The Game of Lives (6 page)

“We've got answers,” Helga replied. “And some potential plans. But first, I think we all need some rest. Diving in right now will only make everyone miserable.”

As curious and anxious as Michael felt, he couldn't disagree. He could have crawled under his rickety wooden chair right that second and fallen asleep.

“The Hive was the first thing I wanted you to see,” Helga said. “And then we got a little sidetracked, didn't we?” She started moving for the door. “We'll have a few more cots
brought in. You can all sleep in this room. In the morning we'll Sink into the VirtNet and I'll lay out our plan and our resources.”

The last thing Michael noticed before Helga stepped out of the room was how she avoided Walter's gaze as she passed him on her way into the main barracks.

4

Michael lay on his cot, hands clasped behind his head, staring at the ceiling. He stared at the shadows crossing its surface, and the longer he looked, the more they seemed to be moving, swirling, concealing something. It made him feel like he was inside the Sleep.

“Well, peeps,” Bryson said from his own cot just a few feet over. “Today was what you'd call a very strange day.”

Sarah was across the office, between her parents' cots; her dad was already snoring quietly, and Nancy had admonished them every five minutes to go to sleep until she finally went under herself. There was a squeak of movement on a cot, then soft footsteps and a moving shadow. Sarah sat down on the floor next to Michael's cot and patted his hand.

“Strange doesn't even begin to describe it,” she said.

“Makes our old gaming days seem downright dull,” Bryson added.

Michael shifted and leaned up on an elbow. Sarah was close and warm, and it gave him some comfort. “I can't believe you guys don't hate me,” he said. “Think how sweet your lives were before I yanked you into my freak show.”

“Oh, please, not this again,” Sarah groaned. “Like we'd be better off living at home, not knowing the world was being possessed by Tangents and crumbling around us. At least we have an opportunity to do something about it this way.”

“But that's the thing,” Bryson said, his face hidden in darkness. “What're we going to do? Even if we
do
go to the Hallowed Ravine and somehow manage to destroy the Mortality Doctrine program, Kaine or someone else could just recode it down the road. Plus, there's that giant Hive, growing by the second. Wipe that thing out and who knows how many people we'd kill? That true death crap.”

Sarah was rubbing her temples with both hands. “Guys, can we talk about something happy for a little while? Something that has nothing to do with the Sleep, or Kaine, or Tangents, or mass murder? Please?”

Michael reached out and touched her shoulder. Sarah had never said anything so glorious in all the time he'd known her.

“What else is there to discuss?” Bryson asked. “Are we going to tell each other our favorite childhood memories or something?”

“Yes, actually. That's a great idea,” Sarah said, suddenly cheery. “That's exactly what we're going to do. You first, Bryson.”

“What? Serious?”

“Totally.”

Mostly dressed in shadow, Bryson swung his legs around and sat up on his cot, leaning forward with elbows on knees. “All right,” he said. “You asked for it. But it's going to shatter
your illusion that I was a childhood prodigy, well on my way to becoming the smartest man alive.”

“We'll risk it,” Michael muttered.

Bryson rubbed his hands together, then started in. “Okay, I was…five years old, I think. So I was a little kid, but that still doesn't excuse how stupid I was. I mean, seriously, I had to have been one brainless child. Maybe I had an implant later in life. Or hey, maybe I'm a Tangent!”

“Not funny,” Sarah said. “And would you please get on with this amazing story of what an idiot child you were?”

It didn't faze Michael. He'd long since accepted that he was a Tangent. The lighter they could make of it, the better. It was a huge, and relieving, change for him.

“Christmas,” Bryson said. “Snowing outside, sparkly lights everywhere, a real tree in the living room. Man, that thing smelled good. My dad chopped it down himself while I watched. I'm pretty sure we stole it off some dude's land, but that's another story. Anyway, I was the youngest kid, three brothers and a sister. They were all at school and my mom had gone upstairs to take a nap. And there I was, poor little baby brother, sitting in the living room, staring at a mound of wrapped presents under the tree. So inviting. It was like the paper could talk, telling me I should take a peek, see what everyone would get from Mom and Pop.”

“You sneaked a look at some Christmas presents?” Sarah asked. “That's it? What kid in history didn't do that?”

“Well, I didn't,” Michael said. “I'm Jewish.”

Sarah laughed. “What? You are? How'd I not know that?”

“My parents weren't the most religious people on the block.”

“Excuse me?” Bryson interrupted. “Can I finish?”

Sarah laughed again, and Michael's heart felt just a little lighter. He hadn't realized how great that sound was and how much he'd missed it.

Bryson kept up his riveting tale. “Anyway, on that lonely, cold, wintry day, Bryson the Dope came up with his genius plan. I thought that if I opened up all the presents, and then—wait for it—then if I hid the paper, my mom wouldn't be able to tell that I'd done the deed. So I ripped the wrapping off each and every one of those presents—even my brothers' and sister's. For about twenty minutes I was the happiest kid that had ever breathed. After I stuffed all the paper behind the dryer, I took the unwrapped presents and, like a genius, put them back under the tree. Then I sat on the couch and looked at a book until my mom came down from her nap. I was sure she wouldn't see a difference.”

He paused to let his moment of glory sink in.

“Wow,” Sarah whispered. “That is some kind of dumb.”

“So what happened?”

“Shockingly,” Bryson answered, “my mom immediately figured out what I'd done. She saved the paper from behind the dryer before it caught fire and burned our house down, and then she rewrapped the presents before my brothers and sister got home from school. All was well.”

“What did she do to you?” Sarah asked. “I'm sure half of her wanted to laugh and the other half wanted to murder her own child.”

Michael snickered, just enjoying the fact that they were acting like old times.

“I think my mom was really smart about it,” Bryson explained. “She knew I realized what a historically stupid thing I'd done. And my embarrassment and having to live with it for the rest of my life was punishment enough, although I'm sure she was raging mad on the inside. She tells that story to everybody.”

“Well,” Michael said, “I gotta say, that's one of the best stories I've ever heard. I feel smarter and much better about myself.”

“You should,” Bryson replied. “Okay, who's next?”

“I'll go now,” Sarah said. “I'll tell you guys about the time I tinkled on my aunt.”

5

Ten minutes later, Michael had the giggles and there was nothing to be done about it. Gerard certainly didn't notice, sawing logs like a lumberjack over on his cot, but Nancy shushed them several times and told Sarah it was time to go to bed. Sarah promised that she would soon.

“There's no way that happened,” Bryson said.

Sarah was adamant. “Yes, it did! I swear. She was sleeping on my grandma's couch and I had a sleepwalking…issue. You can ask my parents when they aren't stone dead over there.”

“But the physics of it,” Bryson countered. “I mean, how'd you balance?”

This set Michael off again, his face and chest hurting from laughing so much. He hadn't felt this way since before Kaine had started haunting his life.

“I think we've dwelled on this subject long enough,” Sarah said. “It's Michael's turn.” She shifted against his cot, and the faint light coming from outside illuminated her eyes. “How're you going to top those two stories?”

Michael had been leaning on his one elbow for way too long, and it hurt. He pulled up his legs and folded them beneath him, rubbing his shoulder. “I don't know. Let me think a second.”

Silence settled on the friends, and Michael realized how long they'd been talking and laughing. There was an awkwardness in that silence, and Michael knew exactly why.

“It's weird to think back,” he said. “I mean, I don't even know what's really a memory. Who knows if a lot of it wasn't just programmed into my history?”

“Forget that crap,” Bryson said. “Your life is your life. Now tell us a good one before I fall asleep over here.”

Michael wrapped his arms around his knees, still thinking.

Finally, after a good several minutes, he announced, “Got it! The time my dad almost killed me with a rock.”

6

It was weird, telling the story. Since finding out that he was a Tangent, it had gotten to the point that he couldn't trust even things most people took for granted. What his eyes saw. What his fingers felt. What he tasted, what he breathed,
what he smelled. How could he ever know if any of it was real? Or ever had been?

But as he sat there on that cot in the darkness, the sounds of Gerard's snores like a sound track in the background, he remembered. He remembered his life as a little boy, and nothing could ever take that away from him.

“My dad loved camping,” he said. “Loved it. Especially since we lived in the smoggy city. About once every other month, he'd gather up a bunch of gear, run around the house like a giddy little kid, then haul us into a truck, even Helga. Always Helga. She was as much a part of our family as any of us.”

“Where'd you usually go?” Sarah asked.

“Somewhere along the Appalachian Trail, up in the mountains, as remote a place as he could find. Sometimes we'd drive for hours and hours. It was before I was allowed to Sink into the Sleep, so I loved it just as much as my dad. It was an adventure.”

He paused, picturing it all in his mind. “I can smell the campfire—that was always the best part. The crackles and the popping and the glowing coals. My mom didn't enjoy roughing it too much, but she endured it because I think she could see how happy it made me. And my dad, obviously. And Helga totally got into it. She was like a forest ranger out there, barking orders and gathering way more wood than we'd ever use. But also making sure we didn't burn the forest down around us.”

“She's tough,” Sarah whispered. Michael could hear the smile in her voice.

“So this one time,” Michael continued, “I think I thought I was an Eagle Scout or something, because I decided to go on my very own hike—I didn't even tell anyone I was leaving. I marched down one mountain and up the next—they were more like hills, actually. They weren't that tall. I don't know what I was thinking. Maybe that I'd discover some ancient burial ground or a handful of arrowheads, who knows. I was an idiot, like Bryson, I guess.”

“Good company,” his friend answered dryly.

Michael barely heard him, lost in that old, old memory. “Anyway, of course I got turned around. I didn't have a clue where I was. I tried retracing my steps, but I'm pretty sure I was just going in circles, up and down the exact same mountain.”

“Yikes,” Sarah said. “How old were you?”

“Nine or ten. I was scared out of my mind because it started getting dark. I called for my parents and Helga, but they didn't hear me. I was terrified—I remember I started crying and I got more and more hysterical. Finally, I was in some little valley, and I just…I don't know. I didn't exactly pray, but I tried to reach out to my dad. Begging him in my head to come and find me.”

Michael shifted again to lean back on his elbows, stretching his legs out in front of him. Sarah rested her arm across his knees and looked up at him. Her eyes were hidden in the dark, but he was happy she was facing his way.

“It wasn't two or three minutes later when a huge boulder came crashing down the mountain from straight above where I stood. I heard it before I saw it, snapping trees and
crunching undergrowth. I looked up just in time to see it come barreling through a couple of pines, on a dead-on course for me. The thing only missed me by an inch after I dove out of the way. It totally smashed a tree to pieces.”

Bryson and Sarah didn't move and he could barely hear them breathe.

“Well,” he said, “I figured maybe it was a sign, so I followed its path back up the mountain. It was easy because it'd practically made its own road down the hillside. And I'm guessing you already know what it led me to.”

“Your family,” Sarah replied.

“Yep. I saw my dad first, and as soon as he laid eyes on me, he sprinted over—he had to jump over a couple of logs—and pulled me into a huge bear hug. I can remember my back cracking 'cause he squeezed so hard. And I'm pretty sure I squeezed just as hard. Then my mom and Helga were there, all of us boohooing and hugging and laughing. It was crazy, and I'll never forget it. Especially one thing.”

“What's that?” Bryson asked.

“My dad. He was crying, eyes all red and puffy. Not once did he say one little thing about me wandering off and getting lost. Not once. I'm sure he figured I'd learned my lesson well enough. Looks like you weren't the only stupid kid in history, Bryson.”

Sarah wiped at her face, and Michael thought maybe—just maybe—he'd brought a tear to her eye.

“That's really sweet,” she said. “I can't believe you've never told us that before.”

Michael shrugged even though they probably couldn't see
him well enough to notice. “It's just…I don't know. I've got lots of memories like that. I mean, what's real and what's not? I guess I just have to decide that it happened. I miss…”