The War (Play to Live: Book #6) (26 page)

It took us three minutes to reach the raft. A conveniently positioned dune which had now become a sand spit saved us from more swimming. But we did not see any survivors.

My bear roared like a passenger ship siren in the hopes of drawing the attention of any nearby sentients. He scared away a group of varans who pretended to be crocodiles. Those things were huge. I hoped it wasn’t because they had binged on human meat.

I could already make out the name of a vessel and its home port written in white letters on the liferaft: "Hatikva, Eilat."
Wow, how did they end up here?
They had their own tiny yet unique cluster located in the middle of a desert without any water. That’s what the Jews had received as a gift from their former allies; a good reason to build aqueducts, send caravans, and open portals to get water. The nearest spring was only 700 miles away.

The inflatable liferaft looked really crappy close up. It had torn and sagging parts and carried a handful of still-hot bullet casings in rather large puddles of blood. But what caught my attention was the sky-blue obelisk of an unusual shape whose weight made the raft squeak.

That’s how I came upon one of those nameless gravestones that Dan had told me about. Who were you, unknown migrant from the real world?

I passed my hand over the stone. My greedy pig whispered obligingly into my ear: "Blue marble, almost 200 euro per square foot. Hide it in your inventory. I believe in you, big brother!"

"Ouch!" I cried out as a sharp-clawed little paw slashed my palm.

Of course the damage was zero. I cried out in surpise and shame rather than anything else, as if I was caught thinking about something obscene.

A ruffled cat peered out from behind the obelisk. It arched its back and hissed threateningly as if warning me not to touch what isn’t mine.

"Your master, was it?" I asked sympathetically, giving the cat a businesslike glance.

It was a beautiful Maine Coon, wet as an otter and huge as a bobcat. A splendid animal.

Monsters were plentiful in AlterWorld. But house familiars were hard to find and thus quite expensive. Plus no one’s ever seen Maine Coons ingame before. I was sure that this breed had many fans who were willing to pay any kind of money for it and even take out a loan if need be.

My interface promptly marked the cat a salad green with orange stripes – someone’s pet in aggro mode, then labeled it as:

Cat: "Tomcat." Level: 12.

Not very creative, but acceptable. I slowly held out an open palm and said: "Hey there, fluffy, wanna be friends? Get on the bear, and I’ll pack up the liferaft. Your master’s gone bye-bye."

Whoosh!
The cat slashed at me and missed as I pulled back my hand reflexively. When it came to agility, the cat was at a disadvantage. The Always Make the Bull’s-Eye bonus applied to the first blow one deals during an ambush or a stealth attack didn’t work for the little critter.

This abrupt motion made my brain wake up. I froze for a second, open-mouthed, then clasped my hand to my forehead. "What a fool!"

I hurriedly reached into my inventory, nervously glancing at the obelisk. Fallen One knows how much time it had left in our reality. Judging by the fancy stone, this wasn’t just an ordinary man. Was he the president of some banana republic? A hero, an Olympic games champion? A distinguished ayatollah?

I had an unconventional gravestone myself, made of white marble, making other players jealous. I’ve had to elbow my way through a curious crowd many times in order to retrieve it.

Here lies the hero who revered the memory of fallen warriors. Stop for a moment, traveller, bow your head and think of the eternal.

Wow,
I thought as I read this.

The cat was watching me closely.

"Hold on, soldier, " I told the pet. "We’ll revive your master." I broke the seal on a Resurrection scroll. I waited twenty seconds like I was supposed to, then gave a constrained sigh. "I meant mistress…"

The figure of a young girl appeared in the revival orb before me. She wore a sports tank top with the well-known checkmark-shaped logo in black. How did the ads put it? The wing of the goddess Nike?

Apparently looking at spawn avatars was another good way of telling who the real world migrants were. Those who had gone perma in game avatars appeared in designer boys’ underwear or semi-transparent peignoirs for girls. And those whom AlterWorld had sucked in got respawned in their own undies.

By the way, this one was cute, by the standards of both worlds. I had grown pretty tired of the ideal symmetrical faces generated by AIs according to plastic surgery templates. When you saw was crowds of stereotyped hotties all the time, even orcs and goblins became a pleasant sight. Your consciousness changed, became its own opposite, and you found yourself looking with interest at the faces of foolish and plain girls because they were the unique ones now.

The figure of the girl spun as did the orb. She was down on one knee, balancing herself by holding her arms out to the sides. Ten seconds inside such a centrifuge could make you sick at first.

Her gaze was surprisingly calm as she looked carefully at all the things around her. Her cheek twitched at the sight of the 15-foot-tall bear. She lifted a brow when she noticed the rider in artifact armor.

I sat up straight, filled with pride. It’s always pleasant to rescue a pretty girl. I didn’t need any special thanks; a hint of admiration and a chaste kiss would suffice, which I would accept with dignity.

Ding!
The orb disintegrated into a cloud of tiny pieces of ice which quickly melted away. The girl fell, disappearing underwater. The raft had drifted a few dozen feet to the side, and her resurrection took place right over the warm waters of the tropical sea.

The girl came up to the surface, coughing up water. She pushed away a level 4 dead jellyfish with disgust . The jellyfish was also clearly a child of the real world.

I wondered if the girl was mute. Had I been in her shoes, I would’ve probably started cussing or muttering in horror after a visit to the Great Nothingess.

I squinted, pulling up my interfaces and staring at the soaked girl in an impolite manner.

Katherine Medvedeva, level 43.

This threw me off a bit. Why would the system grant a newbie level 43? Who was she? A hitman, a special agent, or a quest genius?

Meanwhile, the girl picked up the purring tomcat, brushed her wet bangs out of her face, then finally turned to me and said "Thank you."

She had a pleasant voice, and I heard a very light accent. Was this a glitch in my Hebrew translator? But that didn’t explain her Russian name.

I shrugged. "May you grow big and strong and die less often."

The girl wasn’t made of steel after all; she shuddered slightly, then gave me a crooked smile. Her blue-gray eyes looked frightening; her pupils jerked and shifted from side to side as if she was trying to read a microbook attached to the back of a flying mosquito.

I knew what that was. I had seen it many times when someone tried to go through virtual interfaces really fast or was simply lost in them. The next generation of humans would be goggle-eyed, with bulging eye muscles…Homo Oculomotori – an opticokinetic human.

"I’ll try. Hey, these pop-up windows are blocking two thirds of my view, like ads on VirtNet’s social channel. Levels, more levels, some random achievements. ‘Sister of David?’ Just wow! I have very little gaming experience. Is there something important in these pop-ups, or can I just close them all?"

I was stunned by her composure, quite frankly. She had gotten thrown into a different world, killed, then resurrected, and now she was hugging her cat, wringing her tank top dry and customizing the menus like nothing was bothering her.

"Sure, close them. You can pull up your logs later to read about your achievements." Then it hit me. "So you managed to kill a monster with your gun?"

I scooped up a handful of brass bullet casings, then let them fall through my fingers. They could also make valuable souvenirs and probably go for a few thousand gold at auction. A lot of us missed firearms.

Kate frowned. "Not I, but my bodyguard, Andrew. He unloaded a clip right into the first varan’s eye. Hollow point bullets, .45 caliber. The lizard’s skull burst open. That’s when we got swamped with these pop-up windows. Unable to see anything, Andrew got pulled into the water. There were lots of these varans. As they tore him apart, he got pulled downstream. I couldn’t shoot because I would’ve hit him. Then they came back for me."

I chuckled. This bodyguard obviously had a strong sense of duty since AlterWorld had grouped them together. It was a real pleasure to imagine how he delivered countless crits to the 200-level monster. He must’ve put its eyes out, plus dealt double and triple hits to the same spot. So the system really slowed the varan down, allowing the noob to kill such a strong monster. "Headshot cobmbo," "Blindness," "Paralysis," "Stun," "Bleeding." So gunfire really did have potential here. We just needed powerful ranged weapons and strong faith in our own skills.

"Pick up your grave before it goes bad. Just touch it."

The girl wiped away a tear of anger, then carefully patted the blue marble. She froze for a second, reading the message in her interface, then nodded reflexively.

The obelisk crunched and turned to dust, leaving behind a small bundle of things. My greedy pig gave a sad howl; the marble was gone! Goodbye, sky-blue coffee table, bathroom painted in royal colors, rare statuettes and ash trays that blend in so well with the Super Nova design!

Kate took her things out of the bundle. She pulled on a pair of tight shorts and a light shirt which she tied into a knot on her belly. After that, she put on silver rings, then examined her Colt 1911 and tucked it into her belt.

I looked away, feeling jealous. The gun was empty, but it was still a firearm and the legendary 1911.

The girl heaved a sigh of relief. Being dressed made her feel better. She looked skeptically at my weapons, but asked anyway: "You have ammo by chance? Bullets, .45 caliber? Or better, a Kalashnikov?"

I shook my head. "This is a world of swords and magic. Forget about firearms. Let’s come back to my castle where we can determine your class and get you some gear. What weapons are you into anyway?"

The girl smiled. "I like steel…I’ve used a two-handed sword before, and my dad gave me a bunch of knives. I’m pretty good with the crossbow."

"I don’t think you’re of a high enough level for a two-handed sword yet. Although…Things are weird now, and we don’t know what the future holds just yet. But I’m sure you can manage a crossbow."

Kate nodded pensively, then shuddered at the thought that suddenly occurred to her. "Wait, we’re in a virtual world now, right? So Andrew can also be revived?"

I shrugged. "Yes, in theory. If the grave’s still available, and if he has retained his mind and agrees to be resurrected. Obviously we have to find the obelisk first."

"Over there, 2829 feet away!" the girl declared with confidence as she pointed somewhere far.

"How do you know?" I asked.

"I feel it," she whispered, hearkening to herself in surprise.

Instantly I knew what she was. "A ranger, specializing in hunting or scouting. Or a rogue, an assassin. Or, the most exotic variant, a druid with ranger skills."

Kate frowned, confused and irritated. "Are those character classes? Whatever! The point is, I’m not nuts and I really do know where to find Andrew. Right?"

"Right," I nodded, amazed by the girl’s stress tolerance once again.

She raised her brows. "So why are we still standing here, soldier? Come on, spur your bear! My bodyguard has given his life to save me. Sure we’ve had our fights; he’s a big, boring baby-sitter sometimes. But he’s loyal and one of us. And we don’t leave our own behind!"

I placed a foot in the stirrup and got into the saddle. I offered the girl my hand and easily lifted her up into the saddle to sit behind me. Hummungus could handle the extra weight as I had long ago trained him to be able to lift an entire family. Taali had really wanted a big family with a dozen kids. Her mom didn’t show her enough love when she was little…

After Kate assumed a comfortable position and stopped fidgeting, I couldn’t help but ask: "Hey, are you just naturally cool-headed, or you just haven’t figured out yet that you’re stuck in a different world?"

Kate punched me, making my mithril armor jingle, then hissed, rubbing her fist. Was she going for my liver? Smart.

"You trying to provoke me or something? If I go off into girly hysterics, you’ll feel more at ease? Look, I’m not used to showing my emotions. They’re mine, and no one else’s. I can be scared senseless or be endlessly happy on the inside, but in either case I will remain poker-faced. Riga University of Law and Diplomacy, got it?"

"Got it. A Nordic temper, a particularly strong one, clearly. Just don’t fight. You’ll mess up your hands, or draw the bear’s aggro. Until you’re bound to a place, you’ll just fly back into the Great Nothingess again. Is that what you want?"

Kate shivered, swallowing hard. "Let’s go already…I’m stressed out, see? Too much adrenaline. And then, once we’re in a safe place, I’ll chicken out. So don’t be mad, rescuer who never got a thank-you kiss."