Rush The Game

coming.” Just saying the words makes me feel sick. I’ve been on exactly two missions and now I’ve been dropped in as leader. The Committee doesn’t know what the hell they’re doing. If Jackson hadn’t been watching out for me on the other missions, would I have even made it through? I’m no leader. I’m barely a fighter.
    What makes you think you get a choice?
    He’s there, in my head again. Or is it only my memories? Doesn’t matter. We’re going to be pulled whether I’m ready or not.
    Furious, terrified, aware of the futility of fighting any of this, I grab a harness and toss it to Tyrone. He’s my responsibility. They all are. “Gear up, or we’re going in without.”
    Maybe that threat gets their attention, or maybe it’s my tone, but they do as I say and get their harnesses and weapons on. I glance at my con. Green, with a little map in the corner that has five green triangles.
    “Scores,” I say, knowing the screen’s going to appear before it does. They finish getting their harnesses on and move to the center of the clearing. I couldn’t care less about my score because zero points or a thousand, I’m not getting out of this. Maybe none of us are. Maybe the whole thousand points thing is a lie. The Committee was kind of hedgy about that. They never answered me when I asked directly if anyone had ever made it out. But I’m not about to share that info with my team right before we go in.
    I follow them to the screen in the center of the clearing for one reason only. I want to see if Jackson’s score shows up.
    I wait, heart in my throat. There’s 3-D Tyrone and Luka. Then 3-D Kendra and Lien. Finally, my picture in its black border.
    But 3-D Jackson doesn’t come. Disappointment sits like lead in my chest. I bury it and focus on the moment. Kendra and Lien have fairly high scores, better than mine. Good fighters, then. That’s a bonus.
    Or is it? I remember what Tyrone said about the boy I replaced, about the way he stole points. I hope I don’t have to deal with that. Right now, I can barely face dealing with going on a mission at all.
    I’d feel intimidated about having the lowest scores if I hadn’t already seen that Jackson’s sucked, too. Jackson. I close my eyes and take a breath, wishing—
    Jump in thirty .
    Now I know how Jackson always knew things the rest of us didn’t. Direct line to the Committee.
    “We jump in thirty,” I say.
    Luka shoots me a glance. “How do you know that?”
    “Does it matter?”
    He tips his head, looking at me like he doesn’t recognize me. In this moment, I’m not sure I recognize myself.
    We respawn in a tight group. Respawn—come back to life in the game. So what’s the game now? This, or the life I used to know?
    The air is dusty and stale. Information feeds to my brain in a stream, some from my own senses—sights, sounds, smells—and some from the voice of the Committee in my head. We’re in Detroit in an abandoned office building that was once beautifully crafted and full of life. The Committee tells me there’s a small nest of Drau here, hiding in the vandalized, decaying ruins. It’s night. The place is wreathed in shadows.
    I look around, getting my bearings. We’re in the building’s lobby: high ceiling, marble columns, arches. The ceiling above my head is patterned in tiny mosaic tiles. The far end of the lobby has some yellow police tape dangling in an open archway, the adjacent marble stained black like there was a fire here at some point. I take note of that, thinking that we might be moving through some unstable territory.
    I glance at my con. It’s framed in green. In the corner is the small map with the five green triangles. The rest of the con’s screen shows a live feed of the lobby we’re standing in. We need to go down. There’s no voice in my head telling me that, no indication on my con. I just know. Like Jackson knew, every time. Internal Drau alert system.
    Closing my eyes, I try and find him in my thoughts. He isn’t there. I feel lost without him. Afraid. I have four people relying on me to get them through this alive, and I don’t know that I can even get myself through.
    But thinking that way won’t help at all. So I lock my emotions away and face the moment, this moment, only this one. I’ll face the next one when I have to.
    “Stairs,” I murmur, and take the lead, thinking as I do that we’ve been dropped really close. No daylong jog to get to the target like there was in the caves.