S.W. Tanpepper's GAMELAND, Season One Omnibus (91 page)

“
He used to be Father Heall's son.”

 

“I think we're screwed,”
Micah whispers. He keeps an eye on Brother Matthew's figure twenty yards ahead of us.

“
You're the one who blabbed about how crazy Stephen was.”

“
You agreed. And then you
added
that he was a chronic liar.”

“
Well, he was. But now I'm actually glad you didn't say it was you who had to kill him. We might want to keep that between us. If it's true that Stephen is this Enoch guy, Father Heall's son—”

“
He-
all
,” Micah corrects. “Like hee-
haw
.”

“
You probably shouldn't joke about that either. If he was He
-all
's son, then he definitely won't want to help the people who murdered him.”

“
I didn't
murder
him.”

“
I know. But try telling that to his father.”

Micah exhales through his teeth. After a minute, he points and says, “Well, at least there's the wall. Thank God. All these skyscrapers are making me nervous. I keep expecting more Players—”

“
Deceivers,” I correct.

Micah snorts. “Deceivers. I think we're the ones being deceived.”

I don't answer. All I can think about is how
he's
the real deceiver among us.

The wall is still just a thin gray line in the distance, like a wave on the ocean steadily approaching. Thunder rumbles. The clouds have drawn closer to us, but the mid-morning sun still beats unrelentingly down on us. It's already well past eighty degrees and will probably top out north of a hundred. Despite what Micah and Brother Matthew say, I think we'll be lucky to get any rain at all.

But then, as if to prove me wrong, a drop hits my cheek. Just one. It must have fallen a long way.

We catch up to Brother Matthew again. He looks over at us but his face is blank and yields absolutely no clue about what might be on his mind, no emotion or curiosity regarding what we were whispering about behind him.

“
Did you get your story straight?” he asks.

“
About what?”

“
About what you'll tell Father Heall about Enoch.”

“
There's nothing to get straight,” I argue. “There's only the truth. Hell, it might not even be the same person. I mean, how many people named Stephen could there be? Thousands?”

“
The boy I knew was troubled,” Brother Matthew says. He points out an IU standing off to the right like it's an interesting road sign or landmark. Like, hey check out that strange rock formation or something.

It stares at the sky, not noticing us. I remind myself to ask him later why some of them do that.

“
The man I knew was born with his father's lust for knowledge.” He sighs. “Something I once had myself, back when I was a graduate student. But Enoch was…troubled. He had an insatiable lust for power and control that his abilities couldn't match. About a year ago, he and his father had a falling out.”

“
What happened?”

“
He wanted to become one of the Children, to be known as Brother Stephen. But he was uncorrupted, and his father refused.”

He turns and gives me a wry, knowing smile. “Kids.” As if we're all the same: more trouble than we're worth. “You have no idea how much your parents torment themselves over you.”

“
Yeah, well, if you expect any sympathy from me, you can forget about it.”

“
And why is that?”

“
She never had a father,” Micah explains.

I give him a dirty look.

Brother Matthew looks surprised. “You didn't? I guess I just assumed—”

“
What? That we're just a bunch of spoiled
rich
brats, am I right? That we're just some irresponsible
Game
players who decided to break into this place for a quick thrill or because we got tired of the video game and watching
Survivalist
? That we decided to see what Gameland was really like?”

“
Isn't that why you're here?”

I open my mouth to answer, but the truth of the matter is exactly what I'd just denied. We were bored. We did break in. We did want to see what it was like.

Does it really matter at this point that Arc allowed—if not encouraged—it to happen? Not really. We probably would've gone ahead and done it anyway, even if they hadn't. God, we were such stupid idiots.

“
We're not from those rich families. None of us is.” I glance at Micah, but he's not paying me any attention. “Anyway, my father's dead and my mother might just as well be.”

Brother Matthew just grunts.

“
You've never had any kids, have you?” I ask. Another rain drop lands on me, this time on my arm. I wipe it away with the back of my other hand.

“
Me?” The question seems to take him by surprise, as if the thought had never crossed his mind. “No.”

“
Do you know Brother Nicholas' daughter?”

“
Yes.”

Another thunderclap sounds around us, the loudest and closest. The sky has turned a silvery white. A large black storm cloud is barreling its way toward us.

“
Do you think
she's
ungrateful?” A gust of wind hits me and nearly knocks me off balance. It changes direction and hits me going the opposite direction.

Brother Matthew laughs and says something in reply, but the words are drowned out by another thunderclap.

“
What?”

He waits for the rumble to die down, then answers. “Julia is not what I would consider your average kid.”

“
Yeah, well, neither am I.”

“
No. No, I suppose you're not.” He stops suddenly and says, “Here we go.”

“
What?”

He steps to the side of the road and begins making his way through the brush. The grass whips to the side, then stands upright for a moment as the air stills. The wall is still a good quarter mile away, but it feels like it looms above us. I'm already beginning to feel the first tingling effects of it on my skin. My body is starting to feel achy and my brain itches. Another thunderclap, another gust of wind. A couple more drops. Looks like I was wrong: we are going to get wet.

“
Are you coming or not? I'd rather not be out here when that cloud decides to burst.”

I look at Micah and he shrugs.
Out here?
he mouths, shaking his head. We follow.

The trail Brother Matthew takes is nearly invisible in the shifting winds. It wends through the untamed bracken and stops at a fence. He tugs aside a thick bush, exposing a raised manhole cover set in a mound of concrete. “Now we go underground, and just in time by the looks of it.”

“
A quarter of a mile?” Micah asks.

He nods, then adds, “And another quarter mile beyond.”

A half mile in a sewer? Suddenly,
out here
seems a lot more preferable than
in there
.

“
Great,” Micah mutters.

“
I think I remember promising myself I'd never go into another tunnel.”

“
Promises are made to be broken.”

I stare at Micah's back and wonder what he means by that.

Brother Matthew pulls something from his pocket and pries the metal cover up from its bed and levers it to one side. It makes a heavy scraping sound and teeters on the edge, but the noise is mostly masked by the moaning of the wind. The opening is barely large enough for us to squeeze through. “You first,” he says, pointing at Micah.

“
Why me?”

“
Or maybe you'd rather be last and pull the cover back into place?”

“
I'll go first,” he says, suddenly agreeable. “No CUs right? I mean, back home they use them to clear the drainage culverts of storm wash.”

“
No. I don't think they use them for that here.”

Micah is halfway down into the hole, descending the ladder, when I start having second thoughts. “Wait a minute,” I tell him. “Maybe you should go last.”

He hovers in the opening, giving me a questioning look. “Why?”

“
If you're thinking I might trap you in there,” Brother Matthew says, “I won't. I have no reason to.”

“
And we're supposed to just take your word for it?”

He shrugs. “Yes.”

I look at Micah. He looks at me. Another clap of thunder sounds and the air crackles and smells bittersweet, of rain and salt and something slightly fishy. Ozone. The first sheet of rain appears over the wall and heads toward us, black and angry and moving quickly. Micah sees it and begins to climb the rest of the way down without speaking a word.

“
Micah!”

Matthew hands me a flashlight headlamp from his pack and says, “Tell your friend to look out for the rats.” There's a look in his eyes that I don't like: amusement.

“
Look out for the rats,” I tell Micah, reaching through the opening and giving him the headlamp.

“
Rats? What rats?”

“
Don't worry. They're small,” Matthew calls out, the grin on his lips widening. He's enjoying himself.

“
How small?”

“
Well, let's just say there are spiders that are bigger.”

 

“I guess we know
he's got a sense of humor,” Micah grumbles as he crawls through the narrow tunnel ahead of me.

Another soft chuckle sounds from behind. Beside me, Shinji pants. His warm, wet dog breath bathes my cheek as I make my way along on hands and knees. The pressure on my shoulder isn't helping at all, but at least my wrist finally seems to be getting better.

“
Which way?”

“
Straight,” Matthew answers. “I'll tell you when to turn.”

Something scrambles over my hand and I let out a squeal. Shinji barks.

“
Told you the spiders were big.”

“
That was no fucking spider. It felt like a god damn guinea pig!”

Micah snorts with laughter.

“
Shut up!”

“
Sorry.”

“
And why is it the closer we get to the wall the happier
you
seem to get?” I ask Brother Matthew. Even down here underground I can feel its ill effects on me. I know
he
has to be feeling it, too.

“
Unlike Brother Nicholas, I can't stand being inside the arcade,” he answers. “The faster we get out, the happier I'll be.”

“
That explains your attitude,” I grumble.

“
Jessie,” Micah pants.

“
If you hate it so much, then why even go inside?” I ask.

Brother Matthew doesn't answer.

Despite the coolness down here, the air is stuffy and wet. I'm sweating heavily and we haven't gone but a few hundred yards. There's no end in sight. Not that we could see it if there were. The darkness reaches up from behind us and smothers me. It crowds us from in front. I can barely even see my own hands.

It doesn't help that I'm getting covered in the same thick silt that covers the floor. In the faint glow of the flashlight Micah is wearing, it looks as black as coal dust. At least by moving slowly we don't kick it up and breathe it in.

“
You'll want to take a left soon,” Brother Matthew says. His voice sounds flat and hollow.

“
Where? Here?”

“
Look for a mark on the wall.”

There's a moment of silence, then, “There's a blue swatch on the left hand side.”

“
That's it.”

“
It doesn't feel like we're going under the wall,” Micah comments.

“
You are.”

“
Okay, but it doesn't feel it.”

“
It will. Believe me, it will.”

“
Are you sure ab—”

“
Really?” I snap, suddenly at the end of my patience. “What is it with men? You can't stand it when it's quiet, so you have to fill it with your voices? Christ.”

Micah shuffles ahead and into the side tunnel. I follow, but not before I hear another soft chuckle coming from Brother Matthew. I swear, he actually gets off on whatever crap signal the wall gives off.

The effects of it above us are really starting to amplify. With each shuffle forward, the ache in my bones grows worse and the buzzing inside my head gets louder. Shinji whines. I can tell he doesn't want to get any closer, but he stays right beside me and matches my pace.

“
How are you feeling?” I call up to Micah.

“
Like I've got ants crawling all around inside my brain.”

“
When it feels like angry wasps,” Brother Matthew says flatly, “then you know we're directly underneath the barrier.” He's panting, so I know it's no party for him either.