Disclaimer: "Level Up" is not mine, I am not profiting from this unless you count having fun playing with the characters for a while…
4
Wyatt was pale by the end of Lyle's story. He didn't ask what happened to Maynard Hugginson after that-he remembered the broadcast only too well. Wyatt had spent the past year in his universe reveling in Never Fail's ability to beat down anything that leaked from the game, including Maldark himself, that he'd never stopped to imagine what might have happened if Maldark's invasion had succeeded.
Maldark's been watching. We've been playing the game and barding leaks, and he's been scoping us out, figuring out our weaknesses…he knew exactly how take out Lyle. Wyatt paced in circles, momentarily forgetting the eyes of those in the camp were watching him. He wasn't even aware when he began thinking aloud. "That explains how Maldark kept you out of Never Fail. There were two Doublebacks. One went after you. I still made it to the server station-of course I got myself blown up, but still, that means the second leak didn't come after me. The other one must have gone after Dante. If I could just fix this chron-"
Wyatt heard gasps and remembered the others. He stopped his pacing and turned back to Lyle.
All activity in the camp had come to a dead stop. Every last one of Lyle's crew was glaring at Wyatt. Some had raised their weapons again like they might actually attack him this time. The Gula Muncher growled and licked it lips (Wyatt hoped it wasn't planning on munching on him). Lyle had stopped snickering at Wyatt's wild tale. His mouth was curled into a scowl and his eyes narrowed dangerously.
Uneasy, Wyatt quickly asked, "What just happened? What'd I say?"
They all offered suggestions of what to do with Wyatt-most of their ideas involved stringing him up by various parts of his body-but Lyle held up his hand, signaling the others to hold back for a second. If this kid didn't know about the invasion, hadn't heard about Lyle's accident, then what he'd just said might have been another innocent mistake. It had better be a mistake. Thirty of us all heard him wrong.
"'Dante'? You're friends with that Grinder?" Lyle asked carefully.
Wyatt got why 'Grinder' was a bad word, having just been chased by them. But Grinders were the bad guys, obviously. They were Maldark's bad guys. Lyle didn't seriously think Dante was one of them? "Wait…what?"
Lyle grabbed a fistful of Wyatt's shirt and lifted him off his feet. "Any friend of that traitor is not-"
Wyatt wheezed out a protest. "I think you're talking about someone else…"
"I don't think so." Lyle's grin was pure hatred.
"Dante Onterro? Little guy? Braces? Strange odor? Bat crap crazy?" Wyatt clarified. Lyle couldn't be talking about their friend.
Lyle raised his voice, trying to get that dumbfounded look off the dark-haired boy's face. "Who do you think was chasing you back there? That was your buddy, Dante, and his Grinders. They're Maldark's goons, his bounty hunters. Sold out their own planet for food and a comfy place to live and…oh yeah, to save their own skins."
Wyatt stared him in the eye, searching for any hint that Lyle was joking. "Are you kidding?"
"Do I freaking sound like I'm kidding!?" Lyle let Wyatt drop to the ground, having to step away from the kid before he gave in to the urge to try smacking comprehension into him. This kid wasn't the one Lyle was angry with.
Of course, the strange boy wasn't helping his cause by arguing. "I don't believe you."
"Not my problem," Lyle snapped at him.
Wyatt walked right after Lyle, not caring about the death glares the others were giving him. "No, you're wrong. Dante's crazy, yes, but not that kind of crazy."
"Why don't you tell that to the people he's hunted down for Maldark? This isn't your timeline, remember?" Lyle sarcastically air-quoted the words 'your timeline'.
Wyatt recalled Angie's poster with the line across her picture and the words 'executed by the Grinders'. The image of his friend pointing a weapon at her and firing…No. No way. "He would never join Maldark. Not in any timeline. And I thought you didn't believe me about the Doubleback?"
Lyle finally turned and faced him again. Wyatt was persistent, if nothing else. If they were talking about someone who wasn't a bottom-feeder like Onterro, Lyle would have respected the guy's loyalty to his friend.
It was time to ask the question that would prove Wyatt was full of crap, Lyle decided. "All right, convince me. In this 'timeline' where you, me, and that cramp were a 'game clan', how did we stop Maldark's invasion?"
They'd been sworn to secrecy in the real timeline, but Wyatt supposed there was no need to worry about 'spoilers' for Max's game anymore. "I pulled our weapons out of the game. Mad computer skills and all that. When Maldark invaded, we-you, me, and Dante-merged our weapons into one super-weapon. Max told us how to do it. It almost killed us, but it sent Maldark back into the game."
Lyle blinked. Was it even remotely possible this guy was on the level? Had he really just told them how to defeat Maldark? "Could you do that again if we had weapons? Could it kill him, not just send him back into the game?"
"I didn't do it-you were the sorcerer. You had the Thunder Pole, you did the spell that merged the weaopns. Level 72 sorcerer, remember? Well, level 68 at the time…" Lyle cleared his throat impatiently, so Wyatt finished his answer, "I could tell you how you did it."
Reggie couldn't believe Lyle was buying into this. He challenged Wyatt. "How come you're the only one who remembers any of this?" A few others nodded in shared disbelief.
Wyatt had been wondering the same thing since he stepped out of the time vortex. "Good question. Maybe it was the chronometer? I was holding it when the Doublebacks went through the vortexes. Maybe it shielded me, or the vortexes created some kind of time bubble that I'm caught in. I don't know…wait!"
He had an idea. Digging out his cellphone, he thumbed through the photo gallery, glad to find that the pictures from the other timeline were still there, including one of the "ambush" photos Angie had taken of Wyatt, Lyle, and Dante shortly after they'd defeated Maldark, back when Lyle and Dante were still reluctant to hang out together I.R.L.
He passed the phone to Lyle. Lyle studied it in disbelief, especially at the football jacket he's wearing-which had the current season's year stitched on its sleeve. It looked real enough, at least, Lyle could see no signs that it had been photo-shopped or otherwise faked.
"Okay, maybe I believe you a little bit," he finally admitted.
"So you'll help me figure out what the Doubleback did to Dante?"
Lyle tossed the phone back to Wyatt. He needed to stop listening to this kid's ramblings. Wyatt was a computer genius, so it wouldn't have been that hard for him to fake a cell phone picture. Lyle could understand why this place would drive someone to dream up fantasies about parallel universes free of game mutants and struggles to survive. Another few months in the swamp and Lyle might be ready for a padded room himself.
"No way." Wyatt started to argue again, and Lyle cut him off: "Listen, I'm doing you a favor. Stay away from the city, and especially from that weasel, if you want to survive in this timeline, Wyatt. This isn't your Daventry Hills and these aren't the people you remember. In case you haven't noticed, you're not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy."
That was the final word as far as Lyle was concerned. He wasn't doing Wyatt any favors by getting sucked into the hallucination, too. Someone had to be the voice of reality for him. He turned and headed into the camp, leaving Wyatt to think about what he'd said.
"Can I at least be anyone but Dorothy in that metaphor?" Wyatt shouted after him.
Well, he didn't throw me out of the camp completely. Wyatt sighed. That was a start. Lyle never did like to acknowledge his inner belief in science fiction and the supernatural in front of the cool kids in school, maybe admitting faith in wild tales of time travel was no different. He might have better luck if he could get Lyle away from the snickers and eye-rolls of the rest of the camp's refugees. He'd try again later, when his friend had some time to think about what he'd said.
It wasn't as if Wyatt had any place to go.
There was nothing rude as being awakened by Lord Maldark, but Dante had decided that being awakened by a metal chip stuck in his neck that sent currents of energy into every nerve in his body was a close second. Implants and electrocution…the warlock had a real sick way of saying 'hello'.
Dante was moving even before he was fully awake. Still blinking sleep out of his eyes, his hand automatically fumbled to the empty half of his 'mattress' (which was basically trash bags stuffed with cardboard and newspapers). His fingers brushed a V-shaped object and the curves of a metal mask. He shoved both objects deeper beneath the threadbare blanket, out of sight, seconds before the figure of the Mesmer appeared in the doorway.
The avatar's face already glowed purple. It projected a life-sized hologram of Lord Maldark. The image glared down at the teenager. "Sleeping the sleep of a wretched failure?" Maldark greeted. He looked around at the slovenly room in disgust. Humans were repulsive normally…but this human child was particularly gross. "This place looks like the lair of a Trash Troll. Humans really are filthy creatures."
Dante didn't think it was wise to point out Maldark's hand in wrecking the place that he now called 'home'. His room had once been the teacher's lounge in Daventry Hills High School, one of the few buildings in the city not completely demolished or transformed into something out of the Conqueror Of All Worlds game. It was pretty much the same sinkhole that Dante remembered…except it had a few more crumbling walls, assorted computer-spawned vermin living in the ventilation system, several wings that had burned up, and several more wings that had been repainted with assorted murals and graffiti courtesy of the group of boys who lived in the school. They didn't even have electricity to make the place more comfortable. The Grinders' headquarters got light and heat from fires that burned in metal trash cans. It was a cesspool, but it wasn't as if Dante had any place else to go.
"I resent that-you can't get the fully appreciate how filthy it is without the smell," Dante covered his nervousness with the feeble joke. "What can I do for your today, boss?"
Maldark was seething. "You allowed the human to escape." Briefly, the hologram of the warlock was replaced by an image of the curly-haired kid from the tavern.
Dante climbed out of the bed, pulling on a worn out gray t-shirt. As soon as he'd pulled on the garment, it transformed into the familiar black tunic that identified the teenager as a 'game warrior'. He was sick of the uniform and unable to escape it due to Maldark's magic. Anyone who had ever created an avatar in the game was cursed to only wear the uniform of their digital alter-egos. It made the 'game warriors' easier for Maldark's minions to spot among the throngs of human slaves…easier to spot for execution.
"Give me a break. We didn't get a head's up that he was at the tavern before your guys scared him off." Dante trudged out of his room as quickly as he could, before Maldark saw anything else hidden among the heaps of trash in there. The Mesmer followed, making sure the hologram of the overlord kept pace with the boy. "Besides, that Hugginson cramp messed us up."
Dante moved down the main stairway to the hallway of the old cafeteria wing. Most of the Grinders slept there, passed out on the benches, tables, chairs, or stretched out on the stairs. A few of them were still up and around. Every boy there had an implant identical to the torture device in Dante's neck.
The large form of Rat was crouched in one corner, scribbling on the walls. The youngest Grinder rarely slept because of his hyperactivity. His near-constant activity drove the other boys crazy. When they'd shared quarters in Juvenile Hall, the boys had been on the brink of knocking Rat out to make him be still. Dante had figured out that giving the kid a task before bed time kept him occupied and mostly quiet so the rest of them could sleep. Last night, Dante had set up Rat to play tic-tac-toe on the walls of the cafeteria. All four walls were now covered with games, all of them ended in a draw.
And, of course, Deacon lurked at the far end of the hallway. He was obscured by the shadows cast from the glow of the fires in the trash cans, but Dante could feel the creepy boy silently watching everything. Deacon had rolled up his sleeve and was either drawing on his arm or giving himself a home tattoo…neither of which would have surprised Dante.
"Ah yes, the Hugginson whelp…you were supposed to dispatch him and retrieve my Genesis Orb months ago. You have failed that task as well…nor have you brought me that dissident Mahtava," Maldark reminded him.
"In fairness, Saast was right there and he didn't catch Mahtava either…"
Maldark wasn't amused. "Perhaps you need a reminder that failure will not be tolerated?"
Rat stopped mid-game, and Deacon froze mid-whatever the hell he was doing. The latter climbed to his feet, watching the exchange between the hologram and the Grinders' leader. They knew as well as Dante what kind of 'reminder' Maldark had in mind.
Dante tried: "I don't think-"
Maldark agreed. "No. You don't."
The hologram raised his right hand, to display the dreaded ring. A simple touch of one finger to the stone of Maldark's ring, and suddenly the implant in Rat's neck unleashed a surge of energy through the boy's body. He let out a scream that propelled the rest of the sleeping group into instant wakefulness. They scrambled to their feet, seeking the source of the screams, and sized up the situation immediately. Some reached for Rat, instinctively wanting to help, but none dared interfere. Most turned their gaze to Dante to see what he would do.
Dante cursed. He put himself between the hologram and the boy who writhed on the hallway floor (as if that was going to help). "You're bounty hunters haven't caught Hugginson either! You haven't caught him, and you have his freaking dad!"
Maldark ignored the accusation. Rat continued to scream.
"Kill us and you have to come out of your castle and hunt us filthy humans yourself."
The warlock wrinkled his nose at that notion.
"Look, I'll get them! Just give me a-" Dante added.
As quickly he'd attacked, Maldark let Rat go. The Grinders moved to help their fallen friend, all except for Deacon, whose frosty blue eyes were fixed on the hologram and their dark-haired leader.
Maldark finally acknowledged Dante. "One day. Bring me one of the Dissidents before this day is over, or I'll execute you instead. And never speak to me with impudence again."
He gave Dante one last shock with the implant, just to be certain he'd made his point. Then, the hologram shut down and the Mesmer retreated.
Dante and Deacon moved for Rat at the same time. Deke glared at Dante with a look that could have frozen an Eskimo. "Damn it, man, you gotta stop this! Maldark's going to figure out what you're doing; then he'll kill all of us!"
Rat struggled to sit up, determined to prove he could handle whatever the warlock dished out as well as the older boys. Dante frowned at the angry red welt around Rat's implant. His own neck burned, but he ignored it. Dante snapped back at Deacon. "What do you think Maldark's going to do when we finish off his 'Most Wanted' list and he doesn't need us to do his dirty work anymore?"
"Dante knows what he's doing. He got us out of that dungeon," Rat put in.
"Better to be lucky than smart." Deacon stood, succeeding in being intimidating between his considerable height and muscles. "Figure out a way to get that freak off our backs, Onterro."
It was a challenge, and Dante had to answer it. The last thing he needed was Deacon in charge of a group of frightened, borderline insane group like the Grinders. He straightened to stand eye-to-neck with Deacon. "Or what? You want to try surviving here without me?"
The older boy frowned. He gaze swept over the motley group. Most of them were lemmings, willing to follow anyone who knew how to keep the invading monsters off their backs. Onterro might be the village idiot, but they were all dependent upon his scant experience with the game and its monsters. The minute that changed, Deacon would personally rid them of the idiot (if Maldark didn't do it first). Until then, Deacon had no choice but to back off. Dante was grateful for that. If Deacon had decided to beat him to a pulp, there'd be very little Dante could do to stop it, and he has his doubts the others would jump to his defense.
Deacon's retreat broke some of the tension in the hallway. The boys retreated to their places in the hallway, uncomfortable silence settling over the group.
Dante felt something cold press against the metal shard in his neck. Guy had appeared (the game Leak had a sixth sense for knowing when he was needed) with medicine for the implant burns. He passed one cold compress to Rat and another to Dante.
"I'm fine, Guy." Nevertheless, he accepted the dirty cloth for what little relief it gave from the ache.
Guy spoke quietly, so only Dante heard the warning: "For now-if you wish to remain so, I suggest you find a way to appease Lord Maldark." It wasn't just Maldark that concerned the man. Guy doubted that Dante would be able to hold off Deacon's power ploys for much longer.
Dante nodded. "Yeah, yeah, I'll think of something."
He just had no idea what…
Lyle was perched at the top of a stack of rusted cars in the middle of the swamp, which was a good vantage point for watching over the camp. He really used it for privacy. No one bothered to climb up here to talk to him unless it was supremely important, taking the cue that he wanted to be alone when he was up in that roost.
His attention was divided. He kept an eye out for signs of intruders in the Stenchwater Swamp. He was also thumbing through the cell phone that he'd lifted off Wyatt the night before. Lyle had intended to study the picture and figure out how Wyatt had faked it, to find other evidence of his lie by reading through the saved text messages and scanning the rest of the phone's photo gallery.
His plan was backfiring rapidly. The more Lyle saw, the more he figured out that this was either the wildly elaborate scheme of someone truly off the deep end…or that Wyatt was telling the truth. What he found were text messages, the majority of which were to and from Lyle and Dante and some girl named Angie. Most were generic messages—meet me here, pick up Lyle there, project with Angie due then, where are you inquiries, dares offered and accepted, suggested for getting moss out of one's belly button, and so on. Dante had sent at least ten cell phone pictures for a collection labeled 'corn chips that look like reality t.v. show hosts' (which they did).
A few were calls for help handling Five-Arm Marauders, teachers who were cobras (whatever that meant), sunburns, computer dates, and other messages that were even more bizarre, probably written in moments of extreme panic, therefore only making sense if you had been there at the time.
Which Lyle supposed he had been, in a way.
What did not escape Lyle's notice was that every message was dated at least three months in the future and some as far off as a year in the future.
The rest of Lyle's attention was on the Genesis Orb, which was broadcasting the usual morning message from Maldark…as read by his favorite ambassador.
"…if you a human resisting the authority of our glorious lord, Maldark, I urge you to-" Lyle's father recited with the glazed eyes of one in a Mesmer's trance.
Lyle set the orb back in its hiding place among the piles of burned out and rusted car. The only comfort he got from the daily broadcasts was seeing that his dad was still alive.
For hours after the invasion, they hid in the sewers. The groundskeeper's cart had held less than a dozen, and they'd lost two more in their escape from the stadium. A Skelehawk had lifted Philbert right out of the vehicle before anyone could stop it, and Maggie had been caught by a Scurr slug. The creature had dug its teeth in the base of her skull, taking control of her brain and forcing her to attack. In self-defense, Kowalski had knocked her from the car and that was the last they'd seen of her.
Nine of them were left by the time the vehicle crashed into a demolished section of pavement. They'd run for the river and the drain pipes that led into the sewer system.
They shut their ears to the cries echoing on the streets above, too terrified to stick their heads out of their hiding place and not knowing what to do if they did venture out. Many of them sat in glassy-eyed shock, arms wrapped around their knees, nervously rocking back and forth. Some out and out cried and nobody blamed them.
Lyle had lost his crutches when Reggie and Mike had pulled him into the jeep. They'd half-carried him in the run to the sewers. His knee ached like a bitch now. Lyle barely noticed or cared. He'd probably be dead before the day was over anyway.
He had tried to remove the bizarre clothing, but quickly discovered it had originated from one of Maldark's spells. Any different article of clothing he put on changed into the same overcoat and sunglasses of his game avatar. Lyle supposed Maldark had planned this little trick to make sure he could spot anyone who had experience with the game-'game warriors' he had called them. Super.
They'd run, left their families and their friends behind to save their own necks. Lyle squeezed his eyes closed, trying to shut out the image of the Mesmer brainwashing his father and Maldark's blades pressed to his father's throat.
McCobb voiced Lyle's thoughts: "We left them."
He paced, desperate to do something, to find out what happened to his mom and brother, but not having a clue where to start. He wondered what became of the police. They had heard noises like explosions in the distance and airplanes buzzing overhead. The sounds of explosions always followed the noise of the aircraft engines. If the Army was attacking that force field, they weren't making any headway breaking through. And, if the Army couldn't break though, what the hell were a bunch of football players and Natalie supposed to do?
"What were we supposed to do?" Kowalski grunted back. "Fight back? We aren't the damned Wolverines and this isn't freaking 'Red Dawn'."
"Aren't you worried about your family?" McCobb snapped.
Kowalski jumped to his feet, angry. "What the hell kind of question is that?!"
McCobb backed off, not in the mood to fight Kowalski when there were actual monsters out there to tangle with. He turned to the only person the rest of the group would listen to. "What do we do now? You got a plan?" he asked Lyle.
Lyle glared, "Why the hell are you asking me?"
McCobb waved his hands at the frightened knot of teenager.: "You got us out of the stadium. You're their QB."
"Not anymore."
"They trust you. They're going to follow you."
"Right off a cliff. Mike, I don't have the answers! I don't know any more about what's going on than the rest of you." Lyle nervously rubbed at his aching leg.
Mike disagreed. "You've played the game. You can at least guess better than we can."
Lyle yelled, "This isn't a game!"
Reggie asked quietly: "If it was, what would be our next play?"
When approached from that angle, Lyle automatically started thinking about the situation in football terms. They were the defense. The orb Lyle still guarded-it was the key to his father's life, after all, and maybe all their lives-was the ball. If the warlock's reaction last night was any indication, Maldark's offensive line (and the ugly, smelly, hairy mutants redefined "offensive") was going to come after it with everything he had.
Leave it to Maldark to rub salt in the wounds. As the teenagers bickered, the Genesis Orb flickered to life. The last thing Lyle expected was the image of his father at the center of the sphere.
Mayor Maynard Hugginson spoke with calm authority, but Lyle knew his father. He could see the hint of defiance and disgust in his father's eyes, in the lines at the corners of his mouth as he frowned, and he could sense the coercion behind the words he spoke: "Citizens of Maldark: As the Human Ambassador, I have officially surrendered the city to Lord Maldark. In exchange for our unconditional pledge of servitude to Maldark, he has agreed to spare our lives, with the following exceptions: Game warriors, dissidents, and any human or avatar who harbors them, is subject to execution on sight. To the human dissident who has stolen the Genesis Orb, you have until the end of the day to restore what belongs to Maldark, or the human slaves will be executed one at a time in your place…beginning with me." There was the slightest hesitation, humiliation even, before Hugginson forced out the final words: "All praise to Lord Maldark."
Something deep within Lyle snapped, a piece finally clicking into place. All eyes turned to him, waiting to see what he would do.
His hands balled into fists, so tight that his nails left red indents on his skin. His insight had been right-Maldark would never give up the Genesis Orb.
And Lyle would never give up his father.
Dad was right…he'd just needed the right motivation.
Lyle pushed himself painfully to feet, waving Reggie off when he tried to offer a hand. Reggie and Mike weren't going to be able to carry him all around this city, not if they hoped to keep ahead of Maldark's minions. Leaning against the wall, remembering how the therapist had shown him to walk, he took a step, then another and another. The others followed as he slowly made his way along the tunnel. He walked until he finally found a long piece of broken fencing lying in the mud. It would give him splinters, but it would do until he could find a better crutch or walking stick.
"You're right, Mike. It's a game and Maldark's going to force us to play," Lyle said. "And I know our first move."
The human world was vile, Saast had decided after one night. Even his pet Frill-Necked Slimer slugs that perched on his shoulders, made small hissing noises of uneasiness. He stroked them with a gloved paw, soothing the agitated creatures.
He curled up his trunk-like nose, trying to block the smell of the place-the odor of human sweat, of smoke, of burned wood and burned flesh was all repulsive to one unaccustomed to having a real sense of smell. He shuddered at the feel of mud and broken concrete beneath his unshod feet. Even the foliage had a sickeningly sweet smell. Small wonder Lord Maldark had secluded himself within his palace and left the task of rounding up the humans and retrieving his Genesis Orb to his foot soldiers.
As for the creatures that inhabited this world, they would be easy enough to conquer. Those within the city were quickly being gathered like sheep, with only pockets of humans in hiding to be ferreted out. Within two weeks, Saast would have the last one in chains and Maldark's new labor force efficiently distributed at his farms, factories, and mines.
Perhaps the delay caused by the bothersome children who had taken the Genesis Orb had been a favor; the conquest of the small clutch of humans within this city was gifting Saast with insight into their nature and methods of combat that would serve him well when the invasion expanded to the rest of the planet.
In the smaller tracking orb that Saast carried, he could see the small group of human teeangers hiding in the tunnels beneath the city. They were unaware of the multiple purposes of every orb, in particular that the orbs were means of communication. In combination with the map of the newly transformed city that Maldark had conjured, Saast would have the young dissidents in hand within the hour.
"The humans will be disoriented. They will act on instinct and fear. They'll try to hide as far from us as possible," Saast instructed his small company of Tenrecs and his Mesmer as they searched the city.
Saast's orb had led him to a section of the city that the humans had called Sculpture Park. Obviously, they had named it in honor of the garish, blue, sixty foot tall sculpture at the center of the park. Saast sniffed at the object, another oddity of the inhabitants of this world. It smelled of paint, which repelled him. Neither was it pleasing to his overlarge eyes-it was a hodgepodge of geometric shapes atop what resembled a campfire. He could not fathom what purpose such a concoction served.
A half-dozen avatars, all of them wearing long robes and wielding Thunder Poles, were gathered around the towering sculpture, bowing and reciting incantations.
Such idiocy incensed Saast. He chased them away by breaking off a fang and spitting it at them. Another fang quickly grew in its place. The ivory projectile embedded itself in the statue. "Disperse! It's a statue, you idiots!"
They scattered, hiding in the nearby forest. As soon as Saast and his guards passed by, the warlocks ran back to the statue and resumed their ceremonies. One of them climbed up to fetch the Timiga's tusk from the statue and happily fashioned a tip for his Thunder Pole from it.
Saast growled in his throat, but had no time to waste on their foolishness. The orb showed him that the human fugitives had left the tunnels and were in a wooded area. He ordered his soldiers: "Tenrec-search the forest, the parks, and watch the Barbarian and Newport encampments. Warn them that their sympathies for the human slaves will not be tolerated, nor will they be spared if they hide the fugitives."
The Tenrecs hastened to obey. Saast and the Mesmer waited on the dirt road for the Tenrecs to flush the human children out of hiding. Maldark had already prepared a particularly slow and very public execution to repay the humans for the humiliation he'd suffered over the theft of the Genesis Orb…
"So-Barbarians and Newport folks have soft spots for humans. Good to know."
He did not know the voice-Saast had not been present at the "football stadium" during the theft of the orb-but the impudent tone told him all he needed to know: the defiant words had come from one of the thieves. He whirled around to find a human boy standing behind him on the trail. The teenager was unsteady, obviously having one injured leg. Still, he stared down the 'First One of Maldark' without so much as a blink to betray fear.
In that millisecond, Saast decided Maldark wouldn't mind if just one of the humans didn't survive long enough to be executed.
Before he could break off a fang to spit at the human, Lyle swung his heavy walking stick and cracked the monster across its skull.
The Frill-Necked Slimers hissed and snaked, quick as the play of lightning, at the teenagers. "Ew, nasty!" Lyle jumped back, swinging the stick at the slug avatars. He batted them away, though they spewed slime into his face as they were knocked aside. For the first time, Lyle appreciated the sunglasses he was forced to wear.
The Mesmer let out a shrill keen of alarm that brought the Tenrecs running back to Saast.
Reggie, Mike, Kowalski, and the others rushed from their hiding places in the park, using what weapons they had scavenged to fight the Tenrecs. They had learned their lesson about the mutants' quills and had found battered garbage can lids to deflect most of the needles. A black quill glanced Natalie's arm. With a shout, Reggie charged at her Tenrec assailant, pushing it back with the lid until it lost its footing and tumbled down a slope.
"Nat!" Lyle stumbled over, feeling at her throat for a pulse, thankful to find it was strong and steady.
The Mesmer stepped into the center of the fray, turning its powers against the humans. Kowalski took up a broken length of pipe and aimed it squarely at the robotic avatar's chest. It captured Kowalski's eye with its hypnotic light show, setting its will into the boy's mind.
Kowalski took the pipe and turned to stalk up behind the distracted Lyle.
Mike tore off his jacket and used it to cover the Mesmer's face. He grabbed hold of the mutant, shouting a cry of warning to Lyle.
Lyle caught the pipe before it impaled him, but Kowalski put his weight behind the thrust. The force made Lyle stumble, which nearly caused his bad knee to give out beneath him. Kowalski lunged again, and this time, the leg gave out and Lyle fell. A fresh spray of pain made him see stars.
Reggie stepped between Kowalski and Lyle. He gave Kowalski a slap across the face.
"Ow!" Kowalski blinked, his dazed expression giving way to an confused glare. "What happened?" Automatically, he turned back towards the Mesmer.
Reggie grabbed his shoulder and spun him away from the monster. "Don't look directly at it!"
"You okay?" Mike asked Lyle.
As he pushed himself to his feet, Lyle spotted something that had fallen from Saast's hand. It was a smaller orb. It alternated between showing a map of Daventry Hills as it was now that the invasion had begun-including the Babarian and Newport camps, the Acid Lakes, the Stenchwater Swamps, and the Lava Moats and Scurr Hollows-and showing the teenagers standing in the park. So, this is how the freaks found our hiding place. Lyle would have to find a box or container for the Genesis Orb, something to keep Maldark from using it to spy on them.
"What have we here? This could be useful, too. Mike, look at this."
Kowalski took Mike's place in restraining the Mesmer. McCobb stared at the map that displayed on the smaller orb, instantly knowing what Lyle needed: He needed Mike's photographic memory so that they could reproduce the map of the new city later. He studied every detail before nodding to Lyle, who dashed the smaller orb into shards on the pavement.
His walking stick had broken on impact with Saast's thick skull. Lyle used the pipe that Kowalski had found instead. He limped over to the Mesmer. "I'm going to take off this hood because I need you to send a message to Maldark for me. If you try to hypnotize me with your little light show, I'm going to drop you in the lava moats now that I know where to find them. Understand me?"
The Mesmer made not a sound.
Maldark's palace had formerly been the extravagant home of the game's creator, Max Ross, the egomaniacal human who erroneously believed himself to be Maldark's creator as well. As if any mere mortal could claim to have a hand in breathing life into an entity as powerful as he. The notion made Maldark scoff. He had made a point of destroying that fool fist. The only worthwhile thing Ross had done was create a castle within the city that Maldark could claim for himself when the conquest of Earth began. It would suit him until the human race was at last under his reign, after which his slaves would build him a palace of gold and the finest jewels to be mined on this minor planet.
None of those plans would progress if that incompetent Saast did not retrieve the Genesis Orb. To be delayed by children was an affront to Maldark. With each passing hour, Maldark's impatience grew. As half the day slipped by without word from his First One or the surrender of the disrespectful human teenagers, Maldark paced. Perhaps he should send Saast and the Tenrecs to labor and send humans to chase down the teenagers. Maybe they'd have better luck fetching back the orb.
The Tenrecs, Mesmers, and other minions who attended him kept a discreet distance from their fuming master…quite involuntarily…the Mesmers emitted the warning tone of an incoming transmission and their faceplates began to glow.
"What-?" Maldark frowned. This could not be a message from Saast. He would have used the communication orb, not the Mesmers, to speak to his master. The Mesmers were placed throughout the city, there to monitor for any escaped humans and to broadcast Maldark's messages to his people as they took possession of the town. Maldark would feed Saast to his pet slugs if he dared make a broadcast without Maldark's permission…
The Mesmers projected the image of a human Maldark recognized at once.
The face of the warlock, reflected in the smaller orb, showed his shock. Lyle grinned at that. "I have a message for you, 'Lord' Maldark. You want your Genesis Orb? Guess what? I'm not giving it back. You can come and try to take it from me. You'll fail."
Lyle pointed the orb towards the Acid Moats that surrounded the city. Kowalski dangled the Genesis Orb above the simmering goo. When he was sure that Maldark had time to see this, Lyle pointed the orb back at himself. "Here are my terms: If you execute one human hostage, especially my father, or if one of your goons or flunkies comes within one hundred feet of me or my friends…well, I'm betting acid can destroy this orb."
The human leaned in close to the orb, then made a hand gesture into the sphere that Maldark did not understand, but intuitively knew was rude and defiant.
Lyle ended with: "'All glory to Maldark'." Then, the Mesmers face-screen went dark once more.
They could hear Maldark's cry all the way at the Acid Moats.
Lyle walked back to where the others were gathered. They'd found a discarded sack to carry the Genesis Orb, not at all certain that it would hide them if Maldark tried to use the sphere to track them again. They'd left Saast and his Mesmer chained to a tree, but the Tenrecs would have returned and freed them by now, Lyle figured. They had to get someplace where the monsters wouldn't follow, if such a place existed.
McCobb was ashen-faced. "Okay, so that was terrifying. Now that you've pissed off the warlock, do you have a plan?"
"First, we find a place to hide where the hunters and Maldark won't want to search. In the game, there were safe zones: The Chameleomole tunnels, the Razor Rocks…did you see any of those places on the map?" Lyle asked Mike.
Mike picked up a stick and concentrated on drawing the map in the dirt. Lyle focused on the map while the others watched for signs of pursuers.
After a few minutes, Lyle saw something he recalled from the game. "The Stenchwater Swamps! Right there. It's a Safe Zone. That's what we need. Let's move."
Reggie nodded. "I like the plan so far. Safe zones are good."
"What? Tenrecs don't like getting their feet wet?" McCobb sniped.
Lyle used his foot to erase the lines in the dirt. "The swamp is full of Fog Faeries and Shrieking Delilahs-it's a flower. Faeries can generate a fog that will knock out anyone who breathes it. Shrieking Delilahs can disorient an avatar with the screaming noises they make."
"What stops the Faeries from knocking us out?" Kowalski wanted to know.
"Fog Faeries are gamer allies, that's what."
"Allies are also good," Reggie said. "When we get to the swamps, then what?"
"We find more allies. Start gathering weapons. Prepare."
Natalie wasn't sure she liked the sound of that. "Prepare for what?"
Lyle squared his shoulders. "To prevail…we find a way to kill Maldark. We get our families back."
Wyatt had tried in vain to sleep in a hammock slung between a tree and the remains of a crane. The material smelled like rot and feet and was made of a scratchy material he hoped was canvas. Dawn came before he knew it (differentiated only because the sky turned a marginally lighter shade of purple). In trying to climb out of the hammock, he ended up face-down in a pool of slime. This was bad, but it was worse when an involuntary squeak of pain caused him to inhale some of the foul sludge.
Wyatt had spent most of the night trying to get the Doubleback's broken chronometer to work, a task complicated because he'd lost his backpack in the swamp and had mostly just Bob's stone age tools to work with. He'd given up before he smashed the thing beyond hope of restoration.
Bob the Barbarian was happily cooking again, roasting another unidentifiable beast over a small campfire. The rest of the camp didn't seem to mind, too hungry to care what they were eating as long as it stayed down. Wyatt wasn't quite that desperate yet. When Bob offered a stick with a chunk of meat, he held up a hand. "No, thanks, I'm still good."
Lyle sensed someone standing at the bottom of the metal pile where he'd perched. He didn't need to ask who it was…no one in his camp was polite enough to wait to be acknowledged. They usually plopped right down or greeted each other with a punch to the shoulder and a rude name.
Wyatt took the slight turn of Lyle's head as an invitation to climb up. He overhead the last bit of Maynard's morning broadcast.
"We had a fight the night of the invasion." Lyle was not sure why he was telling that to a stranger. But then, after leafing through the pilfered cell phone for the last hour, Lyle wondered if the kid really was a 'stranger' after all.
"At least you know he's still alive," Wyatt tried to be comforting.
Lyle wasn't having that. "Alive and a mouthpiece for that jackmunch, Maldark. I'm bursting with pride. Maldark's just keeping him alive because I have the Genesis Orb. You know, the first time I saw my dad after he was taken, it was a live broadcast of what was supposed to be his execution if I didn't give up the orb."
"How'd you save him?"
"Did my own live broadcast of me holding the Genesis Orb over the Acid Swamps. Maldark and I have an understanding now-if my dad dies, the orb goes with him. Doesn't stop him from sending every bounty hunter and Grinder in the city after me, but it keeps my dad alive for now."
Lyle sighed. It hadn't stopped Maldark from finding loopholes in their bargain. Maldark did not execute humans, but he'd found humans like the Grinders to do his dirty work for him. There wasn't much Lyle could do about it without coming out of the swamp, out into the open where he would be ambushed by every mutant in the city. All he'd achieved with his deal with the warlock was a stalemate. Sooner or later, Maldark's patience would run out…and he'd find a way to get to his Genesis Orb.
Wyatt was wide-eyed. "Whoah. Don't suppose you know what happened to everyone else?"
Lyle made it his business to know what happened in the city. It was the only way to survive…plus, he was still clinging to the fading hope of rescuing their families and friends. Hope was about the only thing keeping him sane. "The ones who gave up right away became slaves. He uses his Mesmers to make sure they behave. The ones who fight back end up on his Wanted board."
Wyatt held out his hand, silently asking for his phone. He would have been upset at Lyle's invasion of his privacy, but if snooping through it convinced him that Wyatt was telling the truth, he'd forgive it. He keyed up another picture of Never Fail, this one has Angie. It was a shot of the four of them at the dance. He pointed to Angie.
"Her name is Angie. She is-she was-one of our friends, one of our clan. Her picture was on the 'Wanted' board. It said 'executed by the Grinders'."
Lyle gave him a look of pity. "Your buddy, Dante, strikes again…excuse me, our buddy." For some reason, the picture of the teenagers-including his alternate timeline self-smiling at the dance made him bitter and jealous. What the hell made that Lyle more deserving of the good times and the normal life and the friends?
Wyatt repeated: "I still don't believe that. I just wondered if you know why Maldark went after her? Was she one of the dissidents?" He didn't really need to ask. He knew her, and as long as Angie was drawing breath, she would have fought Maldark, just like Lyle. Out on her own, she wouldn't have had a chance.
"She's dead. Does it matter what she did to piss off baldy?" Lyle snapped.
No, I guess it doesn't, Wyatt thought. "I don't suppose you know Max Ross either, or what happened to him?"
"The guy we have to thank for the conquest of our world? Yeah, I may have heard of him. They've been finding pieces of him all over the city." Wyatt's stomach turned and his face went green at the mental picture. Lyle suggested: "Save us some time, Wyatt. Anyone you don't see in this camp is either a slave or dead by the Tenrecs, Mesmers, Skelehawks, Scurr, bounty hunters, or the Grinders."
Wyatt assumed that included his family in this universe. He hoped they were just slaves and not dead. He supposed everyone in the camp had been living with that uncertainty, not quite knowing what became of their families.
"Max could have helped us find the Doubleback and get this chronometer working."
Lyle rubbed his eyes. He'd kind of hoped the guy would have given up the hunting down the Doubleback suicide notion. "That's still your plan?"
Wyatt stared at him blankly. "How else am I going to restore the timeline?"
He tried to explain the biggest flaw in Wyatt's plan. "An avatar as high level as the Doubleback—not that I'm saying I believe it exists-would be tucked away in Maldark's castle. Humans don't get inside the castle unless it's for their executions."
The nerd was undaunted. "Could a Grinder get inside?"
"Why? You planning on joining up? They almost killed you in case you've forgotten."
"It's better than doing nothing," Wyatt answered.
Lyle jumped to his feet because the urge to give the geek a smack in the head to knock sense into him was too tempting. This guy was not getting what Lyle was trying to tell him. They were probably all going to die anyway, but that was no reason to chase after death by running to Maldark's goons.
"I'm not asking you to do anything except point me in the direction of wherever the Grinders hang out. If I can talk to Dante—"
Lyle cut him off: "He. Will. Kill. You. I'm telling you for the last time, Wyatt-that guy cannot be trusted."