8
Michael understood how things worked. When you were in the Sleep, you were always aware on some level that you weren’t in the real world. The worst-case scenario was that you’d die—maybe pretty awfully—then end up back home in your Coffin, where you could get out, take a shower, recover from the ordeal, and go back to play another day. You were always aware of that basic truth.
But on the Path, that awareness felt more distant. And in that moment, Michael was torn about what he should do. He knew Bryson was about to experience something that wasn’t actually real. If it was, Michael wouldn’t have hesitated for a moment—he’d have run after his friend and tried to save him. If they’d been in a normal VirtNet game, he probably would’ve done the same thing. It was, after all, a game. But here, if he died, their mission was over. He couldn’t risk it.
Still, knowing that didn’t make it any easier to hear as the sounds of violence escalated. It certainly didn’t feel like a game.
Sarah plopped down next to Michael. “We have to hack—”
He cut her off. “We’ve tried and tried.”
“Then we need to try again!” Her face was red.
“Fine.” Michael shrugged. “You’re right.”
Michael closed his eyes and entered the realm of code surrounding them. He poked and prodded, swam through the data. He could sense Sarah’s digital presence doing the same. But the Path here was even more strongly shielded than before. Michael tried everything in his power to get to the code where Bryson was being attacked, and he just couldn’t do it.
Sarah tried longer but couldn’t manage to get there, either.
“Thanks anyway,” she said softly.
Eyes open again, she and Michael avoided looking toward Bryson. Michael didn’t want to take a chance of seeing what was inevitably going to happen to him. But the sounds were bad enough. Growls and ripping and tearing. Roars of anger, or maybe delight.
And of course, worst of all, Bryson’s screams. They tore through the air over everything else and traveled down that long hallway as if Bryson was standing right next to them. The cries were desperate, so full of terror that Michael’s heart hurt, as if someone was squeezing it with both fists. They’d signed up for this kind of life inside the Sleep, but, real or not real, at the moment Bryson was feeling every single bit of the torture being done to him.
Finally, mercifully, it stopped. And Michael didn’t need to look to know that what was left of Bryson had disappeared, gone with the last breath of his Aura’s life. Somewhere far away from them, their friend was waking up inside his Coffin, probably still screaming from the horror of it all.
Sarah grabbed Michael’s hand, squeezed it. And for the second time in less than a day, he heard her crying.
With everything still again, Michael could finally think about the odd words of his friend right before he’d freaked out, wonder if they were just the thoughts of a person driven to the brink.
What if Kaine isn’t really a gamer?
Michael closed his eyes and felt on the verge of tears himself. What in the world had Bryson meant?
CHAPTER 16
AN ISOLATED MAN
1
As soon as Bryson’s body disappeared, the horde froze and the hallway became silent once more. Michael and Sarah slowly got to their feet, careful not to make any sudden movements. Bryson was gone—he wouldn’t rejoin them on the Path—and the trauma of being there for what had just happened to him hung over Michael like a dark mist. He wanted to talk to Sarah about what Bryson had said, but he didn’t dare risk waking the undead.
He focused on the only thing he could: making it to that door. He prodded the code to see if he could find a way to mute their sounds—such a small thing but still almost impossible within the complexity of the firewall. But he was finally able to do it. Sarah noticed and nodded a thank-you.
Step by step, they moved toward their goal until they reached their final obstacle—the hill of bodies that had taken Bryson’s life. Michael hugged the wall, picking his way over arms and legs. It was nerve-racking despite their programmed silence, and sweat beaded on his forehead. He felt a scorching thirst, his mouth so dry it seemed full of dust.
Finally, Michael emerged on the far side of the still bodies with Sarah trailing close behind. They pressed on, trudging along as if they fought deep mud with every step.
And then the door—the beautiful door, Michael thought—was right in front of him. And just like the one through which they’d entered, it wasn’t locked. He opened it and stepped through, pulling Sarah behind him by the hand.
Before Michael could even get a sense of where they were, he slammed the door shut. It was then that he turned to face what new environment lay before him.
It was a thick forest of massive trees, mist hanging off the branches like moss. A path of well-trodden earth cut through it, inviting him and Sarah into its depths. And standing next to the beginning of the trail, under the boughs of a huge oak, was a pale man dressed in a red cloak, the hood pulled over his head.
“My, you’re a pair,” the stranger said.
2
For some reason Michael’s first reaction at hearing the words was to spin around and see if the door was still there. It was, set into a huge wall of gray granite. Closed tight. He wasn’t sure why he’d done it—going back to the hall of the undead was the last thing he’d ever want to do. But there was something sinister about this forest and the man who’d greeted them.
He turned back to face the man. Sure enough, he was still standing next to the oak, his hands folded in front of him. The red cloak shone in the dim light.
Michael took a better look at the stranger’s face. He was old but not ancient. Wrinkles lined his skin, but he had none of the frailty of someone in the last years of his life. He had thin lips, a narrow beak of a nose, and a pointy chin. And his eyes … they were blue, almost silver, so light they seemed to glow from within.
“Where are we?” Sarah asked the familiar question. “Who are you?”
The man’s voice was raspy. “You’re standing on the edge of Forest Mendenstone, a place of darkness and death. But you mustn’t fear, my young friends. Within the majestic walls of these pines and oaks lies a place of meditation where you’ll find food and shelter. And protection from the things that slay and rip.”
Michael had seen a lot of darkness and death—he certainly didn’t want any more of that. What he really wanted was food. His stomach growled, and he realized that he didn’t care if this guy was a serial killer. If he had food, Michael would follow him anywhere.