The ZPOCALYPTO Book Bundle (#3 of 4): ZPOCALYPTO Series Boxsets and Bundles from THE WORLD OF GAMELAND, #3

By Saul Tanpepper

THIS BOOK BUNDLE FROM THE THRILLING SURVIVAL SERIES ZPOCALYPTO INCLUDES

 

Episode 07: Cheat Protocol

Episode 08: Jacker's Exploit

Episode 09: Live Another Play

Episode 10: Return to the Arcade

 

Bonus content: Infected: Hacked Files from the GAMELAND Archive (Part 1)

 

LOOK FOR THE REST OF THE BOOK BUNDLES IN THIS SERIES. GET THE BUNDLE, SAVE A BUNDLE.

 

Saul Tanpepper is the author of the post-apocalyptic survival series BUNKER 12 and the companion pre-apocalyptic series THE FLENSE. Check out his latest series, SCORCHED EARTH, a climate collapse disaster survival thriller series set in the Pacific Northwest of North America.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brinestone Press
• Release date: Nov 7, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223321767

Saul Tanpepper

Subscribe for new releases & exclusive deals/giveaways: tinyletter.com/SWTanpepper Saul Tanpepper is the specfic pen name of author Ken J. Howe, a PhD molecular biologist and former Army medic and trauma specialist.  Titles include: The post-apocalyptic series GAMELAND (recommended reading order): - Golgotha (prequel, optional) - Episodes 1-4 - Velveteen (standalone novella, optional) - Episodes 5-8 - Infected: Hacked Files From the Gameland Archive (insights for the avid GAMELAND fan) - Jessie's Game #1: Signs of Life - A Dark and Sure Descent - Jessie's Game #2: Dead Reckoning Post-apocalyptic series BUNKER 12 - Contain - Books 2-4 (coming soon) International medical thriller serial THE FLENSE (a BUNKER 12 companion series) - CHINA: Books 1-3 - ICELAND: Book 1-3 - AFRICA: Books 1-3 - TBA Short story collections: Shorting the Undead & Other Horrors Insomnia: Paranormal Tales, Science Fiction, and Horror Visit him at tanpepperwrites.com

Book preview

⁍ CONTENTS ⁌

CHEAT PROTOCOL

Episode 7 the ZPOCALYPTO series

JACKER’S EXPLOIT

Episode 8 of the ZPOCALYPTO series

LIVE ANOTHER PLAY

Episode 9 of the ZPOCALYPTO series

RETURN TO THE ARCADE

Episode 10 of the ZPOCALYPTO series

INFECTED (Pt 1)

A companion to the ZPOCALYPTO series

For more about the series,

and to get your own Tanpepper starter library,

as well as receive news about exclusive offers and giveaways,

visit:

Tanpepperwrites.com

Copyright

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Brinestone Press

(rv.231107)

THE WORLD OF GAMELAND

A Dark and Sure Descent (prequel to ZPOCALYPTO)

Golgotha (prequel to ZPOCALYPTO)

Velveteen (companion to ZPOCALYPTO)

Infected (companion to ZPOCALYPTO)

The Good Kill (a GAMELAND short story)

⁍ THE ZPOCALYPTO SERIES ⁌

EP01: Hacked Into the Game

EP02: Failsafe Codex

EP03: Deadman’s Gambit

EP04: Sunder the Hollowmen

EP05: Prometheus Mode

EP06: Every Dead Player

EP07: Cheat Protocol

EP08: Jacker’s Exploit

EP09: Live Another Play

EP10: Return To The Arcade

EP11: Augmented Zeality

EP12: Reckoning The Dead

EP13: Glitch In The Script

EP14: Open-World Spawn

FIND THEM ALL AT YOUR FAVORITE EBOOK SELLER AT

BOOKS2BUY

http://www.tanpepperwrites.com/gameland

⁍ CONTENTS ⁌

EPISODE 07

CHEAT PROTOCOL

« Part One »

CHAPTERS

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

« Part Two »

CHAPTERS

10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17

« Part Three »

CHAPTERS

18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27

Episode 07

CHEAT PROTOCOL

PART ONE

Miles to Go

Chapter 1

I’m starting to really worry about Reggie. He’s acting more and more confused. Not even a half hour ago, he was ready to let me go find Ashley alone. He knew he couldn’t walk very far, not with that injury to his hip. But now he’s pleading to let him go with me. I think his concussion is getting worse. It’s affecting his reasoning. He thinks only he can save her.

Reg, you can’t— I start to say.

No! he cries, limping across the room and shaking his head, as if to dislodge the cobwebs. We have to go now! All of us!

Sit down, Reg, Kelly tells him. You’re not going anywhere. You’re hurt. You can barely even walk. And your head—

My head’s fine! He groans and grabs it, then lets out a frustrated grunt.

Kelly shoots me an anguished look. I can tell he wants me to reason with him. But I can’t, not right now. I have my own issues to deal with, like trying to move past this overpowering sense of doom that has fallen over me. I don’t know why, but I’m convinced Ashley’s dead. Ben’s already killed her, just like he killed the others topside.

And the overwhelming sense of certainty that the treatment we just gave to Jake won’t work. I stand before him and stare down at his face, waiting for a sign that Father Heall’s blood is killing the virus inside of him. If I just get a sign, some small hint that he’s getting better, then maybe I can break out of this deep funk I’m in. If he starts getting better, then maybe I’ll be able to dismiss this feeling I have about Ash, too, and I’ll feel better about committing to finding her. And with leaving Kelly here to watch over Jake. I don’t want him to be the one who has to decide that the treatment failed, to be forced to reckon with Jake dying. To have to face dealing with the aftermath.

Trust that it works, Jessie, my conscience tells me. You’ve done all you can.

Meanwhile, another part of me, the realist, refuses to accept it: You know he isn’t going to make it.

No, Jake’s in good hands. Now go.

His face is waxy and pale, fixed in a mask of torment. I can’t imagine what must be going on inside of him. Did we give the treatment to him in time? And in the right way? Or did we just delay the inevitable death and turning? And even if it does work, what then? Will he be brain dead? Will he wake and be whole again?

His eyes suddenly flutter open, surprising me. They’re startlingly clear, no longer the gray, bloodshot, cataract-filled orbs from before. His deep brown irises have even turned a brilliant sunrise gold sparkling with light. I totally had a crush on you last year, he whispers conspiratorially to me. He gives me this sly grin and winks. I choke down a sob of relief. But then the smile twists, becomes a misshapen sneer of contempt. His mouth opens wide, wider, becoming a gaping black hole, and I can’t stop myself from tumbling into it. You treated me like shit! he roars. The angry wind from his yell smells of old boarded up cellars and death. I gasp and stagger backward, blinking in shock.

Kelly grabs me. What? Jessie, what’s the matter?

The vision’s gone. The comatose version of Jake is back, his face slack and gray, his body radiating heat, and his breath smelling of decay. Unmoving. Unresponsive. Unreachable.

Unliving, yet not dead, either.

Ghosts and memories, guilt and regrets and self-doubt are tearing me apart.

Reggie paces like an injured animal in a cage. He’s now gone fifteen minutes without suffering a relapse of his concussion symptoms, although he still thinks he can accompany a search party. It’s odd that his head would suddenly just clear like that. But I can’t think about him right now.

Kelly advises him to sit down and rest. He notes that his limp is getting worse. Reggie refuses.

I raise my hand and let it float over Jake’s arm. The heat rolling off of him startles me again. I nudge him, but he doesn’t wake. He doesn’t open his eyes and whisper to me. He’s completely inert. The whispers are inside of my head. They’re mine, my fears and regrets, not his.

I don’t know what I’d been expecting, when I injected the treatment into his spine. Something, I suppose, anything. Just not this complete absence of anything. He never showed any sign of pain or discomfort. Not one single twitch. And the longer it goes that he doesn’t stir, the more certain I become that my suspicions are correct, that he was simply too far gone and that we’ve just wasted the last dose on him. I should’ve given it to Kelly. I knew that was the opportunity I was being given when Brother Matthew showed up with it. Father Heall said I’d be faced with tough decisions, and once again, I’ve made the wrong one. I let the people around me make me second guess myself.

Novak knew what a fuck up I am. She told me that straight to my face. This is all my fault. That’s why I’m still here, frozen by my own doubts. I know I should just leave, slip out while Reggie’s not paying attention and let Kelly deal with him. But I need to know. If I leave now without seeing any sign of improvement, I’ll carry that failure with me. It’ll weigh me down, and that’s not going to help me when I finally have to confront Ben.

Reggie’s trying to hide the pain in his hip. It’s as if he’s ashamed of it, like it proves he’s human after all. I want to scream at him that he was shot, for fuck’s sake. I want to scream to stop pretending all the time that he’s tougher than he is. I can’t imagine the bruise he must have now on his hip. I wouldn’t even be surprised if he has a fracture. Either way, a normal person wouldn’t be able to walk on it at all. He needs to stop pretending.

But that would make me a hypocrite, wouldn’t it, demanding that he stop acting like it’s nothing? I’m pretending, too. I’ve been pretending for so long that I don’t even know who I am anymore.

Reggie, please, Kelly says. Would you just sit the hell down?

Reggie glares at him. I’m fine, he says, but then he takes another step and something finally gives, or maybe he just twists his leg the wrong way. He stumbles and goes down to one knee with a grunt.

I hurry over to him. We already agreed that I’d go alone, Reg, so—

No, damn it. I’m coming with you! Now! Just as soon as I— Jesus, what the hell’s happening to me? he shouts. He flails as he tries to wave me off. I brace myself, and his hand hits my thigh. By rights it should easily knock me away. Instead, it’s his own balance that gets thrown off. He drops to the other knee with an anguished cry and looks up at me with a look of betrayal in his eyes. Then, with a defiant growl, he lurches back to his feet. But even he can’t power through what his body simply cannot do. He collapses again. Son of a bitch! he screams. I wish that son-of-an-asshole who shot me wasn’t already dead, because I’d kill him myself!

And that’s why you need to let Jessie go, Kelly quietly says. She’ll find Ashley and—

Don’t fucking tell me what I already know! Reggie roars. He tries again, and this time manages to remain on his feet. He towers over me where I’m crouched. Ashley needs me! Now, get out of my way, or else I’ll—!

But then something happens. Reggie’s face goes white. The rage leaks away with the color. He looks confused, like he can’t remember where he is. I need to go, he pants, his voice almost a whisper.

Kelly guides Reggie over to a chair. He acquiesces. I can see him shaking.

You really stink, he says, weakly. You know that, Kelly? Both of you do.

It’s for the best, Reg. You’re hurt and—

No, I mean you smell bad, brah.

He lurches over, gagging. But nothing comes out. He coughs a few times, wipes his mouth, and says, Christ, what’s that smell?

Kelly puts a hand on Reggie’s shoulder to steady him.

Suddenly, as if just the mere mention of it is the trigger, I smell it, too— us, our funk. My nose fills with it, the thick cloying earthy aroma of the clay, and underneath it, old sweat. My torn jeans are stiff with mud, and there’s more of it caked in my hair and behind my ears. My feet are swimming in muck inside my boots. I feel like I haven’t been clean in months. It makes me nauseous, too.

I close my eyes and try to gather myself. I picture the last time I was clean. I remember the bed in that old dilapidated house in Brookhaven with the warped piano and the grand staircase with the threadbare carpet, the peeling wallpaper, the photos of the white-haired man and the old woman. Where are they now? I imagine the sheets on the bed, so nice and cool, stiff and rough on my skin from being line-dried. Had the bed belonged to one of their children? I recall the spaghetti I’d eaten for dinner and the smell of the kitchen this morning as Julia made my breakfast. What was the family’s last meal like, the day of the evacuation?

No, stop thinking about them. Focus, Jess.

I wrest my thoughts away, but they settle stubbornly on that bed again. I think about Shinji lying next to me, his cold, wet nose on my skin and his snout a comforting weight on my arm. I remember the soft wheeze of his breathing. And the tuna fish smell of his breath.

My stomach lurches. I burp, put the back of my hand against my mouth and turn away.

Reggie moans and grips his head in his hands. Kelly stands helplessly beside him, his body rigid and his face filled with alarm. He also shakes, slightly, partly from exhaustion, partly from all the physical and emotional turmoil. I want to go over and grab him, and yet, at the same time, I think if I did, he’d suddenly just crumble away.

Or turn to stone.

Turn to stone and crumble away to dust.

Reggie somehow gets up again and limps toward the hallway, but he stops abruptly and gazes down at Brother Matthew’s body. There’s a look of confusion on his face, as if he’s just now noticed him for the first time.

A small pool of blood has accumulated underneath Brother Matthew’s neck. It started right after I severed his spine, but then quickly stopped. What came out had already begun to congeal inside of him, even as his dying heart pumped for the final few times, forcing it out of the new gash I’d created, thick and black as oil. I remember it had smelled both sweet and rancid, like meat starting to spoil. A few tepid spurts, then a dribble. He’d already lost so much. He was empty long before he showed up here, just a shell of a man with only one purpose left to fulfill. The undead had taken everything else from him.

No, we had taken it.

I hadn’t felt anything when I did it. Not like I had with some of the others. I would’ve expected something, a twinge of guilt or remorse, a sense of release, appreciation for his sacrifice. Pity even. He didn’t have to come here. He didn’t have to bring the syringe for Jake. That was his choice. He was a good man, I can see that now, and he didn’t deserve the way I’d treated him. And yet when I did it, when I severed that cord and delivered him to eternity, there had been nothing, no sense of anything, neither guilt, nor relief. Just... nothing.

I can’t even begin to imagine how he got away from the horde of undead back there. How he managed not to die. How he found his way all the way back here, half insane with pain and fever. Bleeding out. I can’t comprehend why he would even come. He didn’t owe us anything. And yet here he is. Was.

He knew he was already a dead man, would soon die.

Would soon come back.

Yes. He needed you. He didn’t want to turn.

Then why was his last dying wish for us to just leave him?

He was delirious.

Delirious enough to maybe give us the wrong instructions for helping Jake?

He wouldn’t have wanted to go like that, to persist forever in between life and death.

That’s why he came here. The syringe was...

The syringe was his ticket, his payment to you to do the right thing. He knew you’d do the right thing.

Except, what if I didn’t do the right thing?

Christ, Reggie says, staring at the mutilated corpse. Not an inch of his skin has been left untorn. Even his face has been shredded.

You know what we should do? Kelly says. We should burn him. You and me, Reg. It would be the proper thing. Let Jessie go and find Ashley and deal with Ben. He gives me a little nod. We owe Brother Matthew that much.

Reggie gives him a look of disbelief. You want to waste time on someone who’s already dead? Ashley’s out there somewhere—

He deserves it, Reggie, for his sacrifice. For saving Jake.

He’s saved nothing! Reggie cries, gesturing at Jake. Look at him! He’s— His face twists, and he presses a hand against his injured hip. Sweat drips from his forehead. We are not going to waste precious minutes giving anyone a damn stinking funeral.

Reggie, please, I say. Before you—

Brother Matthew is gone! Reggie screams. "They’re all gone. Jake’s gone! But Ashley’s still out there! She’s still alive, and we have to—"

But he doesn’t finish. His eyes suddenly lose focus. He shakes his head groggily, pinches the bridge of his nose and groans.

It’s your head, Reg, Kelly tells him. You’re making it worse.

Reggie stumbles back and collapses against Jake’s table. He’s panting heavily now. The table squeals as it slides a little across the floor. One of Jake’s arms flops over the side. Drool drips from Reggie’s lips as he fights to maintain his balance.

Reg? I say, alarmed. Please, sit down.

He swallows, wipes his mouth, shakes his head. I’m fine, just... A sound rises in his throat, half sob, half plea. Damn headache’s coming back again. He lets out another long, deep, shuddering breath. I just want to go home. I want us all to go home. We have to get Ash and get the hell off this island.

We will, Reg, I lie. I’ll leave right now. But I’m going alone.

Over my dead body, Reggie weakly replies, as he sinks to the floor.

And I grimly realize it may just come to that.

Chapter 2

I help Kelly roll Brother Matthew’s body onto an old rubber floor mat, and we drag him into one of the smaller rooms in the back, out by the bathrooms. It’s not where the boys stacked up the IUs or Players that attacked them yesterday. We give him his own room, which just seems right. As we’re leaving, Kelly hesitates at the door. He looks back and crosses himself. His lips move in a silent prayer. Then he shuts the door, closing Brother Matthew in. These little acts startle me. As long as I’ve known him, Kelly never showed any hint he believed in any of that religious stuff.

He sees me watching and he shrugs, then walks back into the main room.

Reggie almost immediately starts up again with the pacing. The limp doesn’t seem to be as pronounced at the moment. In fact, movement seems to help. Whenever he stops, even if it’s just for a few minutes, he stiffens up. But a new, troubling symptom has appeared: he’s rubbing his eyes like they’re dry and irritated. They’re red and look like they might be bulging a little from their sockets. I pray it’s just a weird delayed reaction to the knockout gas, rather than something far more ominous, like pressure from a bleed inside his skull.

When I ask him if he’s feeling okay, he doesn’t answer directly. He just grumbles impatiently and mutters for me to stop procrastinating.

Okay, but I’m going alone, I say.

Fine.

Let me just first check to see how far they’ve gotten. We’ll use the tracking app on Micah’s tablet.

Kelly nods. It’s still attached to the mainframe.

We should also warn Father Heall, just in case he gets there first.

How?

Micah’s Link, I say. The brothers confiscated it. Can you go topside and ping it?

I’ll do it, Reggie says. He heads for the elevator. I need some fresh air anyway. It’s hot down here.

Hot? Kelly mouths. It’s downright frigid down here. If Reggie thinks it’s hot, then he’ll be roasting upstairs.

I watch Reggie stagger across the room. When he gets to the elevator, he leans heavily against the wall. He misses his first two attempts to hit the button.

Stay inside the building, I warn him. Ben left the gate wide open.

Fine.

Tell me you understand.

I understand.

Don’t do anything stupid, Kelly adds.

I wait for the door to shut and the first chime signifying the elevator is rising before chiding Kelly. He’s not stupid, you know.

I never said he was stupid. I told him not to do anything stupid.

I heard what you said.

Look, Jess, you know him as well as I do. You know what he’s like and what he’s capable of. He’s reckless. If it weren’t for that injury to his hip, he’d have run off after Ashley himself forty minutes ago without a thought in his head or a plan to follow, everyone and everything else be damned. And he’s clearly not thinking straight now.

He’s stressed. And he has a concussion.

Exactly. He’s reckless even in the best of times. Now add the fact that his marbles are scrambled, it’s a recipe for disaster.

Just cut him some slack.

There’s no more slack, Jessie. Remember, it’s Ashley out there. That alone will make him do desperate things.

And what if it was me out there instead of Ash? Would you be calm and rational?

"I’m not playing the what-if game, Jess."

You think I’m playing a fucking game?

"I think we need to stop playing the game we want to be in, and start playing the game they’ve thrown at us."

What the hell are you talking about?

He needs to stop believing Ashley’s still alive. You, too.

I stand in stunned silence, unable to respond, even though I’ve already come to the same conclusion. But I just didn’t expect to hear him say it.

Don’t give me that look, Jess. I know you’re thinking it, too. Ben killed everyone up there. He’s got no reason to spare Ash.

No, I won’t accept that.

He has no use for her. He thinks he knows where to find Father Heall. Why would he take her? She’d just slow him down.

He doesn’t know exactly where Heall is.

And neither does she. How long do you think it’ll take him to figure that out? You know it’s true. I can see it on your face.

I open my mouth to tell him he doesn’t know shit, but of course he’s right. Instead, I tell him she’ll find a way, no matter what he or I might think.

You know what she’s like, Kelly says. She’s weak. She’ll fold.

She’s not weak!

Christ, Jess, we all saw it upstairs. She was crying like a baby. Novak saw it. Why do you think she chose to keep Ash with her? Because she knew she could break her. Hell, she’s already broken.

She was just scared!

You were scared, Jess. We all were. But we didn’t breakdown like she did!

She’s not weak. She knows how to survive. She’ll tell Ben whatever she thinks he wants to hear just to stay alive.

So then tell me, and be honest, why haven’t you left yet?

I don’t answer.

I know it’s a terrible thing to say, but deep down, you know she’s dead. Otherwise you’d be gone already. You’re procrastinating because you know what you’ll find. As long as you don’t go, you won’t have to tell Reggie the truth, and he can go on believing she’s okay. He pauses, then adds, But you’re not just worried you’ll find her body, are you?

What do you mean? I demand, but then I say, No, don’t, because I don’t want him to answer. I know what he’s going to say, and I don’t want to hear it. Ben wouldn’t, I whisper.

"You heard the way he talked about her. The way he looked at her. You’re worried about how that might affect Reggie."

It’d destroy him.

He’s already destroyed. We all are. You have to stop protecting everyone.

I push him away.

He rubs his face with both hands, as if trying to scrub away the terrible visions we’d just shared. Our best option is to stay put until Jake recovers. Then we make our way back to LaGuardia and get the hell off this island.

He won’t just let her go. He won’t leave.

Kelly glances once more at the table and the creases on his forehead deepen. Ashley’s gone. Maybe Jake is, too. We need to cut our losses. Now. We should’ve a long time ago.

So, you’re giving up.

Yes.

As much as I know he’s right, I’m shocked that he would say it out loud. I’ve never seen him give up like this before.

You can’t, I remind him. I know I’m grasping at straws, since he refuses to accept that Stephen injected him with a variant of the virus. You can’t leave, not without the treatment. And not even then, not permanently.

Jess, you don’t—

You’ve been infected, Kelly.

He sighs impatiently. Okay, so then we go to Arc’s headquarters like you said. We demand the antidote. Or whatever. They must’ve developed one when they made whatever Stephen injected into me.

Stephen wasn’t working with Arc, remember?

Not anymore, but that’s where he started.

What if that was a lie? He’s lied about practically everything else.

He shakes his head in exasperation. We have to get off the island, Jess. The longer we stay, the more danger we’re in. That’s reality.

I detect something in his eyes. I think it’s panic. Something’s got him terrified.

Do you know something I don’t?

He shakes his head too quickly, and it makes me suspicious. I just feel like we’ve already pressed our luck way too much, Jess. I feel like it’s going to catch up with us.

If there’s no cure for you out there, then you need Father Heall’s blood. If you leave, you may never get back. And if Ben gets to him first...

No, he says, adamantly. I need to get you home safe. Before it’s too late. You’ve already been put in too much danger.

Don’t make this about me.

He sighs. Finally his shoulders droop. He turns and walks away.

Where are you going? Come back here! Kelly!

I’m going to check the tracker, he snaps. Why don’t you just— He waves his hands. I don’t know. Maybe you can get Jake ready or something. Get him dressed. I don’t care.

I watch him walk away, my frustration spilling over so that I’m dangerously close to losing control again. I want to scream at him, hurl another horrible profanity at his back like I did the day we first came here. But I know it’d be an even worse mistake this time. Still, I can’t help wondering, why is he suddenly acting this way? I glance resentfully down at Jake. If he were awake, I’d take out my frustrations on him.

His skin is as pale and husky as someone who has been dead for a week. He lies as still as a corpse. I know he’s still alive. I sense more than actually see his chest rise and fall with each microscopic breath he takes. I sense the tiny spark of life he still clings to inside. Is it just fatal optimism? Or dread? How easy would it be to snuff out that last ember, to put him — and us — out of our misery? I reach a hand out, and for a moment it hovers over his mouth and nose. I half expect him to wake, to open his eyes, to challenge me not to do it.

I totally had a crush on you last year.

His words to me, the day we first broke into the island. After I’d cursed at Kelly. It’s now just a distant memory, from a previous life, yet still crystal clear in my mind. How many weeks has it been? Two? Three? I can’t even remember anymore. It hurts my head to think.

Had a crush.

On you.

He’s just a kid. Sixteen. Ashley’s age, I remind myself. A kid who thought he knew more than he did. A kid who desperately wanted to fit in, to be liked. Who looked up to us gamers and hackers.

To us jackers.

I frown and my thoughts stutter to a halt. The first time I’d ever heard the term was when he’d spoken it back in the dojang, the day I’d first met him. He was talking about how he knew Ashley.

She’s a jacker, right?

Jacker?

Game hacker. That’s what the kids call her and others like her.

Like Ashley. And me.

I’d actually liked the sound of that word then, even though it didn’t really apply to me. I was never that much of a hacker, not like Reg and Ash and Micah. I’m a gamer, a programmer. I always preferred nascent coding, creating new protocols, building new things. I wasn’t into undoing things, destroying them, tearing them down. I’d told Jake exactly that, but he’d just nodded smugly, as if he knew better, and that it was our little secret, a game we were playing. Coded dialogue. Say one thing, but mean another. He believed I was more than just a good girl, sticking to the safe side of the law. He thought I was a—

jacker

—someone dangerous. A renegade. Someone to admire.

I’d totally forgotten about it. After that initial thrill for being admired for something I wasn’t— not because I wanted to be a hacker, but because it seemed to impress the likes of Jake. I’d dismissed it from memory. Especially after the effect it seemed to be having on Kelly.

Until now.

Ben had used the exact same word this morning. She’s one of those jacker kids Lena’s team is tryin to find. He’d called me the queen of the jackers.

Coincidence that the two would use a term like that, and I had never heard of it before?

Now I look down on Jake’s face, the shadows spreading over it like bruises. Who are you really? I ask. But he just lies there, dying. Dying and not dying. Suspended upon that razor-thin tightrope between life and afterlife. He’d said he had a crush on me. But did he really?

Or maybe I’d just heard what I wanted to hear.

I lower my hand and touch his cheek. His breath is hot, but his skin does feel slightly cooler than it was. It’s been less than an hour since the injection. The fever still rages on inside of him, burrowing down deeper, trying to hide from Father Heall’s blood. Virus swimming inside his bloodstream. Virus leaking into his blood. Virus entrenched within his cells.

I wonder, how can an injection into his spine save his body, if the treatment injected into his bloodstream can’t save his brain? Isn’t the blood-brain barrier a two-way wall? Something’s not adding up.

Brother Matthew hadn’t lived long enough to explain any of it. He’d died halfway through telling us what to do. Now I wish I’d asked Father Heall more questions when I had the chance. But I’d been so tired, so overwhelmed. So...

I frown.

I’d been so relaxed, like I wasn’t alone in a strange house with a strange man for the first time. Like I’d known him forever.

Did he drug me?

No, he couldn’t have. I hadn’t had anything to eat or drink while down there. Although I had eaten before going down. Maybe—

No. I know they hadn’t. Sister Jane wouldn’t have done that to me.

Not knowingly.

She said she prepared the food.

Still would’ve been easy.

A groan escapes Jake’s lips. It’s not the first time it’s happened. Nevertheless, it startles me. I wait for more, but his chapped lips don’t move. They’re graven, still as stone, unspeaking, unmoving. Not a whisper of a sound. The air passes dryly through them a teaspoon at a time. Barely a mouse’s breath. How he manages to survive baffles me.

I watch his eyelids for underlying movement, but they’re inert. I wonder, do zombies dream? And it makes me think of a movie we once watched in Micah’s basement about synthetic humans pretending to be real. Micah had told me it was based on one of the banned books he always seemed to have lying carelessly around, as if daring the police to come and arrest him for illegal contraband, daring them to add years to his LSC. Like he a death wish. What was the title of that book? I close my eyes and picture the cover, the faded paper, the well-worn corners.

Something about androids and sheep. Seems like an odd thing to dream about.

Electric sheep, no less.

That’s right. That’s what it was. I wonder, then, as I press my hand against Jake’s skin, do the undead dream? What would they dream about? Surely not electric sheep. Maybe electric people.

Uninfected people.

But then I silently chastise myself. First of all, the dead don’t think or feel, so how could they dream?

Except, maybe they do.

Secondly, Jake isn’t dead. He hasn’t turned. He isn’t one of them.

Not yet.

Once again, I revisit that day at the studio, that first sparring match. Jake had thrown me onto the mat with a cheap shot. Completely disrespectful of the art. In that moment, there had been... something. I’d felt it, underneath my humiliation and anger, something... unfamiliar. Something... electric. He’d made some lame excuse about the training at his old dojo, of course, the philosophy of his old master. He’d been so nervous, had stumbled his way through the conversation. I really enjoyed you this morning.

Such an awkward thing to say. But had he really misspoken as I’d thought? Was it a Freudian slip? Or had it been intentional?

I’d never really had a boy flirt with me before. Kelly had never flirted. We’d just started being together. We never really did any of that dating stuff, not with each other. We were just... Well, we were. We’d both woken up one day and understood that he was my boyfriend, and I was his girlfriend. As if it was meant to be. I’ve always been his girlfriend.

Well, except for those six weeks last year.

We’d needed time apart. I’d needed time, anyway, or so I’d thought. Micah had suggested it, after Kelly and I had been going through a particularly rough patch. His little brother Kyle was suffering badly. For a while there, everyone thought he was going to die. Kelly was really on edge. In fact, Kyle almost did die and probably would have if they hadn’t managed to find the right treatment for him. He started to get better, but Kelly was in this dark place, and he couldn’t stand anyone being around him, even me. I told Micah I couldn’t just abandon him, and he told me I didn’t deserve to be ignored. I had needs, after all. And if Kelly wasn’t meeting them, then there were plenty of others who would.

I didn’t like thinking I was that selfish. But after thinking about it some, I told Kelly I thought it would be for the best if we took a little break. It kind of hurt that he didn’t protest.

Now I’m angry that I let Micah talk me into it. If I’d only known then what I do now about that traitor, I’d never have let him come between us. He almost wrecked our relationship.

Kelly has always treated me well. He can be a bit overprotective at times, but he never — never — stopped caring about me. In fact, he always placed me above himself. Just like he did Kyle.

Ashley tried to set me up with a few guys. They were never anything serious. A hazy few weeks marked by awkward meet-ups in coffee shops I’d never usually be seen in, awkward chats strolling through town. Each date ending with even more awkward kisses or attempts at kisses. Christ. The kinds of guys who felt entitled to me, who gave me the sense that I was lucky to have them.

I went back to Kelly. He was there all along, waiting. He never left.

But then came Jake, and there was something different about him. He didn’t act entitled. In fact, he’d acted like he didn’t deserve me. I’d sort of liked the attention he’d given me that day, even exploited it for my own amusement. I let him know upfront I already had a boyfriend, because I’d believed it would turn him off. But I’d also hoped it would do just the opposite.

God, he was right calling me a jacker. I’d jacked him around. I’d jacked Kelly around.

Who the hell are you? I ask again, but he still doesn’t answer.

Or maybe you should ask that of yourself, the voice inside of me demands.

But I know who I am. I’m a cheater, I always have been. A cheater in a game full of cheaters.

Which is exactly why I belong here.

Chapter 3

What are you doing?

I look up, blinking away the past. Reality rushes back and momentarily overwhelms me. How much time has passed? A few minutes? An hour? I see the worry on Kelly’s face and suddenly I want to apologize to him for everything. He doesn’t deserve my anger. I don’t deserve him. I see the exhaustion and the pain in his eyes, and I recognize how much it’s changed him from the boy I first met. Suddenly, time becomes a meaningless construct. There is only now. There is only us. I want so badly to go to him.

Jess? What are you doing? he asks again. His eyes drop down to my hand resting on Jake’s face.

I jerk away.

What were you doing, Jess?

I was just checking Jake’s fever, I mumble.

We stare at each other for a moment, uncertain. I desperately want to know what he’s thinking. I want him to read my thoughts, to know I hadn’t meant any malice. But there’s a silence between us that extends beyond our ears. It spills over into our souls.

Somewhere in the ceiling the air conditioner hums away, blasting cool air into the room, keeping Jake from overheating, just as they’re meant to do for the computer servers. It strikes me that both are just dense bundles of nerves and connections, their brains wired to control complex systems whose sole purpose it to keep those brains operating. Both of them have become breeding grounds for evil. Is there a cure for Jake? Is there one for Long Island and the undead? Would we be better off if we destroyed them both?

Reggie’s not back yet? He goes over and calls the elevator, frowning.

I notice his hands are empty. Where’s the tablet?

I need Micah’s password. I don’t want to disconnect while there’s scripts running.

You know Micah’s password. Everyone does.

He must’ve changed it, then. Maybe Reggie knows it.

I’ll go find him, I say. I have to go to the bathroom anyway. The one down here reeks.

Kelly sighs. His spine seems to curl inward, collapsing upon itself, and he nods and says fine. It’s better this way anyway. He knows he and Reggie don’t always agree, and the tension between them now is thicker than it’s ever been.

When you find him, he says, exhaling noisily, don’t say anything about—

I know.

Just tell him that I want Ashley back as much as he does.

His body language tells me he believes it’d be best if we never found her. It makes me wonder if he ever stopped hoping for Kyle. Was there ever a time when he said, Let’s just cut our losses before it destroys us all? I find it impossible to fathom. So why now? What’s different? Is he?

Ashley’s not Kyle.

Maybe not, but the five of us were like a family to each other. We’d always been pretty close knit — not just him and me, but all of us, including Micah — even in spite of all the things that constantly conspired to tear us all apart. I think about how loose and comfortable and familiar we were with each other, how we always stuck together when it really mattered.

All of that is gone now. We’re all spinning away from one another.

The elevator car arrives, and I get on it. The door shuts on Kelly with a ding. While I rise, I think about all the dings our friendships have suffered in the past couple weeks. I become all the more resolved to bring us home again, to bring us back to what we had before, the friendships and the bonds. I know it’s hopeless. Micah is gone, a lost cause. Even Jake will leave a hole, regardless of how tenuous his association with us was. And now Ashley.

See, even you can’t deny it. She’s gone.

But Kelly isn’t. And I’m not. And neither is Reggie...

Maybe Kelly was right about cutting our losses. Maybe he just sees a little more clearly than I do.

The elevator dings one last time and bumps to a stop and the doors swish open. I brace myself, but nothing’s waiting to attack me.

The doors begin to close before I move. I reach out and stab the OPEN DOOR button, but they keep closing. I knuckle it twice more before extending my arm into the closing gap, scowling at the damn button for not responding. The door bumps me, and I have a moment of panic when I think it’s not going to reverse and cuts my arm off. But then it stops and pulls back. I step out.

Reggie?

Nothing.

A quick search tells me he’s no longer in the building. I silently curse, thinking he’s gone after Ashley. But as soon as I step outside, I see him squatting on his haunches, his back resting against a building across the way. He has his head buried in his arms, and his shoulders hitch. I take a step closer, ready to yell at him for doing exactly what Kelly told him not to do. I stop when I hear his sobs.

I don’t know whether to approach him now or not. He wouldn’t want me to see him like this.

But he must sense me because he raises his head and looks over. His arms are up around his ears and he’s holding his Link in his hand. His eyes are dry, but his face is pale.

You okay?

He exhales and leans his head back against the wall and looks up at the sky. It’s considerably brighter now. It’s stopped raining and the sky is still gray, but the clouds are thinning. The grass is an impossibly bright shade of green, so intense that it looks almost fake. I want to sink down into it. I want to lie down and be swallowed up by all that lushness.

Kelly’s checking the tracker now to see if he can locate Ashley’s Link.

He just nods and shakes his head.

What are you doing? I give the Link in his hands another hard glance. What’d you do, Reg? There’s a flicker of guilt in his eyes. Reggie, did you try to ping Ash?

He swallows, looks away.

Reg? I say again, my voice rising hysterically.

He nods.

Damn it! I cry. How could you? Panic fills me. I can’t believe he’d do something as stupid as that. He has to know that we can’t let Ben know we’re still alive. We’ll lose any advantage we might have. Damn it, Reg. Kelly was right! You—

It didn’t go through, he whispers. I tried, but...

But what? I ask, afraid to hear his response. What happened?

He shakes his head. My Link froze just as I tried to ping her. I knew I shouldn’t do it, but I couldn’t help myself. I guess somebody up there is looking out for us after all. God protects fools and children, right?

You didn’t think about what would happen if that psycho answered? He thinks we’re dead. We need to keep it that way. It’s our only advantage.

I reach over and remove the Link from his fingers. He lets me take it. My hand is shaking.

He’s reckless, Jess.

Kelly knew. He’d warned me. He even told him not to do anything stupid.

You were supposed to ping Micah’s Link.

Tried to. Same problem. Even rebooted. The damn thing freezes whenever I try to connect to the Stream. It’s never done that before.

Well, it’s not stuck now, I say. And it looks like there’s nothing in your OUTGOING box, so I think we’re safe. Those pings never got sent.

I hand it back. I can feel the groove left by the bullet, and it amazes me that it’s still working. These things really are almost indestructible.

Except it’s not working like it’s supposed to.

Come on, I say. Let’s get you back downstairs. It’s not safe up here.

Reggie looks up at me and the despair I see in his eyes terrifies me. He’s lost hope.

We’ll save her, I promise him. I’ll leave just as soon as we get you back downstairs and I get my stuff.

The muscles in his cheeks ripple as he studies my face. Finally, he nods and gets to his feet. I get the sense he knows I’m not being fully honest with him. He wouldn’t like it if I were.

Chapter 4

How’s your head?

Reggie gives me a tentative smile. Still hard as ever, he jokes, then sobers up. Better than before, anyway. Although I feel like I’m nursing a really bad hangover.

Maybe it’s withdrawals, I tease.

He lets out a shaky sigh. Maybe. We never really talked about us being a couple. But after everything that’s happened... He pauses. I guess everything’s changed.

I cringe, realizing he thinks I meant withdrawals from Ashley, and my eyes fill with tears. I was talking about caffeine, dummy, I manage to choke out. I turn away from him to hide my face. When was the last time you had a Red Bull?

Oh. He sniffs. Been years since I’ve gone this long without.

Still keeping my face turned away, I reach over and push the elevator button. It dings, but the doors don’t open. Somewhere far below, I hear the motors wake up and begin lifting the heavy car.

Did Kelly come up with you? he asks.

No, why?

Then why isn’t the car here?

I don’t know. Maybe he called it.

Why?

I don’t know.

The elevator dings. This fricking thing’s so goddamn slow, Reggie mutters. Piece of crap. After another ding, he turns stiffly around and starts to limp out of the room and toward the stairs. I’m not waiting.

Just be patient, Reg, I say. It’ll be here soon. Your leg won’t—

Never mind my leg. Damn elevator’s taking too damn long. We could’ve been down there already. He pushes through the doorway to the stairwell and starts going down, half hopping, half sliding with his weight on the banister as he nurses his bad hip. Behind us, I hear the elevator chime again and the distant clunk of the motor braking.

It’s almost here, Reggie.

Nope. Taking the damn stairs, he says stubbornly, as he stumbles down another flight.

I stare at his back, sensing that there’s more than impatience propelling him down to the basement. What’s going on? I ask. Reg?

I’m worried about your boyfriend.

This surprises me. Kelly?

I mean, why would he call the elevator? He knows you’re up here. He’s not going to call it down unless there’s been an emergency.

A bubble of fear rises inside of me. I glance back the way we came. I wonder if he’s on it. If Kelly’s on the elevator, he won’t know we’ve taken the stairs. We should go back.

He ignores me and just keeps going. Once he sets his mind to something, he won’t be stopped. And for someone who nearly got their leg shot off, he’s actually moving pretty fast. We’re already a third of the way down.

I’ve been thinking about Jake, he says, panting both from pain and exertion. I feel terrible. Honestly. He pauses to look at the old blood splatter on the wall. I’d understand if you...

If I what?

If you didn’t feel bad. I’m not saying you don’t, he hastily adds. But nobody would blame you if you didn’t, especially after the way he treated you back there. He was a total prick.

Sweat pours down his face, and he winces just a little more with each jarring step down.

That doesn’t mean he deserves what happened to him, I answer.

Reggie’s quiet for a moment. Then he nods. "No, but he has no one to blame, either. He did that to himself. Nobody else did. I mean, nobody deserves to be infected, and nobody deserves what Jake’s going through — except maybe the asshole who took Ashley, and also the others — but Jake asked for it by making it all about him. He was trying to impress you, you know."

I know.

You know what he told me? He said he couldn’t understand why you and Kelly were together. He said you deserved better.

I think about how similar it is to what Micah said to me last summer, and anger blooms inside of me. Jake didn’t know me. He didn’t know Kel and he certainly didn’t know either of us well enough to say a thing like that.

First Micah, and then Jake. Why is everyone always trying to get between me and Kelly?

It was his own stupidity that got him infected, Reggie presses. No one else’s.

Reg, don’t.

He stops and regards me.

Just... Can we not talk about it? He made a terrible mistake, and now he’s paying for it. Nobody deserves what happened, no matter what they’ve done or what they’ve said, not even Jake.

He sighs. Yeah, I know. I’m sorry. It just pissed me off hearing him talk about you two like that. You guys are like... I don’t know. Ashley and I always talked about you guys getting married and having kids. We even joked about doing it ourselves. Like, how ridiculous would that be, right? Except, after Kelly proposed, something changed. We stopping thinking about it as something theoretical, but something... something we really wanted, too.

You and Ash?

He chuckles weakly. Jake had no right to say any of that. He doesn’t know you or Kelly. He doesn’t know any of us.

I don’t answer. After what Micah did, I’m beginning to wonder if any of us do.

We reach the bottom of the stairs and he’s at the door before I’ve even stepped off onto the landing above. It’s still propped open from when I needed it to help circulate the air. He turns back before going through it, though, waiting for me. There’s pain and worry in his eyes, along with the pain and fatigue etched on his face. I feel guilty for not insisting her take the elevator. Climbing these stairs can’t have helped his injury. But he cares just so much, not just for Ashley — well, especially for her — but for all of us, even Kel. He absently rubs his hip. He’s so focused that I think he’d keep going, powering through the agony, even if his leg was amputated. He’d do it for Ash. He’d do it for any of us.

I reach him, but he still holds back.

Look, he says, I just wanted to say I’m sorry about freaking out down here before. You were right. Kelly, too. I can’t go after Ashley. You should’ve gone without me. Now I’ve probably made things worse by making you wait.

I nudge him toward the hallway with my hand. To be honest, Kelly thought you were going to tear the place apart. You had me worried, too, but just for, like, half a second.

Ashley’s always telling me I’m a big, stupid brute. He chokes on a laugh. You promise you’ll get her back?

I nod. But I know what he’s really asking, my promise that she’s okay. I want to tell him that she is, that she’ll probably kick Ben’s ass just for looking at her the wrong way, or even suggesting anything untoward, but we both know that’d be a lie. Ben’s a murderous psychopath with no regard for anyone but himself. The things he’s done to others, I realize how lucky I am to have survived with just a few bumps and bruises.

Watch the hip, sister, he grunts, and I realize I’m pressing on him in my eagerness to get back to Kelly. He chuckles at my apology, then steps out into the hallway.

While we were up top, he says, did you happen to notice the smell?

I frown at him. How could I not notice? The place is covered in blood and gore, some from corpses that have been festering for a dozen years and only now beginning to rot. I don’t know what happens to the undead after they’ve been killed twice, but I imagine that once the virus stops circulating and whatever mechanism turns flesh into a sort of decay-resistance plastic goes away. Does the rotting resume then? Is it accelerated? The bodies the boys moved into the empty rooms up there should be getting pretty ripe real soon.

The burning smell, he clarifies. Outside.

Burning? I think for a moment. No.

It was like metal and plastic. I mean, it was really faint, but, you know, wet and oily, too. It was definitely something burning.

You sure it’s not that brain tumor inside your head? I heard you can get phantom smells. Or, you know, a concussion?

I’d need a brain first for there to be a tumor.

Well, we know you’ve got one, or else those zombies wouldn’t want to keep eating you.

He laughs. That’s an old wives’ tale. We all know they’ll eat just about everything, not just the brains.

Yeah, all too well.

We enter the main room. Jake’s exactly where I left him, lying atop the table, still unconscious, still half naked. The straps Novak cut sit in a pile on the floor underneath him. His arm dangles limply over the side. I don’t know if that’s a good sign or not. Before, it remained stiffly at his side, even when we lifted him up. Either Father Heall’s blood is fighting back the virus, or Jake’s living death has progressed beyond the rigor stage.

Reggie frowns as he scans the room for Kelly. There’s no sign of him anywhere. Furniture is scattered randomly about, chairs upended and thrown onto their sides, desks pushed up against the walls. Just like we left it. Items of clothing — Jake’s, mostly — litter the floor, along with our packs and their contents. Old papers left here from before the outbreak spill off a metal cabinet and onto the floor. And everything is covered in a thin, white dust from the knockout gas. A pair of scorch marks on the far wall tells where the canister finished spewing.

Maybe he’s up top, he says.

But I shake my head and point to the residue left on the floor. There are only two sets of footprints leading to the elevator, Reggie’s and mine. More scuff marks crisscross the room, some of them leading toward the hallway where the mainframe sits behind glass doors. He’s probably still in back.

It takes all of, what, ten seconds to disconnect Micah’s tablet?

He didn’t have the password.

I thought he knew it.

Didn’t work.

Yo! Reggie shouts. You back th— He suddenly stops, wincing and hunching over. His hands fly up to his temples and squeeze.

Headache coming back?

Buzzing, he grunts, like a million bees trying to bust out of my skull.

You should sit after walking down the stairs.

I try to guide him to a chair. His hand feels heavy on my back.

Running on fumes, he pants. I’ll be fine in a sec. Let’s just go find— oh, holy fuck!

Sit, Reg!

No! Where’s that damn boyfriend of yours?

He staggers off toward the back hallway, swiping an arm over his forehead. He’s sweating like we’re in a sauna down here, but it’s so cold I’m covered in goose bumps. Just a few minutes ago, he was fine, and the temperature outside had to be close to ninety, yet it hadn’t seemed to bother him at all.

We find Kelly sitting on a folding chair in front of the stack. He looks up when we enter. Good, you’re back, he says. His eyes flick once between us, then returns to the tablet, though not before I catch the troubled look on his face.

What’s the matter? I ask.

The tracking script.

You couldn’t get in?

Managed to through a back door. But no admin privileges, so all I can do is observe what’s already running.

And the tracker? Did you find Ashley?

He shakes his head.

I go and check over his shoulder. Superimposed on the map of the island is... nothing, no little red dots, not even our own. Of course, it shouldn’t be able to see us while we’re off-stream down here. Can you zoom in?

He shrugs. Doesn’t make any difference. He reverse pinches the screen until we’re peering at a detail map of the Hill. I can see the surrounding woods and the road where Micah and Brother Matthew and I came out on our way to Brookhaven. I can see the parking lot where Micah and I were attacked by the Player. And where Shinji rescued us. And I can see the outline of the buildings we’re in. But there are still no red dots. None whatsoever.

Where’s Ashley?

Reggie stares at the screen, his face pinched in confusion. I worry he’s going to have another outburst, when he suddenly lurches forward. For a split second I think he’s going to crash into Kelly, but he catches himself. Kelly jumps up out of his chair and tells him to sit down.

He was fine just a few minutes ago, I say.

Reggie gestures at Kelly, his hand shaking. Maybe she came back down, he says. That’s why the elevator was down here.

But I shake my head. I’d searched every room in the building for him before finding him outside, so I know she wasn’t there, and she could’ve gotten in without us seeing her.

Did you call the elevator? I ask Kelly.

No. He frowns at us. I’ve been in here since you left.

Odd, I say.

It was Ash, Reggie insists. He tries to stand. That’s why you can’t see her. She’s down here.

Kelly shakes his head. I wasn’t getting any signals, even when you guys were topside. Should’ve seen you two, but I got nothing. Tapped into the mainframe like this, you’d think we’d have access to everything the tower topside picks up.

Maybe the tracker’s gone bad, I suggest. Ben said they tried using it on us but it stopped working for them after we left the airport.

Yeah, but it worked perfectly fine for us right up until we got here, Kelly counters.

Maybe it’s because you’re not in as an admin? I shake my head, knowing I’m wrong. Let me try logging in with Micah’s password. Maybe you mistyped it.

You can try, but I don’t think you’ll get in. I think somebody changed it. He looks like he wants to slam the tablet against the wall. After a moment, he hands it over to me. I backtrack out as far as I can. But instead of going back to enter Micah’s credentials, I decide to check the process registry. Sure enough, there’s a script running in the background, sucking a tiny fraction of the processor power. A script that shouldn’t be there. I’d never have noticed it if I hadn’t gone in specifically to look for it. Next, I retrace my steps through Kelly’s backdoor until I’ve found the tracking script again. As before, it shows me a map of our location, but still no signals from any of our Links. And when I check to see what scripts are running in the admin and guest accounts, neither of them shows any activity at all.

Someone’s set up an isolated partition, I announce. It’s running a script in the background.

Micah? Kelly guesses. Maybe so the SSC could keep track of us?

Either Micah or Ash.