She gave him a smile. It was weak and small, but it lifted him up a little. “At least we know where it is. I don’t think I could’ve lasted much longer out there, running from one trench to the next, wondering what joyful way I’d die next.”
“I’ll take a nice trip through space killing aliens with lasers anytime over this.”
Sarah’s eyes met Michael’s and stayed there, both of them silent, sharing the experience they’d just endured. Then pain exploded inside his head.
2
Michael collapsed to the cold floor and curled up into a ball, barely aware of Sarah by his side, leaning over his shoulder, yelling at him to tell her what was wrong. He couldn’t form words. He gripped his head, rocking back and forth as the pain pounded inside his skull. He was aware enough of what had happened to him in the alley back home that he refused to open his eyes.
The visions. Those creepy, terrifying visions. He didn’t know if the effects on his mind would be the same in the VirtNet as they were back in the Wake, but he didn’t want to find out. He kept his eyes squeezed shut and waited for the pain to fade.
Finally, just like before, it vanished in an instant. No slow recovery, no lingering ache. He was in agony one second, totally fine the next. Though he thought he’d heard a voice.…
According to Sarah, the episode had lasted three minutes—it could’ve been an hour for all Michael could tell. She put her arm around his shoulder and helped him sit up. He leaned back against the wall and stared at the ceiling. What a splendid week he’d had.
“You okay now?” Sarah asked.
Michael turned to look at her. “Yeah. When it ends, it totally ends. Doesn’t even hurt right now at all.” But he was exhausted and sick with fear—he hadn’t had an attack in a few days, and he’d been hoping that maybe they’d stopped.
She ran her fingers through his hair. “What did that monster do to you?” she murmured.
He shrugged—he assumed she meant the KillSim. “I don’t know. I just remember it felt like it was sucking my brain out. Maybe it did—part of it, anyway.”
“At least you went a while without an attack, right? Let’s just hope it happens less and less frequently. Maybe it’ll eventually stop altogether.”
Bryson appeared back from the game then, a look of pride brightening his face, and Sarah dropped her hand from Michael’s head.
“Hey, I found it!” Bryson called. “I found the Portal.”
Sarah smirked. “Big deal,” she said. “I beat you to it, slowpoke.”
But her face filled with a genuine smile. Michael’s heart felt a bit less empty, though he was still concerned. He hoped it had just been the delusion of his attack, but he could’ve sworn he’d heard a voice, whispering a phrase inside his mind.
You’re doing well, Michael.
3
Bryson described which trench he was talking about, and it was indeed the same one Sarah had found. Michael and his friends racked their tired brains to come up with a plan. They had to get close enough, and have enough time, to probe the Portal and hack their way through its code. But jumping inside that ditch, knives and fists first, was the last thing any of them would ever want to do again.
Which is what made Michael think of grenades. He’d been killed by them three or four times, so he knew they were effective. And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want the tiniest bit of revenge.
When he suggested it, Bryson said, “Well, it sounds good, but we’ll need something extra to make sure they go off.”
Sarah answered, “We’ll just bring a whole bunch and start tossing them. I’ll program a Spectacular Spark from the Munitions Maniacs game and hope it triggers them.”
Michael grabbed his backpack and unzipped it, then took everything out. “Let’s start stuffing.”
4
Once everyone’s backpack was full, they hitched them over their shoulders, got gloves and hats, then headed back out the door into the wintry air.
Michael and Sarah followed Bryson around the left side of the valley, careful to stay below the ridgeline, out of sight. When they got to the rise, they dropped to their stomachs and crawled to the top.
Then it hit Michael. “What if we just wait until morning and try to get there before anyone else?” What he really wanted to say was, Please don’t make me run down there into that mayhem again. He didn’t know how much more of it he could take.
“I’m dreading this, too,” Bryson said. “But we can’t afford to lose another night. Let’s just try this thing. Guards or no guards.”
“Okay,” Michael grumbled. “But remember—either we all get through or none of us do. We can’t go through the Portal alone or we might never hook back up.”
“Fine,” Bryson said. “And how about we don’t get killed? We’re forming bad habits.”
“Amen,” Michael responded. “Dying is my new least favorite thing.”
Michael looked out over the open space again. They had to get past dozens of battles, as well as ten or so other trenches. The odds of making it to the Portal without getting pulled into some sort of fight weren’t good. And judging by the look on Sarah’s face, she thought the same thing.
“Okay,” she said, suddenly in charge. “I think we can get through, but you have to follow my lead. If one of us gets intercepted, we need to stay and fight.”
“We got it,” Bryson said. “Stick together. Now let’s get this over with.”
Michael’s heart pumped like pistons in a race car. “Yeah” was all he could get out.
“Come on.” Sarah climbed to her feet and was suddenly running down the icy hill. Michael and Bryson hurried to catch up.
5
It took an hour to make it to the trench, and they fought the whole way there. Sometimes it was a single man or woman—those were the easy ones. But they faced a few that were far more difficult—gangs of two, three, or four soldiers coming after their small alliance all at once. The only positive of having died so many times was that it gave Michael and his friends the experience—and a little help from their programming-boosted powers—to fend off those attackers.
They weren’t going to die this time. Michael swore it to himself over and over. He grew more exhausted by the minute, but his adrenaline was high, and his energy seemed to reignite with every new confrontation.