Too Young to Die

by Michael Anderle

  “Holy shit,” she murmured. “Uh, Jacob? We’ll want that in some marketing materials at some point.”

  “Wait.” DuBois gestured at the screen. “Let’s see if it works first.”

  The engineer buried his face in his hands. “Buzzkill,” he said.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  The ruins lay a fair distance from town—easily a day’s journey, although they could see the faint shimmer of them nestled in the hollow of a mountain long before they reached them.

  As they walked, Zaara and Lyle bickered good-naturedly about the various mythology of the dwarves, so Justin was able to let his mind drift. He could only think it was a shame that he wouldn’t have all these hard-earned muscles in reality when he woke.

  That thought led him to wonder what it would be like to wake up. Would he come out of sleep all at once, or would he go to sleep one night in the game and wake up in the real world? Would the doctors tell him what they were going to do?

  Would he have a chance to say goodbye to people?

  When he glanced at his companions, he felt a pang of sadness. He knew they weren’t real, but the thought of vanishing out of their lives without so much as a goodbye seemed cruel. Would other people encounter them in the game and hear about Justin, the adventurer who had disappeared?

  Lyle saw him looking at them and his brows snapped together.

  “Yer lookin’ peaky,” he told him. “It’s that armor. Yer not strong enough for it yet. And ye know why, don’t ye?”

  “Because this is the first time I’ve worn it?” He did feel exhausted, now that the dwarf mentioned it, and he thought that was very unfair. After all, he wasn’t really hauling around a suit of plate armor.

  “No. It’s because ye don’t drink enough ale.” The dwarf nodded seriously. “We’ll start working on that in the next town we get to.”

  “Uh…” Justin wondered what his parents would say if he came out of this experience otherwise recovered but suddenly a raging alcoholic.

  “Hey, look.” Zaara, thankfully, distracted Lyle. “There’s a cart up ahead. It looks like it’s broken down, though.”

  The three of them increased their pace and the AI made snide comments now and then as Justin panted and wished vaguely for death. Luckily, they weren’t too far from the cart and soon stared at a large man who held a hammer in astonishingly well-muscled forearms.

  “Greetings,” he said, but his tone wasn’t very friendly. Nearby, the horse tied to the cart pranced nervously, and Justin could see that the wheel beside the man’s leg had cracked.

  “We’re on our way to the ruins in the shadow of the mountain,” he said, “and I see that your cart is broken. Is there anything we can do to help you fix it?”

  The man gave them a measuring glance. “Where’d you come from, then?”

  “East Newbrook,” Zaara explained. “We’ve been there for some weeks—well, I have. These two only arrived a week or so ago.”

  “Aye, what news of the wizard?”

  “He’s gone,” she told him and glanced skyward. “Some of his magic lingers, but he’s dead.”

  “That’s what I’d heard.” He scratched his chin, now thoughtful. “It’s why I decided to come along, see. I’m looking for a job.”

  “As an adventurer?” Justin asked. “You could come with us. We could always use more weapons and you look like you’d be good with that hammer.”

  “Ha.” The man chuckled. “I have no interest in adventuring. I’ll leave that to you. But it seems you aren’t highwaymen, so how’d you like to make a few coins?”

  He bowed. “We’re at your service.”

  Zaara gave a snort of ill-concealed amusement and his cheeks flushed.

  The man, thankfully, pretended not to notice. “A wolf scared my donkey off,” he explained. “A great, hulking beast came out of the woods and tried to get the donkey away from me. I had a hell of a time keeping the horse calm—that’s how we struck the rock that cracked the wheel—and I managed to scare the wolf off, but the donkey ran as well. I’d appreciate you finding it before the wolf finds itself a nice meal.”

  “We can do that.” Justin stopped himself before he bowed again. “Which direction did the donkey go?”

  “Thataway.” He pointed. “I hoped he’d come back, but no such luck.”

  “We’ll take a look.” He gestured to Zaara. “Ladies first.”

  “You know, when people say that, I don’t think they mean ladies should lead the way into wolf-infested territory.” She grinned as she started off. “Also, feel free to stay here. You’re struggling in that armor, aren’t you?”

  “Shut up.” He panted as he clanked after her.

  The meadows sloped away from the road in a series of winding hills dotted with stands of trees. It would have been quite pretty if not for the fact that he knew he would have to climb the hills when this was over.

  He considered taking the armor off, but if he did that, Zaara would laugh again.

  Lyle gave a low whistle a few minutes later and stopped to point. The donkey grazed in a patch of open grass, and it looked at them warily as they approached. Zaara, thankfully, must have learned something about farm animals because she approached it from the side and let it sniff her before she slipped a hand around its halter.

  “There, now,” she told it. “Should we get you back home?”

  “Uh…Zaara?” Justin stared at the nearby stand of trees. “Zaara, we have a new friend.”

  “I know, isn’t he sweet?” She stroked the donkey’s ears.

  “Not the donkey, ye daft lass. Look,” Lyle muttered. “Look at the trees.”

  She complied and her eyes widened when she saw the shadow lurking there. They’d found the donkey barely in time, it seemed, because the wolf that had spooked the cart had arrived.

  “There’s something wrong with it,” Zaara said. She had stepped in front of the donkey and her other hand rested on the hilt of a knife.

  “Is the something perhaps that it’s twice the size any wolf should be?” he whispered in response. “Lyle, I see you’re thinking of charging. Do not.”

  “It’s part of the plan,” the dwarf whisper-shouted at him.

  “The tank pulls.”

  “What does that even mean?”

  “It means I go first.” Justin burst into a run without waiting for a response and immediately regretted his decision. His armor was heavy and fatigue points had him down to three-quarters health without having reached the wolf yet.

  The beast didn’t run and instead, charged to meet him. He didn’t have the nimbleness to dodge anymore, although he tried as best he could. The only result was that he tumbled awkwardly in a heap of clattering armor pieces without changing direction at all, after which the wolf collided with him at high speed.

  In the darkened lab, everyone except Nick clapped a hand over their mouth. Even DuBois, perpetually intrigued by the mechanics of the game instead of taking it seriously, looked faintly queasy.

  “Oh, dear,” he said.

  “Ohhhhhhh.” Amber shook her head in disbelief. “Oh, no.”

  “What’s going on?” Mary asked. “What do I hear in the background?”

  “I, uh—I knocked the coffee machine over,” Amber told her and motioned to everyone else to be quiet. To the others, more quietly, she added, “I hope he learns about the sword soon. It won’t help him if he never gets a chance to swing it.”

  REALLY BAD TANK, LEVEL 3

  The wolf seemed as surprised to be bulldozed by Justin as he was by falling instead of dodging. As much as anything that was four hundred pounds of killing machine could trip, it did and skidded while it scrabbled to get its feet under it again.

  “Stooooooooout!”

  “Goddammit…” he muttered as he tried to roll over.

  “You know, when I had them belabor the idea of you being a tank, I didn’t think you’d be quite this bad at it.”

  “Oh, so you weren’t trying to get me killed? That’s reassuring
.” He glared at the sky.

  “You always look up when you talk to me. I’m not God, you know. I’m an AI.”

  “Whatever.” He managed to haul himself up and leaned heavily on his sword as he glowered at Lyle, who dodged wildly around the wolf. It wasn’t quite sure what to do with a short force of nature, but once in a while, it would stretch its neck and snap its teeth to force him to dance away.

  “Justin!” the dwarf panted. “The sooner you can get up, the better. My fists are doing nothing.”

  “Almost like punching a wolf was a flawed concept,” Justin retorted as he took a step and slashed with all his might at one of the wolf’s hind legs.

  The effect was unexpectedly good. Fifty hit points floated away and took a chunk of the wolf’s health bar with it. The creature stumbled heavily to the side. It whipped its head around with a snarl and he resisted the urge to run away. He was a tank and needed to stand his ground.

  At least he’d captured its attention.

  “Zaara! Hit it with everything you have.”

  “I’m on it!” she yelled as he planted his feet and swung his weapon. It was much harder, he discovered, to stand his ground when he was in a virtual reality. Like most people he knew, he had laughed at the videos of people in VR games who cowered and screamed while being attacked.

  It turned out that your nervous system was a hell of a lot stronger than your tactical brain. He didn’t curl into a ball on the ground but he hunched his shoulders, planted his feet, and held the sword out. Again, the blade sliced cleanly through fur and flesh and again, a chunk of hit points came away. Although he was thrown back several feet and ended up on his butt in the dirt, the impact didn’t do as much damage as he’d expected.

  Score one for the armor.

  REALLY BAD TANK, LEVEL 4

  “Oh, come on!” Justin yelled at the sky. “Zaara? Any minute now.”

  “I’m trying,” she responded. “I’ve thrown three fireballs and they don’t do anything.”

  “Wait, what?” Justin scrambled back as the wolf advanced. It was limping but it had murder in its eyes. The beast snapped at him once, looked at the other two, and seemed to be trying to decide what to do.

  Apparently, he would have to be the one to end this. He came to a quick decision and slumped in the dirt.

  “Justin!” Zaara yelled.

  The wolf seized its chance and leapt.

  Its weight and momentum carried it forward powerfully and into three feet of steel that pierced its belly. Justin threw his head and torso sideways as the huge body slumped onto the sword and he felt a wrenching pain in his elbow. He released the weapon with a yell and curled into a ball as he tried to push himself up on his good arm. The other wasn’t dislocated, he was sure, but his nervous system sure thought it should be.

  This was worse than the widow’s salve. Dear God. He hobbled to the wolf’s side, grasped the sword, and made to yank it out but stared as the beast shrank and faded away before his eyes. On the ground lay a bloodied, bruised man who stretched toward him.

  “You have to—help them—” He gasped as he tried to speak.

  “What?” Justin stared at him in horror. He hadn’t felt sad to kill the zombies around Sephith’s tower—they were already dead, after all—and he hadn’t felt sad to kill Sephith, who manifestly deserved it. But this man was scared and now, he recalled that the wolf had only charged him once he attacked.

  He hadn’t behaved like a wolf because he wasn’t one. Justin knelt at his side as Zaara ran closer with the bag of salves.

  “Lie still,” she told the man.

  “No.” He shook his head. “Too—late. You have to listen.” His hand closed around Justin’s. “There are more of us. Not werewolves. Witch…cursed us. We robbed her and she cursed us. You have to help.”

  “You robbed a woman and now you’re preying on livestock,” Zaara said, offended. “And you want us to help you?”

  “Only—trying to survive,” the man rasped. “A wolf still has to eat. Kill her and the spell will release them. Then…justice.” He looked like he wanted to say more but before he could, he slumped in the dirt and lay still.

  Justin’s stomach heaved. He hadn’t ever seen anyone die before, and although this wasn’t the real world, it felt real. The smell of blood hung in the air and the man had talked to him moments before going still. He had felt the way his sword sliced through his flesh and with something close to horror, realized he was the reason for the body in the dirt.

  To his surprise, it was Lyle who seemed to understand. The dwarf came to lay a heavy hand on his shoulder. “It shouldn’t get easier t’kill men,” he advised him. “When I left for a life aboveground, that’s what my da told me. He said to do whatever I wished but when it got easier to kill a man, I’d know it was time to seek another life.” He held a hand out and hauled him to his feet. “Let’s bring this donkey back and rest, eh?”

  Chapter Forty

  Walking the donkey to its owner was a silent affair. Zaara seemed unsure of what to say, and Lyle had spoken his piece already and didn’t seem inclined to add to it.

  Justin, meanwhile, did his best to not feel like he’d made a terrible mistake. Zaara’s suggestion of holing up in a tavern seemed like a better and better idea with each passing moment. It was one thing to go after a megalomaniac with a horde of zombie servants, but this kind of thing made him sick to his stomach.

  “Only trying to survive,” the man had said.

  The donkey’s owner studied them critically when they arrived. “What in the seven hells happened to you?”

  “We found the wolf,” he said shortly.

  The man gave him a long look. “Well, I think I’ll camp for the night,” he said at last. “You’re welcome to share my fire. I don’t have much coin for you as a thanks, but I’ll say this. I’m a blacksmith, and a good one. When next you’re in East Newbrook, I’ll add touches to that armor of yours, sharpen your swords and knives, whatever you need. You, dwarf—I can sharpen those talons with what I have here.”

  The blacksmith gathered rocks for a fire with Lyle, who seemed to explain the fight in a low tone. Zaara took one look at Justin’s face, wisely decided not to talk to him, and let him wander away from the camp.

  He stripped his armor off and wrapped one of the blankets from his pack over his shirt. As the others set up camp, made dinner, and finished the wagon repairs, he prowled the outskirts. The first stars began to twinkle on the eastern horizon when he saw the woman emerge from the shadows.

  She wore flowing robes and she walked confidently toward him.

  The hair on his arms stood up. No one should be out there at twilight alone, and especially not without a weapon. More than that, though, she seemed familiar in a way he couldn’t put his finger on.

  “Are you fucking with me?” he asked the AI under his breath.

  “I am not.” Unfortunately, it volunteered no more information.

  The woman moved closer and stared at him for a long time. When she pulled her hood back, white hair gleamed in the light of the rising moon. Her face wore an expression that he couldn’t name.

  “Justin?” she asked, and her voice cracked.

  He took a step back. “Are you the witch?” Please, let someone at the camp see him. Why had he walked away from his sword?

  To his surprise, she smiled and he saw a tear trace down one cheek. She gave a laugh that sounded a little like a sob. “I’m not a witch but you have called me that once or twice. Justin…it’s me. It’s Mom.”

  “Mom?” His voice came out louder than he wanted it to. In the camp, there was a sudden scuffle of activity and in moments, Lyle and Zaara were there. He looked at them and shook his head. “Could I, uh—could I have a moment with her? Thanks.”

  They retreated but he saw Lyle sink into the shadows near one of the cartwheels to keep watch on the two of them.

  Justin turned to the woman. “You’re…you’re really Mom? No offense, but this whole virtual world scenario i
s playing with my head. Can you prove it?”

  “Yes.” She smiled again, although she still looked like she wanted to cry. “When you were seven, you broke your arm falling off the rope swing at Joey Thaler’s house. I wrapped you in the green quilt Grandma made you and we brought you to the hospital in Dad’s old truck.”

  “Mom.” He took two steps and embraced her so tightly she squeaked. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—oh, no.” His heart dropped. “Oh, no. Mom. Are you okay? Why are you here?”

  “I’m okay!” She clasped his hands. “I came to see you. I wanted to spend time with my boy.”

  Despite being twenty-four, he had the distinct urge to stomp his foot and remind her that he wasn’t a little kid anymore.

  “Mooooooom, I’m a dragon slayer!”

  He wished hellfire and missed server connections on the AI but held his tongue rather than respond to the sniped comment. To his mother, he said quietly, “How long has it been?”

  “A month and a half,” she said at once with the recall of someone who had thought of almost nothing else. “They say it’s only been a week and a half or so for you in here.”

  Justin swallowed. “Is that…good? Or bad?”

  “I asked. DuBois said it simply is.” His mother sounded frustrated and she shook her head. “He said these things take time and your brain needs to rest. There are good signs.”

  He looked at the camp. The fire crackled and the smell of food cooking drifted on the air. His stomach growled and his muscles ached. It seemed incredible that this wasn’t a real place. He debated saying something about how he’d miss it but decided not to. He knew his mother wouldn’t understand that.

  “How’s Dad?” he asked instead.

  A series of expressions crossed her face too quickly to track. “He’s fine,” she said.

  “Really?” he pressed.

  She took her time to choose her words. “It doesn’t take lobbyists very long to discover what motivates you. They tried money and it didn’t work. Now, they’re trying blackmail.”