Daemon

to kill someone?
    Gragg typed
No
and hit ENTER.
    Boerner regarded Gragg’s avatar, then suddenly thrust open the grate that separated them. The metal door slammed against the stone wall as Boerner strode forward to get right in Gragg’s face. ‘I vill later find out ze truth. Better zu admit it now if you haf told ozzers.’ Boerner’s eyes bored into Gragg through the laptop screen. ‘Haf you told anyone?’
    Gragg typed
No
again and hit ENTER .
    Boerner smiled that wicked smile of his again. He patted Gragg’s avatar on the shoulder. ‘
Ausgezeichnet
. Und haf you brought your bag of tricks mit you? Yes?’ Boerner waited for an answer.
    Gragg typed
Yes
and hit ENTER .
    Boerner swept his arms into the air. ‘Open ze gate!’ His words echoed in the cellar corridors.
    Beyond Gragg’s laptop screen – in the real world of autumn cold – Gragg heard a metallic noise. He glanced up toward the front of the car. Suddenly the thick metal chain blocking the road dropped completely to the ground. The NO TRESPASSING sign clattered noisily on gravel.
    ‘Fuck me! That’s it …’ Gragg pushed the laptop away and fumbled for the car’s ignition switch. He started the car, threw it in reverse, and twisted in his seat to see where he was going. What he saw behind him stopped him cold.
    Another thick chain had risen up not far behind his car. He could see it illuminated in his backup lights, along with the back of a metal sign – probably identical to the other one. In gravel and without a running start, there was no way he was getting through that thing. He started to panic. He glanced to the left and right. The birch trees on the left were impenetrable by car. To the right, he’d never get the car over that ditch. He heard talking and looked down at the laptop still facing him on the bench seat.
    Boerner puffed on his cigarette there. ‘Relax,
mein freund
. If I vanted zu kill you, I could haf done so already. Move your car forvart, please.’
    Gragg’s mind raced, gauging his chances of fleeing on foot – through the birch trees and into the fields beyond. That was crazy, right? He was out in the middle of fucking nowhere. This whole area could be filled with traps for all Gragg knew. How much planning had Sobol already displayed? It had to be Sobol. Gragg contemplated facing a real-world Boerner, andit dawned on him that running away on foot was a one-way ticket to zero health – without respawning.
    Boerner stared at him from the nearby laptop. Gragg shook his head clear of that thought. Boerner wasn’t staring at anybody. It was just a bunch of texture maps arranged for a first-person viewer. Sobol was fucking with his mind. This was definitely not a cool situation.
    Boerner shook his finger at Gragg. ‘You mustn’t be afraid,
mein freund
. Unless, of course, you lack skill.’
    Gragg gave Boerner the finger and pulled out his cell phone. He took a moment to consider whom he might call. Surely not the police? Definitely not the police. How about one of his road-racing buddies? Or one of his rave bouncers? Bad idea. Right now, ‘Loki’ was supposed to be dead. But they didn’t know him as Loki. His world was so full of lies he couldn’t keep them straight.
    Gragg cycled through his saved phone numbers and selected his lead rave bouncer. Gragg put the phone to his ear. Nothing but static came back. He looked at the bar count. ‘No Service.’
    Boerner was talking again. Gragg looked down.
    ‘Your phone ist useless. Only Vi-Fi vill vork here.’ His expression grew decidedly less friendly. ‘Move ze car forvart.’
    Gragg put his phone away. He shifted the car from reverse back to drive. He took a deep breath, then took his foot off the brake. The Tempo rolled forward. Gragg realized someone might see his headlights from the road – so he kicked them on. Then he flicked on his high beams.
    Up ahead an exterior light kicked on at the cinder-block building.
    Boerner growled. ‘Drive benees zi light.’
    As Gragg’s car rolled forward, he crossed the tree line and was suddenly in a well-lit, muddy clearing in front of the cinder-block building. There was another vehicle there – a badly smashed VW Vanagon with Louisiana plates.
    As Gragg’s Ford Tempo rolled into the clearing, he felt thetires bog down in deep mud. In a second he was up to his axles in it and stuck like a fly on flypaper.
    ‘Oh fuck …’ Gragg groaned. ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck!’ He pounded the steering wheel. What had he gotten