Gamerunner (15 page)

‘I didn’t mean to —’

‘So you were scared,’ Daed said. ‘Good. Remember how it felt.’

He left. Rick watched the door close after him.

Then there was nothing but his empty room, and the rain against the windows, and through the archway, just visible, the shadow of the shark, biding its time at the bottom of the swimming pool.

Chapter 15

He slept for two days. Not straight through — he had to get up to go to the toilet, to eat, to wash — but every time he was in danger of thinking, he went back to sleep. Dreams opened up like doors and let him in. He followed long dark passages, ran endless traps, called out a name that he couldn’t remember when he woke up. The dreams slid slowly into nightmares, and finally he broke the surface, gasping, and then he went to the bathroom again to rinse away the sweat. He looked at himself in the mirror, and thought: Daed was
dying
. . . Just for a moment, for a second, he tried to imagine what it would be like, a world without Daed. But it was unthinkable. Everyone died, of course, eventually, but . . . He squeezed his eyes shut. Imagine it.

It was like trying to imagine infinity. It would be terrifying, if you could do it.

And he’s
not
dying, Rick thought. Not any more. Not now I found Asterion and gave it to him, and he took it and went away.

And he didn’t even say thanks.

He opened his eyes again. The nightmare was still ringing in his ears, calling to him from behind a closed door.

He turned away from his reflection and went back to bed. Because that was the thing about nightmares: they
were
nightmares. You could wake up. Which was more than could be said for the real world.

What brought him back to life, in the end, was Perdita.

She could have come straight in, if she’d wanted to; but she didn’t. She waited outside Rick’s door, waiting for him to give her permission.

Rick looked at the ceiling, and hoped that she’d go away. Just the sound of her voice made his stomach shrink. After ten minutes he rolled over and closed his eyes. But the comms panel buzzed again and her voice said, ‘Rick? I know you’re in there. Look . . . I brought you breakfast.’

He glanced at the window.
1702
. And he’d been back on full food privileges since Daed started work on the expansion, anyway. He could order whatever he wanted.

‘Rick?’

Why was she bothering? He wanted her to go away. Daed hadn’t come to see him; why should Perdita care? The last time he’d seen her he’d ripped up her files and stolen Asterion. And now she’d come to check he was OK. It was unbearable.

Finally, because he was too tired to do anything else, he said, ‘OK, come in.’ He’d been cold in the night, so at least he was wearing a T-shirt and underpants.

He knew immediately, from the way she looked at him, that she didn’t know about Asterion. She’d got an armful of food and a thermocup balanced precariously between the topmost packet and her chin. She said, ‘Rick . . . I just came to see how you were. I heard about the — about your getting punished . . . I can’t believe they did that. You’re only a kid, for gods’ sake. Those cells are — grown men have gone insane, from being down there too long —’ She stopped.

Rick took a deep breath. ‘I’m fine, thanks.’

‘Good.’ She bit her lip and looked round for somewhere to put the packages of food. Her movements weren’t quite right; she looked like an actor who hadn’t rehearsed the scene enough.

‘Perdy —’

‘Listen —’ she said, at exactly the same time, and they looked at each other and smiled.

‘You go first,’ Rick said. He watched her put the food down on the floor and even though he knew he had to tell her about Asterion he could feel the numbness in his stomach starting to thaw, a little.

‘OK,’ she said. She passed the thermocup to him. ‘Green tea with lemon, supposed to be calming, worth a try, I thought, even if it’s nonsense.’

‘Is that what you came to say?’ He almost laughed.

‘No.’ She waited until he had a firm grip on the cup. ‘OK. I wanted to say . . . I’m sorry about what happened in my workshop. I know you were — you
are
upset, and you have every right to be. Of course. But I promise, no matter what happens, I’ll do my best to protect you. When — if something happens to Daed, you won’t be alone. I couldn’t give him what he wanted, and I don’t expect you to understand that. But please don’t think I don’t care about you, because I do.’ She sped up at the end and then stopped, like her battery had gone.

Rick looked down at the cap of the thermocup and swallowed. He said, ‘Perdy . . . the files, in the cupboard . . .’

‘It’s OK,’ she said. ‘They were just ideas, old ideas. I’ve used most of them, anyway. There wasn’t anything irreplaceable. Don’t worry.’ Her mouth twitched. ‘Anyway . . . the thing about paper, Rick, is that you can tape it back together.’

‘Right,’ he said. He put the cup to his mouth, but he didn’t drink.

‘OK?’ She crouched and came up with a green-grey box, glinting with old-fashioned lettering.

‘The files in the cupboard,’ he said again. If he said it often enough, she might understand, without him having to tell her.

‘Macaroon?’

He didn’t know what that meant. It sounded like a place, somewhere a long way away. He thought: I’d like to live there. He said, ‘Perdy, there’s something I have to —’

‘Have a macaroon. It’s going to be OK,’ she said. ‘You’re not on your own. Don’t worry.’

He sucked a mouthful of burning liquid through the thermocup and felt the water well up in his eyes, automatically.

He said, ‘No, you don’t understand, when I was ripping up the files in your —’

‘Forget it,’ she said. ‘Honestly. Hello? No, I’m just — yes, all right —’

For a second he thought she was still talking to him. Then he realised her earpiece was flashing, and she was grimacing at him, apologising.

She said, ‘No, just for a moment, I’ll be right back —’

A pause.

She said, ‘
What?
’

Rick filled his mouth with tea, and swallowed. It hurt. He felt the heat run all the way down his oesophagus.

‘On whose authority? But I — there’s no one else who is even in the same — no, you listen to me! Who the hell —’

Silence.

‘Is this a joke?’ she said. ‘Because if it is, I think it’s in decidedly bad taste.’

A murmur from the earpiece, as if it was starting to lose patience.

‘I don’t believe you. Why would he — no, this has to be Paz, this is
mad
, you’re —’

And then nothing; just silence. The earpiece flickered and the light died. Perdita looked down at the box she was holding and made a strange noise. It was like a laugh; but it wasn’t a laugh.

Rick was afraid of the silence, but he was more afraid of saying something.

Perdita didn’t move. She looked like a screenshot: ugly face, with a trace of green and silver light reflected off the box in her hands. She didn’t even blink.

Rick heard himself say, ‘Perdita? Are you . . . all right?’

‘I’ve been sacked,’ she said. It sounded as if she wasn’t quite sure what it meant.

‘But . . .’

‘By Daed. Daed has — sacked me. For no reason. I’ve got twelve hours’ notice. I have to leave. I —’ She stopped.

‘Twelve hours?’

‘Generous.’ It must have been sarcasm, but it didn’t sound like it. ‘It could have been one.’

‘But —’

‘He’s mad. He
needs
me.’ She wasn’t really talking to Rick. ‘Even if he’s angry . . . it’s stupid, it’s
mad
, Daed’s a lot of things, but not
stupid
. . .’

Rick looked at her hands squashing the silvery pattern on the box, and tried not to think. She was right. Daed did need her; he needed all the help he could get. Or — he
had
needed her, before . . .

‘He’s lost his mind,’ she said. ‘He’s not dying, he’s self-destructing.’

I can’t say anything, Rick thought. I can’t tell her
now
. . .

‘I understand,’ she said, ‘I do understand, if he wants to punish me for not giving him Asterion, if he hates me for that . . . I understand . . . but . . .’ She swallowed. ‘Surely he can see — if he sacks me, he’s on his own. There’s no
advantage
. What does he think he’s going to achieve?’

She said it as if she really wanted to know. Rick pressed his lips together; and then bit down, to make extra sure.

This was his fault. If he hadn’t stolen Asterion . . .

But why
sack
her? He thought it so loudly he was afraid she’d hear. It didn’t make sense, even if . . .

She said, ‘He doesn’t trust me any more, I suppose.’

‘Perdita . . .’ In the Maze, sometimes, if you said exactly the right thing, you could change a hostile NPC to a friendly one, or open a locked door, or disable an enemy. Change the world. Rick wished he could do that now.

She seemed to see him, suddenly. Her eyes narrowed, and she looked round, taking in the room. Her gaze went down to the box in her hands. She said, ‘Can I keep these?’

‘What?’

‘The macaroons. They’re worth a bit. I might be able to get a refund from Housekeeping. Worth a try. You don’t mind, do you? I’m sorry, I wanted to —’ She stopped. She put the box on the bed. Then she grimaced, and bent over at the waist, very slowly, like the air going out of something.

And then she started to cry.

Rick knew, just from the way she was sobbing, that she wasn’t going to survive, outside. And she knew it. They both knew.

Daed must have known, too.

He said, ‘Perdy . . . do you want me to talk to Daed? He might change his mind . . . he’s pleased with me at the moment, I could try —’

She didn’t even bother to answer. Rick didn’t blame her. Tears ran down her face and into her mouth. There was moisture dripping off her chin. A long plumb-line of spit swung and stretched towards the carpet.

‘Perdy,’ he said again. ‘Please don’t cry. Look . . .’

He knew how she felt, now, when he was in her workshop, when he wouldn’t even answer her. He wished he didn’t. He thought: My fault.

He said, ‘Look — it’ll be OK, I promise.’ He was lying. He couldn’t promise. But he needed to say
something
, because it was Perdita, and even if she’d refused to help Daed, she was still Perdita, she’d still brought him breakfast and waited for permission before she came into his room. He said, ‘Listen, I reckon it’s only a misunderstanding. All I have to do is tell Daed that you gave me Asterion, and you don’t mind him using it, and then —’

‘I won’t give you Asterion!’ The words were thick with saliva. She shook her head, and flecks of water speckled Rick’s sheets. ‘If he’s trying to blackmail me into giving it to him, then tough, because I’d rather die. He can put me in one of his cells and leave me there and he won’t get it. He knows he won’t get it, he —’ She put her hands over her face, pressing as though the flesh would come away from her skull if she didn’t. ‘Gods, I don’t even know where it
is
. . .’

She was still crying, but silently. Her body was shaking as if someone had put an electric current through her spine.

Rick said, ‘No, I mean . . .’ He was such a coward. She was getting chucked out of the complex, and he was scared of owning up. ‘Perdy . . . he’s already got Asterion. The file was in the cupboard. I found it. And —’

She looked up. Her hands slipped down to cover her mouth. Her bottom lip bulged in the gaps between the fingers.

‘He was dying, Perdy, and I don’t know what Asterion does but it can’t be wrong, can it, not that bad, and now he’s going to be OK, he can keep working on the Maze. If he’s immortal then, it’s just that, I’m sorry but, don’t you —’ But all the sentences were dead ends.

She went on looking at him.

‘Please don’t be angry, I know it was wrong to steal it, but you wouldn’t give it to him, and he needed it, and now if I just say to him that you let me take it, then he’ll let you stay, you can help with the new expansion —’

‘Rick,’ she said. It was like a bolt snicking into place.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, and almost wished he meant it. ‘Sorry.’

She’d stopped crying. She straightened up and stared at him. She had a look on her face like she was listening. She said, ‘You stole the file on Asterion and gave it to Daed. Is that what you’re telling me?’

‘Yes.’

She blinked. Her eyes were an odd colour; against the red of her eyelids the pupils looked lustrous, like oil. ‘Do you know what Asterion is?’

‘No, I —’ He remembered her saying:
evil
. ‘It’s something to do with . . . Daed said it would stop him dying. That it would make him immortal. Perdy, that’s not wrong, how can that be wrong —?’