The Leveller (15 page)

AS SOON AS MY EYES OPEN, I SCRAMBLE UP, INVENTORY AT THE READY.

Wyn jumps to his feet next to me. We're still in the Landing, right where we last fell.

Why?
Why?
my brain screams. Why the explosion if not to send us back a level to the cemetery?

“Beware penguins bearing false gifts,” I joke, but neither one of us is in the mood for humor now. I'm already scanning for the next challenge that awaits us, and so is Wyn. He's got both laser guns out and is doing a slow sweep of the mall.

The Landing is deathly quiet now and it has stopped snowing. The Meeple choir has vanished. There are no festively dressed shoppers roaming, no elves passing out discount flyers, no mini-games in action. Just twinkling lights everywhere and,
in the middle of the atrium, the big three-story Christmas tree opposite the Information Desk.

The beautiful Information Desk.

That big, shiny, blinking control panel on top of it is all I need to shut this game down.

And it's only a pool's length away. . . .

An Olympic-size pool, but still. It's doable.

I just have to get there without dying.

My legs are ready, poised for a mad dash to the desk.

I will myself to be still.

Focus
, I think. Just like chess.

Study the board.

Anticipate your opponent.

Think before you move.

Focus.

“See anything?” I ask Wyn.

“Nothing,” he says. “But I don't like this. It's too quiet.”

Somewhere nearby we hear a tiny
tinkling
sound and we both jump.

A pretty red-and-silver Christmas ornament rolls toward us.

Wyn doesn't waste any time. He shoots it.

The ornament explodes into a thousand little pieces and . . . that's it. It was just an ornament.

Wyn swears under his breath. “Someone's messing with us, Nixy. They're watching, I can feel it.”

I feel it too, but I don't want to believe it. We're too damn close to home. “All we have to do is get to the main controls. Hit the Reset button. That should automatically boot us out,” I say, remembering my dad's conversation with Diego Salvador.

Wyn raises his eyebrows at me. “In theory, you mean.”

“In theory,” I concede. “And Wyn—”

“I know,” he says.

I say it anyway. I have to. “It will destroy everything you've built here—the Floridita, Mama Beti's house, Larry, the treehouse—it will all disappear in a blink.”

Wyn nods, his face resigned. “Understood. Let's get it over with.”

“Okay. Slowly.”

He nods and we sniper-walk toward the desk.

Step, step, step. We gain a few feet.

We pass by Medieval Moderne, the boutique where I bought my wench dress, and I do a double take. The mannequin in the window is wearing the very same meadow-green dress as mine, but that's not what catches my eye. The mannequin is actually a skeleton . . . a skeleton who's accessorized the dress with a jaunty sailor cap. And it looks like she's smiling at me.

CLICK CLICK
go her jaws, then all hell breaks loose.

THE SKELETON HORDE RUSHES US FROM ALL SIDES. ALL THE
mannequins in the mall have been transformed into a walking, stalking army of bones.

“Laser gun and grenades!” I bark at Wyn, pulling out my machete and oak shield. I'd prefer to use my crossbow, but it will be useless at close range; I need to find an eagle's nest and
fast
.

Within seconds Wyn picks off the leaders of the pack with the laser guns, then lobs the grenades in quick succession. They explode in a perfect circle around us—one, two, three, four, five. Once the pile of bones and boas, bathrobes, and boots disappears, I quickly assess the damage. Looks like my fighting partner just halved our enemy.

“Nice!” I yell to Wyn, who's already back on laser gun duty.

“These guns aren't gonna last much longer,” he yells back. As if to prove his point, both lasers die on cue.

Damn. I look around again, desperate to find a protected perch where I can set up my crossbow, but there's nothing but open space around me and the remaining boneheads are coming in fast. I check my inventory. Rappelling gun and harness. Right. They'll have to do.

“Sword! And start swinging,” I yell at Wyn, then point the rappelling gun straight up.

Whoosh. Thwack!
The grappling hook lodges in the ceiling three stories above me and whips me into the air above the fray. I dangle there, like the angel from a Christmas play, only instead of a harp I have a loaded crossbow.

Forty arrows left and I need to make each one count. The skeletons have begun to close in on Wyn, forming a circle around him. He's got the Gladius sword out and he's crouched and ready in the middle, looking around wildly.

“Nixy, where are you?” he shouts.

“Up here!” I yell back, then I get to work. I start with the inner circle of skeletons, twirling on my hook like a jewelry box ballerina. Only five shots later I'm in the zone, working the crossbow on automatic pilot. The boneheads are momentarily confused as their comrades go down one by one, but then my buddy Sailor Cap spots me overhead.

Uh-oh.

I've managed to pick off about twenty so far, but there are still nearly that many left and now they're coming after
me
.

Four of them drop their weapons and form the base of a cheerleading tower underneath me. Four more climb up on their shoulders. I shoot two of them, but two more hop on faster than I can reload. Now they're three skeletons high and I have to reel myself higher. When I spy Sailor Cap stick his saber between his jaws and start climbing, I know I need a new plan of action.

I look down at Wyn, who's fending off two skeletons, the only two who haven't joined the cheerleaders. Though I respect their decision to distance themselves from the rah-rahs, I shoot them anyway. Wyn looks up at me.

“Take out the tower!” I yell. “Hurry!”

He pauses for a second, baffled by the bonehead acrobatics.

“Cut 'em down at the knees!” I yell, and he springs into action.

The tower wobbles this way and that as Wyn hacks at the femurs below. Every time one bonehead goes down, the others rebuild just as fast. I pump my legs like a gymnast to propel myself away from them and try to keep the ones on top from grabbing my feet. Sailor Cap is now standing on top of the column like a pirate, brandishing his saber at me. I try to aim the crossbow at him, but it's no use; we're all teetering around
like drunken hobos. I've only got two arrows left and I don't want to waste them on wild shots. Instead, I channel the playground, and swing for him with everything I've got. Combat boots first, I make contact with his skull and knock Sailor Cap to the floor below.

Feels good, but it's a temporary fix.

The dwindling boneheads get smart now and regroup. There are only eight of them left. Three peel off to gang up on Wyn. That leaves five for me, and they quickly form a skeletal ladder underneath me. My BFF, Sailor Cap, begins to scramble up to the top again. He's ripped the skirt and apron off his dress, so he's just wearing the bodice now, which somehow looks obscene. I quickly load my crossbow and take aim, but below me a bonehead lands his axe in Wyn's thigh. Wyn falls to the ground.

Crap.

Wyn manages to lop off the head of the offending skeleton with the Gladius sword, but he's still got two more coming in. I shoot my crossbow downward and quickly pick them off, one after the other. Wyn turns his head up and starts to smile at me, but his face registers instant alarm.

“Behind you!” he yells.

I spin around and find myself eye socket–to–eye socket with Sailor Cap. He raises his saber to strike, but I fling my crossbow at him, hoping to knock him off the tower. He drops
his saber and sways left and right, swinging his bony arms in frantic circles for balance. Which he achieves.

CLICK CLICK
sound his teeth, and the skeleton on the bottom passes up a hatchet he's got stashed in his leg warmers.

I am
so
not in the mood for an axe to the head.

“Think think think!” I order myself.

Sailor Cap reaches out an arm and tries to snatch me from my hook.

An arm. That's it. I lunge toward him and grab
his
arm, pulling as hard as I can.

“Learned that trick from you, pal,” I say as the entire arm shaft comes out of his shoulder socket.

Sailor Cap now has the hatchet in his hand, the one still attached to him, but I don't give him a chance to raise it. I swing that dismembered bony arm with both hands and knock his skull right off its block.

“Home run, baby!” cheers Wyn below, still struggling to get to his feet on his injured leg.

I wave my bony bat in victory, then quickly access my inventory. I've still got four skeletons left but now I'm on a roll. I grab the machete, then click the switch on my harness to release the line. As I come barreling down the rappelling rope, I slice right through the skeleton tower, counting as I go. “Four, three, two, one!” I holler, landing on my feet with a flourish.

I release the harness, drop the machete, and run over to Wyn.

“Are you okay?” I ask, kneeling beside him.

“You are amazing,” he answers, and I try not to look too pleased by this.

“I asked how
you
were,” I say. “Do you think you can walk?”

Wyn shakes his head. “Whole right leg is totally worthless. Just leave me here and go press that damn Reset button before something else happens.”

He's right, of course, but still I hesitate to leave him.

He reaches both his hands up now and takes my face between them. “I'll see you on the other side,” he says, then pulls me in for a kiss. It's a short kiss, more like a peck, really, but it still takes my virtual breath away.

All of a sudden it rushes back to me. Wyn . . . the top of the hotel.

“Now go!” he yells, breaking into my memories.

“Right,” I say, hopping to my feet.

As I run for the Information Desk, two things happen.

One, Rico Suave appears.

Two, I see that he has a minotaur.

I DON'T BELIEVE THIS.

“Guard the hostage,” Rico Suave orders the minotaur. “I'll take care of this one.”

This one?
I think. I am a ball of fury at this point. Because I
know
there's a human brain behind Rico Suave, a real person keeping us imprisoned here, putting us through death by zombies and skeletons and exploding penguins. . . .

Not to mention the Black, for God's sake.

He has been mentally torturing us. I want to kill him.

“Inventory!” I yell, though I've got nothing left but an oak shield and a pair of brass knuckles. Oh well. Sometimes you have to make do. I equip myself with the knuckles and charge.

My sudden offensive takes Rico Suave by surprise. A brassy
right hook to the jaw takes him in a flash down to the floor, where I pin him with my knees, just like I did to Kora.

“Who are you?” I yell at him. “Why are you doing this?”

Rico opens his mouth to answer. “Inventory! Strength potion! Samurai kanabo!”

Damn.

Before I even know what's happening, he uses the potion to shake me off like a flea and jumps to his feet. He brandishes the kanabo—a long wooden club fortified with iron spikes around the end—and puts himself between me and the Information Desk.

“Initiate your frequency code,” Rico Suave orders me.

“What? Now you
want
us to leave?” I say, my mind whirling, trying to make sense of things.

“You. The code. Now.”

“The code doesn't work. And anyway, I'm not leaving without him,” I say, looking over at Wyn. He's still lying on the floor, glaring at Rico's new sidekick, who, though much less attractive than Josephine/Kora, looks a whole lot deadlier. The man-bull looms over Wyn like an overgrown guard dog, his enormous bull head right in Wyn's face, his flared nostrils steaming.

“It will work now,” Rico says, spinning the kanabo in his hands like a baton, “and you
will
initiate it.”

If there's one thing I don't like, it's some Rico Suave bossing me around.

“Look,
rasshøl
, I said I'm not leaving without him and I meant it.” I turn my head again to make sure the minotaur's not hurting Wyn, but both of them are now faced in our direction, listening to the conversation. Wyn looks just as baffled as I am and almost as mad.

“Do what he says, Nixy,” Wyn calls. “Go. I'll be fine.”

“No,” I yell behind my shoulder. “We leave together.”

Rico Suave starts to chuckle, but the laugh sounds more bitter than amused. “Only six days together and you're ready to die for this guy, Nixy? Six days and you turn into a lovestruck stooge? That must have been a really great kiss back there. Or maybe, maybe it was all your time together on the island. . . .”

I open my mouth to reply, but nothing comes out. While one part of my brain puts the puzzle pieces together, another part resists the solution. The MEEP Mail, the kanabo . . . the jealousy?

I can't deny it any longer. My anger turns to grief. I walk slowly toward Rico Suave, who watches me warily, weapon raised.

“I want to see the real you,” I say quietly in his direction.

Evan Chan-Gonzalez appears before me. My friend. My enemy? I want to cry.

“Why?” I say, my voice breaking. “What are you doing here? And why?”

Chang's face is stony, emotionless. “I told you to stay home,
Nixy. None of this is your concern. Walk away. I'll give you one last chance.”

“One last chance? This isn't a game, Chang. Wyn's been in here for days, his body's back home stuck with tubes and wires. And Kora . . . what happened to Kora? Is she . . . ?”

The minotaur roars.

Chang's face darkens. “Sometimes sacrifices must be made for the greater good. And if you want to blame someone, try Diego Salvador. He could have shut down the MEEP at any time, and he didn't. He chose profit over his own son.”

“That's not true! He just didn't want anyone to get hurt.”

Chang shakes his head with mock pity in his eyes. “Diego Salvador lied to you, Nixy. He doesn't care about you or me or even his own kid. He could have ended this days ago if he'd just met our demands and shut down the MEEP.”

“What demands?”

“The Legionnaires sent him a ransom note a week ago, before Salvador called you in.”

I open my mouth to reply, but I'm not sure how. Chang's word against Diego Salvador's? I don't trust either of them at this point. I glance at Wyn, but he's staring at Chang, his jaw set.

“Salvador's nothing but a megalomaniac, intent on controlling the world, one foolish player at a time,” Chang continues. “LEGION tried to force his hand, to show him how
dangerous the MEEP could be. We thought once we put his only son in harm's way, he'd back down, negotiate with us. But even that didn't stop him. The only thing he cares about is his multibillion-dollar investment.”

“Even if you're right, Chang, and I'm not saying you are . . . you have to stop this!”

“Of course I'm right! You
know
I am. Look how the MEEP can be used against people—to manipulate them, torture them, fracture their memories, maybe permanently. Once we're all on MEEP frequencies, what's to stop Diego Salvador and his allies from keeping us completely under their control? They're using us like lab rats, Nix. I've been trying to tell you this for months, but you never pay attention. All you care about is yourself, your dumb college plans, whatever's best for you. But there's a whole world out there, Nixy, and it's in danger. I
can't
stop. Because Diego Salvador's got to be stopped.”

His words make me feel ill. He's right in more ways than one. I have been self-absorbed; I haven't been listening to him. And he's right about the MEEP. During the past six days I've experienced the worst this virtual world has to offer. But I've also seen the best of it. Diego Salvador may be a liar, but Wyn's not to blame for that. Wyn doesn't deserve to be a pawn in this game.

“I'm sorry, Chang. But you're no better than your enemies when you resort to blackmail and kidnapping,” I finally say.
“Innocent people are getting hurt.”

Chang frowns. “Like him?” he scoffs, pointing to Wyn. “The heir to the Salvador fortune? Don't assume he's any better than his father, or you're bound to be disappointed. In any case, we can't let him go home now. Salvador can't hide his son's disappearance forever. Word will get out; people will demand answers. MeaParadisus will be shut down by any means necessary. Get out now, while you still have the chance. Let Wyn pay the piper for his father's greed.”

I can't believe what I'm hearing. My oldest friend has just condemned Wyn to a lifelong coma in the real world. No matter how much good he thinks he's doing, how could Chang be so heartless, so arrogant? Anger overtakes me.

“Why don't
you
pay the piper, Chang?” I yell, launching myself at the kanabo. I front-kick Chang in the stomach and he drops his weapon. I grab the kanabo and swing it above my head, determined to take Chang down at the knees.

“Inventory! Laser gun!” he yells, and points the gun at my head.

Fy fæn
. He's pulled an Indiana Jones on me.

“Listen to me,” Chang says, his voice like cold steel. “If I shoot, you'll die and wake up to another skeleton horde. You don't have the strength or the supplies to defeat them again. You know that. They'll kill you in minutes, and then you'll wake up all over again to another attack. You'll be stuck here
in an endless loop along with your . . . friend,” he says, glancing disdainfully at Wyn. “We tried to warn you, Nixy. Now initiate the code or die.”

I feel dizzy. The whole world is spinning around me like some bad carnival ride. I take a step backward, trying to make the nausea go away. How could Chang do this to me? How could he betray me like this? And Moose . . . did he know about this?

We tried to warn you, Nixy
, Chang had said.

We?

The minotaur is roaring again and Chang gives him a look of annoyance.

Suddenly I understand.

“Moose!” I yell at the minotaur.

The minotaur stops roaring and looks at me.

It's him.

“I know you don't want to do this! People are getting hurt . . . Kora may even be dead. Moose, this isn't you!”

The minotaur hesitates.

“Stay in line, Moose!” Chang orders, waving the laser gun at him.

Uh-oh. That's all it takes. Moose charges.

Not at me, not at Wyn . . . Moose charges at Chang.

Chang aims the laser gun at Moose and shoots.

No no no
, my mind is screaming, but Moose does not fall.

Chang has misfired. Something has hit him right in the stomach.

A potato.

I look over and see Wyn firing the potato gun from the floor like Billy the Kid.

“Run!” Wyn yells.

Right. He means me. My brain engages my legs and I make a mad dash for the Information Desk.

I'm a few feet away when I hear Wyn cry, “No!”

Moose roars in agony or rage, I can't say.

What's happening behind me?

For a fleeting second, I pause.

It's enough for Chang. I feel the laser beam hit between my shoulder blades.

Don't die, don't die, don't die
.

Everything starts to go blurry, but I can still see the blinking yellow R
ESET
button straight ahead.

I make one last lunge for the control panel.

And then . . . nothing.