The Aftermath (15 page)

I slide open one of the windows and climb in carefully. Just when I think I’m safe, I grab a gun propped against the wall. It’s a sniper rifle, though I’m unsure how I know that. Leaning against the window, I lift the gun and look through the telescopic sight. Then I fire all ten rounds perfectly at people on the street.

Reload.

Repeat.

Reload.

Chest shot, head shot, chest.

When I finish, I close the window. The breeze ruffles my hair—it’s twice as long as I ever remember it being, and dark brown. I push it back from my face. Tuck it behind my right ear. I realize there’s not a chunk of it missing. But when I open my mouth to mention this, I’m unable to speak. And when I try to touch my skin again, my hand won’t move.

“See, I told you I could handle it,” Olivia had made me say. “I’m the only one who can play her.”

When my eyes fly open, I discover Declan leaning over me. He grips the seat of my swing, holding it still, his hands brushing my legs. “You look terrified—I thought I told you not to think of the game.”

But I didn’t, I want to say. I thought of a different game where I was a different type of gamer. And worst of all, I’m not sure where the memory came from or if I’m simply imagining even more violence.

And the craziest thing of all is that I hope that’s it—that it’s my imagination, that I’m going off the deep end; that there isn’t more blood on my hands.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

We barely make it to the bar in time. Declan questions me the entire way home about what I saw when I closed my eyes, but I run too fast to reply. I go as fast as my legs will carry me, as fast as I can without my heart exploding. I run away from the images of burning buildings and bodies hitting the ground. And I don’t care that he’s left without answers. It’ll give him something to think about while I’m away. Approximately ten minutes after I position myself the way Olivia left me, in the chair by the door, she logs in. She’s early—hadn’t she told Jeremy’s gamer she wouldn’t return until tomorrow morning? Next time I leave, I’ll check in with her more often, I promise myself. Next time, I won’t let my emotions or Declan cloud my judgment.

And next time he tells me to think of something other than The Aftermath, I won’t listen, because every time I close my eyes now, I see people falling from the bullets I shoot at them.

During the following day and a half, I don’t regain control of myself for longer than an hour or two. But then Olivia has me corner Ethan while he’s checking his inventory behind the bar. “I’m going back to Calwas until tomorrow afternoon,” I tell him. “You’ll stay away with me, right?”

As I wait for him to answer, my breath hitches. Besides Olivia, Ethan’s my only real obstacle when it comes to navigating The Aftermath on my own. He’s the sole member of my clan who keeps track of Olivia’s schedule, the only one who will ask questions if I up and disappear. If they’re both gone, there’s so much I can accomplish. She forces me to rest my forearms on the counter. I cross my fingers for luck, but then I realize what I’m doing—controlling my body while Olivia’s playing me. I pray she doesn’t notice.

“Yes,” Ethan agrees. I wish he’d question why she’s going there—I’m curious—but at least she’s releasing me for twenty-four hours. Once she’s gone, I’ll use the glitch to my advantage; go inside her mind to figure out what’s so important she’ll abandon the game for a day. Ethan counts the last of his jerky and water. Then we return to The Save, hands clasped and smiling at each other.

“See you tomorrow,” I say. “Four o clock.”

“I’ll be here.”

“And, Ethan,” she makes me say. “I—I’ll miss you.”

Then I feel the hold on my head disappear. I sink in and out of her head for the next hour and a half, waiting for something to indicate she has no plan to come back to The Aftermath. At last, I drop in on her and her mother; they’re boarding a small silver jet. It’s parked on the roof of one of the skyscrapers. As Olivia sits down and takes out her tablet, the pilot’s voice booms over a loudspeaker.

“Thank you for traveling Province Air today. Please fasten your safety belts and review the travel data sent to your AcuTabs. Today’s trip to Calwas—1,749 miles—will be concluded in approximately three hours and nineteen minutes.”

Nearly two thousand miles in just over three hours. The thought of going just about anywhere I could imagine in the time it takes me to walk five or six miles leaves me breathless with envy.

Olivia turns away from her mother. As the aircraft takes off, she closes her eyes, cutting off my view of her world.

Not that it matters to me right now.

The rest of this day and a portion of tomorrow belong to me.

Jeremy and April are on a side quest helping another clan defend their base from flesh-eaters. Since they left an hour ago, I have to rush if I’m to make it out of the building before they return. I gather my things from the corner. Glock. Ammunition. Knife. Backpack. Although they’re just as threadbare, I change into a different T-shirt and another pair of torn jeans after I wash off in the bathroom. I don’t have many clothes, and often Olivia makes me wear the same ones for days at a time, but at least these are clean. I stuff the dirty garments in my bag—I’ll wash them the best I can when Declan and I come home—then I leave The Save.

The back of my hand brushes Ethan’s shoulder as I drift past him.

Declan is already waiting for me. He sits at a table in the bar, sipping water from his canteen. When he sees me, he grins. So much time alone in the cellar is probably making him half-senile because he looks pleased. “Looks like you’re all mine until tomorrow.”

He sounds much too excited for my liking, and I glare over my shoulder at him as I drop a few bottles of water into my bag. “Guess you were listening in.” I don’t bother pointing out how he’s breaking his own rule by being so blatantly out in the open. What if one of the other members of my clan returns early? Or all of them at once—then what will we do?

Then again, what does it matter if they do barge in on us? He has an electroshock gun that will prevent them from moving more than two steps in his direction.

I shiver, dropping a plastic bottle to the floor. It rolls across the hardwood, but Declan stops it with the toe of his shoe. I bend over to pick it up, pausing for several seconds when our eyes lock.

“I hear just about everything that goes on in here,” he says, breaking the silence.

Way to make me uncomfortable.

“Before we go anywhere, we’ve got to move him,” he says, pointing up toward The Save. He gestures downstairs. “To the cellar.”

“But why—”

He waggles his eyebrows suggestively. “The other gamers won’t ask any questions if you two disappear together.”

Olivia and Landon. Sleeping together. And using us, their characters, to do it. My mouth quivers, and I feel as if there’s acid in my stomach. Declan tucks his finger under my chin. “Come on, Virtue.”

Ethan’s body is heavier than I imagined. I carry the trunk end of him. Every five or six steps, I stumble, bumping his arms into the wall or against the handrail.

“Try not to kill him, Virtue,” Declan teases.

I glare down at him as he wiggles the doorknob to his hideout. “Then next time do this by yourself.”

We lay Ethan on the floor, on top of a sleeping bag. Before we leave, Declan reactivates the save point. He holds his AcuTab high in the air, punching the hologram passcode deliberately, like he’s mocking me. I grind my teeth back and forth. Link my thumbs together behind my back so I won’t smash his device to the floor. “You’ll cry the whole time if you’re not sure he’s safe.” I can’t help but notice the growl in his voice.

“I rarely cry,” I say, but he rolls his eyes.

“You’ve been self-aware for less than a month. You rarely do anything.”

I bite my tongue until I taste blood—it’s the only thing keeping me from telling him off. Or hitting him. After a minute, I close my eyes and give him a strained smile. “Where to?”

When he asks me to take him to all the places where I’ve encountered flesh-eaters since becoming sentient, I don’t flinch. I’ll personally escort him to each and every flesh-eater within a twenty-mile radius if it gets me out of this game any faster. I lead him to the closest location first—the courthouse where I met him. The electricity is no longer working. The building is shrouded in darkness and sticky heat. I carry the Glock. Declan doesn’t seem to be worried about what’s lurking behind the doors or wooden stands, since he only totes his AcuTab, using it as a guiding light.

“What exactly is the point of this?” I ask as we creep past the elevator on the third floor. A fly lands on the back of my neck. I swat at it, and a vivid picture shoves itself into my head. It’s as if the double doors swing open and the object in Declan’s hands flies at me all over again. The center of my skull throbs just imagining it.

He shrugs. “Maybe we’ll find some type of clue. Something he left behind.”

Wouldn’t he have noticed that here before since he’s been here more than once?

“How do you know he’s not dead? Hell, he could’ve been the boy I killed last week,” I say. I can’t mistake the way Declan’s shoulders instantly tense up. “His name was Reese. Is that your assignment’s name?”

“No.”

“Then what is it?”

Declan shakes his head, his disheveled curls falling around his dark eyes. “Does it matter? He’s not dead, okay?”

“I don’t understand why you’re being so secretive about who we’re looking for. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m as much a part of this as you are.” The bottoms of my shoes scuff across something sticky on the floor, and I hold back a shudder. It’s dried blood. This is the exact spot where I shot the flesh-eater a few weeks ago. Swallowing hard, I maneuver around the stain and move closer to Declan. “How long are we going to walk in circles, searching for someone who may not even be in this area? If you tell me his name I can—”

“What, Virtue? Track him down with the navigation system in your head? Sentient or not, you are still a character.”

“There’s always the map.”

“The map?”

“Yes. You know, the giant grid of the area. It tells where all the characters are at any given time.”

“And how do you propose we get a copy of this?”

“Don’t you have one?”

“Of course not. If I did, we wouldn’t be in here, would we?” he demands. “I’ve already told you I’m not able to access it in here. There’re too many firewalls.”

“So it would help.”

“Why does it matter if it would?”

I take a couple tentative steps toward him, and he shines his AcuTab on my face. “Because I’m able to see it...in my head.”

Declan’s eyebrows furrow together. Pressing his lips into a thin line, he says, “Stop wasting my time so we can finish up here. I want to hit as many locations as possible by sunset.”

When he turns to stalk off to the stairs, I grab a handful of his black shirt. He twists back around with his eyes narrowed, seething. I press closer. Our bodies touch.

I will not let some game moderator bully me.

“Why would I lie about something so small? Why else would I have even risked my life by traveling west? It looked different on the map, so I automatically assumed that was my way out.”
Maybe if I looked harder, thought things out instead of running at the first opportunity, I would have gone southeast first. Then I wouldn’t be standing here arguing about wasted time with you,
I add silently.

“Okay, what does it look like?”

I consider ignoring this question. He’s implying that I’m making this up, and it doesn’t sit well with me. But a dribble of perspiration runs into my right eye, and I realize I want to get out of this hot building as soon as possible before I melt. “A bunch of red-and-green writing and pictures. Kind of dizzying, but it shows everyone’s first name and whether they’re Survivor or flesh-eater.”

I don’t tell him I’m able to see Survivors’ points, too.

Declan pulls on the hem of his shirt and wipes sweat from his forehead. His knuckles are white. “How did you get it?”

I bite my bottom lip. I haven’t considered what explanation I should offer for having access to the map. It’s not as though I can tell him I jump into Olivia’s head and, every now and then, I’m fortunate enough to see the map. So I pretend like this is normal. “Sometimes I see images of it when I sleep. Like a dream, I guess. My glitch, maybe?”

If I blame everything on the glitch, then I’ll be fine.

“I should’ve guessed,” he mutters. Resting his forehead against his hand, he draws in a harsh breath. “Do you know how insanely valuable that map is?”

Something in his tone startles me. It’s strained, shaky. Fearful and yet excited. “Doesn’t everyone have access to it?”

“No, Claudia. I’ve never heard of a gamer who does.”

When I don’t speak, just sink down on the tile floor and rock back and forth, he joins me. “Another anomaly,” I say at last.

“Don’t get me wrong. There’s a map each gamer is able to access. It’s basic and shows names of towns and monuments. But what you’re talking about is cheating.”

It’s so strange to hear that word in reference to The Aftermath that I laugh. Tremulous, partially deranged laughter. I don’t stop until he shoots me a dark look, and even then I hiccup every few seconds.

“What kind of game would it be if everyone had a map like that?” he says. “Wouldn’t be worth playing, would it? Your gamer would just breeze through the game because she’d know where everything is. What she has is rare—what’s in your
head
is rare.”

Rare.
I’m sick of hearing that word. For once, I want to be the norm. “So my gamer has something she shouldn’t have?”

Declan backs away from me, and I can’t help feeling disappointed that our bodies no longer touch. Keeping his eyes off mine, he rubs his hand over his face. “I don’t know. I mean, that type of map is usually available only to game developers, high-level moderators.”

It takes me a moment to digest this information. “So she’s a moderator?” Olivia might be like him. A cruel, high-ranking, female version of Declan.

“Maybe, maybe not. But she’s dangerous either way, so we have to be even more careful.” Drawing his eyebrows together, he takes a tentative step closer to me. “Is there anything else you know about her?”

Another opportunity to come right out and tell him about my ability to see what she’s seeing. I stare at his profile, wondering what he’ll say. Then I decide against it. There’s something—and I’m not quite sure what it is just yet—screaming at me, telling me how dangerous it is to say anything and it’s not just because I’ll be revealing that I remember what happened between us here in this building.

Don’t tell him,
that familiar warning voice in my head shouts at me. It’s distorted and fuzzy, but I know it’s important that I listen.

“No,” I say.

Declan glares at me for a long moment as if he’s mentally processing my bluff. “His name is Wesley,” he finally says.

“Wesley.”

“He’s a flesh-eater.”

“I’ve gathered as much,” I say. “I’ll keep an eye out.”

* * *

I don’t find Wesley for the first couple of days after Olivia resumes her game play. Part of this is my fault—excruciating headaches keep me from staying in her head any longer than a half an hour at a time before I have to break away. Although he doesn’t complain to me, it’s obvious that Declan is frustrated and angry it’s taking me so long to find his assignment. I hear it in his voice when I tell him I was unsuccessful again, see it in the way his eyes lower to the cellar floor and his cheeks flush.