S.W. Tanpepper's GAMELAND: Season Two Omnibus (Episodes 9-11) (133 page)

He drove northwest to the outskirts of town, heading to the older part of Greenwich. They came to a neighborhood that was mostly block apartments. The structures were all rundown, painted in ugly shades of avocado and piss yellow, the graffiti covered over with poorly matched paint that washed away in the next rain. The stucco was dingy from years of accumulated grime.

She held even further back, balancing her fear of losing sight of them with the fear of being seen. In a place such as this, and with so few cars on the road, even the Explorer stood out.

The car pulled over to the curb outside of a nondescript building, just one of several that looked exactly the same. There was an overabundance of chain link fencing, as well as wrought iron bars on the windows. Trashcans seemed to be everywhere, occupying the spaces beneath steps and the middles of sidewalks.

Siennah pulled up behind an old septic pumping truck, one that advertised work by real people instead of conscriptees, and she snorted at the idea that anyone would pay to have a living person fix their sewage tanks. Or, even more incredibly, that someone living would actually
want
to do that sort of work when they didn't have to.

The boys got out and quickly retrieved the box from the trunk. Once again, they shared the burden between them; once more Reggie tried to convince Kelly to let him carry it himself. The guy was freakishly strong, Siennah had to give him that, but he obviously had nothing between the ears.

They made their way up the walkway and disappeared into a courtyard through a broken gate. Siennah made sure to lock the Explorer and set the alarm when she got out to follow them.

* * *

“Damn it, Siennah! Your mother has been beside herself with worry,” Henry Davenport shouted at his daughter. “You didn't tell her you were leaving. You didn't tell anyone where you were going!
And
you took her car without asking. You could have been arrested!”

“Shut up, Daddy,” she said. Normally, she wouldn't talk to him like this, but he was being so freaking pigheaded, as if she actually gave a crap about breaking the law. “You just need to shut the fuck up for a moment and listen to me.”

He staggered back a step, blinking like she'd physically slapped his face. “You— you can't—”

“I followed that Corben boy,” she said, “the one who married Jessica Daniels. The one Arc's going after in Gameland right now. Hello?” She snapped her fingers at his face. “Are you listening to me?”

He nodded, but he didn't shut his mouth.

“He and this other guy — his name's Reggie Casey — they were sneaking around the Daniels's house, and they took something out.”

“Looting?”

“Jesus, Dad. Would you just listen for a second? It was a gaming console. I heard them talking about it. They hacked it so they could communicate with people inside Gameland. With
her
. That's how she's managed to survive for so long. They're helping her out.”

Henry Davenport finally realized his mouth was still open and shut it. Siennah smiled. Now she had his attention. And, more importantly, his interest.

“Why didn't you tell someone where you were going?” he asked again. It was another feeble attempt to exert control over her, but there was no strength in his words at all.

Siennah ignored the question. She was thinking about how Arc would reward her for this information. Surely they wouldn't want people cheating.

She had hidden behind an overgrown shrub, which actually hadn't been that necessary, since the daylight was failing by then and the boys were clueless they were being watched. They'd gone up to one of the apartments and knocked on the door. Imagine Siennah's surprise when the bitch's mother answered.

“We brought the console,” Kelly said. He pointed at the box they'd set down on the walk outside the door. “It's just like I explained. You connect by inputting the identifier code. You'll need to wear the goggles to see and hear, though. It won't work if the Stream is down.”

“Come inside,” Missus Daniels urged. “Just for a few minutes. Please.”

Kelly looked over at Reggie, who shook his head. “No, brah. I've already had that conversation with my parents. I'm not doing it again.”

Missus Daniels turned toward the darkness inside and quietly said a few words Siennah couldn't hear to someone she couldn't see. Another woman appeared, her face wet and her eyes red from crying.

“Jesus, Mom,” Reggie said. “I can't do this now.” He tugged on Kelly's sleeve. “Come on, brah. We need to get ready.”

“We can at least take the equipment inside for them,” Kelly replied.

Missus Daniels shook her head. “Leave it on the step. Bob can bring it in.”

“Who's Bob?” Siennah's father asked, when she reached this point in the story.

“Mister Casey. They're all hiding there, in that apartment— Missus Daniels, the Caseys, the Corbens. I think they're trying to hide from the police. I bet even the Evans are there.”

“The missing girl?”

Siennah nodded.

Her father looked troubled. “We've had them all under surveillance for a few weeks now. I'll talk to the police and see what they know.”

“They might want to make them a top priority.”

“Why, honey? What are they doing? What's so damn important that you'd risk . . . .” His voice faltered.

“Risk what, Daddy? Your precious reputation?” She shook her head in disgust.

He frowned at her. “You said they were getting ready to do something. What?”

“They're going back. They're going to try and rescue her.”

This caught Henry Davenport's attention. He sat up straight and grabbed her arm. “When? How do you know?”

“Tonight. And I know where she's going to be. Daddy, Arc needs to turn the Stream back on. I can get my Player to her. Daddy, please, before it's too late.”

He took his time standing up. “Okay,” he quietly said. “I'll think about it.”

“Think about it?”

“That'll be all, sweetie.”

“But, Daddy—”

“I want you to leave me now. Go to your room.”

“Arc's going to want to know about this!”

“No,” he answered, shushing her. “No. Nobody is going to tell them anything. I'm finished. Now go to your room!”

“But—”

“Now!” he roared, and slapped her cheek.

Siennah blinked away her tears of frustration. Her father had never lifted a hand against her. He'd never raised his voice, not like this. She felt betrayed. After all she'd done for him, he was supposed to be pleased with her.

She jumped from her chair and ran from her father's office. But she didn't go to her room when he shouted after her. She grabbed the keys to her car and went out into the night.

 

“This is it?” Reggie asked. He shook his head incredulously. “It's practically a swimming pool toy.”

He gave the narrow raft a halfhearted slap and shook his head.

“I have to say I'm a little underwhelmed, too,” Kelly admitted. “How are we supposed to fit three of us in there?”

Doctor White pulled the plastic boat from the back of her car and set it on the ground. “There are two paddles,” she said, ignoring their complaints. She handed one to each of the boys. “You'll need to hold onto them. Smooth strokes, no splashing.”

“Oh sure, let the men do all the physical labor,” Reggie complained.

“I need to check for unexploded mines—”

“Whoa, whoa! Wait a second,” Reggie exclaimed. “Now you're saying there might be bombs? Because before you were like, ‘Nope, no mines, brah.' ”

She shook her head at him. “You can still back out. It's not too late.”

“No way, lady. I ain't backing out. I've already been blown out of the water once. Can't say as I enjoyed it any, but I lived to tell about it. I'm just saying.”

“Then let's go,” she told them, and led the way through the darkness.

Kelly and Reggie each grabbed an end of the raft and picked it up.

“What'll we do with the cars?” Kelly asked.

“Does it matter?” Doctor White replied over her shoulder. “They'll either be here when we get back, or they won't.”

“Really?” Reggie exclaimed. “That's your answer?”

Kelly shrugged.

They could hear the Sound lapping against the rocks somewhere ahead. The water was already up to Reggie's ankles, inside his shoes, though still too shallow to set the raft down. Their feet splashed as they went, and the noise seemed to carry forever.

But there was no one around to hear it. No lights, no voices. No one to question them. Or stop them. Just the blackness of the water between them and the blackness of the island ahead and the blackness of the sky all around. The only color came from the stars above, a rainbow of pinpricks that couldn't provide enough illumination to guide them anywhere.

“We'd better hurry,” Doctor White said. She pointed back the way they'd come, where a pair of headlights twinkled through the dead trees. It was still far away, and might not even be travelling on the same potholed road they'd taken, but any car out here in the desolation of the South Harlem wastes was unusual enough, especially since nobody was supposed to be out at all. Even more alarming was the speed at which it was driving, and the way the lights bounced all over the place.

“Damn,” Reggie murmured. “That's gotta be hell on the suspension.”

“Do you think it's the cops?” Kelly asked.

They turned to Doctor White, but she was already gone, a ghost in the darkness ahead, and the sound of her splashing quickly merging with the sound of the waves lapping over the rocks.

 

“You need to kill him.”

Eric's eyes remained glued to Marco's face, though his attention was trained on Stu. The man he'd knocked out finally regained his consciousness after ten or so minutes. Stu coughed once and rolled over onto his back and lay there panting and staring at the ceiling.

Shock, that's what was wrong with him. Eric hoped that when he came out of it, the fight would be gone out of him, too. It certainly appeared it had.

Still, he was wary of the prisoner. He braced himself should an attack come.

The infected guard had wandered off after pulling what he could of Marco's body through the bars of the cell. Or maybe he'd left because there were more of the living elsewhere. In any case, he'd left the arm bones stripped bare of the flesh. There was no sign of any of the fingers; the guard had likely swallowed them whole.

A small piece of Marco's prison jumper lay in a thick black puddle. The rest of him was still inside the cell.

Incredibly, the man was still alive, still breathing. His chest rose and fell in short, rapid bursts, before going still for a dozen seconds. Eric knew the pattern. It meant Marco was close to death.

His skin had already lost all of its color. It was nearly as gray as the walls.

“He's infected, Stu,” Eric whispered. “He's going to die. Soon. And after he does, he will come after us. He won't know you.”

Stu's eyelids flickered each time another scream or gunshot punctuated the clamor of the prison yard below. Both sounds were growing less frequent, leaving only the moaning of the dead to fill the voids. Any living that remained were undoubtedly cowering silently in their locked cells, far away from the bars, hiding beneath their mattresses.

But Stu wasn't hiding. He just lay there within reach of Marco.

The two of them together would easily be able to kill an Infected, but Eric knew he'd probably not survive if Stu fell victim himself.

He watched the dying man's chest. He counted the breaths, timed them, measured the spaces between and became more alarmed each time they grew longer— fifteen seconds, thirty, a minute. The last gap had been over two minutes. How much time before he died? How soon afterward would he rise again? It seemed only minutes that the infected below died and came back.

“Where's the key?” he said. He rattled the handcuff. Stu flinched at the harsh sound. “Let me go, Stu. I won't hurt you. We need to work together now.”

Stu blinked. Something crossed his face, a flicker of comprehension perhaps.

“I don't want to die,” Eric pushed. “And I don't think you want to, either.”

Stu's lips moved. He was speaking, but Eric couldn't tell what he was saying.

“Stu? Hey, man, you need to unlock me.”

He could hear some of the words he was whispering now:

“ 
. . . death . . . .
”

“Stu, listen to me.”

“ 
. . . fear no evil.
”

“You're not going to die, Stu.” He watched Marco's chest rise and fall and waited for it to rise again. Two minutes . . . .

Three.

Four.

The whole time Stu kept mumbling.

Five minutes.

“Stu?”

“Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.”

“Stop it, Stu! Listen to me.”

“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,” Stu suddenly screamed, causing Eric to recoil, “I will fear no evil!”

“Stop it! You'll draw—”

“For thou art with me! Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me!”

Stu rose from the floor. He turned and looked at Eric, but there was no recognition in his eyes, only insanity. “As I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil
no evil evil EVIL FOR THOU ART WITH ME!
”

Eric backed himself as far away as he could go.

“Thy rod and thy staff comfort me,” Stu said, grinning. “They comfort me.” He stepped toward Eric.

Eric flicked his eyes over to the bars. Marco still hadn't breathed. And he wasn't going to. He'd finally died.

Eric started counting anew.