A Buried Spark

by P. J. Hoover

  The words fade away. I know they will. I can’t stand the idea of losing someone I love. Even remembering the cops telling me that my parents were dead . . . The thought is enough to bring tears to my eyes.

  New words appear on the screen.

  Calibration complete

  That’s it. Simulation Omega has been calibrated for me.

  A silhouette appears to the side of the heads-up display. Small defined features with shoulder length hair. I can’t tell if it’s a man or a woman. Then a man’s voice pipes through.

  “My name is Chaos, the last of the old gods. As with all things, my time has come to pass on my reign to the next generation. Congratulations. That’s why you’re here. You’ve been invited to participate in Simulation Omega. Being here means that you have faced the worst in the other simulations and survived. You are among the best. This simulation will determine if you are the best of the best.”

  The best of the best, which means whoever has made it inside has survived everything else so far, whether that be the labyrinth or Simulation Avine. But Chaos doesn’t know who I really am. If he did, I wouldn’t be allowed inside.

  “The best of the best will take my place as the supreme entity,” Chaos says. “All others will be terminated.”

  Of course he’s lying. Not about terminating those who are not the best. But about the best of the best taking his place. Iva and Zachary already told me that Chaos plans to take the power from whoever makes it to the end. Maybe from everyone inside the simulation. And me, with the power of the other old god . . . I can’t let him find me. I can’t risk him getting that power.

  The silhouette disappears and an image appears, six concentric circles, each a different shade of blue. They are labeled with Greek letters: Alpha, Beta, Gamma, Delta, Epsilon, Digamma. My breath catches at the last one. Digamma was the hidden zone from the labyrinth. It was the symbol Mom always used to draw. The Greek W. It can’t be a coincidence. It had been the last zone in the labyrinth, and it is the last zone here. It had also been the hardest zone to get through before, with a monster at the end. I have every reason to believe the same will be true here in Simulation Omega.

  The circles pop inward, three-dimensional. I reach forward to touch them even though they aren’t there. They’re coming through the heads-up display. They almost seem to vibrate with electricity.

  “Simulation Omega is a series of zones, one after another,” Chaos says, shaking me back to the reality of the situation ahead. What I’m looking at is not a set of circles. It is a set of death traps, one after another. “Each contestant must move from one zone to the next.”

  “What about the key?” I ask.

  “The key has been divided into five segments,” Chaos says. “Each segment is located in a different zone. Complete the quest in each zone in order for the location of the segment to be revealed. Collect all the segments and reach the center zone of the simulation for victory.”

  He makes it sounds so simple, like all I have to do is stroll from one zone to the next, picking up Easter eggs as I go.

  “How many contestants are there?” I ask. I haven’t thought of myself as a contestant before now. The labyrinth and Simulation Avine had felt more like horrible nightmares I needed to escape from. But when it comes right down to it, they’d been games also, just like this simulation ahead. Games of the gods, designed to suit their needs.

  “That information will not be provided,” Chaos says. The outermost circle lights up, then the one inside it, then the next, one after another as he speaks. “Each zone will provide new and exciting challenges. Only the contestant who adapts will be able to survive.”

  This is nothing new. But in the past there have been rules to go by. Items to help us. The water bottle. The jacket. A knife.

  “What about supplies?” I ask. “Do I get anything to help me?”

  “One item from the list,” Chaos says. “That’s all you may take.”

  At his words, the circles disappear and a scrolling list of items appears on my heads-up display. I’m hoping for my compass or maybe a knife, but the items on the list aren’t even tangible.

  Memory

  Strength

  Extra Life

  Reset

  Stamina

  Energy Boost

  There are a handful of others. Maybe twenty total. But I can only pick one. Energy is always a solid choice. We’d nearly died when we’d run out of energy back in Simulation Avine. But with added Stamina, I would be able to use what energy I had for longer. Still, if I die in the simulation, neither of those choices will help me. What I need is a second chance.

  When I play video games, reset is what I use when death is imminent, so it seems like a good decision. But when I do reset a game, I lose all my progress. Extra Life may mean I get the same second chance but my progress won’t be lost. Still, if for some reason I have just died and I use my extra life, then whatever killed me could immediately kill me again.

  “Reset,” I say as I select it with my eyes.

  The scrolling list of choices vanishes, and the concentric circles of Simulation Omega appear once more.

  “Your choice may not be changed,” Chaos says. “Once used it will be removed from your inventory. Before leaving a zone, make sure to collect the segment of the key. Once a zone is exited, it may not be re-entered for any reason. No exceptions will be allowed. In addition, without the segment of the key, the next zone will remain closed, leaving the contestant in a stasis situation. Contestants in stasis will be terminated at the completion of the simulation.”

  It’s pretty straightforward. I can only move forward through the zones. I have to collect the pieces of the key. If I don’t, I will die.

  With that, the voice cuts out, leaving me in silence. The concentric circles on the display change color, the outermost one turning blue, the others fading to gray. Four menu choices appear.

  Enter Zone Alpha and begin simulation

  Abort simulation and transport to storage

  Transfer Inventory to another contestant

  Help

  I can never imagine choosing Abort. Even if I wanted to be transported back to the storage banks, I don’t believe Chaos would actually follow through on that. The odds are much more likely that termination would occur.

  And transfer inventory to another contestant? What? Like I’d give my Reset to Owen?

  Or Cole?

  At the thought, an image flashes through my mind. Cole is held in place by blue bonds that crackle with electricity. His shirt is torn. His skin is smeared with black grime. The scar on his face is bright red as if it’s inflamed. His prosthetic is missing.

  “Cole?” I say. The vision is so real. It’s like he’s standing in front of me. And like he can hear me, his head snaps up.

  “Edie?” he says. His eyes don’t focus. “Edie, I tried. It didn’t work.”

  “Cole, where are you?”

  I forget I’m in the vision and I take a step forward, trying to get closer to him. But the vision moves with me, keeping him out of reach. I want so badly in that moment to be able to turn back time. To make him never leave with Pia. To never have freed her from the gaming zone. If I hadn’t freed her, he’d be here with me right now. But I can’t change the past. I can only decide what I do from here.

  Words flash on the heads-up display, overlaying the vision.

  Transfer Inventory to another contestant

  The only inventory I have is the Reset. But I don’t really know what it would do even if I did transfer it to him. As much as I want to free him, that’s not the way to do it. I need to find him.

  But the memory of him leaving me plays over again in my head.

  We weren’t meant to be together, Edie.

  Pia, with her bright green eyes and her dark pixie haircut, ruining everything. Smiling a
t me. Knowing exactly what to do to get under my skin. For all I know this is just another trick. It could be a trick the two of them are playing on me together.

  “Where are you, Cole?” I ask, trying to keep my voice even. I can’t open my heart to him. It will only make me risk getting hurt.

  “You can’t come here, Edie,” Cole says. “It’s too dangerous.”

  I don’t want to find him, and yet I also do want to find him more than anything.

  “What’s dangerous?” I ask, holding the emotion out of my voice. “And where’s Pia? Is she there with you?”

  The words flash again over my vision.

  Transfer Inventory to another contestant

  This is all a test to see how I react. What I do.

  “Where are you, Cole?” I say. “I’ll come help you.”

  “No!” Cole shakes his head. “Edie, you need to be careful. You need to stay away. This place is—”

  But before he can say another word, electricity streaks out of the ceiling above him and pours directly into his chest. Cole rears back, coming off the ground, and begins to scream. It makes my toes curl, even in the vision. I try to block it out. To pretend it’s not real. To be mad at him. But I can’t take it.

  I rush forward, trying to get to him, but the vision immediately disappears.

  “I’ll transfer inventory,” I shout.

  Words flash on the heads-up display.

  Option not valid for selected contestant

  “Bullshit,” I say, and I try to select it again. And again. Each time the option doesn’t work. The only way to help Cole, if it really isn’t a trap, is to get out of here. To move forward.

  Enter Zone Alpha and begin simulation

  Abort simulation and transport to storage

  Transfer Inventory to another contestant

  Help

  I select Enter Zone Alpha and begin simulation.

  The menu options vanish, and the silver liquid begins to morph around me, pulling away from me. It runs down my skin and to my feet until it slithers away behind me. I turn back in time to see the moving wall of silver flowing upward behind me.

  I can’t go back. That will result in stasis and eventual termination.

  I face forward to see what I’m up against. Instantly I’m sorry. Lightning streaks down, out of the sky and strikes directly in front of my feet. I jump to the side, but another streaks down nearby. Then another.

  I run, dashing between the lightning bolts. They sizzle so close that my skin tingles. The hairs on my arm stand on end. If this is only the first challenge, my fate may already be sealed.

  XVIII

  The ground is a sheet of blue glass. It darkens at each spot where the lightning strikes. The sky above is identical to the blue ground below, like a mirror image of it. It’s alive with electricity, shooting streaks of lightning down so rapidly that it’s hard to distinguish one from the next. I dare to take my eyes off the lightning, looking off in the distance. Far ahead are small dots of blue light, flickering like beacons that call me toward them.

  “Edie, here!” someone shouts.

  I turn in the direction of the voice. There stand Zachary and Taylor. They’ve made it into the simulation also, though this might mean death for all of us if we don’t get out of here.

  They wave at me frantically. They’re standing under a slanted white covering that’s keeping the lighting away, one of a handful that stretch off in the distance. I run as fast as I can toward them, jumping to the side to keep from being killed. The closer I get, the more the lightning attacks, as if it’s alive. Then I’m under the covering, safe . . . at least for the time being.

  “You guys made it through,” I say, trying to shake the feel of the lightning outside of our protection. I jump with every snap. It strikes the barrier above us, sending electrical current into the ground. But it stays away.

  Zachary’s eyes light up and he smiles. “We got through. It worked.”

  “We didn’t know what happened to you, Edie,” Taylor says. “The thing sucked you in. Then, next thing I know, it was wrapping around me.”

  Lightning hits the barrier again. This time the hairs on my arms stand on end. We can’t stay here forever. We need to keep moving.

  From off to the left, I hear shouting. Four people are running from one of the barriers out into the sea of lightning. They’re too far away to tell who they are, but from the way they move, I’m pretty sure it’s not Hudson, Owen, or Abigail. They’re dressed like we are, cargo pants and tank tops. I make out a couple words amid their shouts. They run toward another barrier, out in the field of blue glass, but they’re still far away.

  “Come on!” it sounds like one of them shouts. They dash between bolts of lightning, but it strikes so close, like it’s sentient, attempting to kill them.

  “They’re not going to make it,” Taylor says. Her eyes are wide, and I don’t know if she sees more with the Oculus than Zachary and I can see.

  “Do you see that?” Zachary asks. “Or is that a gue—”

  His words are cut short by a scream that pierces the air. One of them stands unmoving, electricity encasing their body. The person’s arms are out. Their mouth held wide open in the scream that seems to last forever. Then whoever it is disintegrates as the lightning consumes them.

  “Oh shit,” Taylor says.

  The other three people can’t stop to mourn. They keep running toward the barrier. And almost like the lightning is giving them a small reprieve in payment for its victim, it stays at bay, and they make it to the barrier. When they get there, they collapse to the ground.

  “We can’t get through that,” Zachary says. He stands toward the back of the barrier, as far from the lightning as he can.

  “Can we make it?” I ask Taylor.

  She’s still staring out at the other group, but slowly she nods. “One in eight chance,” she says.

  One in eight. The odds aren’t good, but it is a chance.

  “Let’s go,” I shout, and I grab Zachary’s arm, dragging him from the safety of the barrier.

  Not far ahead is another barrier, our next check point. Once we get there, we can figure out where the next one is. And the next, until we’re across the field of blue glass.

  “Are you nuts?” Zachary says, yanking back on me. “We can’t go out there.”

  Every second we wait isn’t doing us any favors. We have to go. I glance back to the other group. They’re on the move again, heading for what I’m guessing is another barrier, but it’s too far away for me to see.

  “We have to, Zachary,” I say. I’m trying to keep my voice even, but I know I’m yelling. “We stay here and we die. There is no going back. Only forward.”

  His face is tight, and he looks like he’s about to keep arguing with me, and in that moment it strikes me. He’s scared to death, and rightly so.

  “Look, god boy,” Taylor says. “This is no worse than the shit you put us up against. And if you don’t start moving right this second, Edie and I are going to leave you here. Is that what you want?”

  He looks to me, maybe gauging my reaction, to see if I really would leave him here. And though it would kill me to do it, I would. I have to keep moving. Everything depends on it. Still, I don’t want that to be an option.

  “You can do this, Zachary,” I say. “You can totally do this.”

  He grumbles something under his breath, but with the lighting, I can’t hear what it is. Then he says, “Let’s go.”

  We take off, running, and immediately the lightning attacks, aware of us. Maybe drawn to us, like we’re metal rods pulling on it. We dash left, right, moving forward, toward the barrier. It’s so close. I don’t think I breathe the entire time. But my feet pound the blue glass as I run. The image of the other person, electrified and disintegrated, quickens my pace. I’ve never run so f
ast in my life. Then we’re under the first barrier and safe.

  I bend forward, placing my hands on my knees as I attempt to catch my breath.

  “One down,” Taylor says. “And they made it, too.” She points to the other group. They’re to the second barrier and moving. The lightning seems to have lessened where we are as they run, almost like it can only focus on one group at a time.

  I blow out a huge breath. “We need to go now.”

  “We need to rest,” Zachary says. His dark hair is going in every direction, like he’s just been through a hurricane. But if I’m right, while the storm is focusing on the other group, we have to go.

  “No time for rest,” I say, and I drag him out from under the shelter.

  We run, dashing again so fast I think my legs might give out. If I trip, I am dead. But my theory seems valid. The storm of lightning is nowhere near as bad as it was . . . at least until the other group reaches their shelter. Then the lightning turns on us again in full force. We barely make it to the shelter. But barely is better than not at all.

  “When they run, we run,” I manage to say between breaths, and this works again and again until we are under the final barrier. There is still one more stretch to go. The other group is out of the field of lightning, on to whatever is beyond. This is great for them but leaves us with no distraction. It also means that whoever they are, they’re ahead of us.

  “Ready?” Taylor says.

  “No.” Zachary’s answer is blunt but true. Still, we can’t wait until we’re ready. We never will be. But just before I step out from under the shelter, shouts erupt from far behind us.

  I turn and in the distance see three different people running through the field of lightning. It immediately focuses on them. I don’t allow any time to feel sorry for them.