Disclaimer: I still don't own "Level Up" or its characters.
3
"Are you out of your mind letting the Grinders spot you?!"
"Yeah, well, I'm kind of new in town."
Wyatt followed Lyle as they rushed deeper into the park, to what should have been another housing track but was now swampland. The monster mob seemed reluctant to follow, but the Grinders had no such qualms. The effects of the Fog Faeries' mists slowed them down, but not by much.
Lyle was running awkwardly. Wyatt noticed him wincing with pain now and then. When they finally dove for cover under thick brush, getting a face full of moldy swamp water in the process, Lyle paused for a few seconds to rub at his left knee.
"You want to elaborate on that? No one is 'new in town'-unless you found a way to walk through Maldark's barrier?" Lyle indicated the distant, shimmering wall of purple energy. Then he asked the last question Wyatt wanted to hear: "Who are you?"
Lyle didn't know him. That was discouraging, but Wyatt supposed he should have guessed as much. "It's…kind of hard to explain."
Hearing the hums of the Grinders' hoverboards, Lyle gestured for silence. Wyatt nodded. He watched Lyle pull some sort of remote from his pocket and press its button.
Nothing happened as far as Wyatt could tell…not until the Grinders glided too near their hiding place. A few feet away from Lyle and Wyatt, the masked figures sailed straight into an invisible force field not unlike the one surrounding the city. All of them landed in the dank water of the marsh while their boards kept going, flying out of their reach.
That was the end of the chase. Lyle emerged from the underbrush, managing to swagger in triumph despite his limp. He gave the thrashing figures a mocking wave before turning to move deeper into the swamps. Wyatt had to hurry to keep up.
"A little something I took off one of Maldark's generals." Lyle pocketed the portable shield generator. He picked up the line of questioning right where he'd left off. "So, 'a little hard to explain' is it? Try me. I'm pretty sharp."
Now that the fear of death was not at the forefront of his mind, Wyatt took a good look at his friend. It occurred to him that Lyle's bizarre outfit was almost an exact replica of his avatar, Wizza's, right down to the sunglasses, which didn't seem to hamper Lyle's vision despite the darkness of the marshes. All that was missing was the Thunder Pole.
"It's a long story," Wyatt added.
Lyle laughed bitterly. "You can see, I've got nothing but time."
"And you won't believe it anyway."
"I live in swamp in a town that's been conquered by video game monsters and a computer-generated warlock. Anytime I try to change clothes, whatever I put on turns into this." Lyle made a face at the garish overcoat and sunglasses. "You'd be surprised what I'd believe at this point." He waited, staring so intensely that Wyatt swallowed nervously.
Lamely, he stuck out his hand. "I'm Wyatt, by the way."
It wasn't what Lyle was expecting, but he shook Wyatt's outstretched hand anyway. "Lyle."
"I know."
"What?"
Wyatt explained. "From school. I remember you. I mean...what happened to your leg?"
Lyle rolled his eyes. This kid got stranger by the minute. How could he remember Lyle and not know what happened to his leg? "You really aren't from around here, are you? And don't change the subject."
They had walked deep enough into the swamp that Lyle finally judged it safe to light the flashlight he carried without fear of Tenrecs or Grinders seeing. Wyatt looked around with wide-eyed fascination at their surroundings. He recognized it from the game. This was the (appropriately named) Stenchwater Swamps. He could hear the chirps, growls, and other inhuman noises of the game leaks that dwelled there.
He paused to stare at the yellow and red flowers that were sprouting out of the water. "Shrieking Deliliahs…they cover the human scent, disorient the hunters. That's why you're out here, isn't it? And you made allies of the Fog Faeries? That was sprite vapor you used on the Grinders, wasn't it? That is awesome…"
Lyle raised an eyebrow. "For someone 'new in town', you have a pretty good grasp on your game mythology."
Wyatt nodded. "I used to play the game…didn't you?"
"I didn't have time for games."
Entranced with the computer-spawned marshes, Wyatt jumped when he saw a shadow moving nearby…until he recognized the shape of the Barbarian game leak they'd dubbed 'Bob'. The barbarian was wielding a nasty-looking club. For a minute, Wyatt feared Bob was going to use the club on him. He'd been friendly in the other timeline, but in this universe, who knew…?
Lyle patted Wyatt's shoulder, grinning. "Relax, he's with me."
In his other hand, Bob carried several dead game leak animals…all of them were long and slimy and looked like big tapeworms. He grunted a word that sounded like: "Dinner."
Lyle gave the barbarian the thumbs up sign. "Good work, buddy."
Bob was pleased with the approval. With a grin that was missing many teeth, he offered one of the worm creatures to Wyatt.
Wyatt felt his lunch threatening to come up. "No, thanks…I…I'm sure it tastes like chicken…snot covered chicken…but no."
"Can't afford to be a picky eater out here, Wyatt," Lyle warned.
As they continued on their way, Bob following close behind, Wyatt began to see the flicker of small campfires in the distance. Shadows-human and otherwise-became discernible. Once in a while, a Fog Sprite glided, silent and graceful, among the trees or darted into the skies above. Slowly, Wyatt figured out they were going up to get a vantage point of the entire swamp and the park. Maybe they were the ones who had told Lyle that Wyatt was in trouble.
Twisted points of metal became interspersed with the vegetation. Wyatt peered at the fragments until he realized they were very human things like rusted car fenders, pieces of piping, old appliances…the junk yard! The Stenchwater Swamp had formed above Daventry Hills' scrapyard. Never Fail had chased a half-dozen metal-craving game leaks around that place. Some of the stacks of old, smashed cars were still standing. Here, where the watery wasteland merged with the human wrecking yard, was where Lyle and his friends had set up their camp. Humans an allied game leaks moved around the camp, using the high tree branches and the rusted out cars for shelter.
A Gula Muncher (half-goat, half-man, perpetually hungry-in the game, they were like attack dogs guarding camps and villages) was sitting watch with a human. Beneath the stubble of beard, wild hair, and filthy clothes, Wyatt recognized Reggie from the football team. Reggie and the Gula were sitting on a fallen tree, playing chess. The Gula had most of Reggie's pieces.
"Any trouble?" Lyle asked them.
Reggie gave the Gula an irritated glare. "Other than him cheating at chess, it's been quiet."
The Gula responded by moving his knight and took Reggie's queen. He gave the human a lipless grin.
"From now on, we play checkers," Reggie told him. "This the guy you grabbed from the monster squad?" he asked Lyle.
Lyle introduced, "Reggie, Wyatt."
"Nice to-" Reggie finally turned his attention from the game board to Lyle and the new arrival. As soon as he laid eyes on Wyatt, the ex-football player all but vaulted off the tree log and scrambled for his own club. He lunged at Wyatt until Lyle intervened. "Lyle, damn, man! This is a Doppleganger!"
"He's a human, Reg-I saved him from the Grinders," Lyle tried to calm down his friend.
More members of Lyle's camp came running, carrying clubs and pipes, not sure what the commotion was. The Gula Muncher dropped down onto its five legs and growled like an attack dog (an attack dog that looked like a hybrid goat-boy).
Wyatt recognized many of the faces-most were students and their family members. He saw Kowalski, McCobb, Maggie, and Natalie among the crowd. He supposed he should not be surprised that Dante and Max were not among them.
McCobb had overheard everything. He shared Reggie's opinion: "He can't be human. I know him…I know you. You're that computer geek, Waylon…"
"Wyatt." He discreetly moved to stand a bit behind Lyle.
Mike didn't lower his pipe. "Yeah, whatever, Wyatt-I heard you were in the computer lab when it blew up, so no way you're the real Wyatt. He's toast."
That was disturbing news. Wyatt blanched a little, not sure how to respond to that.
Lyle checked for himself. He took a knife from his coat, grabbed Wyatt's hand, and nicked Wyatt's palm before the boy could do more than let out a squeak of surprise. "Hey, ow!"
A bead of red pooled on Wyatt's palm. Lyle held up his hand so that the others could see it. "Blood, not data code, guys. He's human." Releasing Wyatt, Lyle took a step away from him and advised him: "This would be a real good time for you to tell me that long story that I won't believe."
Lyle sat in the spot that Reggie had abandoned, picking up a discarded club and holding it in a manner that suggested he might use it if he didn't like Wyatt's story.
Wyatt's brain was kicking into overdrive trying to piece together everything he'd learned in the very short time since he'd stepped through the time vortex. Okay, so he's dead in this timeline. Angie's dead. Dante and Max were MIA. Lyle doesn't play video games…
He frowned at Mike. "Wait, what 'computer lab'?"
Mike explained, "That super-secret computer government place where the accident was…where Maldark broke out of the game. You were there when Maldark blew up the place."
Lyle nodded. "That's right…you're that computer nerd. Quiz bowl champ. I thought I recognized you."
Wyatt was still processing. Their Wyatt went after Maldark alone? Without Dante and Lyle's help, there would have been no way to make the super weapon...their Wyatt wouldn't have had a chance…
He sighed. At least I don't have to convince them Maldark and the game leaks are real. I just have to convince them time travel is real. Yeah, that ought to be simple. "Have you heard of a game character called a 'Doubleback'?"
"No clue. Like I said, I'm not a gamer geek," Lyle said.
Wyatt ignored the jab. "Where I come from, you are. You're one of the best. Level 72 sorcerer. A Doubleback is a game monster that messes with history. In the game, it can send you back to the beginning, erase all your quests, force you to start over. I.R.L., it used this-" He pulled the broken chronometer out of his jacket pocket. He let Lyle examine the device. "-to travel back in time and alter our history in the real world so that Maldark's invasion would succeed."
Lyle was on his feet again. "Are you saying-?"
He had Lyle's full attention now. That was good. "The Doubleback broke the timeline. My gamer clan, our gamer clan, sent Maldark back into the game that night at the server station—the government place. We prevented his invasion, kept all this from happening. We've been making sure his monsters don't leak from the game ever since. I guess Maldark got tired of us messing up his plans and sent the Doubleback to change history, to make sure we never became a clan. Look at the date on the chronometer…September 30, 2011. What happened to you on September 30 last year?"
Lyle still couldn't decide if the kid was nuts. If he had even a far-fetched idea for how to take down Maldark, Lyle would humor him…for now. He unbuttoned his overcoat so that Wyatt could see the brace on his left knee.
"This happened September 30 last year. It was the first play against Crosstown High. Their linebacker blindsided me before the ball was snapped. I went one way, my leg went the other. The guy ran away…the coaches found him in the locker room, swearing up and down that someone locked him in the janitor's closet the whole time and never went on the field." Lyle let his coat fall back in place. "The weird thing was…the guy that hit me…I remember his face looked like metal. I thought he was wearing a Halloween mask or something under his helmet."
Reggie and McCobb exchanged glances at that. Reggie's ears turned red.
Okay, that explained the limp. "The Doubleback. How did that stop you from becoming a gamer?" Wyatt wanted to know.
"Are you kidding?! I spent months having surgeries and physical therapy. I didn't have time for video games-I was trying to get back into the game that mattered! I was trying to save my scholarship, my damn future. If I'd have known Maldark was going to show up and ruin it anyway, I wouldn't have bothered," Lyle muttered with disgust.
"What happened the night Maldark broke out of the game? In this timeline?" Wyatt swallowed nervously, "Other than me getting blown up?"
Lyle's evening had gone from "bad" to "worse" to "holy frick" in quick succession.
He'd known that coming to the homecoming game was a bad idea before his foot had even touched the field. Lyle felt like he was on display the minute he entered the stadium. He was used to taking the field to the cheers of the spectators, with all eyes on him. There was a time not so very long ago when he had reveled in such attention. He would have posed for any camera pointed at him—school journalist, local newspaper, local bloggers, or reporters. He'd loved being their quarterback, their hero.
Not that night. Crossing the field to the roar of the crowd, Lyle was self-conscious for what might have been the first time in his life.
It might have been because the last time he'd stepped onto this field, he'd left with his knee and his whole universe shattered. Just glimpsing the white lines on the green grass brought back the memory of the bizarre metal mask, the crunch of bone, and the dizzying blaze of pain.
It might have been because his father was leading the way, glad-handing prospective supporters in the upcoming mayoral election.
Possibly, it was because Lyle was hobbling across the field on his crutches instead of running in triumphantly with his team.
Then again, it could have been the glut of reporters who jockeyed for the best angle to get a shot of the Hugginson men as they approached the stage.
Most likely, it was because the combination of all these things were being piled on to the worst few months of Lyle's young life. All he knew was that he already regretted being talked into this visit to Daventry Hills High School…'talked' implying that his dad had really given him a choice. Maynard Hugginson was a man accustomed to getting his way, and what he wanted now was to be re-elected as Mayor of Daventry Hills. As he reminded Lyle, his family was part of his image, therefore it was important that his family be seen.
Being at the game, watching from the bleachers, would have been painful for Lyle. However, he quickly decided that watching from the stage with his father, under the sympathetic eyes of the crowd and hearing the clicks of cameras, was going to be far worse.
Lyle stood behind the stage, dreading his introduction, while his dad's speech began. He couldn't sit because all he did was writhe in nervousness, wanting to be any place else. Pacing wasn't easy on his bum knee. So, he ended up standing, fidgeting, and wondering how many points his father would lose in the polls if Lyle turned around and left before he put in his appearance for the crowd.
He tuned out most of the speech (his dad's assistant would signal when it was time for Lyle to take the stage). Lyle was concentrating on settling the butterflies in his stomach and staying out of the reporters' lines of sight…
…until his father's words filtered into Lyle's troubled thoughts.
"…but this night is not about me. This night is for you, Daventry Hills High School, and your fighting Trojans. It's to celebrate your spirit, which will never be defeated. But, there's someone here who understands better than any of us about the fighting spirit. Someone who shares your heart and your unbreakable will to win…my son, your quarterback, Lyle."
The crowd let out an approving roar, but Lyle shook his head.
Ex. Ex-quarterback. Lyle wanted to correct him. His dad was seriously going to use his son's disability to score points in the polls. Somehow, Lyle was not surprised. "What are you doing?" he muttered to himself.
"That's my question."
Lyle nearly lost his precarious balance when the voice from behind startled him. Mike McCobb had sneaked away from the rest of the Daventry Hills Trojans and was standing behind Lyle, face curled into a scowl. Terrific…now Lyle was in the last place he wanted to be with the last person he wanted to see.
He tried turning his back on the new quarterback, but McCobb moved so that he was sure to stay in Lyle's line of vision. Was he there to gloat now that he had the top spot on the team? "What do you want, McCobb?"
Of all things, McCobb sounded pissed off. Lyle hadn't seen the guy since the night of his last game, so he couldn't imagine what he'd done.
"You know what I freaking want, Hugginson. Call of the goon squad, man!" Mike demanded.
"Not a clue what you're talking about."
Mike had heard the story of how the mystery player from Crosstown High- the mystery player with the metal face mask-smashed Lyle's knee during the first play of the first game that season, smashed it and then disappeared into the crowd. It had been Mike's bad luck to have been the kid who had lost the quarterback slot to Hugginson during tryouts and his bad judgment to let the whole school know how he felt about coming in second place. It had been his worse luck to have been late to Lyle's fateful game due to car trouble. He'd arrived at the game just in time to see the ambulance whisk away the school's beloved quarterback.
The speculation about Lyle's accident and Mike's coincidental arrival after the fact had started rumors. "They think it was me."
That was the most ridiculous thing Lyle had heard. "I never said it was you. I told them the guy had a mask."
McCobb frowned. "You know the whole team thinks I was the kid in the freak mask…don't bother denying it. You're still the king of Daventry Hills High School. You know everything that goes on here."
"It's kind of hard for me to keep up on gossip from the hospital."
If Lyle was looking for sympathy, he wasn't going to get it from Mike. He had the whole school to fuss and fawn over him. Mike, on the other hand, had a football season to try to salvage. "We'll throw you another pity party real soon, Lyle, but in the meantime you need to start thinking of other people instead of feeling sorry for yourself, Hugginson. You need to get your team in line."
Lyle's temper flared as the accusations hit home. Already tense, he was now defensive. "They aren't my team anymore, McCobb. You're the QB."
"They're your team whether you're on the field or not, and they aren't going to listen to me unless you get it through to them that I didn't have anything to do with your accident. I can't be the QB for a bunch of guys who don't trust me. In case you haven't noticed, we haven't won a single game since your…without you. We're losing because they won't listen to me."
Now who was angling for the pity party? "Sounds like you're doing a bang up job," Lyle said.
McCobb rubbed the bridge of his nose, gathering his patience and wondering why he'd thought he could get through that ego of Hugginson's. "I'm not the only one who needs a winning season, Hugginson. We don't all have a rich daddy to pay our way through college. Some of us need a football scholarship."
Lyle moved faster than McCobb expected, considering he was on crutches and recovering from knee surgery. Suddenly, they were nose-to-nose, and Mike could see the other players beginning to notice what was going on behind the stage.
"Lot easier to get the scouts' attention now that you're the QB."
Mike shook his head. "Yeah, I've heard that shit, too. Winning games gets their attention. I was counting on a good high school career to get me into college. Do you really think I'd risk that by taking out our best player to try to get some glory for myself? I might as well break my own knee."
Lyle took a step back. McCobb was right, and he might be a cramp and a half, but he wasn't a cheater. He was a so-so student with a mom who waitressed to support him, not the sort who was going to risk his slot on the team by knee-capping another player (or the type for metal robot masks). Lyle knew this, but in a twisted way, while laid up in the hospital and then at home and weeks of physical therapy, it had helped having someone on whom to focus the blame. In a weird way, Lyle was kind of grateful Mike was calling him on being an ass.
Misunderstanding Lyle's silence, Mike tried another appeal: "Okay, I know you don't give a crap about me. I'm okay with that. It's not like we were tight or anything. What about them?" Mike pointed to Reggie, Kowalski, and the other Trojans. It was on his tongue to give Lyle a full earful about the lockers full of garbage, the blue dye in his shampoo, the fumbled plays, the times he'd ended up wearing his lunch due to an accidentally outstretched foot, and the hundred other bits of 'bad luck' he knew owed to his team mates. But, Lyle had his own problems. He didn't need to know about the crap the guys were doing to drive out their scapegoat and Mike was not a snitch anyway.
McCobb settled for saying: "They're so busy trying to me look bad out of loyalty to you that they're trashing their chances, too. Is that what you want?"
Reggie's voice interrupted: "What are you doing?"
The question had been directed at McCobb and Reggie's tone had been one of warning. Lyle was the one to answer. "Mike's just welcoming me back. Right?" He gave McCobb a look that said 'just go with it'.
Maynard Hugginson's voice boomed over the speakers, "Come on up here, Lyle." Lyle waited, watching the two players, who glared each other down.
Mike was the first to back off, nodding slowly to Lyle. "Right. Good to see you, Hugginson." He retreated, feeling Reggie's stare burn holes in the back of his head.
"Lyle!" his father called again.
He looked at the stage, still hesitating until Reggie finally shrugged off McCobb. "I think he means you," Reggie reminded him. Finally breaking into grin and working awkwardly around Lyle's crutches, he gave his friend a handshake and a one-armed hug. "Good to see you, man."
"You, too." Lyle meant it. He hadn't known how he'd feel being back here, but it was amazing how quickly the sense of camaraderie returned. These were the guys who had his back on the field, the ones who had visited him almost every day since the accident, even on the worst days when Lyle bogged down in despair and lashed out at anyone foolish enough to cross his path. He might doubt himself, but he should never have doubted them. Except… "And Reg? Whatever's been going on, tell the guys this stuff with Mike…it's over. Got it?"
Reggie's face darkened with a last burst of anger, but he simply took a breath and let it go. Lyle was their leader-on the field, off the field, whatever happened. If he said it, it was as good as done. "For you, brother," he promised.
Satisfied that he'd at least tried to atone for that mistake, Lyle faced the stage with a fresh surge of dread. His team was one thing. They'd seen the worst of him over the past few months. Being trotted out for strangers was another thing altogether. He felt very much on display as he crossed stage on his crutches to join his father at the microphone. Flash bulbs nearly blinded him as his dad wrapped an arm around his shoulder and posed for the eager media.
"It's been three months since Lyle has played on this field. We're here tonight so that you-the ones who have offered your support during this challenging time-will be the first to know that Lyle will return to the team for his senior year, one year from now," Maynard announced to the crowd.
The news was greeted with thunderous applause, wild cheers (many of them from the direction of the Trojan's team bench), and repeated chanting of Lyle's name…but this was all news to Lyle. His dad did not just say what Lyle thought he'd said.
The hoopla drowned the words out when Lyle covers the microphone and called to the crowd ino protest. "Wait! No! I'm not-"
His Dad pulled him aside before the enthusiastic spectators, or worse the reporters, overheard.
Lyle was somewhere between full-blown fury and a panic attack. "What the hell was that?! Why did you promise them I'd try for the team next year-I'm not even done with p.t. yet! The doctor said-"
His father's mouth set into a firm line that brooked no argument. He knew everything that the doctors knew…but more, he knew his son. He'd been with Lyle for the surgeries and the painful physical therapy that followed. His son was not one to back away from a challenge. On the contrary, Lyle would accept a dare for no other reason than someone telling him it could not be done.
That was before the injury. Maynard had seen what was happening to his son during his recovery. Doubt was creeping in. Fear was poisoning his spirit. If fear and doubt got the better of him, it would destroy him. The future he'd worked for would vanish in a flash. The natural leader and gifted athlete Lyle had become would be replaced by a boy with regrets and self-loathing. His father would simply not allow it. His son was a fighter. It was time for him to start fighting. He just needed the right motivation.
"The doctors don't know what you need, Lyle. They don't know you. I'm giving you motivation, because you haven't been able to find it on your own since you got injured. You won't get back on your feet by feeling sorry for yourself. You have incentive now, you have people counting on you and looking to you for inspiration. That's what you need. Are you going to give up and let them down?"
Had he lost his damned mind?! Lyle could barely walk on crutches right now. "I can't do what's impossible-"
Maynard's heels were dug in. Lyle could see it. "You are what's defeating you, Lyle, and I'm sick of it. I've spoken to your doctors; this is not a career-ending injury, and I'm not going to let you turn it into one because you're afraid you might fail."
"I have my own plan."
"I'd love to hear it." Maynard crossed his arms and waited patiently.
Lyle opened his mouth-and had no answer.
His dad nodded. "Son, you need a better plan. Now you have one: Back on the field. One year." He put a hand on Lyle's arm. "Now you prepare: What comes next?"
Lyle shook him off. "Me failing in front of the whole school. Public humiliation." His dad raised an eyebrow and started to interrupt again, but Lyle wouldn't let him. "I'm serious. It's not going to happen this time. I'm not doing this. No 'prepare'. No 'prevail'. This is nothing but a publicity stunt for your campaign, letting the reporters follow your poor injured son while he kills himself trying to jump through your hoops! No more! I'm done!"
He turned his back on the crowd, the reporters, and his dad. Trying to storm away on crutches was not easy, but he gave it his best shot. Lyle heard his dad making excuses and apologies to the crowd and shouting for him to come back-
-Then a rumble in the distance drowned out his dad's call.
People screamed, at first only in surprise at the unexpected sound. The spectators jumped to their feet, standing on the bleachers to seek the source of the sound. They turned in time to see an explosion not far away.
Lyle had seen news reports about unexplained explosions in Daventry Hills over the last few weeks. Campers had reported strange creatures in the wooded areas of town. Mysterious fireballs had been caught on camera setting campsites ablaze. One transient had even claimed that a warehouse fire had been set by a fire-breathing dragon. Citizens had blamed the gas company and threatened lawsuits over what they were sure were leaking pipelines.
This explosion came from the direction of a computer server station on the outskirts of the city. Lyle's first thought was that the military was probably doing some secret experiments out there.
Then he saw the beam of purple energy shoot from the ground to the sky, generating a massive dome of purple energy over the city. Nothing the military had invented (as far as he knew) could create something like that, not unless they were hiring graduates from Hogwarts or something.
Lyle would always remember the absolute silence that fell over the crowd as hundreds of people stared in wonder and disbelief at the sight. The screams did not begin until the wall of purple energy headed right at the school and the football field.
People began to run, their cries filling the night air. Lyle could see the wall was coming too fast to outrun it, even if he could run on crutches. He was practically lifted off his feet by his father's personal aides as he and Maynard were hustled to hide beneath the stage. It was an absurd idea, for Lyle had already seen the energy mass tearing apart everything in its path. The wooden stage would not protect them, but he was too terrified to argue.
Half of the team, including Reggie, Kowalski, and Mike, were already crouched beneath the stage, along with some of the other students. Lyle recognized a few of them—Natalie, Gus, some red-head science geek girl, some of the guys who hung out in the skate park, a Goth musician. Grunting as his knee resisted the motion, Lyle dragged himself forward so that he could peek from beneath the stage. His heart slammed in his ears, trying to kick its way out of his chest, but he swallowed hard. If he was about to be vaporized by-whatever that was-Lyle wanted to see it coming. He felt the motion of others joining him there; his father appeared at his right shoulder, Reggie and McCobb at his left.
Everything seemed to happen in slow-motion. As he watched, Lyle saw that the energy was not destroying what it touched, it was transforming buildings and trees and vehicles into new objects that were vaguely familiar. It took a second for him to realize what he was seeing: A Lava Belcher's volcano, a Scurr hollow, a medieval tavern, a Skelehawk's nest…those were all from an online game called Conqueror of all Worlds.
Lyle blinked. Was this a prank? Special EFX? Had he accidentally taken too many pain pills that afternoon?
He shut his eyes, not sure what the energy field would do to his flesh, but fully expecting to die.
When he opened his eyed, the stadium had been reshaped…the metal grandstands had been turned sideways and twisted into grotesque shapes resembling jagged metal teeth jutting out of the earth. Smoke was rising from fissures in the ground. Torches had replaced the electrical lights, burning unnatural blue flames. The small golf cart that the groundskeepers used stretched into a form so wicked looking that…well, Lyle didn't know how to describe it, but if Darth Vader used a golf cart, that would be the one. It had spiked hubcaps, a huge engine with a cow catcher mounted on the front, and he almost swear the headlights had eyelids that blinked. The school itself was half-collapsed and dark. Lyle hoped no one had been inside and didn't want to imagine what had happened if they weren't.
He glanced around, checking that everyone else was still alive. His dad was staring at him with a baffled frown. Lyle saw why when he caught sight of his new clothing.
Lyle was wearing a long, gray coat and sunglasses (which oddly enough still allowed him to see perfectly in the dark of evening) like his game avatar, Wizza. Lyle startled at that. Why was he dressed as an avatar? He had only played the game a few times before his injury, not even long enough to join a good gamer clan…
The spectators, including his father, were dressed in rags, like medieval peasants. As for the team, their pads had changed into tarnished iron armor. In combination with the burgundy uniforms they now wore, they actually faintly resemble real Trojans.
Reggie poked at Lyle's new overcoat with a finger. "What are you wearing?"
McCobb was the only one not distracted by the change of attire and environment. He was staring at something in the direction where the field had originated. He pointed to that something. "I'm more worried about that guy than Hugginson's outfit."
Lyle saw who he was talking about it, and his last hope that his sanity was intake faded away. Insanity was the only way to explain what he was seeing, because he for damned sure was not seeing a demented warlock from a computer game walking across the football field, and there definitely was not an army of hybrid porcupine-human men walking behind the sorcerer.
But it was the game wizard. Worse, the dome of purple energy was being generated by a large purple orb that floated above the wizard's outstretched left hand. His right hand grasped a black metal scepter.
"Maldark," Lyle gasped.
Reggie's brow furrowed. Okay, Lyle was a sharp guy, and for whatever reason he recognized the apparition that had manifested on the field. Reggie would take his word for it. There was just one thing Reggie wanted to know: "Who's 'Maldark'?"
The bleachers twisted into an arched gateway so that Maldark could make a royal entrance. His Three-Toed Tenrecs flanked him, herding the terrified and confused spectators like cattle. Now, Lyle could see that every human was dressed as either peasants, slaves, or avatars. The Tenrecs were quick to contain those dressed as avatars, ordering the 'game warriors' to surrender. A Mesmer stood at Maldark's side, subduing the other humans into surrender with its hypnotic show of light. People who still persisted in escaping were cut down by the Tenrecs' quills. Lyle is trying to remember if Tenrec needles were poisonous or just sedatives. He hoped it was the latter.
They had not spied the small group huddled beneath the stage. Yet.
Maldark spoke to the silent Mesmer. "Humans have a vile smell…like cowardice and defeat." He raised his voice to be heard above the dwindling screams of the crowd, but his tone was calm and commanding. "You will decide now, each of you, your place in the new world-in my new world. I have no particular use for any of you besides as a labor force in building my kingdom. You will have no rights, no liberties, and no mercy for dissidence and disobedience. If anyone is unhappy with this arrangement, say so now."
Mike's fingers curled into fists, beating into the dirt because he knew better than to rush out there and try to beat on the sorcerer's face. He scanned the faces of those being rounded up. His mom and little brother were at this game. His instincts cried for him to go to them, make sure they were alive. Intuition told him such effort would only get him slapped into chains like the others. "Who is that neuron? Is this a freaking joke?"
Lyle shook his head. "No joke-I just don't get how this can be real…Maldark's a character in an online game."
"How would you know?" Reggie asked.
"I-saw a commercial for it. On ESPN." Lyle had no idea why he was lying. Computer-spawned bad guys were taking over the freaking city. Why was he worried if the team found out he was secretly a gamer geek?
"He's right," Gus confirmed. "I've seen that game."
The Mesmer was putting more people under Maldark's spell. Tenrecs were putting shackles on the prisoners, separating them into groups according to some pre-arranged plan. The orb in Maldark's hand continued to expand the energy dome. Lyle figured the whole city had to be covered by now.
Maynard ordered the boys: "Now's our chance…while they're preoccupied. Head for that cart…or whatever it is."
Mike was searching for a way to sneak past the invaders. "What are the odds of us getting out of here without one of those monsters killing us?"
"Getting worse the longer we wait." Lyle's attention was still on the purple orb. "What do you think will happen if we take that stone? The one generating that force field?"
Reggie's eyes widened. "You mean before or after we die?"
Mike agreed. "You have got to be kidding, Hugginson."
They wanted to hide, to run, and Lyle didn't blame them. But, what was the point of running? Maldark was on the loose. How and why could be answered later. He had half the city already. If they didn't do something, that force field might cover the whole state…the whole world. For some reason-maybe it was the costume Maldark had forced on him, maybe it was seeing people he knew being hurt and captured, or maybe this surreal invasion was just the last straw in an utterly shitty year-the idea of Maldark conquering this world twisted something deep inside Lyle, pulled at him to act.
Maynard grabbed his son's arm. "Just a minute…you are not going to do something that reckless."
Lyle glanced from Maldark to the transformed groundskeepers' cart. He wondered how many people it could hold and, more importantly, if it could outrun the monsters. He decided that it just might. The only question was could he outrun the monsters? There was only one way to find out.
A smile spread across his face. "Actually, I think I am," he told his dad.
He looked at the guys, Gus, and Natalie. They all were plainly and rightfully frightened, but they all nodded.
Maynard saw the unspoken consensus among the teenagers and tried to reason with them. "Lyle-"
"Like you said, Dad, I just need a plan. Soon as we distract those goons, you head for the cart." Lyle crawled to the other side of the stage, where the team had been sitting. The others followed. He risked sticking his arm from under the cover to feel for something. He came back with a mesh bag filled with the game footballs. "Mike, you're the QB. Back me up?"
"Cover you? What do you think you're doing?!" Maynard whisper-yelled.
Mike nodded. Lyle took one of the footballs and handed the rest to Mike and Reggie. "Cover me. Watch out for those porcupine cramps."
"That's easily the weirdest thing anyone's ever said to me," Mike mumbled.
Lyle had already lost the crutches in the dive beneath the stage. He felt the brace was still on his leg beneath his bizarre new clothes. He wasn't planning to get far with his knee, he just had to stay on his feet long enough to get that orb.
As he prepared to break cover, his father suddenly scrambled out from under the stage and shouted to the invaders: "Lord Maldark!"
The monsters whirled on him. The Tenrecs aimed their quills, and Hugginson held his hands out in supplication so monsters could see that he was no threat. "-as mayor of Daventry Hills, on behalf of these people, we agree to your terms and ask your mercy."
Maldark sneered at the human. It was only the entertainment of watching him beg for mercy that stayed the warlock's hand. Plus, a man of authority might be of use in minimizing the resistance of the human sheep. "Mayor, are you? And you speak for the city as well?"
Maynard nodded. "I do." The warlock raised an eyebrow expectantly. "That is, with your permission…my lord."
The warlock preened…until a football suddenly knocked the orb out of his hand.
Maynard saw his son and the other teenagers burst out of their hiding place. Lyle had thrown the football, catching Maldark by surprise. When the orb fell to the ground, Lyle hobbled after it. The Tenrecs shot their needles at the boy, and his father yelled: "Lyle, don't-!"
Maldark bellowed, "What-?!" Seeing his orb in danger, he pointed his scepter at the rebellious human child.
Which was the moment that McCobb tossed another ball right into Maldark's face. The warlock bellowed in pain and fury.
Reggie was right behind, tackling the warlock and pinning him (and especially that scepter) until Lyle could snag the orb. Lyle was wincing as the hopping/running sent stabs of pain through his knee.
Natalie and Gus ran for the groundskeepers' cart, screaming all the way. Natalie made it. Gus, however, was caught when he mistakenly met the hypnotic stare of the Mesmer. He moved towards the metallic avatar robotically. Natalie shouted for him to stop, but knew it would be suicidal to go after him. She frantically searched for some kind of key to the vehicle, crouching down in the driver's seat to try to hide.
The Tenrecs were more concerned with the attack on their master. They unleashed another volley of quills upon the humans, but the points pinged harmlessly off the boys' new 'armor'. The team ran interference, shielding Lyle as he snatched up the orb.
He looked up. The energy dome was still there, but it was no longer expanding. He would not discover until later that the dome was twenty miles in diameter and had Daventry Hills cut off from the outside world.
Kowalski made his way to the cart just as the engine roared to life. Natalie waved him into the back seat as she gunned the vehicle towards Lyle and the others.
Maldark's fingers sprouted blades from his nails and descended to stab Reggie…but McCobb saw this. He tore the scepter out of Maldark's flailing hand and used it to crack the warlock on the skull. Maldark was stunned, but not quite unconscious. Reggie jumped away from the fallen avatar. He and McCobb helped Lyle to his feet as Natalie braked the cart to a stop beside them.
"Lyle!"
He heard his father's shout and turned, craning his neck to see past the throng of Tenrec mutants closing in on the cart. Lyle saw his Dad pushing his way around the monsters, knocking aside several of them with impressive ease.
Maynard nearly reached the boys, until the Mesmer stepped into his path, letting loose the full hypnotic force of its powers.
"Dad!" Lyle shouted back. His father did not answer, did not move. Obediently, he fell into place with the other captives behind the Mesmer.
Maldark, however, had heard the exchange. He sneered at the Hugginsons. "Ah—'dad'?"
Lyle realized their mistake. Heart leaping into his throat, he tried to jump out of the vehicle, to reach his dad before the warlock. He felt strong hands hold him back and realized it was Kowalski and Reggie. "Lyle, you can't!" Reggie shouted. Lyle nearly lost the orb in the struggle to break their grip; McCobb snatched it from his hand and tucked it safely into the cart.
Maldark held his fingerblades to unmoving Maynard's throat. "Return the Genesis Orb, whelp, or 'dad' will die," he hissed.
"Go, Natalie!" Kowalski shouted.
She gunned the cart for all it had-which was actually quite a bit, since Maldark's spell had leveled the vehicle up a few dozen notches. The overcrowded cart nearly did a wheelie as it careened out of the stadium; mutants scattered before it. One Tenrec stuck out its arm and snatched Gus out of the cart as it passed.
"Touch my dad, and I swear I'll find a way to destroy it!" Lyle screamed back at Maldark. His red-eyed glare was the last thing Lyle saw before the cart shot out of the twisted gates of the stadium and into the apocalyptic streets of what had been Daventry Hills...