Deadly Rainbows

By Michael J Megahan

Sean is a typical eleven-year-old boy. He goes to school, spends most of his free time playing Stratagem (a futuristic game) with his friends, and lives with his mom. That is, until his world is suddenly turned upside-down by his mother's unexpected death. Sean is taken away from his home, his fri

• Language: English
• Publisher: Yuayua Publishing
• Release date: May 8, 2023
• ISBN: 9798985681239

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Shattered!

Movement! Slowly, very slowly, I turn my head so I can look in that direction, and wait. There it is again: a slight flutter, which most people would mistake for weeds stirring in the breeze. But I know better. There is no wind in this empty lot.

My heart starts to beat a little faster. I take a slow breath to calm myself. Any large or sudden movement might give me away. I must be careful. It’s hard to be patient with the taste of victory so close. Only two opponents remain: Bo and Hoss.

I slide my right hand down inch by inch to my backpack, and open the top just enough to catch a glimpse inside. Without moving my head, I roll my eyes down to scan my options.

There are two stun balls. They would do a lot of damage. But I would have to throw them, which would give my position away. That’s no good. I would also have to throw the bolas, so strike them as well. The reflector can only be used as a defense against discs. That won’t help.

Wait a minute. I have a repeater? I forgot about that. And it’s fully charged. That could work. Although it will be very difficult to hit my target, protected as he is by the hopper skeleton.

Then one more thing, buried deep at the bottom of the backpack, catches my eye: a small robotic animal. Which one did I find? Oh yes, the Tasmanian Devil. This is the device I need to use.

Again I have to tell myself to slow down, to take my time. I want to hurry; I’m so close to knocking out another opponent! But I can’t rush things at such a critical moment. Think about glaciers, and chameleons, and sloths, and continental plates. This is how I must move.

I place the robot on the crumbling cement so that it points toward the hopper. The controller is on my left wrist. I have to turn that arm ever so slowly to reach it. I punch the code to activate my Tasmanian Devil. A small display on the wrist controller shows me the viewpoint of the little robot. It takes delicate adjustments to shift the robot. I almost have its targeting hairs lined up with the small lump peeking over the engine compartment of the hopper skeleton. The ruined vehicle won’t be enough cover for this kind of attack.

It's ready! One small tap on my controller, and I watch the robot speed toward its target. Halfway there, I hear the distinctive growl of the Tasmanian Devil; it has locked on. Hopefully, my opponent doesn’t have a spray gun for defense. If not, my attack is sure to get him.

The small robot leaps through the passenger compartment of the junked hopper. I hear a few seconds of frantic scrambling, then a sound like someone riding down a short zip-line.

I check the status of my two opponents. Bo is flashing a red zero. My attack has knocked him out of the game. It’s down to Hoss and me.

I realize I’ve been at this spot too long. I need to find another place to hide. Then I can start my search for Hoss. It will be a long, slow process; he is almost as good at Stratagem as I am.

I snake through the tall weeds on my belly, toward the rusted-out air scrubber. The vegetation smells pungent and dusty, as if unsure whether to be a part of the present or the past.

My padded body suit scrapes against gravel as I move. Hopefully, Hoss isn’t close enough to hear. The backpack is as wide and flat as I can make it, so that it doesn’t stick out above the tall weeds.

Something shiny catches my eye. I change direction and inch toward the glint. It’s a thermal! This is one of my favorite devices, because it seeks out a person’s body heat and pulse. I ease the thermal into my backpack, giddy at the thought that it could be the key to victory.

I reach the air scrubber and settle down to wait, watch, listen, feel, and smell; anything that will help me locate Hoss.

Fifteen minutes pass. Thirty. An hour. My stomach starts to rumble. I have two energy bars, but I can’t concentrate on my search very well if I’m eating. I might miss something important. However, thinking about my hunger makes it worse, and that might also draw my focus away from the search.

What is that? I freeze and focus all of my attention into listening. I try to ignore my pounding heart.

There it is again: the slight scrape of a body suit against cement. Where is it coming from? Sweat trickles down my cheek as I lie against the air scrubber, listening. It’s coming from the generator shell, my old hiding spot! A shiver of excitement runs down my spine. Now all I have to do is figure out which device to use, and then maneuver into position.

As I contemplate my move I see movement, but from a completely different direction. I ease my head around to look. It’s a person. How can that be? Only Hoss and I are left. Everyone else should be up at Dead Man’s Theater. Then I note that the person is standing up. No one would do that if they were in the game.

Although puzzled by this, I’m irritated at myself. I’ve allowed myself to be distracted, a fatal mistake in the game of Stratagem. Hoss may have moved away while my attention was averted; he might be sneaking up on me at this very moment…

Yet for some reason, I can’t focus on the game. My attention is still captured by the standing figure, my brain busy trying to decipher the meaning of this intrusion.

I suddenly recognize the clothes. It’s Hilda. What is she doing in the abandoned quarter? She never comes to play, or even watch us play. Something must be up. She wouldn’t come down here unless it’s for something important.

Now that I’ve identified the wayward figure, I’m able to refocus on the game situation. I glance at my monitor. I’m 50 points ahead of Hoss. I don’t want to lose my advantage, yet at the same time I’m burning to know why Hilda is here. I can’t decide what to do. Why did she have to appear during the middle of a game?

I try to use all of my senses to detect Hoss, but my mind won’t focus the way I need it to. Apprehension boils in my stomach. I feel my advantage slipping away…

Then I hear it: a slight ping of metal on metal. Hoss is still behind the generator shell! Excitement buoys me as I realize I’m still in the game. It’s like I’m going to float right off the cement.

I make the decision to end the game quickly. Unfortunately, there’s only one way to do that: a direct frontal attack. It will likely be suicide, since Hoss will have at least two seconds on me before I can target him. And even if I win, taking so much damage will hurt my overall ratings. I try to persuade myself that perhaps I will take him by surprise and limit the damage, but I know this is only a foolish hope.

My muscles are stiff and sore. I can’t attack like this. If I try standing up right now, I’ll probably collapse straight back to the ground. Lying on my belly, I slowly stretch my arms and legs out straight, lift them off the ground so that they won’t scrape against the cement and betray my position, and wiggle my fingers and toes to get the blood flowing properly. This leaves me vulnerable. As I wiggle and stretch, I strain my eyes and ears for any sign of my adversary.

Soon I feel like I can move again. I let my limbs relax back to the cement. Again excitement and anticipation surge through me. I know I’m probably about to lose, but I can’t wait to try the all-out assault. After years of honing my patient stalking skills, where every tiny movement is calculated and controlled, every execution exact, this will be my one chance to let loose, to be wild and free. I’m determined to enjoy it to the fullest.

Thermal, bolas, repeater. I activate each one, every offensive weapon I have. I will activate the defensive weapons when they will do the most good – if I can figure that out in such an insane all-out attack.

This is it. A surreal feeling descends upon me. I can’t believe I’m doing this! My heart kicks into overdrive. My arms feel like Jell-O – that won’t do! – and my hands tremble as they press against the cement, preparing for the launch of my attack.

I spring up. Almost immediately, the hits start coming: blow darts, arrows, and seekers. Then I hear a faint whine. He has the disc? I thought Chad had used it up!

I almost hesitate in disbelief, but my momentum carries me forward and now I’m firing everything I have. I also hit my reflector, hoping it will activate in time to protect me from the disc.

This really wasn’t a good idea, I think as I stand over Hoss. I’m too busy firing my repeater to check my health status, but it must be near zero after taking all these hits. Even with the padding of my suit, each of Hoss’ attacks sends a brief jolt of pain through arm, chest, leg, or head, wherever the device strikes me.

Abruptly, my suit and all weapons go dead. The disc and thermal drop heavily to the ground. The game is over.

It takes a moment for my brain to register this fact. I loom over Hoss, finger still on the trigger of the inert repeater, gulping in air, feeling my heart throb painfully in my chest, dizzy from the chaos and confusion of the attack.

The moment passes. I glance quickly at my wrist controller with dread, certain that I will see a big red zero next to my name. This will be my first loss in over a year, all because Hilda showed up. What if she just wants to watch us play? What if my suicide run has been for nothing? I can’t stand the thought. I can’t believe I’ve done this to myself… then I see the score. An orange two stands beside my name. I’ve never seen anyone get such a low score and still survive. But a big red zero next to Hoss’ name confirms it. I am the winner.

What was that all about? Hoss asks as he rises ponderously to his feet, his face flushed and sweaty. Pebbles drop from folds in his suit and clatter to the ground. I’ve never seen you do that before.

It worked, didn’t it? Even as I speak I stand here, still a little dazed, not quite believing that it has indeed worked. I half expect to hear a maniacal laugh from my wrist display, and for it to say, I’m only joking! Negative one million points for stupidity. You have fallen so far in the standings, you receive a lifetime ban. A cackling, talking wrist display would almost surprise me less than my victory. My heart is pumping, pulse pounding in my ears. It’s hard to breathe.

Sean, that was ice! Chad says, jogging over from Dead Man’s Theater – the third story porch of an abandoned building, where eliminated players and other spectators sit to watch the game. He has already changed out of his body suit.

Yeah, crazy but ice! Bo says, following close behind Chad, his eyes bright with excitement, the top of his padded suit hanging down around his waist.

Lily and Slim come at a slower pace, whispering to each other and laughing. They were probably too focused on each other to see my little stunt.

Hoss holds up his monitor. In a loud voice he says, Drum roll please. Chad, Bo and I start to pat our legs. Hoss gives Lily and Slim a dirty look, and waits until they unenthusiastically join us in the drum roll. Finally, he announces, And the uplink says… Sean remains in first place in the Northern Division. This is met with a bunch of cheers.

Relief and joy flood through me. After all of that, I’m still in first! My body feels light, as if I’m walking on the moon.

Hoss makes a dramatic show of holding up his hand for silence. And I, Hoss Samuel Elkins, because I did so much damage to the big shot at number one here, have moved up to fifth place in the Northern Division.

Again we cheer. Fifth is the highest ranking Hoss has ever achieved. I feel really good for him. I would love for him to climb all the way up… to number two. I understand it’s selfish, but I don’t want to lose my number one standing to anyone, not even my best friend; perhaps especially my best friend. I have to be top dog.

I suddenly realize that in all the excitement, I’ve forgotten why I made my mad rush. Hilda!

Hey, I’ll be right back. I want to see what Hilda wants.

Ooh, watch out. Sean and Hilda are going to sneak off together, Slim says in a high, mocking voice. He’s always thinking about girls, so he thinks the rest of us are as well. I just shake my head and ignore him as I jog toward Hilda.

Can’t bear to be away from Hoss? I ask when I get close. Hilda is fun to tease. She blushes easily. I suddenly realize that I am behaving like Slim, but I don’t let that stop me from enjoying it.

Then I see her eyes, and I stop chuckling. The words she whispers bring me to a sharp halt. The world seems to disappear from beneath my feet. I am plunging into a dark void. My heart feels as though it’s been flash-frozen and about to shatter, my lungs as if I’m standing in a vacuum without a spacesuit. I hear nothing, see nothing.

Suddenly, my brain seems to click back on, but it’s uncalibrated. I hear snatches of sound, see dizzying images, but nothing makes any sense. I realize someone has been talking to me. The message is repeated, and this time I understand the words. Hey, what’s going on?

It’s my mom… my mom. Is that really my voice? It seems to be coming from so far away.

Your mom? someone asks.

I’m too dazed to understand who’s speaking. It’s too much. It can’t be true. I can’t handle it! I’ve got to go, I say, and stumble blindly out of the vacant lot.

I can’t believe she’s gone. I can’t believe she’s gone. I mumble these words over and over to myself as I place my hand against the incinerator. I keep expecting it to be an illusion, perhaps a cruel hoax masterminded by Georg and his gang. I’m sure that at any moment, Mom will pop out of some door, rush to throw her arms around me, and say, Don’t worry, Sean. I’m here. I’m alive. Let’s go home and fix supper.

As the seconds tick by, I start to get angry at her for torturing me like this, for making me wait so long for her appearance. My palms are still pressed against the thick metal wall. I can feel them getting scorched, but I don’t care. I welcome the pain; it helps fuel my anger. The dull smell of hot silica and metal is thick in the air.

Suddenly the brutal, horrifying reality hits me like a Stratagem battering ram to the gut: I will never hear her voice, see her smile, or smell her shampooed hair again. It’s not fair! Why is this happening to me? Mom, I want you back!

What am I going to do now? I wonder, fighting off sobs that want to erupt. I feel empty; utterly alone. My brain is numb. Where am I going to live? Who will I live with? I can probably make it on my own, but I don’t want to be completely alone. The apartment will be so empty. Mom, please come back!

Then it’s over. An attendant walks over to me holding a silver urn. I know that inside this urn is all that remains of my mom. All that remains of my life.

I don’t want to take the urn. I don’t want to accept that she’s gone. I don’t want this to be my mom – a collection of cold ashes. What good could it possibly do me?

I turn and run. Run from the attendant, run from my mom, run from the funeral home. It’s raining outside, but I don’t care. All I want to do is run.

Sean, a voice calls.

I don’t answer. I just keep running.

Sean? I need to talk to you!

A car appears in front of me. I have to jump to the side to avoid hitting it. I stop and bend over. My breath comes in ragged gasps.

Someone emerges from the car. I peer out of the corner of my eye. It is a man. He is wearing a dark suit. A black hat rides atop his glistening black hair. He opens an umbrella and walks over, so that I am drawn into its circle of protection. My right arm is still outside the umbrella. I feel a small waterfall splash against my hand. It feels good against the burned skin, but I don’t like it. The cool water reminds me that I’m still alive. I want to be with Mom.

My name is Mr. Dunberger, the suited guy says. I’m here to take you to your dad.

No! I shout. Dad is far away. That would mean I would have to leave Mom, leave my friends, leave everything behind. I don’t want to go.

Sean, your dad wants to see you. He wants you to live with him, the man says.

No! I scream, so loudly it feels as if my throat is ripping apart. I can’t let this man take me away from Victoria. This is my home. If I leave, I will explode. I have to stay here. My dad never wants to see me. I want to stay here with Mom!

Sean, your mother is dead. She can’t take care of you anymore. And you’re not old enough to live on your own.

At the mention of Mom, the sobs start to shiver through me again. I feel like screaming at the top of my lungs and running to a place where no one can find me. What does this old geezer know? I’m old enough. I can cook. I have a job, turning compost