Too Young to Die

by Michael Anderle

Justin wished he believed Sephith would be rubble if the tower collapsed. He watched one of the wires become more and more frayed as the fight continued and began to kick at the machine each time it went past. It might have been his imagination, but it seemed as if the flickering became slower and the health bar dropped faster.

  “You’ll die here!” the wizard screamed. “You’ll never be anything and you’ll never get home!”

  “It could be worse,” he snapped in response. “I could be a coward.” He brought his sword down with all his might and Zaara put her entire residue of strength into a stab. Sephith flickered, screamed, and vanished.

  “Come on!” Justin yelled as the tower tilted.

  “I don’t want to get in that box!”

  “The good news is that you won’t have to,” Justin assured her.

  “What’s the bad news?”

  “The bad news is…well…jump!” He snaked his arms around her and lurched into midair. “Come on, DuBois, don’t fail me now.”

  The buff did, indeed, catch them. Zaara wound her arms around his neck and let loose with a stream of promises about exactly how she would haunt him and ruin his life if she fell to her death, and he tried to hold her while laughing so hard it hurt.

  The situation was rectified by the dragon, who soared around them in a quizzical circle before it situated itself so they dropped onto the saddle.

  “Oh, thank the gods,” Zaara muttered.

  The tower groaned again.

  “Uh…hold on.” Justin held her in one arm and the reins in the other. “Punch it, dragon!”

  The creature rocketed away as the tower collapsed into black dust and rubble and lightning began to crackle out of the air around it.

  In the cart, looking back as it jostled down the road, Lyle saw the building begin to fall. The top of it was encased in purple lightning that snapped and spat fire into the air. Clouds gathered in a swirl and the ever-present drifting embers began to travel toward it as if summoned. People called out and pointed.

  He swallowed. There was no way anyone inside the tower could survive what was happening now. He sat heavily in the back of the cart and buried his head in his hands.

  When the shouts turned to screams and whoops, he looked up and gaped as a purple dragon soared past. It landed on the road ahead of them and Justin dismounted with Zaara. She used his sword as a walking stick and Lyle smirked as he leaned over to try to kiss her. The dwarf chortled when she jerked away and her words drifted on the wind.

  “Don’t push your luck.” She was laughing as she said it.

  “Lyle Stout,” Justin called. “We found something very interesting in that tower.”

  He hopped down from the cart, which had stopped with the tower behind it and the dragon ahead. Everyone held their breath, seemingly afraid that they might become a post-flight snack.

  “What did you find?” the dwarf asked.

  Justin held the key out. “Zaara thought you might know something about this.”

  Lyle came to take it and his mouth dropped open. “This can’t be… It’s one of three keys to open the Vault of Myr.”

  “Yep.” Zaara was smiling.

  “So…are you two up for another adventure?” Justin asked.

  “Always,” she said.

  “Always,” the dwarf agreed. “But first…beer.”

  The lab erupted into cheers. Mary kissed Tad, Jacob and Nick jumped up and down, and Amber and Dr. DuBois had their arms around each other’s shoulders as they watched the numbers on the screen flit past.

  “That was close,” she said in an undertone.

  “They don’t need to know that,” the doctor muttered in response. “Anyway, he did it. And…oh, would you look at that.” He pointed to something on one of the screens and she clapped a hand over her mouth.

  “What do you see?” Mary asked. She moved closer, still holding Tad’s hand.

  “Dopamine,” he said serenely. “Phenethylamine. Norepinephrine.”

  “Yes, but what does that mean?” she asked patiently. She had gotten used to DuBois by now.

  The doctor smiled broadly. “Otherwise known as the chemistry of attraction, Mr. and Mrs. Williams. I wouldn’t be too concerned.”

  “Oh, that is it.” Mary looked around. “You put me in the game right now.”

  “I don’t think we should be too hasty,” Jacob suggested.

  “I will not let some uppity sprite girl seduce my son,” she said. “There are limits, and the hard limit is that my son’s girlfriend has to exist in the real world. You put me in that game right now.”

  Tad laughed and shrugged. “I’ve learned that once she uses that tone, it’s better not to argue, boys. I’d do as she says.”

  Amber’s phone rang and she chuckled as she picked it up. “Hello?”

  “Is this Ms. Garcia?” The voice was female.

  “Yes,” she said. All the hair on the back of her neck suddenly stood to attention.

  “Wonderful.” The woman sounded as if she was smiling. “A courier will be at the door within a couple of minutes. He has a check for you—for five million dollars.”

  “For what?”

  “Use it well, Ms. Garcia. I’m intrigued to see what the PIVOT team has in store.”

  The line went dead.

  Part II

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  “This, above all, is our duty to our constituents.” Tad Williams looked out over those gathered there and tried to make eye contact with a few senators in particular. “In this room, most of us have made campaign promises that others would be horrified by.” He grinned when there was a laugh. “Maybe your constituents and mine have different opinions on some things. Maybe they have different opinions on most things. And, let’s be honest, every one of us here has people who voted against us. So, in every vote, we have to ask ourselves, what is our duty to everyone we represent? And the answer is always the same—we do what we believe is right.

  “With the greatest of respect to this bill’s sponsors, it will harm their constituents and mine. I was elected to represent people, not a party, and that is why I cross the aisle on this bill and vote nay.”

  A storm of applause from the bill’s detractors followed and stony silence from some of the members of his party. Several refused to meet his gaze as he returned to his seat. The energy in the chamber felt almost electric to him.

  Of course, that electricity seemed confined to the more junior senators. The senior ones talked quietly to each other and their aides, already focused on the next vote, the next meeting, and the next initiative. One or two had begun to leave the chamber, and a few empty seats told of others who had already gone.

  He shook his head as he sat. They’d all been elected to weigh in on matters that affected their constituents, and this bill would affect everyone in the country. No one had any business calling themselves a senator if they chose not to be there for issues like this.

  The vote was taken, and Tad was surprised at how steady his hands were when he pressed the button. Two weeks before, his stomach had been in knots and he’d hardly been able to sleep. With his son’s life in the balance, the pharmaceutical lobbyists had offered him the answer to all his prayers if he voted aye on this bill.

  And blackmail if he didn’t.

  Several of his fellow senators, as well as news outlets and aides, had asked him what made him stand up to both the lobbyists and his party whip, and he’d answered all of them the same way—that this was what was best for his constituents.

  That wasn’t the whole truth, though.

  The real tipping point had come as he watched Justin fighting for his life. The same companies who lobbied him had blackballed a life-saving treatment years before, one a new company was now trying to revive. The treatment—an immersive alternate reality that worked like a video game—stimulated the brain to heal itself and wake up and after Justin’s car accident, that healing was something he desperately needed. It was also something that conventional treatments di
d not provide.

  Tad had never been a fan of video games. He’d wanted to go hunting or fishing with his son. Like most fathers, he’d wanted to throw a football around, which was something Mary made him stop trying after the fifth broken window. When Justin lost himself in a make-believe world full of vampires, dragons, or spaceships, his father wanted to beat his head against a wall.

  Then he’d seen Justin play this one.

  Despite himself, he recognized much of his younger self in how his son played. There was the desire for acclaim…mostly from beautiful women. There was also the devil-may-care attitude toward risk and the pigheaded insistence on going directly to the most difficult target, strength and aptitude be damned. Tad had gotten more than a few black eyes and bloody noses from that in his teenage years.

  What he hadn’t expected was the young man’s sense of justice. Lurking behind the desire to be the hero was a sense of obligation that extended even to people he knew didn’t exist. He had listened to his son’s fiery speeches as he exhorted his allies to fight on and villagers to stand up to a tyrant. He’d seen him throw himself into mortal danger to protect those he fought alongside.

  Tad had known that when Justin woke up—and he had to wake up because his father could not even contemplate another option—he wanted him to see that he was someone who did the right thing too. He wanted to be someone his son could respect. For years, he’d tried to make his son into someone like him without realizing that Justin was lightyears beyond him in some ways.

  The speaker stood and made his way toward the podium, and Tad straightened quickly in anticipation. This was it, the moment when he found out if his speech had made any dent in the balance of votes. His hands clenched as he looked at the board where the split-second ticker of votes showed before the totals populated. Was it enough?

  “The nays have it,” he heard dimly, and he lowered his head with a laugh that sounded more like a wheeze. Seven of his fellow senators had changed their minds, and although he had no clue if his speech was what had tipped the balance, he knew he had done what was right.

  “Senator.” A man came to shake his hand. There was a twinkle in his eye—he and Tad had argued opposing sides of several votes before this one, to the point that when one of them stood to talk, everyone looked automatically at the other. This was the first time they’d agreed on a vote, and the other senator clearly found it as amusing as he did. “I assume next week, we’ll be back to business as usual?”

  “Count on it,” Tad told him with a laugh. “I can’t wait to see what drivel you come up with on the infrastructure bill.”

  “With all due respect, Senator, you’re confusing my opinions with yours.” The other man left with a wide grin and his aides hurried after him with their arms full of folders.

  “Senator Williams?” One of his aides tapped him on the shoulder. “Your wife called and said the car is close. Your plane is waiting and we have you on the red-eye back.”

  “Thanks, Kyle.” He handed the man his briefcase. “Text me if anything comes up.”

  “I will. Also, sir, you should know there are numerous reporters outside and they’ll definitely want to talk to you. Verge News had a commentator on this morning saying you’d never vote nay.”

  “Next time, maybe they’ll listen to what I say,” he responded. He followed the rush of people into the atrium and pushed toward the door. “Is there any spinach in my teeth? Wine on my tie?”

  “What do you eat for breakfast?” Kyle asked rhetorically. “And no, sir, you’re good.”

  “Excellent, thank you.” Tad took a breath and exhaled quickly before he stepped out into the crush of reporters, and—exactly as Kyle had predicted—several shouted his name. “Hello. What can I do for you?”

  “Senator Williams,” one called, “can you discuss why you made a deal with Senator Horitz on this bill?”

  “Senator Horitz and I did not make a deal,” he said patiently. “Both of us happen to believe this bill is not in the interests of our constituents. Believe me, we were as surprised as everyone else to discover we’d agreed on something.” A round of laughter drew a smile from him. He was tired but he genuinely enjoyed this part. He liked to imagine that his constituents saw each word he said as well as the larger meaning behind them—I’m doing what you voted me in to do. I’ve got your back.

  “Senator Williams.” A woman raised her hand. “Is it true that you’ve had your son, Justin, transferred to an unlicensed facility for a non-FDA-approved treatment?”

  A sudden silence settled over the group around Tad. Nearby, reporters continued to shout to get the attention of other senators, but all of those around him were as blindsided as he was. All he could see right now was the woman’s careful, reporter-esque smile.

  He had no idea what he would say to that question, but rage and panic had begun to build in his chest in equal measure. A hand slid into his and he jumped, but Mary smiled calmly at him. She offered no word of explanation as she led him away, and the reporters parted silently to let him through.

  “Did you hear?” Tad asked numbly.

  “Yes.” She was still smiling but he knew this particular smile. It was the one she’d worn at family Christmases more than once when she was furious with someone but far too polite to show it. She nodded a thank you to the agent who held the car door open for her and looked at Tad as he folded himself in beside her. Still wearing her pretend smile, she waited until the car lurched into motion before she shook her head. “They shouldn’t be allowed to bring children into it.”

  “I’ll sponsor a bill,” he said but the automatic joke emerged from his mouth with far too much bitterness. “Jesus Christ.”

  “Tad.”

  “Sorry.” He gave her a tired smile.

  “Well, now I know where Justin got it.” She rapped his knuckles affectionately.

  “Justin has far outstripped me in the inventiveness of his expletives.” He began to relax as the crowd grew farther away, but anger and exhaustion crept in to replace the tension. “So, this is what Metcalfe is doing. He must have decided an affair wasn’t newsworthy enough so he’s having the press twist what’s going on with Justin…if that even was the press.”

  “I have no doubt.” Mary shook her head. “There’s always a news outlet looking to break the newest story, whether or not there’s a shred of evidence behind it.”

  “That’s what worries me.” He leaned his head back. “There is evidence. It doesn’t mean what they say it does, but it’s there. And with this…who knows how they’ll twist it?”

  “Son of a…what psychopath arranged these cords?” Jacob crouched and peered at the underside of the desk.

  “That would be you,” Nick commented from above. “As I recall, your exact verbage was, ‘I don’t fucking care how they’re fucking arranged, I just fucking want to know if it fucking works when I fucking plug it in.”

  “Oh, right,” he said. “That. You know, if I could go back and smack past me on the head with a brick—”

  “Within current technological frameworks, I don’t think you can.” His partner swore under his breath and clicked frantically with his mouse. It was a moment before he resumed the conversation. “However, you do have the opportunity to make sure your future self doesn’t have the same problems by being more responsible in the present.”

  “Hey, now.” Jacob popped his head up over the edge of the desk and gave his friend a look. “Let’s not take it too far, man.”

  “How did I know you’d say that?” Nick wore a pained expression.

  “Because you’ve worked with him for years.” Amber came to wrap her arms around Nick’s shoulders and give him a sunny smile. “And we love him despite the fact that OSHA would shut this mess down in five seconds.”

  “That won’t be a problem…” Jacob plugged a cord in and looked around to see the lights activate on another pod. “As long as no one snitches.”

  She mimed zipping her lips and throwing the key away. “Oh, but I sh
ould point out that even if no one snitches to OSHA, Justin’s parents will soon be here.”

  “What was the point of zipping your lips if you weren’t going to, you know…actually zip it?”

  “Fine. Next time, I’ll let you get caught with your pants down.” She returned to her desk. “And in five minutes, when you’ve moved past your stubborn insistence on resolving it yourself, Nick and I will help.”

  “Speak for yourself.” Nick launched into another flurry of clicks. “I have a fairy egg to rescue.”

  “You can pause the game,” Jacob called from under the desk. “It’s the space bar.”

  “First of all, I want to have something to show Mrs. Williams when she arrives. Second of all, the AI knows when I pause it and gets all snide when I come back.” He hunkered in his chair. “And it’s mean, you guys. Yesterday, it leveled up my Darwin Was Wrong skill to three and told me I was in the running to be the stupidest person on the server.”

  “Yeah…” Amber rolled back in her chair to look at the screen. “We’re gonna want to fix that before Mrs. Williams logs in. Although, knowing her, she’ll find how to make it be nice to her.”

  “My money’s on that one,” Jacob agreed. “Son of a bitch. I swear to God this cord has three ends.”

  She checked her watch and looked at Nick. “Three minutes and twenty seconds until he taps out. Be ready.”

  Nick snickered. His character, who currently ran through a tunnel made of glowing blue rock, tripped and sprawled heavily. CLUMSY, LEVEL 8, the screen told him, and he rolled his eyes.

  “It’s not my fault you keep falling,” the AI said in his earpiece.

  “You know what, I bet if I went back and looked, I’d find out you put some polygons in my way just then,” Nick retorted.

  “You are such a sore loser. In fact—”

  The screen froze.

  “Augh…” He groaned and lowered his face into his hands. “It’s an instanced level! You’re smart enough to get this. Only people in Justin’s level need to be held to the same timeline.”