding.”
I took a look at the wound. Lilli was right—it looked way better. Almost as if it was healing before my very eyes. Guess that answered the question of whether or not it was a game wound. But it still didn’t explain why it had hurt so much in real life.
I turned to check out the cottage we’d entered. Unlike the rest of the medieval-themed game, here everything seemed surprisingly modern and relatively new. There was a refrigerator, a microwave, and a sink. And two doors that led off to a small bedroom and bathroom with actual indoor plumbing. (Which I quickly used after Lilli went in to clean up her arm—who knew when I’d find another flush toilet out here?)
“This must be one of the game maker’s cottages I read about,” I said. I yanked open the refrigerator and grabbed two granola bars and two yogurts, tossing one of each to my sister. She reluctantly caught them and slid down into a seat at the table. She still looked stressed out and miserable.
“Game maker’s cottages?” she asked in a wobbly voice.
“Yeah. You know. Like how forest rangers have huts in the national parks?” I explained. “It’s a way to have staff on hand in case any questers get separated from their guides or get into trouble.” I sighed. “Unfortunately I don’t think they’re manned until the park officially opens.”
“Of course not.”
I rapped my fingers on the table, thinking hard. “But maybe there’s a radio?” I suggested. “Or a cell phone even? Some way to reach Uncle Jack or Hiro so they can come get us?”
A flicker of hope crossed my sister’s face. “Maybe! Let’s look!”
Abandoning our snacks, we split up and went through the house, opening drawers and closets, searching for some kind of communication device. A moment later my sister let out a cheer. I turned to see her waving a walkie-talkie in the air.
“Sweet!” I cried, climbing over the couch to reach her faster. “See if you can get someone to reply.”
She held the walkie-talkie to her mouth. “Um, is anyone there?” she asked. “Mayday! Mayday! We need help. Now!”
Lilli released the walkie-talkie’s button, putting her ear to the speaker. Waiting for someone—anyone—to respond to her desperate plea.
But there was no response. She tried again. “Mayday! Mayday! Anyone? Anyone out there at all?”
Silence. She turned the walkie-talkie over and popped off the back. No batteries.
“Technology,” she muttered, tossing it across the coffee table. She slumped down onto the couch, scrubbing her face with her hands.
“At least we’re inside,” I pointed out, trying to stay optimistic. “And out of the game itself—or as much as we can be. We’re not going to get attacked by monsters in here. And, bonus, we won’t get struck by lightning.”
“Woo-hoo,” Lilli said sarcastically. “Way to glass-half-full it, dude.”
“Look, I don’t like this, either, okay? But freaking out doesn’t help. And it’s going to be okay. Everyone knows we’re in here. They’re eventually going to come looking for us. We just have to chill for now.”
“I guess.” Lilli lifted her feet onto the couch, stretching her hands over her head. “At least my arm is better,” she said. “It hardly hurts at all now.”
In fact, at this point, it barely looked as if there had ever been a wound at all.
“I’m glad,” I said, shoving her feet off the couch so I could sit beside her. It was then that I noticed the old TV in the corner. Or, more importantly, what was sitting under the old TV. My eyes lit up. “Well, hello, beautiful!”
Lilli followed my pointing finger, groaning as her eyes fell upon the ancient video-game console sitting under the television. An Atari 2600—one of the very first original game systems designed for home use. Way before even the first Nintendo.
“Of course,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Only you would want to play video games while trapped in a video game.”
I snorted. “Come on. What else are we going to do?”
“Fine. You play. I’ll watch.” She pulled her legs up, crisscross-applesauce-style, as I got down to the floor to retrieve the dusty console and grab a controller. No, joystick, I corrected myself. That’s what they used to call them. Unlike normal game controllers, which are mostly made up of a bunch of buttons, this one had a large stick that you moved around.
“So what are you going to play?” Lilli asked, sounding curious despite herself.
I rummaged through the selection of games. Then I grinned, holding up a cartridge. “The very first Mario game,” I pronounced. “Donkey Kong!”
“Wait, that’s a Mario game?” my sister asked as I inserted the cartridge into the console and the game loaded up on the TV screen.
“Yeah. See? There’s Mario,” I said, pointing to the bottom of the screen. Of course he didn’t look much like the Mario we know now. Just a little blob in a red suit and hat. Only the telltale mustache gave him away. “He’s trying to rescue his girlfriend.”
“Princess Peach,” Lilli concluded.
“Actually this is pre–Princess Peach,” I told her, as I maneuvered Mario down the path, then up a ladder as Donkey Kong threw barrels down at me from above. “His girlfriend in this is named Pauline.”
“How do you know all this?” Lilli asked, shaking her head. “Seriously, Ian. I think you were born in the wrong decade.”
I shrugged. Normally I got annoyed when people said things like that. Especially when the jerks at school had started calling me “Eight-Bit Ian” after I presented my social studies project last year on the history of video g
ames. Which was a totally legit topic, and really interesting, too. I learned all about how games went from simple lines and circles to the virtual and augmented reality stuff we have today. I had called it “From Pong to Pokémon,” and I was so excited to present it to class.
Until I did.
Let’s just say it didn’t exactly level me up in coolness with my peers.
Except… Ikumi. She liked the old games, too. In fact, for all I knew this was her Atari. Maybe she came here to play when she was bored.
I stole a glance out the window. If only she’d show up now. Maybe she’d know how to find the gate… or at least call for help.
“Wow,” Lilli remarked as I skillfully maneuvered Mario up the ladder and across the screen, timing my jumps so as not to get hit by Donkey Kong’s barrels. This was one of the games Mom had downloaded onto her emulator, so I’d had a lot of practice. And it didn’t take long to reach the top and get up close and personal with an angry Kong, who grabbed the princess and dragged her to the next level. “You’re so good.”
“At obsolete video games? Yes. I’m the best,” I replied. “Too bad those epic skills are utterly useless here.” My mind suddenly flashed back to my poor performance with the rat dragon in the basement, and I sighed.
“What’s wrong?” Lilli asked. “Besides the obvious.”
“Nothing.” I kept my eyes on the game, only to walk right into a fireball. I groaned. “It’s stupid.”
“Come on. Talk to me, Lord Wildhammer.”
I leaned back against the couch, setting the joystick down in front of me. “I don’t know. I just thought… well, that I’d be better at this, that’s all.”
“This?”
I waved a hand. “This game. I’ve been looking forward to playing ever since they first announced they were building it. And I assumed, I guess, that I’d rock it when I got here. I mean, it’s a video game. And video games are totally my thing. But this…” I trailed off.
Lilli gave me a pitying look. “Well, this game is a lot different than a regular video game. You need… different skills.”
I made a face. She was trying not to hurt my feelings, but I knew what she meant. Unlike regular video games where you could sit in a chair drinking Coke all day, here you had to be physically fit. The best players would be strong IRL. Agile. With tons of energy.
Like Lilli.
In fact, this game was totally Lilli’s jam, whether she wanted to admit it or not. She was the athlete in the family. She rode horses. She did gymnastics. She played soccer. And she was a total daredevil, too. She’d even gone with our dad to Costa Rica one summer and spent a week zip-lining and rock climbing all over the place. Meanwhile, I’d stayed home with Mom, playing the just-released Dragons of Icelandia expansion pack from Fields of Fantasy.
My sister squeezed my shoulder. “Come on, Ian. We only did one fight. We didn’t even have a complete party and we were just learning how to play. You’ll do better next time,” she said reassuringly. “Besides, you were the one who figured out the rat dragon’s weakness. Without that, we would have been goners for sure.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I guess.”
I rose to my feet, not wanting to talk about it anymore. Instead, I walked over to the window, peering outside at the rain, which was still coming down in buckets.
“I hope Derek’s okay,” I mused. “Do you think he’s still out here?”
“I don’t know,” Lilli said, joining me at the window. “I guess he must be. If we couldn’t find the gates, there’s no way he did. Hopefully he found someplace to hide out from the storm.”
“Maybe once the rain stops we can start looking for him,” I suggested. “I feel bad that he’s all alone. He must be freaking out. And what if his SensSuit is messed up, too?”
Before Lilly could reply, there was a sudden burst of static coming from the television set.
Puzzled, I turned around. Donkey Kong and Mario had disappeared from the screen. In their place was a live-action video of a dark, crumbling temple half-filled with mist and smoke.
Lilli and I locked eyes. This was totally freaky.
Weird synthesized music began to play in the background, growing louder and more menacing as the camera slowly panned across the temple, revealing a treasure trove of gold and jewels. It stopped in front of a large crimson-colored dragon curled up on a pile of golden coins.
“Wait,” I said, shocked. “Is that… Atreus?”
I stared at the TV, mesmerized. The dragon lounging in the cave definitely appeared to be Atreus, with the same red scales and glowing golden eyes. Yet there was something distinctly different about this creature from the one we’d met earlier in the Edelweiss Forest. Something… almost ominous.
The camera snap-zoomed to an extreme close-up of the dragon’s face.
Well, well, tiny humans, Atreus growled, lifting his head. It seems we meet again.
I stopped breathing. It was the same thing he’d said back in the Edelweiss Forest. But this time, it sounded so different. Cold, cruel, filled with menace. And so unlike the playful voice of the creature who had licked Derek’s face and begged for ear scratches.
Suddenly, my mind flashed to Eugene. Or, more specifically, what Eugene had said. Atreus was supposed to be terrifying, not cuddly. And he’d gone back to the base to make him so.
Well, mission 100 percent accomplished.
Lilli rapped on the screen with her finger. “Hey, Atreus!” she cried. “Can you hear me? Can you call Eugene for us? Or my uncle? We’re having some trouble here. My SensSuit isn’t working right, and we can’t seem to leave the game.”
Atreus’s lip curled. A trail of smoke twined from his snout. But why would you want to leave the game? he asked. When the fun has only just begun?
What?
A horrifying realization washed over me. “Wait,” I said slowly. “Was it you who locked us in? Did you mess with our SensSuits?” Holy Luigi’s green overalls—was that why this was all happening? Had Atreus’s new programming somehow broken the entire game?
“We need to speak to Eugene,” my sister insisted. “Your programmer. We need to talk to him. Now!” Maybe he could still fix this before it was too late.
The camera pulled out as Atreus rose to his feet. Gold coins rained from his belly, plinking down onto the massive pile below. His eyes narrowed as his searing gaze seemed to burn through the screen.
Eugene cannot help you anymore, he growled. This is my game now, and I am in control of all you see and hear. His icy laugh echoed through the cottage. Silly fools. They thought they could lock me away? I am the great Atreus, destroyer of worlds. I am more powerful than you could have ever imagined. And now it’s time to play by my rules.
“But we didn’t do anything, Atreus!” I tried, scrambling closer to the TV, desperate to plead our case. “We’re just kids. Just visiting for a week. We didn’t lock you away. I was the one who scratched your ear, remember? We just came here to play the game.”
The dragon’s lower lip curled, revealing sharp fangs I was sure hadn’t been there before. Then you are in luck, tiny human, for that is exactly what we’re about to do.
“No!” Lilli shook her head. “You don’t understand. We can’t play your game. My SensSuit is busted. When I get hurt? It really hurts.”
Then your SensSuit is working perfectly, Atreus replied. Exactly as it should. After all, what fun is a game without real stakes…?
“No,” I whispered, shaking with fear. “You can’t be serious.”
Oh, but I am, tiny human. I even have a quest!
“A… quest?” Lilli squeaked, giving me a terrified look.
You have three days to make your way to my lair in the Crystal Temple, deep within Mount Fearless. Find me, fight me, do your best to defeat me. Only then shall I let you free.
He settled back down onto his pile of gold, snorting loudly. But beware, he added, his voice rumbling. For in my game there are no save points. No do-overs. Make one wrong move and it w
ill be game over. Forever.
I clenched my fists. “No. This isn’t cool, dude. Just let us out, okay? Or let Lilli out at least. She didn’t even want to come here to begin with. If you have to keep someone in the game, keep me! I’ll play with you. Just… let her go.”
Atreus roared, cutting off my words. No one will leave without playing my game. No one will leave without completing my quest. You have three days! Use them well, or I shall ensure they will be your last on this earth!
And with that, the TV went black. As if someone had clicked a button on a remote. I blinked, and when I opened my eyes again Donkey Kong was back on the screen, throwing his little barrels. One of the barrels hit Mario, and I watched as the little guy twirled in a circle while the familiar eight-bit death music played.
Game over flashed on the screen.
And then, in its place…
A spinning white star.
“No. No freaking way.”
Lilli staggered to her feet, backing away from the TV, her arms held out in front of her as if warding off a wild beast.
“I’m done!” she cried. “This game is not fun anymore. I don’t want to play.” Her voice cracked. “You can’t make me play!”
But she was talking to no one. Atreus was gone.
I got up and reached for her, then guided her over to the couch. She collapsed onto the cushions and put her face in her hands. She tried again to reach for her goggles, but came up empty-handed. She screamed in frustration.
“I hate this game!” she cried. “I hate this game so much!”
“I know,” I assured her, helplessness washing over me. “Trust me, I’m not such a big fan at the moment, either.”
“Oh please. You’re probably loving this. Trapped in a video game. This is like, literally, your biggest dream come true.”
I groaned, guilt like a stone in my stomach. Lilli wouldn’t even be here right now if it hadn’t been for me begging and pleading for her to come. She’d be safe at home, bungee jumping or cliff diving—something a lot less dangerous.
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