Rodomonte's Revenge (2 page)

Brett nodded. “We're ready.” He tugged on the boots, gloves, and helmet as Willie left.

Brett's world went midnight dark, as if he'd stuck his head in a tar bucket. Suddenly it exploded in color and sight and sound, but it wasn't his world anymore. It was a video world with glowing mountains lining the horizon, hot golden sand beneath his feet, and wind whistling in his ears.

Words flashed across the sky.
WELCOME TO THE FIRST LEVEL OF RODOMONTE'S REVENGE: THE PLAINS
.

“Is that you, Willie?” Brett asked.

More words flashed,
THAT WAS THE COMPUTER. IT INTRODUCES EACH LEVEL
.

Tom stood beside Brett in full body armor, a sword in one hand and a laser pistol in the other. “Pretty cool, huh?”

Brett waved his sword. He could feel its weight, could hear it swish through the air. “This is way beyond cool.” He fired his laser. A green bolt two feet long erupted from its muzzle, then whizzed and crackled as it disappeared into the sky.

“How about some cowboys and Indians?” He whooped a war cry, then fired the laser at Tom. The bolt hit Tom in the face, tearing his head off and tossing it away like a wadded junk food wrapper. His lifeless body slumped to the ground.

“Tom? Tom!” Brett ran to the body. Its blood oozed into the sand. “Tom, it was only a joke!”

Words flowed like a jet stream across the sky.
PLAYER ONE HAS TWO LIVES REMAINING. GAME CONTINUES
.

Tom's head and body disappeared. Then he was standing beside Brett again. His brand-new face glared. “Shoot me, will you?” A sudden green flash exploded in Brett's face. His nose smoked and flipped over his forehead.
Then the world went tar black again. It came back just in time for him to see the words
PLAYER TWO HAS TWO LIVES REMAINING. GAME CONTINUES
.

Brett was about to run his sword through Tom's chest when more words streaked above him.
THIS IS WILLIE. YOU TWO HAVE NO HOPE OF MAKING IT TO THE NEXT LEVEL IF YOU KEEP KILLING EACH OTHER. THE KEY TO THIS GAME IS WORKING TOGETHER
.

“Work together at what?” Tom asked. “What are we supposed to do?”

TO WIN THE GAME, YOU MUST DESTROY RODOMONTE. TO COMPLETE THIS LEVEL, YOU MUST REACH THE MOUNTAINS. YOU HAVE TWO OBSTACLES HERE: FIRE RIVERS AND BUZZ-BUGS
.

“What are buzz-bugs?” Brett asked.

YOU'LL KNOW THEM WHEN YOU SEE THEM. YOU'D BETTER GET STARTED
.

“Right. Let's go.” Tom jogged off toward the mountains. Brett followed more cautiously; he liked to know what he was up against, and in this game he had no idea. It confused him. He kept thinking that it wasn't a game at all.

There were no screens, buttons, or joystick controls, just an entirely different world. The wind shoved him like a bully and kicked sand
into his face. The sword hilt was slick with sweat and heavy in his hand.

A red, smoking line appeared on the horizon. Tom stopped when he reached it and looked back.

“A fire river,” he called.

Brett joined him. Red flame licked the craggy banks. Lava flowed in scalding ripples. Its heat on his face felt like sunburn. “So what do we do?”

“We jump it.”

“I can't jump that. That's eighteen feet, easy.”

Tom snorted. “You're afraid to try.”

“Not really.” Brett stared down into the glowing current. “It looks so real, doesn't it?”

“It's a game,” Tom said, “and I'm not afraid of a game.”

“Tom …”

“Just do as I do.” Tom walked back fifteen yards, planted his feet, then sprinted for the river. His arms pumped. The sword and pistol barrel whooshed in the air. When he reached the fiery bank, he jumped.

He almost made it to the far side. Almost.

“Brett, help me!” Tom hung by his fingertips
from a crag, his feet two inches above the flames and doing their best to scramble higher.

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Something. Anything!”

As Brett watched, one hand slipped loose, then the other. Tom dropped, screaming, into the flames. His body, all red and bubbled, boiled up once to the surface, then was gone.

PLAYER ONE HAS ONE LIFE REMAINING. GAME CONTINUES
.

“All right.” Tom, whose body was as good as new, was standing beside Brett again. “We'll do it your way.”

They followed the river parallel to the mountains. Three minutes into their hike, the banks drew together. Brett could have waded across in three steps if it hadn't been lava.

“You were right,” Tom admitted. “This won't take more than a ten-foot jump.”

“See what happens when you use your head?” Brett leaped the river and landed five feet beyond the far bank. Tom joined him.

On their trek to the mountains, Brett kept waiting to run into an invisible wall; the game
room was only so big. He wondered if the floor rolled back, like a treadmill. Maybe they weren't really walking at all. Maybe with the game all around them, they just
thought
they were walking.

“This is weird,” he muttered. “Way too weird.”

They had to cross two more fire rivers, but they jumped them easily. The mountains ahead loomed larger, gray and green and purple pyramids scraping the sky. Brett was beginning to wonder if the game had malfunctioned and left the buzz-bugs out of its program when he heard a noise.

At first it was hardly even a whisper. But the whisper became a rumble, and the rumble became a roar that echoed in his ears.

“Where is it?” Brett searched the sky, the mountains, the sand in front and behind. “What is it?”

“Buzz-bug!” Tom shouted. “Over there!”

A small green dot darted from behind the mountains, growing larger with the sound. It turned from a dot into a dot with wings, then with wings, six black legs, and a round head with balloon eyes and mandibles like scythes.
A dragonfly the size of a jet fighter was racing straight toward them.

Tom charged the buzz-bug, his sword raised. The bug flew at him, then by him, as if he weren't there. When Tom struck at its side, the sword glanced off its armored shell. The bug kept coming—straight at Brett.

Brett raised his pistol and fired. The bug dodged quickly to the side, avoiding the bolt, then charged him even faster. He slashed his sword across its face, aiming for its eyes, but the bug was fast, and its mandibles were long and strong. Their pointed ends punctured each side of his chest, like hot spikes. The blood flowed. Brett couldn't breathe. As the bug lifted him off the ground and the sand and world dropped away, everything went black.

PLAYER TWO HAS ONE LIFE REMAINING. GAME CONTINUES
.

Brett stood in the sand. The buzz-bug was gone, and its death bite just a memory. “How are we supposed to fight something like that?”

Tom shrugged. “I tried stabbing it, and nothing happened. You'd have to be John Wayne to shoot it with a laser.”

Words flashed in the sky.
THIS IS WILLIE. WHAT DID I TELL YOU? YOU HAVE TO WORK TOGETHER
.

“That's what I thought we were doing,” Tom said.

WORK TOGETHER AND THINK
!

“He's right. We can figure this out.” Brett sat on the glowing sand. The coarse grains scraped his hands. “How did the buzz-bug come at us?”

“Like an arrow,” Tom said. “Straight at you.”

Brett nodded. “It must lock on to its target early. We can use that against it. Did you see any weak spots when it went by?”

“Except for its neck, it was fully armored.”

“I think I know how we can kill them.” Brett stood. “The next time we hear one coming, we separate.”

“Right. The bug will turn toward whoever it's locked on to.”

“And as soon as we know who its target is, he runs backward. That'll give the other guy time to get into position.”

“And being in position means being close enough to behead it.” Tom hefted his sword.
“Whoever does the slicing had better be good.”

“Then we're perfect for the job. Let's just hope buzz-bugs don't have any other surprises.”

They didn't have to wait long to find out. They hadn't taken five steps before the distant buzzing started again.

“Separate!” Brett ran in one direction, Tom in another. Brett's eye caught a tiny green dot zooming in from the mountains. It veered away from him.

“It's after you! Retreat!” he shouted.

As Tom ran back, Brett sprinted toward the bug. It came in as fast and loud as a freight train. It was halfway by him in a dizzy green blur before he knew what was happening. He leaped, a great, long leap, with his sword stretched out in front of him. He brought it up and then with a quick flick of his wrists snapped it down. He felt it catch on something thick, then saw the buzz-bug's head flip-flopping lazily through the air and its heavy body crash land into a dune. He landed on top of it.

“All right!” Tom ran toward him, grinning. “I didn't think you were going to make it, but old moth fingers came through.”

Brett stared down at the green bug blood oozing into the sand. “I made it. Now that I know what to do, I'll make it every time. Just be sure that you do.”

The rest of the first level was uneventful, if three buzz-bugs and another fire river can be called uneventful. The nearer they drew to the mountains, the louder and more violent the wind became. By the time they reached the foothills, it roared around them as if they were wrestling a tornado.

“What do we do now?” Tom asked.

YOU FOLLOW A TRAIL
, Willie wrote in the sky.

“Which one?” A narrow trail that clung to a mountain like a frightened child began at
their feet, but twenty other trails on either side of them did the same thing.

IT DOESN'T MATTER
.

“But they all go different places.”

I KNOW
.

“Isn't there only one castle?”

YES
.

“I don't get it.”

YOU WILL, IF YOU LIVE LONG ENOUGH
.

“But …” Brett shrugged. “I'm glad this is just a game.” He followed Tom up the trail.

WELCOME TO THE SECOND LEVEL OF RODOMONTE'S REVENGE: THE MOUNTAINS, YOU ARE GOING TO FIND THIS MUCH MORE DIFFICULT THAN THE PLAINS
.

“More difficult than what we've already gone through?” Tom shook his head. “Great.”

THERE ARE TWO HAZARDS HERE
, Willie wrote.
THE FIRST YOU CAN ALREADY FEEL: THE WIND. WATCH YOUR FOOTING, OR IT'LL BLOW YOU OVER THE SIDE. THE SECOND IS THE TUNNEL SPIDERS
.

“Tunnel spiders?” Brett asked.

YOU'LL FIND OUT ABOUT THEM SOON ENOUGH
.

Climbing the trail wasn't too hard in the foothills, but as they went higher, it became steeper and the wind became worse. Ten minutes
of battling them left Brett more than tired; they left him exhausted. Rodomonte's Revenge was more like a triathlon than a video game.

“Stay with it,” Tom called when he saw Brett dropping back.

“That's easy for you to say. You're an athlete.”

“There's a wide spot up ahead. We can take a break when we reach it.”

Brett didn't need a break when they reached a wide spot; he needed a break now. He collapsed to his knees, then to his belly. The wind seemed weaker as he lay that way; it curled over him like a blanket. The trail was as soft and yielding as a feather mattress. He felt himself sink down. He closed his eyes and imagined his bed at home. It was soft and yielding, too.

His eyes popped open. He wasn't imagining anything; he was sinking. By the time he rose to his knees, his chin was even with Tom's feet. A hole opened beneath him, and a thick web shot up to entangle his wrist.

“Tunnel spiders!” The web was a sticky
iron, trapping his arm so that he couldn't use his sword. Before he could aim his laser, a web entangled that arm, too. “Tom, help me!”