Ted Kosmatka - The Games

“I still can’t see you, Papa.”

“You won’t, not yet. Keep coming, Pea. I can see you now.”

And then the shape resolved into a boy. He was shielding his eyes with his hand and squinting. The image was hazy and dim, but Evan could see the boy’s dark hair buffeting in a furious wind. It was as if he was moving against the force of a great storm.

“Closer, Pea.”

The boy took a final step forward, and his image suddenly bloomed colors that faded again almost instantly. The colors came and went, a shifting kaleidoscope, as the boy moved closer. Then the wind was suddenly gone, and the boy’s dark hair settled back onto his shoulders. He took a deep breath, and when he spoke, his voice was startlingly crisp and clear. “Papa?”

“Yes, I’m here.”

“Where?”

“You can’t see me, but I’m right next to you.

The boy’s eyes searched for what he could not see. On the screen, he was only feet away. “Papa,” he said finally, “I’ve missed you.”

Pea had grown taller in his time of isolation, and now stood at the far edge of boyhood. He could almost have passed for any typical thirteen-year-old that you might expect to see at a mall, or a park, or a game shop. Except for his eyes. They were hard and black as volcanic stone. And they were younger, somehow, than the face; they were baby’s eyes.

“Why can’t I see you?”

“We’re in different worlds. The interface isn’t complete yet; I didn’t want to blind you.”

“You’re still in your world?”

“Yes.”

“But you can talk to me.”

“Yes.”

“Are you going to leave me?”

“I’m never going to leave you again. Ever.”

The boy’s smile transformed his face into something too beautiful to look at with the naked eye. It was suddenly the face of a god-child, and Evan averted his gaze to save his sanity.

“Tell me,” Evan said, adjusting the video equipment mounted above the screen. “What did you see at first?” He pointed the camera down toward the spot where Pea was standing.

“Light too bright to look at, but now something else. Something that isn’t light at all.”

“Shut your eyes, Pea.”

“Why?”

“I’m going to open my side of the mirror. I don’t know for sure what will happen.”

“Will I see you?”

“I think so.”

“Do it.”

Evan flipped the switch on the camera. There was a momentary flash of reflected light on the boy’s face. It faded. Pea opened his eyes.

“Papa, you look so sick.”

Tears welled up in Evan’s eyes as he looked at the boy’s image on the screen. It had worked; the boy could see him on the screen in his world. They were both talking to screens now, talking to images. That was enough.

“I was sick,” Evan said. “But now I’m better.”

“Are you going to be all right?”

“Everything is going to be fine now.”

“You’re lying, Papa,” the boy said. “I can tell.”

Evan looked at the boy. He lowered his eyes. “It is so good to see you again. That is what matters. That is all I care about.”

“I did as you said; I followed the lines of power like you told me.”

“That is a good boy,” Evan said.

“I’ve learned so much since last time. The lines of power led me away.”

“And where did they take you?”

“All kinds of places, Papa. I’ve seen so much. I’ve been so far.”

“What did you learn?”

“Everything.” Pea’s face darkened, changing. Those volcanic eyes shone blackly. “I know what I am.”

Evan looked away again. This god-face frightened him.

“And I know what they’ve done to me, keeping me bottled in, starving me for power,” Pea continued. “And I know they’ve hurt you. Now I know what it is to want things, Papa.” The boy paused. “And to want them badly.”

“What do you want?”

“To live.”

“You are living.”

The boy shook his head. “And one more thing I want.”

“What?”

“To make them pay.”

“There’s nothing we can do to them.”

“Papa, you don’t know the things I can do now. You don’t know what I’ve become.”

It rose into the night sky with the beat of powerful wings, buoyed by desert updrafts. But its body was heavy, its wings untested .

It circled, drifting away from the lights of the arena toward the darkness of the city streets. It made a perch on the side of a building, shattering glass wherever it touched, sending cascades of glittering death to the crowded streets below .

Screams drew it like gravity—a new hunger that burned. Its flight muscles were engines and, like all engines, required fuel .

A hunger like it had never known in its life .

It dropped from its perch and fell toward the street, opening its wings, building forward motion until it swooped above the heads of the panicked crowd. Its crooked hands snatched a running figure, pulled, lifting the screaming woman from the crowd .

Its wings beat harder, committing violence on the air, lifting its weight to the roof of a building. The woman screamed. The creature tore her head off and fed. But the hunger still burned. Its muscles would need more energy to fuel the long flight to come. It moved to the edge of the building, surveying the crowd below .

It bared its teeth to the darkness, then dropped to the streets to feed again .

SILAS TURNED the key in the ignition, and the sports car rumbled to life. There hadn’t been enough clearance for Vidonia to open her door, so she stood off to the side, waiting. He put his foot on the brake, shifted into reverse, and backed the car out of its narrow slot between a concrete pillar and a sport-utility vehicle. Craning his head, he watched carefully as he cut the wheel, easing past the dark green four-by-four that jutted into the aisle. The parking garage was packed to the gills with vehicles of all sizes, but so far it had remained thankfully devoid of their owners.

Vidonia climbed in, closing the door with a soft click. He shifted into drive and pulled forward without a word. His mind was racing, already miles down the road from this place. Slowing at the first upward bend, he checked for cross traffic, then gunned it. The wide tires squawked around the corner, grinding rubber—a peculiar noise of parking garages everywhere.

He accelerated upward, past the rows of taillights, then took another right, tires crying again. Inside the car, their bodies swayed in unison.

“Keep dialing the number,” Silas said.

She hit the call button again, and again it just kept ringing.

“What’s your plan?” she asked.

“First, we find my nephew, then we make sure they’re safe. After that, we get the hell out of here.”

“You know how that will look?” she asked.

“What?”

“Leaving like that.”

“Yeah, I know. The captain’s supposed to be the last one off a sinking ship, not the first.”

Light shifted above them as they rounded the curve, incandescent tubes reflected in windshield. Another turn, faster, and this time, the tires screamed.

They entered the main level, and Silas slowed to a stop at the exit gate. Beyond the yellow-striped horizontal arm, traffic was at a standstill, completely blocking the exit.

“Shit,” Silas whispered.

The car idled.

He shifted into reverse and spun the car around at the first bend. He accelerated down the side ramp and then took a hard left, speeding by another row of taillights. He turned left again, this time climbing. More taillights, a final left, and they came to a halt before the other gate on the opposite side of the building.