Mind Games

“Then don’t.” Thea shrugged. “Either way, you’ll feel the pain, the heat, the fear. You’ll bleed and you’ll break, Ray. Because as long as you’re here, it’s real.”

“Bullshit.”

“It won’t take long for you to know it’s real. There’s the timer.” Lifting a hand, she counted off: three, two, one. “And go. I’d wish you good luck, Ray, but that would be bullshit.”

She raced into the jungle.

She’d played before. After all, she’d built the game. To offset her experience, she’d given her opponent unlimited lives. Not so much out of a sense of fair play, she admitted, but for her own satisfaction.

Drawing her sword, she hacked through a web, sent its deadly occupant flying. On a leap, she gripped a branch and swung over the hissing strike of a scarlet snake.

She heard Riggs thrashing behind her. And then his high-pitched scream.

He’d need those unlimited lives.

Jogging left, she snagged the first weapon, a bow and quiver of arrows.

At her best pace, at this low level of play—another sop to Riggs—it took three hours to reach the boat. Maybe a bit longer now, she calculated, since she had to pull him with her.

She could see him, stumbling along with the knife in his hand. Until a snake—sapphire this time—dropped out of a tree and sank fangs in his neck.

After she’d used the bow to take out a stalking tiger, its counterpart eviscerated Riggs.

His screams echoed as she grabbed a thick vine to swing over the snake pit. In practice, she’d lost a life falling into that pit more than once, so she tested her weight on the vine before taking the swing.

Fangs skidded along her boots, and those boots fought for purchase on the other side on slick grass.

Overcoming the obstacle gave her a power burst, and she used it to start the climb up the rocks near the Temple of Bones.

A risk, she knew, as skeletal hands would reach for her. But the quicksand usually proved riskier. Her hands ached, bled, nearly slipped. Bony fingers clamped over her wrist, nearly snapped it before she hacked those fingers into dust.

Her boots stamped on another hand as she inched her way up and up until, with sweat rolling down her face, she reached the top.

Scoring a health boost, she took the time to heal, and strategize.

Though her throat burned, she only sipped water. She could take the time to detour and refill, but Edina gave out her first rumble. While Ray thrashed in quicksand, she continued on.

Sweaty and breathless, she reached the rope bridge over the Rage. The river churned over jagged rocks, a fifty-foot drop that would cost her a life if she fell. But the fall, the swinging, unstable planks weren’t the only perils.

She knew the perils of rushing from previous gameplay, so took careful steps. The attack of a bird of prey had her fighting for balance as she swung her sword. She decapitated the bird, but its razor-edge wing scored her shoulder.

The shock of pain dropped her to her knees, and she nearly spilled off the bridge. Flattening, gripping a broken plank, she used her last health boost.

She wouldn’t make it across with her head swimming and her left arm nearly useless. And she’d lose Riggs. He’d pull out, pull away if she lost her focus.

By the time she reached the other side, took a stingy sip of water, she regretted not taking that detour to refill.

But Edina’s rumble now shook the ground.

And Riggs, she noted, had just been gored by a wild boar.

His shrieks barely sounded human.

“You suck at this, Ray.”

She had to make her descent—perilous, of course, but the beach and the boat waited below.

As she started down, Edina spewed fire. Thea clung to the rock wall, gripping until her fingers bled. She’d forgotten the climbing gloves in her vest again.