Doomed (21 page)

“Come on.” Theo’s voice is a low, insistent throb in the dark. “They’ll be here any second.”

“Who?” I whisper, but as the blood stops rushing through my ears, I hear the sound that has him so nervous.

Dogs. Barking and growling in the distance. With every second we stand here, it sounds like they’re getting closer. The only thing worse than being trapped in the dark is being trapped here in the dark with vicious, snarling dogs.

I pull away from Eli, grab the flashlight that was resting against the table leg. “Let’s go.”

We have to run back through the huge tank room—if there’s another door in the greenhouse we’re not going to find it in the dark—and that eats up more precious seconds. The barks are a lot closer now.

Even worse, I get a glimpse of my laptop screen as we run. The timer at the top now reads 6:51.

“The game’s still going!” I pant, my lungs nearly bursting with the pace Eli and Theo are setting. “We have less than seven minutes.”

Eli curses and so does Theo, vulgar, vile words that only make me feel more desperate. We’re at the entrance now, and Theo’s hand is on the doorknob. “What should we do?” Eli asks, and for the first time he sounds a little lost.

It steadies me. “Can we stay here for a few minutes, just long enough for me to crack this level?”

At that moment, the door at the opposite end of the room slams open and three snarling dogs burst through it, followed by two men speaking in Spanish.

I’m out the door before I make the conscious decision to move, Eli and Theo at my heels. We’re sprinting full out now, trying to make it back to the van before the dogs get us.

Outside is better. It’s dark now, but there are solar lights set up all along the driveway that guide us back the way we came.

My flip-flops twist and slide with each step that I take. They slow me down, and I expect Eli and Theo to surge ahead, but they stay steady with me, refusing to budge an inch. “Maybe if we just stop and explain,” I gasp, clutching at the stitch in my right side.

“Somehow I don’t think those dogs are going to buy our excuses,” Eli says.

“I’ve got to play the game.” The level clock now reads 4:32.

“Then play it,” Theo snarls, scooping me up and tossing me over his shoulder.

“What are you doing?” It takes every ounce of willpower I have not to scream as we go bumping down the lane.

He doesn’t answer, just swerves off the path a ways. Eli follows, sounding as baffled as I am. “Theo, what—”

Theo rips the laptop out of my hands, gives it to Eli. Then lifts me up and away from him. “Grab the branch of that tree and pull yourself up,” he orders.

I do what he says, largely because he doesn’t give me a choice not to. It’s grab the tree branch or go face first over it. As I struggle to pull myself onto it, Theo gives me a final boost. Then he grabs the laptop from Eli and hands it to me.

“This isn’t going to work,” I tell him furiously. “We’re sitting ducks out here.” The dogs are much closer now—they sound like they’re only a few yards away.

“Just play, Pandora.” Theo turns to Eli. “Get behind the tree and watch out for her.”

“What are you going to do?” I ask.

He doesn’t answer. Just turns away and races back the way we came. Sacrificing himself so that Eli and I will be safe. So that I can play the stupid game.

Which I have to get back to if I have any hope of beating this thing before time runs out in three minutes and eighteen seconds.

In the distance I hear a renewed frenzy of barking, along
with a few shouts from the two dog handlers. The yells are followed by the
thud
of body hitting body, a high-pitched yelp, and more snarls. It’s proof that Theo’s decoy plan is working. Maybe it should reassure me, but all it does is chill my blood as I think about Theo at their mercy, sacrificing himself to help me and the stepbrother he can barely tolerate.

“Go help him,” I snarl at Eli, panic-stricken at the thought of Theo fighting off dogs and humans alike.

“I’m not leaving you,” Eli snarls back. “So play the damn game already so we can get back to him.”

For the first time since I plugged in the password, I’m paying attention to what’s happening on-screen. And it’s totally bizarre. On-screen, I’m glowing, my entire body lit up a strange, vibrant red that looks wicked crazy even as it frightens me a little.

What’s wrong with my avatar?
I wonder as I push buttons randomly. Was Campe radioactive or something? Have I managed to contract some bizarre case of nuclear rabies? I hope not—surely my avatar couldn’t survive that. Damn the ancient Greeks and their screwed-up monsters.

Not willing to go down without a fight, especially since everyone—NPC and player alike—is staring at me, I extend my hands out in front of me, the way Theo did when he shot fire. On-screen, I jump and kick, punch and crouch, but nothing else happens. And the glow doesn’t disappear, either.

“How’s it going?” Eli demands.

“Crappy!” I tell him. “Nothing’s happening.”

“Hit Control+F. That’s how Theo shot fire.”

“Already tried that.” But I do it again, and this time—I don’t know why—rays of light explode from my fingertips. Every character on-screen with me jumps back a good five feet.

In the distance, the dogs growl and snap. A strangled cry of pain drifts through the night air, and I know Theo’s been injured. “Eli!” I shove him with the hand that isn’t holding the laptop. “We have to help him!”

“After you beat the level,” he says grimly, and I can tell that, despite everything, he also feels awful about leaving Theo to fend for himself. “You’ve got to get past this or everything we’ve done doesn’t mean shit.”

He’s right, but that doesn’t make it any easer to concentrate. I have to, though—the time on the screen reads 2:39. I just wish I knew how to harness this new power. I hit Shift+A, Shift+S, Shift+D, but nothing happens. I keep going along the keyboard unti I hit Shift+P and suddenly the rays blast forward, straight at the ground.

“That’s it!” I crow.

“What’s it?” asks Eli. In the distance, the snarls and yelps have gotten more furious.

I reach into my avatar’s pockets, pull out more seeds. This time they scatter on the ground. The players around me, seeing this, do the same with their packets. We have thousands, as they were rewarded for passing Campe in the same way we were.

I aim the rays at the seeds and blast away. Beneath my feet, strawberry plants begin to poke through the soil.

This is it. I’ve found a way to complete the task. I keep shooting the rays, and soon the beginnings of blackberry
bushes appear, followed by watermelon vines and the tops of corn stalks.

“This is cool,” I tell Eli, caught up in the idea that somehow what I love to do in real life—gardening—has translated into this game. I don’t stop to think why or how my father knew this about me. I just concentrate on enjoying the fact that I can make plants grow and feed hungry people.

As more and more plants come to life around me, a strange figure starts fading into the screen right behind me. I pray it’s not another monster—the countdown now reads :46. I don’t have time to grow the last of the plants and fight off a Greek nightmare at the same time. And I can’t stand the idea of losing, not when Theo is being injured, right now, just to save me.

I ignore the new NPC as long as I can, concentrate on making sure I hit every seed I can find. With six seconds left to go, I hit the last seed and the figure materializes completely. It’s a beautiful woman, wearing a crown made of corn husks and carrying a torch.

Demeter. Goddess of the harvest.

Somehow in coming here, in discovering this self-sustaining, eco-friendly farm, we’ve managed to harness the power of Demeter and the harvest. Hers is the power I channeled there at the end, the hope Austin needs to survive.

“Get me down!” I shriek, and Eli does, immediately. “I finished the level. Let’s get Theo.” I start running at a diagonal, back toward the road and the awful sound of snarling dogs.

Eli’s right on my heels as I hit the road. I stop, look both
ways, listen. The barking sounds close, but the wind makes it impossible to tell which direction it’s coming from. “Which way—” I ask, breaking off as Eli’s hand clamps around my wrist.

He starts dragging me down the road toward the van. “I need to get you to safety.”

“Don’t you dare pull that sexist crap on me!” I twist my wrist out of his grasp. “Theo needs—”

“Theo needs to get the hell out of here,” Theo says as he runs up on us from behind. “Let’s go!”

“You’re okay!” I gasp, nearly dizzy with relief.

“Just peachy,” he answers, “but they’re really close.”

We start running toward the van again. Beside me I can tell that Theo is laboring a little. I match my pace to his. Maybe he’s just tired, or maybe something really is wrong. I can’t tell in the dim glow cast by the ground lights.

We hit the fence a few seconds before Eli does, and I can hear more barking behind us, along with rapid-fire Spanish. They’re a lot closer than they should be. I’m not sure we’ll make it over the fence …

“Go, Pandora.” Eli picks me up again, giving me enough of a boost that my hands close around the spindles near the top of the fence. I scramble up and he braces my feet with his chest, giving me the extra support I need. I land on the roof of the van with a loud
thump
. Then he and Theo are climbing the fence. Eli makes it over first, while Theo struggles. That’s when I know, no matter what he said, something is really wrong with him.

The men appear on the other side of the fence. One of the dogs with them jumps up, latches on to Theo’s boot while
its master grabs Theo by the seat of his jeans and starts to pull him down.

I lash out through the bars with my foot, catch the guy right in the balls. He lets go, crumpling to the ground with a groan. His partner makes a lunge for Theo, but this time Theo’s ready for him. He hits him in the face with one of his massive fists before clambering to safety.

We fling ourselves into the van. I have the keys, so I settle myself in the driver’s seat, not even waiting for the doors to close behind Eli and Theo before I hit the gas.

“Are they following us?” I ask, afraid to take my eyes off the road long enough to check my rearview mirror. The driveway is dark and bumpy, and the last thing I want is to get a flat tire or run us off the road at one of the many bends.

“I think we’re okay,” Theo says, exasperated. “With them being on foot and all.”

“They must have a car,” I tell him defensively. “They could run back and get it.”

“Yeah, well I’m more worried about the fact that they could easily have gotten our license plate. If they find a way to report this to the cops, Homeland Security is going to have a pretty good idea of what we’ve been up to,” Eli remarks as he moves to climb into the seat.

As he does, he brushes against Theo, and Theo sucks in his breath on a hiss of pain. My heart drops. “You’re hurt. Where?”

“I’m fine.”

He doesn’t sound fine. Now that the adrenaline is subsiding, he sounds weak.

I turn onto Highway 287, then glance at Eli. “Go check on him.”

“He says he’s fine.”

“Are you frickin’ kidding me? Find out what’s wrong with your brother!” I sound like an old-fashioned school-marm, but I can’t help it. Is he seriously going to let whatever shit they have between them keep him from being a decent human being?

“He’s not my brother.” They both respond at the same time, and I blow out a breath, completely annoyed by them.

“Then you tell
me
what’s wrong.” I make it an order and even risk glancing in the mirror so that Theo can see by my eyes that I mean business.

He shrugs. “I got bit a couple of times.”

“Shit.” I swerve the van to the side of the road. “Take over,” I tell Eli, climbing into the back without even turning off the engine.

I hit the overhead light. “Let me see.”

“I’m fine, Pandora. Just tired.”

“I’m sure. But I still need to see how badly you’re hurt.”

“Geez. He says he’s fine.” Eli doesn’t even try to hide his annoyance.

I want to hit him. Theo’s pale and a little clammy, and now that I’m getting a good look at him I realize there’s blood on his palm, on the sleeve of his shirt, on his leg. “
How
many times were you bitten?” I demand, looking at a particularly nasty bite on the side of his hand.

He shrugs, grimacing a little at the movement. That’s it. I’ve had more than enough of the stoic behavior. “Get your shirt off.” I climb into the cargo area and fumble through bags until I find the first-aid kit and peroxide.

When I turn back, Theo hasn’t so much as moved. I get in his face. “Take the stupid thing off or I’ll do it for you.” I reach for the hem to prove I’m serious.

Theo does move then, ducking and twisting a little to get his T-shirt off in the close confines of the van.

I gasp when I see him. There are claw marks on his already-injured side, a couple of bites on his left biceps that blend into the cuts from the car accident, another on his right forearm. “When was your last tetanus shot?” I ask, opening up the first-aid kit. I really hope none of the bites are deep enough to need stitches. I’m so not up for that.

“I don’t know,” he mutters. “About two years ago? I know I was in high school.”

“Thank God. And we’re going to go with the assumption the dogs weren’t rabid, as they’re kept as protection for that farm. Which means we just need to clean these thoroughly and hope they don’t get infected.”

“Fantastic.” Theo sounds as grumpy as Eli did, but when he looks at me, his eyes are wary. Aloof.

I start with the bites on his arm, thoroughly dousing them with peroxide and pretending not to notice when Theo swears a blue streak under his breath. After the peroxide dries, I cover them with antibacterial cream before bandaging them up. Then I move on to his hand. This cut is deeper, nastier, will leave a pretty decent-size scar. Which is a shame because Theo has beautiful hands, broad and
long fingered, despite the numerous calluses. Or maybe because of them. Unlike his perfectly pressed khakis and polo shirts, those calluses seem to fit the Theo I’m getting to know.