The Aftermath (9 page)

I should be worried about snow in the middle of August. Or my current situation—being with a boy who epitomizes the word
enemy
for me. But I can’t help smiling when I turn away to gather my belongings.

The walk today is more grueling than yesterday’s. Every time I bring up what Declan said before falling asleep last night, he changes the subject. We talk about the sudden shift in the weather (it’s well over one hundred degrees) and how long he’s been a moderator (just over a year), but he refuses to discuss the new threat that’s on its way to the game.

We stop to take a breather just after noon, at an abandoned convenience store off the side of the road. As we walk across the parking lot toward a row of gas pumps—some of which have been ripped from the concrete—he clears his throat. I glance over to see him holding my gun, and my mouth falls open as he holds the handle out to me.

“Are we having a duel, Declan?” I ask, and he rolls his gray eyes.

“You wish, Virtue, but no. I just want to make sure we don’t have any unwanted guests that are going to sneak up on us. You’re going to check out here while I look inside.” Touching the faded credit card swipe of one of the few upright fuel dispensers, he leans in close to me. “We’ll meet right here in five minutes, okay?”

The corner of my lip jerks up. “If I don’t show up, then assume the worst, okay?” I start toward the back of the building only to stop and turn around when he says my name.

“Don’t run away,” he warns. “I’ll be pissed and you’ll be wasting both our time if I have to find you.”

Creep.

But because I really have no choice but to stick with Declan at this point—after all, he knows the way out of The Aftermath—I don’t venture away from the convenience store. It doesn’t take me long to determine there’s nobody lurking about who will massacre us. I’m just about to ignore his order to meet him at the fuel pump and go inside to join him when something familiar catches my eye.

Sagging against a graffitied sign advertising a soft drink is a bright blue backpack. My chest contracts as I force my feet toward it. I bend down, placing the Glock on the ground, and pick the satchel up, dangling it from the tips of my fingers. There’s something in it. Even before I drag the zipper back, I know that I’ll find protein bars and bottles of water.

So I don’t finish unzipping the bag. I simply stare at the blood.

Tiny splotches cover the bottom of the blue bag. Even more—so much more—stains the ground a few inches from where I kneel. How far did those two boys make it before they were attacked?

Are they still alive?

“You okay, Virtue?”

I startle, dropping the bag. Spinning around, I punch Declan in the chest and shout, “Don’t do that! Don’t scare me like that.”

He mouths a silent curse and rubs the spot where I hit him. “Next time you hit me, I swear I’ll punch you back. And don’t think for a second that I’ll hold back just because you’re a girl!” I don’t answer, just return my gaze to the backpack. Hesitantly, he squats down next to me. “Hey, is everything okay? You look...funny.”

“It’s fine.”

He flicks one of the straps on the bag with his thumb. “Does this belong to you?”

“No.”

It belonged to two boys—kids who were only a few years younger than me—kids who are more than likely captured or even dead.

And I hurt for them.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

That evening, after Declan falls asleep a few feet away from me, his AcuTab lying facedown on his chest, I thrust myself into Olivia’s mind. She’s in a dining room with floor-to-ceiling windows. The ceiling is vaulted and, no surprise, windowed. Even though it’s late at night where Declan and I are in the forest, the sun drenches Olivia’s dining room in soft natural light. But I guess since there’s a way to make her rooftop garden display the evening sky with a push of a few buttons, creating the illusion of daylight is possible, too.

Dragging my attention away from our surroundings, I focus on my gamer, who is in the middle of an argument with a woman sitting at the head of a white oval dining table, her blue-green eyes trained on Olivia as she paces in front of the table.

“I’m ready to go home. I’m sick of being stuck here if I can’t do anything,” Olivia says, her heels drumming harshly on the polished black floor, the staccato rhythm a perfect match for her angry breathing. When the older woman remains silent, Olivia leans down, digging her fingers into the back of her chair. She doesn’t seem to notice the plate full of food inches beneath her nose. “Mom, please...” The desperation in her voice reminds me of myself a day ago, when I begged Declan to let me go.

How can Olivia be so fraught when she has so much?

Shaking her head, her mother races her hands through her immaculate short black hair. “Olivia, we’ve been over this. We’re going home tomorrow morning. You can go back to that...game after academy. Now, sit down and eat your dinner.”

“You don’t understand, I—”

“A few missed days won’t kill you. If anything, it might help you wean yourself off the gaming treatment.” She clasps her hands in front of her on the table. “And honestly, Olivia, it’s time you finished this once and for all. You’re only making things more difficult dragging it out. You must see that?”

“My treatment isn’t finished,” Olivia mutters through gritted teeth. “What is it you don’t understand about that?”

Her mother’s face wrinkles into a deep frown. “Your goal is to hit one hundred thousand points and finish twelve missions. At the rate you were going when you first began, you should have fulfilled the obligations of your treatment months ago. I don’t understand why you won’t just make the damn points so we can end this. Don’t you think it’s time to put this obsession away? To move on with the rest of your life so that your father and I can move on, too?”

“Don’t you mean so that your reputations can move on?” Olivia demands. “Let me ask you this. When that day comes—when I’m done with the game—are you sure you’ll want to unleash me on society?”

“I believe you’re purposely dragging this game on so that you can try—”

Olivia shakes her head furiously, strands of her dark brown hair flying into her eyes. “Dad doesn’t believe that. He never has.”

What doesn’t Olivia’s father believe? And what does her mother think she plans on trying to do?

Her mother’s scowl morphs into a new expression that scares me. On the surface, she looks calm, but beneath the facade, I can sense there’s enough hatred to fill The Aftermath ten times. “Then you must have him fooled.” She slams her palm down on the left side of her plate and the table lights up. A platform rises up in the center of it. She shoves the plate onto it along with Olivia’s barely touched dish.

When it lowers a moment later, taking the dirty dishes with it, a monotone male voice announces, “AcuSystem records show that Olivia is at a severe nutrient deficiency in the following—”

“Ignore,” Olivia and her mother both shout at the same time.

I guess Declan was telling the truth when he told me that the AcuTabs are linked to their homes. For a moment I’m dizzy with longing, ready to hold my own tablet, to hear a strange crisp voice tell me I haven’t eaten enough nutrients. To simply have the opportunity to eat enough nutrients.

“Just forget I even said anything.” Olivia turns to skulk away. The sound of a clearing throat stops her from leaving as the dining room doors slide open.

“End the game, Olivia. For all of us.”

“When it’s time.”

“I know that Landon is still a part of your little clan.”

And suddenly this conversation makes a little more sense. Her mother believes she’s purposely dragging out the game to stay close to Landon, to Ethan.

Olivia’s breath picks up and she drags her hands over her face, giving me a glimpse of her palms, which have notes written on them in messy ink. “So? His parents want him to get better. They don’t think he has some ulterior motive.” But she doesn’t succeed at sounding nonchalant. Every other word her voice raises an octave.

“His parents are known sympathizers, so I’m curious to know what they think of you—of us. Olivia, they will force him to finish accumulating the points he needs, and then he’ll be gone.”

“Story of my life. Good night, Mother.”

When I drop back into myself a couple of seconds later to the sound of Declan’s snoring and the bitter cold night, I almost feel sorry for Olivia. I feel sorry she’s forbidden to see the boy she loves and that she must use this violent game to be with him.

“But you use me to do it,” I whisper aloud. Declan shifts, opening one of his eyes. Once he sees that I’m still in his sleeping bag, he rolls over to his side.

My pity for Olivia vanishes. If I’m to escape, I don’t have time to feel pity for the girl who trapped me here in the first place.

* * *

Declan and I reach the pedestrian bridge that will take me back to the smelly bar on Demonbreun an hour after the sun comes up the next morning. In seven or eight hours, Olivia will be finished with school for the day and will log in to the game and take charge of me, but I linger on the bridge. She’s the precise reason why I’m not ready to go home.

Declan waits for me at the end of the platform, watching as I sit on one of the concrete stools. There’s an impatient look on his face. I don’t think he understands how hard it is for me to return, despite his promise of eventually aiding in my escape. Maybe my journey west did take me the wrong way, and maybe I hadn’t thought about what would happen once I broke free of the game, but for a few days I’d believed I was free. I had believed I’d escaped, that I’d never have to be my gamer’s puppet ever again.

Even if I come right out and tell Declan that, I’m still not sure he’ll understand.

So I dry the sweat from my face, wipe my hands down the front of my damp T-shirt and I get up. I walk through the enclosure of concrete and suspension wires and metal, and I join him, once again in the cage that is Nashville.

“It shouldn’t take us long to find him,” Declan says quietly as I lead him southwest, onto Third Avenue. “I promise—we’ll find him so I can get you out of here, Virtue.”

Every moment I have to spend in The Aftermath as a puppet seems like far too long. An enormous lump forms in my throat, and I don’t dare look at him when I nod. “Good.”

We pass a boy and a girl scavenging through a large garbage bin. Maybe they’re on some sort of side quest, but more than likely their health gauges are just dangerously low. The girl looks up at us, eyes our giant bags and smiles. Two of her front teeth are chipped and rotten. I can’t help but wonder what she looked like before the person playing her decided to let her forage for expired protein bars and stale water. Before she and the boy began to waste away.

Declan taps his fingertips on the Glock in my waist holster, and the girl’s flat grin disappears. She lowers her head and starts sorting through the trash again. I want to ask why he didn’t just show her his electroshock gun, since he has no problem threatening me with it, but he touches his finger to his lips and motions for me to keep walking.

“I told you,” he says once we’re out of earshot. Grabbing my upper arm, he pulls me away from a giant pothole in the sidewalk. “This is a sensitive assignment.”

I roll my eyes. “And you really think a couple of Survivors who look like they’ll die any day will interfere with your job?”

He stops walking for a moment to look back at me, tilting his head to one side. Like he’s studying me. I don’t like being scrutinized one bit. “No, the Survivors are shells. I’m more concerned about what their gamers might hear.” He gives me a grave look. “You do know that when your gamer isn’t on, you have to be careful, right?”

I poke my tongue into my cheek. Is he serious? “Do I look stupid enough to parade around as a sentient character? I already know I’ll have to act as my gamer if I’m forced to interact with other characters.”

“Never called you stupid, Virtue. Just want to make sure you know what you’re doing.”

Before I can respond, he’s already walking. I steady myself, then pick up the pace until I’m several feet ahead of him. Fifteen minutes later, we stand in the lobby of the jail I once called home—the building that’s right across from the courthouse where I initially met Declan. It’s stifling in here, hotter than outside, and I shift awkwardly, cringing at how sore my body is.

“I’m surprised it wasn’t that place.” Declan gestures over his shoulder in the direction of the courthouse. “Prisons are always tricky with their self-locking doors and barriers.”

The look on his face is expectant—like he’s waiting for me to tell him that I remember what happened in the other building. I keep my expression perfectly still. “Then you’ll have to be careful not to lock yourself in.” I hug myself and rub my hands furiously over my upper arms. “I’ll help you sweep the place for flesh-eaters, but I doubt we’ll find anything. You’re pretty safe with everything you have in that bag. And of course, I’ll come back as soon as the coast is clear with locks and cha—”

“This isn’t where you and your clan hole up?”

“Well, no— At least not anymore. But we stayed here for a few months and it’s safe,” I say. “We moved to a new location a couple weeks ago.”

The muscles in Declan’s shoulders tighten as he paces across the floor, stepping around the weeds that are growing through the cracks. “I’m not staying here,” he says, stopping behind a row of waiting chairs. He grips the back of one and leans in close. “It’s not going to happen, Virtue.”

“Well then, where do you expect to stay? Because The Aftermath isn’t exactly bursting with luxury accommodations.”

“With you.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m going to stay with you,” he says.

“I live in a bar with three other people. And, just in case you haven’t paid attention to anything I’ve told you the past couple days, they’re not like me. Unless you tell them you’re a moderator, you’ll be just another target to them. A sitting duck,” I say through gritted teeth.

And, besides, you’re dangerous. Far too dangerous to stay with me.

“They’ll never even know I’m there.”

I release a harsh laugh. “They’ll probably kill you and steal all your food and gear before you walk through the door. After you’re dead, they’ll call it an ‘unmarked side quest.’”

“I’ll show you how to hide me.”

“Whatever. Like I said, you’re not staying with me.”

“And you’ll stop me with what? Your menacing height? Your unbelievable strength?”

“Don’t. Mock. Me.”

“You can’t stop me from following you. And you’re better off hiding me than explaining to your clan how you met a moderator sixty miles west of here.”

Moments ago he’d told me how I’d hide him from the people living with me and now he’s threatening to expose that I’m an unsuccessful runaway. I drop my bag to the floor behind me. I move faster without it, and right now I’m thinking Declan will soon be gripping his face again in pain. His nose is still bruised from me hitting him two days ago.

“You won’t do it.” My voice is taunting and deliberate—so much like Olivia’s that it makes my head spin. Whether I like it or not, my gamer exudes the cruel confidence that I need to deal with Declan. I curl my fingers into my palm and smile at him. I imagine it’s the same look she’d give him.

“Why’s that?”

“You said you need me.”

“I do.”

“And that means you won’t all of the sudden decide to tell the other gamers and my own that I’m sentient. What good am I if I’m found out?” I ask.

I’ll be deleted.

I still don’t exactly know what all that entails, but I remember Jeremy and April’s conversation and it sends a chill through my body.

“No good—you and I both know that. But think of it this way, if I’m with you, we can do what we need to do even faster. Don’t you want to find out why you’re here in the first place?”

I know that he’s manipulating me, but I can’t seem to make myself walk away. Declan probably figured out the moment he stopped me at the fence that I’d do just about anything to secure my freedom.

He’s far more dangerous than I’ve given him credit for.

I turn my back to him and yank my bag from the floor. Stalking to the emergency exit, I call over my shoulder, “Are you coming or not?”

“Absolutely.”

I swear I can hear the smirk in his voice.

* * *

The bar is smellier than I remember. But maybe that has something to do with the unbearable heat. I find two bottles of water in one of the cabinets behind the counter and hand both to Declan. “Sorry, if I take any more than this, they might notice.” I jab my finger to the bent restroom sign dangling from the ceiling in the far corner of the bar. “The bathrooms are right over there.”

Declan’s intense gaze follows my finger, and when he turns to me again, the corners of his mouth pull up in amusement. “Aren’t you an accommodating hostess.”

I could argue with him. There’s nothing I want more than to snap at him. But Olivia is probably coming back soon. I feel too drained from the past several days to try and get into her head, so I have no idea if that return will be thirty minutes or eight hours from now. All I know is that I need to get Declan into a hiding place and put myself where she left me, snuggled next to Ethan in the bed upstairs, before she logs in.

“We need to hide you before my gamer decides it’s time we hunt for flesh-eaters and protein bars. Any ideas?” I turn in a slow circle, shaking my head at the lack of hidey-holes. “I can help you into a storage closet if you want.”