Countdown

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

"Kira," I heard Rogan say loudly. "Wake up."

I woke slowly. Extremely slowly. I lay somewhere soft. Rogan was next to me. His hand was on my forehead, stroking the hair off of it. I blinked slowly until he came into focus.

"Good morning," he said.

"What…" My voice sounded thick with sleep. "What's going on? Where are we?"

"Not entirely sure about that."

"How long have we been here?"

"Not sure about that either, but it's light outside now." He nodded toward a window to the left.

I saw that we were in a small bedroom. It looked like a motel, one of the cheaper ones. But everything seemed clean enough at first glance. A small amount of light shone through the window through gray clouds overhead.

A quick check under the sheets told me that I was still fully dressed, even wearing my boots. Rogan was also dressed.

"We must have been asleep for hours." I tried to sit up, feeling my muscles tense, but my body ached from head to foot, so I settled back down on the comfortable bed. "I still feel like hell."

"Me too."

I touched his face then, studying it for the first time up close since yesterday. He was covered in bruises and small cuts. I frowned as I softly ran my finger over them.

"I know," he said, flinching. "I'm a wreck. As if this damn scar wasn't bad enough."

He reached to touch the scar that bisected his eyebrow and ran down to the center of his left cheek.

I grabbed his hand. "You must have been really vain when you were a rich pretty boy. I hate to even tell you this, in case it swells your ego any further, but scars are hot. I wouldn't even look twice at a guy who didn't have scars."

He raised an eyebrow. "Is that right?"

I nodded solemnly. "In fact, I don't think you have enough scars. This game has obviously not been difficult enough for you."

"Yeah, it's been great. I can hardly contain how much fun it's been so far." His grin faded and he looked around the room. "Listen, we didn't have a chance to talk about what happened between us yesterday in the reward room. I… I know you probably regret it."

I frowned. "Why, because of the cameras?"

His expression shadowed. "Yeah, that. And … the fact that I couldn't control myself with you. I'm sorry. It's … it's just been so long … since I…"

"Are you trying to say that I was just a postprison piece of ass?" I said it jokingly, but inside I felt a twinge of something. I wasn't sure I wanted to hear his reply to that.

But my response didn't get the answer I thought it would. Instead of a hurried assurance, or another apology, I got a huge, deep belly laugh that made him roll onto his back.

I punched his shoulder. "It's not funny, you jerk."

He stopped laughing long enough to say, "Kira, you are definitely not just a … how did you put it? A postprison piece of ass?"

"So glad I amuse you." I forced myself to sit up and crossed my arms. "And just for the record, I don't regret it at all. Or at least, I didn't until now."

He reached for my hands again and brought them up to his lips. "God, even in this terrible situation-which quite honestly has capped off the worst years of my entire life- you have been one of the best things that's ever happened to me."

I felt something stir deep inside of me, and felt tears prick at my eyes, but it wasn't from sadness this time.

"Kira, I need to tell you something," he said, and when he raised his gaze to meet mine he wasn't amused anymore; he was deadly serious.

My stomach sank. "What?"

"I don't know how much time we have before they interrupt us." He scanned the room. "When you were meeting with my brother, Jonathan stopped by to talk to me." His jaw tensed. "He told me that if I killed you on camera that I could win the game. That I'd be free."

I blinked slowly and looked up at him. "And what did you say to that?"

"What did I say? I told him to go to hell."

I felt cold. "Gareth told me the same thing."

"That if you killed me you'd win."

I nodded.

He cleared his throat. "Well, since I'm still breathing, then I'm going to assume that you disagreed with that plan."

"I did."

A small grin elevated his mouth. "Is it wrong that I'm really touched that you don't want to kill me?"

I glanced around the room. "It's a little strange. But this entire situation is strange to start with."

"For over four years I've lived a life where everybody wanted me dead or tortured. Even Gareth, my own brother." His expression darkened. "Dammit. Why would he turn his back on me like that? I would have been there for him. If the situation had been reversed, even if I thought he was guilty …" He shook his head. "I can't see myself abandoning him like he did me."

God, I wanted to tell him. I wanted to tell him the truth so badly that it was like a huge, painful lump in my chest. But they couldn't know. They couldn't hear me.

"Where do you think the cameras are right now?" I asked.

"I don't know. They could be anywhere. As far as we know they're taping us right now." He pressed back into the bed and stared at the ceiling. "When I was in charge they were still handhelds. Now they're remote-controlled. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if they had a bit of artificial intelligence programming in them; they move like they have minds of their own, don't they?"

My mouth felt dry. "You really think so? Like the robot?"

Like Gareth's implant? I thought.

"No, not exactly like that. Just enough that they can fly about on their own, keeping us as their focus. I got a good look at them last time, too. They have receivers on them. I'd be willing to bet that our implants are connected to the cameras somehow. And the cameras are connected to the game's network at Ellis Enterprises."

I pulled him closer so I could whisper into his ear, "Why can't we just run?"

He tensed. 'They'd know."

"So there's no way of getting away?" I was saying it so softly. If there were cameras hidden in the room I didn't want them to hear me.

"Not with those damn cameras around."

"Rogan," I whispered, quieter, "I need to tell you something. It's important."

"What?"

"You said that you didn't understand why Gareth would abandon you like that. Well, I know why."

"Why?" There was strain in the quiet word. "Tell me."

Just as I was opening my mouth to tell him the truth, words that would probably change his life, a loud alarm sounded, and the room we were in split down the very center, right through the middle of the bed. As if the entire thing were on wheels the room parted, and Rogan stared at me with shock as he moved farther away.

The roof rolled back, and instead of stucco it showed the cloudy skies overhead.

I realized with a sinking feeling-a feeling I'd gotten used to having on a regular basis in this game-that the motel room we'd been in was actually a set. All fake. All created to be the background for our "emotional pillow-talk scene." There must have been microphones all over the place. Hidden cameras. They'd probably been hoping for another explicit love scene, but instead when I was about to reveal Gareth's little secret they put an end to it again.

Why the hell was Gareth so intent on Rogan not knowing the truth? Would it really make any difference?

My side of the bed moved away from Rogan until we were stretching our ninety-foot rule to the limit. Any farther and I was going to bolt off the bed and start running toward him. The memory of the red stain on the roof where Mac's head should have been haunted me. I didn't want to die that way. Not after everything we'd been through.

"Kira!" Rogan called, and he jumped up from the half bed. Another step took him off the makeshift set and onto the pavement of yet another abandoned street. He looked around at the surroundings quickly before focusing again on me.

"Welcome back to The Countdown! Kira and Rogan are all rested up for this, the final level: Level Six."

Three silver ball cameras zoomed into view, bobbing and moving along the street. They got to Rogan first and circled him like a nest of wasps as he glared at them.

"Rogan Ellis never thought he 'd be one of the privileged few to reach the last level of The Countdown. Some of our original subscribers will recall that Rogan himself is the creator of this game, although it has improved a thousandfold since then in quality and excitement. If Rogan had any say in the matter, the game would no longer be available to entertain you, our glorious subscribers! Just before his incarceration for rape and nine counts of murder, he attempted to pull the plug on this show, but luckily he was stopped before any irreparable damage was done.

"Such is the case with Rogan. He is a selfish man. As a bloodthirsty hedonist, he cares only for his own pleasures, and it doesn't matter to him who might get hurt. In an early poll amongst our subscribers, Rogan received a 3 percent approval rating. This is as low as any contestant in the history of the game. It is obvious to anyone watching that despite his handsome appearance, a cold heart lurks beneath his chest. There is no humanity or possibility of redemption within this poor excuse of a man."

I wasn't close enough to see the expression on Rogan's face, but I was betting that it wasn't a happy one. This was what he'd been subjected to for all these years? This uncensored verbal hatred toward him? That must have destroyed something inside of him. All I wanted to do was take that pain away from him. I felt a small sense of pride knowing that I knew the real Rogan. That he was innocent. That he wasn't selfish or bloodthirsty. That he was wonderful in every single way.

And that was about the moment that I realized I'd fallen completely in love with him.

"Dammit," I said under my breath. "Not a good time for realizations like these, Kira."

That would explain why my heart twisted with every hurtful thing that was said about him. Why I felt his pain and all I wanted to do was hold him and tell him that it was all going to be okay.

I didn't even have to be using my flex to feel empathy for him. I felt for him because I was in love with him.

Tears stung at the corners of my eyes and I shook my head. So inconvenient. Especially now. Especially here.

The cameras left Rogan's side and swarmed toward me instead. They spun around my head and I could see myself reflected in their black, shiny lenses.

"Kira Jordan has been a very popular player on The Countdown. It goes to show that despite her fragile exterior a female competitor is not necessarily going to be outplayed by her male counterparts. Kira has earned a 74 percent approval rating, a rating that has improved with every successive level.

"A thief, a sultry vixen, and a woman who can lure men to their deaths, as evidenced in Level Five … this is a true Countdown competitor to be admired. Footage of her reward-level bubble bath, among many other memorable X-rated moments, is available in the archive section of our subscriber feeds for you to enjoy over and over again.

"Kira, do you have anything you want to say to the subscribers who have enthusiastically supported you in the game so far?"

One camera came down to eye level. I could see myself reflected from my waist to the top of my head.

"Absolutely." I forced a smile to my lips. "I just wanted to let you know that every one of you subscribers disgusts me. Why do you sad, pathetic sacks of shit keep watching this? They're forcing us to play. We have no choice. You want to see people killed? You're sick! All of you are sick!" I spat at the camera. There was a long pause.

"We are very sorry," the announcer piped up. "We lost our feed for a moment. We strive to bring you the best of entertainment, but we are slaves to our cameras, I'm afraid." He chuckled. "Kira wanted you all to know that she appreciates your support and that she's thrilled to have been able to bring you hours of entertainment. She would love to thank you all personally if she could, but there simply isn't enough time. Not if we want to get on with the show! "

I tried to calm myself. It made me furious to know that the subscribers, however many of them there were, were sitting back watching in their mind's eye as Rogan and I fought for our lives.

I wondered what they'd think if they knew their implant-provided brain waves were Gareth's version of a power lunch.

It was like something out of a nightmare.

"Everything has led to this final level," the announcer said. "Kira and Rogan have forged a partnership, found common ground, learned to work together, and given in to their carnal desires. Never has there been a better team on The Countdown and we are thrilled to have been able to present them to you.

"They have worked together, helping each other when the other was down, for without one's partner, one is nothing in The Countdown.

"That is, until Level Six."

The cameras separated. One stayed in front of me, another went to Rogan, and the third hovered between us.

"Underneath both sides of the bed, there is a gun. Kira and Rogan, please retrieve your guns now."

I looked over at Rogan but didn't make a move to get up yet. What was left of the sheets was still tangled around my legs.

I studied the camera closest to me.

"Please retrieve the gun, Kira."

"And what if I don't?"

Three small green lights just above the camera's lens swelled slightly in intensity. I flinched as I felt a zap of pain to my implant. Not too much. Just a warning.

I forced myself up off the bed and crouched down to look underneath. There was a gun. I wrapped my fingers around the handle of the gun and pulled it out.

I stood there next to the half a motel room, right next to the gray of the pavement, holding the gun, and I waited, every muscle in my body tense and on edge.

Rogan had his gun in hand as well. He held it loosely at his side.

"There is only one way out of Level Six. There can only he one winner of The Countdown. Kira and Rogan have fought side by side in victory thus far, but now they must fight against each other. For only by defeating the other can they win the game.

"Rogan fights now to clear his name of his crimes. Should he win, he will be able to start life with a clean slate, with his half of the Ellis fortune returned to him to do with as he wishes. He will have the freedom to remain here or to continue on Offworld.

"Kira fights for a fresh start as well. Her desire is to leave the city by shuttle to go to Offworld. There she will find that her new life awaits her, including a house and a small fortune that will see her to the end of her days in luxury.

"The only obstacle they face is each other. Whoever is standing at the end of Level Six… whoever is still breathing … shall be crowned the winner.

"Should neither of them succeed in killing the other in the time allotted, the level will be forfeited and both competitors shall be eliminated.

"There is a five-minute time limit for this level, which starts right now. Enjoy!"

When the announcer stopped talking I stood there, completely stunned. I looked at the gun in my hand.

They wanted me to kill Rogan.

And Rogan was supposed to kill me first. That was what they said, right?

Kill or be killed.

And if we didn't kill each other, both of us were dead anyhow in five minutes.

A line of fury ripped through me and I almost screamed, but I held it in. The rage burned just beneath the surface. I was sure that as I raised my gaze to look in the lens of the camera, any subscriber would be able to see what I was thinking. How much I hated them, those faceless, bloodthirsty bastards somewhere out there, watching every move I made.

I was lost in my thoughts for a moment, so distracted that I didn't hear Rogan approach. At the last second I heard his boots slam against the pavement as he neared me.

I automatically raised the gun and pointed it directly at him, and he stopped running. He held up his hands.

"Easy, Kira, easy."

"Easy?" I managed. "There's nothing easy about this. You heard what he said."

"Yeah, I did." He still held his own gun loosely at his right side.

"Just stay back."

"There are four minutes remaining in this level of The Countdown."

He frowned. "Kira, listen to me. I'm not going to shoot you."

My hands shook. "But that's what they want. They want us to try to kill each other."

"I don't give a shit what they want. I'm not doing it."

A million different scenarios sped through my brain. There had to be a way out of this. I looked at the cameras that were greedily taking everything in.

The cameras watched everything. All they cared about was getting a good shot. Providing good entertainment so the subscribers kept watching.

Everything seemed to revolve around those cameras.

Dammit. I had an idea but I needed like hell for him to play along. "Do you trust me Rogan?"

He eyed the gun. "Yeah, I trust you."

"Then you need to trust me right now. Point your gun at me. There's no other choice."

He frowned deeply, staring into my eyes. It seemed to take him forever, but then slowly he raised his gun toward me. "Like this? Is this what you want?"

"Three minutes remain in this level of The Countdown."

"Yeah, that's exactly what I want. They picked us to be partners, Rogan. They knew that we were both damaged inside. How else could somebody make it through this game to the end? If it were a normal person they probably would have shut down. They couldn't handle the hell we've been through without giving up."

He swallowed. "That's right. We're special."

I glanced at the cameras, now circling us, recording our last conversation, to be replayed over and over again for the entertainment of the subscribers.

"Do you think that you can kill me, Rogan?" I asked simply.

He didn't answer for a moment. "Why are you even asking that?"

"If it meant your life or my life-and guess what, it does-then can you pull that trigger?"

His hand shook and he began to lower it. "You're going to have to kill me, Kira."

"And I will. You murdered my family. I'll kill you and not even blink."

His eyes widened. "But I-"

I pulled the trigger and shot the ground next to him. The cameras had spun behind me and didn't catch me rolling my eyes at him.

I mouthed the words, Please play along.

He stared at me for a long moment before he finally raised his gun again. "Okay, have it your way."

I tried to stifle my sigh of relief. "Yeah, thanks for joining us so late in the show."

He snorted. "I guess I'm a bit of a slow learner."

"Obviously."

"Maybe this won't be as difficult as I thought it was. You pull your trigger. I pull my trigger. Whoever's the best shot wins, right?"

Damn. My arm was beginning to burn from holding the gun up.

"But it is difficult," I said steadily. "If it wasn't, then there wouldn't be any point, would there? I want to know something first. Was I ever more to you than just a … what did you laugh at earlier… a postprison piece of ass?"

He gave me a very convincing sneer. "I've been in jail a long time, sweetheart. A hot little piece of flesh willingly spreads her legs for me? What am I supposed to do, refuse?"

"I knew it."

"You're so perceptive. So now that the truth's out you're going to shoot me?"

"Maybe I am," I said. "Are you going to do something to stop me?"

"Maybe I'll shoot you first. Got enough ammo in this gun to make sure I don't miss. They haven't taken any chances this time."

"No." I glanced around at the cameras. "Can't take any chances."

"Two minutes remain in this level of The Countdown."

"Are you a good shot?" I asked him.

"I used to do target practice in my teens. And you?"

"I'm okay."

His lip curled. "Wait, I remember that you missed Kurds and shot him in the shoulder. Either that was a precise hit or you're a lousy shot. I'm going to go out on a limb and say that you're a lousy shot."

"Okay, now you're just being mean. I can hit something if I have enough ammo. Don't worry about that."

"Are you going to shoot me or just talk about it?"

"In a minute."

"Fifty-nine …fifty-eight…fifty-seven …"

Rogan's jaw tensed. 'Time's ticking away, sweetheart. Hope you know what you're doing."

"I thought I told you not to call me sweetheart?"

"If you're going to shoot, can you do me a favor?"

"What's that?"

'Try not to miss." He smirked at me, but an edge of worry slid behind his blue-green eyes.

"The time has come," the announcer said, and his normally singsong voice was a little bit breathless. "The facade of friendship and caring has faded away, leaving only two raw competitors behind. Who will he victorious in the remaining seconds?"

"Thirty.. twenty-nine … twenty-eight…"

"So sick of that fucking guy," Rogan growled.

"That makes two of us. And if I never hear another countdown it'll be too damn soon."

"See, we still agree on a couple of things."

"Yeah, I guess we do."

"So, I'll do you one last favor, sweetheart." He raised an eyebrow. "You can take the first shot. Lead the way."

My hands were sweating.

"Ten … nine … eight.. "

"Sounds fair," I said, and my voice shook on the words. "Are you ready?"

His eyes narrowed and his grip tightened on the gun. "Do it, Kira."

I swung my arm around and pulled the trigger. The camera that was in the process of getting a close-up of my face, of any potential emotion that might be found there, went flying backward.

"Now, Rogan! Now!"

I heard gunfire, shot after shot after shot. I focused on the one camera on the ground, sputtering and sparking. I shot it until my gun was empty before I looked back at Rogan. Two silver cameras had crashed to the ground near him. He looked over at me, his chest heaving with every breath he took, a sheer gleam of perspiration on his forehead.

"We should probably run now," he said.

"Good idea."

I picked a direction and started running as fast as I could, with Rogan at my side.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

"Where are we headed?" Rogan yelled, and I tried to ignore the pain from my sprained ankle as we thundered along another side street.

I had the brief glimmer of the location in my head-the safe house that Gareth had given me when I'd done my flex on him. It wasn't much to go on, but it was all we had.

"A place close by. We're almost there."

"How did you know to shoot the cameras?" he asked.

"Just a lucky guess, actually. I was hoping that you were right about their being the things controlling our implants."

"Since we're still conscious, I'm guessing we were right. But they'll be after us on foot."

"That's why we have to keep running."

The safe house was at 358 Paragon Avenue. I was betting everything I had on the vision from Gareth being right.

"Up ahead," I said. 'Turn left on that street."

Paragon Avenue was the main street of the city and about a mile away from the street we'd been on for Level Six. We slowed to a jog as we turned the corner. My ankle throbbed.

It was like day and night compared to where we'd just come from-a deserted part of the city that made me think that nobody else in the universe existed except for Rogan, me, and the disembodied voice of the announcer. Here on Paragon Avenue I was reminded that the city and the world around it, while definitely dying, were not yet dead.

A steady flow of people moved along the sidewalks. The road was trafficked with cars and mopeds. However, there was a general feeling of malaise-these were the people who either couldn't afford to go to Offworld or had too many obligations-job, family, whatever-that kept them right where they were.

There was a man on the street corner with a long white beard. He begged for money from the passing pedestrians but was ignored as if he were completely invisible.

We weeded through the crowd while getting some sideways stares at our costumes. Black, shiny, and tight didn't really go with the business casual we were bumping up against. An old woman eyed my black thigh-highs and short skirt, sneered with disapproval, and muttered some insult I couldn't hear.

I wanted to run up to her and grab her hands and beg her to help us, to hide us, but I stopped myself. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly as I clutched Rogan's arm tightly and continued to hobble along, favoring my right ankle. I knew that we couldn't drag anyone into our problem. No one would offer us sanctuary. Nobody would believe us. Everyone was too busy worrying about their own lives, their own problems, their own safety. I knew that very well after being on the streets for seven years. I was used to being like the man on the corner: invisible, insignificant.

A nobody.

"Up ahead," I said to Rogan. "Number Three Fifty-eight."

He led the way without questioning me again. We'd tucked our guns into our waistbands. The black of the weapon blended against the black of our Countdown-supplied outfits. The cold metal against my skin gave me a meager sense of calm, although it didn't help my heart to stop beating as fast as it was. It felt so loud that I was sure the people passing us would be able to hear it.

Just before we reached the address, a man stepped in front of us. I felt Rogan tense up as he blocked our way and gave us a huge smile.

"You two look like fun people," he said.

"Get out of our way," Rogan growled.

"Now, now, I have something you might be interested in."

"What is it?" I asked, my voice strained.

He produced a trifold flyer printed on light blue paper. "Have you been wanting to get away? Want to figure out how to finagle a seat on the Offworld shuttle while you're on a working-class budget? Well, I have just the thing for you right here."

"Not interested," Rogan said. "Get yourself and your scam away from us."

"Scam? Not even slightly. In my course I will give you the top ten ways to get to Offworld and away from it all. There are always other options, other solutions. Just picture it: sun, sand, green grass for miles around. A perfect place for a perfect life, Offworld is. And you can get there with my help."

"It's a course?" I asked, feeling oddly disappointed.

"Yes. It's called Ten Weeks to Paradise. Five hundred dollars and you, too, can realize your dreams." He thrust the flyer at me.

"Not interested." Rogan's hand tightened at my waist. "Get out of our way. I'm asking you for the last time."

The man cleared his throat and withdrew another flyer from his inner jacket pocket. "Not interested, I can understand that. Perhaps a vacation a little closer to home? I can provide you with a steady supply of Kerometh to make every day a holiday-"

Rogan pushed him out of our way and we started walking again.

"Scumbags," Rogan said under his breath. "I almost forgot they're found outside of prison as well as inside."

I looked wistfully back at the man. How many people had he conned into taking his course that gave no promises? He just preyed on the dreams of the people stuck here. People like me.

Not that I ever would have had five hundred bucks to spend on a course.

I pushed those thoughts out of my head as we closed the distance between us and our destination. The numbers 358 were carved out of gold, very large above the door.

"What is this place?" Rogan asked.

I tried the door and was surprised when it swung open at my touch. We slipped inside and closed it behind us. The noise from the street outside vanished. We were now in an unadorned hallway lit only by the small window on the outer door. I felt Rogan's hand close around my own and squeeze reassuringly, and we began to move along the passageway.

"This is supposed to be a safe house," I whispered. "Someone … someone reliable told me about it."

"Reliable? Who?"

"I'll explain more in a minute. Come on."

Every time I'd mentioned Gareth I'd been overheard and stopped. I knew that the cameras were long gone- otherwise we wouldn't have made it this far-but I wasn't prepared to risk it. Not yet.

The passage went along straight for about twenty feet and then turned sharply to the right. It was as if the front of the house that faced Paragon Avenue were just a facade.

Finally, ahead of us, there was a modest amount of light. Luckily we hadn't been walking in complete darkness, because I wouldn't have been able to function as well as I was in this half-light.

"Sorry my hands are sweating," I whispered.

"So are mine. Mostly because you won't tell me what the hell's going on."

"If I knew for sure, I'd tell you."

"Yeah, that's reassuring."

Ahead of us was another door. It was red and it had a doorbell next to it. On the door were the numbers 358 again. I assumed this was the true front of the safe house. At least, I sincerely hoped so.

"Now what?" Rogan asked.

I bit my bottom lip so hard I thought I'd draw blood. Then I raised my hand and pressed the bell. The sound of a buzzer was deafening.

I half expected the door to swing inward into darkness and some monster to appear, grabbing us and dragging us inside.

But nothing happened. Absolutely nothing.

We waited in silence for five full minutes.

"Okay," Rogan said then. "So how long should we wait here? And what exactly are we waiting for? I'm trying to be patient, Kira, really I am. But you'll excuse me if I'm not feeling all that calm at the moment."

I turned to face him and put a hand on his chest. I could feel his heart beating rapidly beneath my fingers.

And I told him. Everything I could about his brother. Everything I'd learned from my flex that slid down into the part of Gareth that still existed past the virus that had taken him over. How he'd slipped this address into my mind at the last moment. How nothing he'd done was his fault, but the fault of the artificial intelligence computer program that had been screwed up by a virus and had taken over his implant.

Rogan listened to me in silence, his expression like stone. When I was finished I waited for his reaction.

It took a moment.

"Why didn't you tell me this before?" he asked quietly.

"I tried to… on the roof after Mac and Kurtis … just a little while ago before the room split. They were listening. They didn't want me to tell you, so they wouldn't let me."

He nodded solemnly. "I see."

"So your brother didn't really sell you out. He didn't abandon you. He's not in control of what he's doing."

His forehead creased into a deep frown. "It must have happened when I tried to destroy the computers four years ago. The power outage… it must have sparked something in Gareth's prototype implant… and if there was a virus in the AI programming at the time …"

I watched the different emotions play on Rogan's face: disbelief to anger to the slow, steady realization that this was what had truly happened. That everything began to make sense in his terrible past.

"You know, all this time I thought I'd wasted all that money in artificial intelligence research. I only did it for the game in the first place." He laughed, and it was a hollow sound. "Shit. Be careful what you wish for, right? I'm the one who invented the thing that killed my brother and ruined my life."

I shook my head. "But Gareth's not dead. He's still in there somewhere. He's the one who told me to come here. He wants you to be safe."

His eyes shifted back and forth as he tried to process all of this information. "Jonathan must have known. Of course. He was the main researcher in the AI programming. Maybe he was the one who added the virus to the mix. I don't know. He is Gareth's right-hand man now. And he didn't raise a finger to help me when I was in prison."

I touched his face and made him look at me. "But he gave you the antidote for the poison in your shoulder."

He frowned. "Yeah, that he did. If he hadn't I would have been dead by now; I have no doubt about that. Gareth wants me out of the way, but he wanted to play with me a bit first." He laughed that hopeless laugh again. "Guess he was afraid I might try to pull the plug on him again."

"I read Jonathan and I felt only honesty from him. If he's doing what Gareth wants, then it's against his will."

"I have faith in your abilities, Kira, but there might be a way for him to fool you. I'm … I'm just worried that you may have read Gareth wrong, too. Maybe this is a trap."

I swallowed. "Don't say that."

He looked at the door again, at the buzzer I'd pressed almost ten minutes ago. "We need to get out of here right now. There are other places we can hide." He reached around to the back of his head. "Shit. I wish we didn't have these implants. It won't be long before they'll be able to pinpoint our location down to the square foot. They must have some precautions set up in case competitors manage to escape-some sort of alternate plan. We can't stay in one place for too long."

I looked at the door again, and my high hopes for something miraculous to happen began to wane. "Dammit. Maybe you're right."

He reached down and took my hand in his. "There's only one person I'm going to trust, Kira, and it's you. I hope you feel the same way about me."

I nodded, and he leaned forward to kiss me lightly on my lips. The warmth of his mouth burned through the chill I was feeling.

I trusted him. I did. More than anybody in the world.

We turned back to the passageway just as we heard the door leading to the street slam shut and heavy footsteps begin to approach.

"Somebody's coming." Rogan pulled his gun out of his waistband.

I reached for my own gun.

Just then I heard a popping sound, and something in the back of my head began to tick.

A metallic voice spoke up: "Unable to detect implant signal. Please return to the proper signal range. Not complying will result in implant self-destruction in ten minutes. Countdown begins now."

I looked at Rogan with wide eyes. There was a gleam of sweat on his brow. He raised an eyebrow. "Just keeps getting better and better, doesn't it?"

"What do we do now?"

"Get your gun out and aim. Let's deal with one thing at a time."

I ignored the ticking in my brain and fumbled at my gun. I was out of bullets, but whatever was coming didn't know that. I gripped the weapon in both hands and pointed it at the half darkness of the hallway. Shit. I hoped Rogan still had ammo. The footsteps increased in speed and volume until finally somebody appeared in front of us. He was also holding a gun.

Jonathan. He was dressed in dark pants and a long-sleeved shirt but wasn't wearing his white coat at the moment. His forehead was shiny with sweat.

"Drop your weapons!" he commanded.

"You first," Rogan snarled.

"Rogan, you need to do as I say and drop your weapon."

"Not exactly taking orders from you right now, asshole. I will pull this trigger and waste you."

Jonathan's gun shifted in my direction. "You shoot me and I'll shoot her."

Rogan's breathing increased. "Don't even think about it."

"Jonathan," I said. "How did you know we were here?"

He was sweating. "Are you going to listen to reason, Kira? Or are you going to be stubborn like Rogan?"

"Well, since you just threatened to shoot me, I'm not so sure what I'm going to do."

I studied him for a moment, holding my useless gun so tightly that it began to cut into my skin. I remembered when I used my flex on him. He gave the distinct impression of being honest and truthful, but there was a ton of guilt mixed in. Despite all the lies I knew he'd told, my gut was still insisting that he wasn't one of the bad guys.

"What are you guilty of, Jonathan?" I asked. "Answer me that right now."

My question surprised him, I could see it in his expression, but he didn't lower his gun. "Guilty? I'm guilty of a lot of things. I don't even know where to begin."

"But you feel bad about what you've done."

His expression darkened. I noticed that his gun was trembling slightly. "I feel bad. That's why I'm here. That's why you need to hear me out. There's no time. You have to trust me."

I stared at him for a moment longer, then dropped my gun and held my hands out before me.

"Kira, what the hell are you doing?" Rogan growled.

'Trusting my instincts."

"Your instincts are going to get you killed."

Jonathan's gun was still trained on me, and I eyed it warily. I felt a line of perspiration slide down my spine.

"Consider that a show of faith," I told him. "Now talk."

"Your implants have probably started their self-destruct countdown, haven't they?" he asked. When neither of us confirmed it, despite the constant ticking I was dealing with and the recent notice that there were eight minutes left, he continued. "I was notified the moment you escaped the game and moved out of network range." A smile twitched on his lips. "Well played, by the way. Well played."

"No thanks to you," Rogan said, every word coated in venom.

Jonathan licked his lips nervously. "I've done what I can. I healed you, Rogan. I healed Kira's leg after the shooting. I prevented the other men from abusing Kira just before the reward level." He raised an eyebrow at me. "They aren't terribly fond of you anymore."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Sarcasm dripped from my voice.

"So they know you've escaped. They know you must still be in the city."

Rogan glared at him. "And let me guess. You've notified them that we're here. Isn't that convenient."

Jonathan shook his head. "No. They don't know. I'm the only one who knows you're here."

'Then I strongly suggest that you drop your weapon," Rogan said again. "Right now."

"I want to help you, Rogan, but I'm also quite concerned for my own well-being. Can you understand that?"

"More than you know. I was fairly concerned with my own well-being the four years I was in prison."

Jonathan winced. "Some things were unfortunately unavoidable."

"Yeah, unfortunate. That's a word. Now lower your weapon away from Kira, or I swear to God I'm going to fill you with enough holes that you'll be able to see out of your own ass."

I almost laughed at that. Obviously I was just short of hysterical.

"I don't think Jonathan wants to hurt us." I reached out to touch Rogan's arm.

He flinched and looked at me out of the corner of his eye. "Why, because of your instincts?"

"Yeah."

"Not good enough."

"Fine." Jonathan let out a loud sigh of exasperation. "There's simply no time for this." He bent over and placed his gun on the ground. Rogan stormed toward him and grabbed his arm, swinging him around to push him up against the wall next to the door. He pressed his gun against Jonathan's head.

"Now tell me why you're here."

"I'm here"-Jonathan's words were partially muffled by the fact that his face was squashed against the wall- "because you pressed the buzzer."

"Which means what?" Rogan snapped.

"The buzzer is connected to a device I wear at all times. It informs me if someone has found the safe house your brother had me set up three years ago."

Rogan grabbed Jonathan's shirt and swung him back around roughly. "Explain more."

"Your brother is not himself. There was an accident."

"I know."

"You know?" Jonathan's eyes widened. "You know about the virus in the artificial intelligence program that took over his implant?"

"Old news."

"How long have you known this?"

"About ten minutes. But I'm ready for something that will actually help us right now."

Jonathan's chest heaved. "Then you may not know that there were times in the beginning when the real Gareth was able to come forth and give instructions without the virus knowing. He attempted to stop what was happening. In the end he lost the battle for control of his body, but he was able to do some small things, such as set up this safe house for worthy contestants who wanted to escape. You are the first to have made it this far."

"Six minutes until implant self-destructs," the tinny, metallic voice in my head announced.

Rogan looked at me, and I could see the strain in his face.

"We need these implants out," he said.

Jonathan sighed. "Yes, you need them out or you're going to die. Now take your damn hands off of me and come inside so I can get to work."

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Rogan still had his gun held up defensively as Jonathan unlocked the door and touched the light pad inside before hurrying into the small house.

"Come with me immediately," Jonathan said before he disappeared into another room through a narrow archway.

"Five minutes remain until implant self-destructs."

With that announcement I began to feel a small burning sensation at the back of my head, and I was again reminded of what was left of Mac's body on the roof after his implant exploded. I shuddered at the memory and followed Jonathan into the next room, a kitchen with a stove, refrigerator, and long wooden table.

"Sit there." He nodded at a single chair to the side of the table.

I didn't argue and did what he said, easing myself onto the hard, unyielding wooden chair.

Jonathan produced a piece of fabric, which he unrolled on the table in front of me. There were several silver medical instruments, all very sharp, all very dangerous-looking.

"If you hurt her-" Rogan warned.

"If you keep distracting me with that gun, I may do just that by accident." Jonathan had a syringe in his hand, and he filled it with a small amount of clear liquid from a tiny glass vial. "There's no time to put you completely under, Kira, so a local anesthetic will have to do."

I eyed him uneasily.

"Wait." I held up my hand as he approached. "Rogan, didn't you say that the implant will detonate if removed improperly?"

Before Rogan could say anything, Jonathan replied instead. "That's absolutely true. However, I am one of the very few people trained in removing such devices properly. But you must hold still and stop talking."

Okay, so even though Jonathan had lied to me several times, I was putting my life in his hands because I had a "hunch" he was a decent person. Was that enough?

Dammit. It had better be. There weren't any other choices at the moment.

"Put the gun down!" Jonathan commanded Rogan. "Or I won't do this at all."

I glanced at Rogan, who met my gaze. Finally, the muscles in his arms flexing, he lowered the gun and placed it on the counter next to the stove. His expression didn't change from that of menace. I knew if Jonathan made one wrong move, then Rogan would reach over and break his neck.

Oddly enough, the thought was surprisingly reassuring.

Any thoughts, reassuring or otherwise, disappeared from my mind as I felt the jab of the needle to the back of my head. A few seconds later my eyesight went a bit blurry, and a numbness began to spread across the back of my scalp to my ears, then to my cheeks and jawline.

Rogan sat down next to me and reached for my hand.

"It'll be fine," he said, and his voice was muffled, as if he were speaking to me from another room.

"Sure it will." My words were so slurred it sounded like I was drunk.

It will be fine, I repeated internally, trying to focus on anything other than the ticking in my head. Three minutes wasn't a lot of time.

Jonathan reached forward and chose a scalpel. I squeezed Rogan's hand and closed my eyes. Despite the anesthetic, I could still feel the knife score my skin, right where the original incision was. I felt an ooze of warm blood slide down the back of my neck before it was wiped away.

The instruments rattled together as Jonathan took something else from the selection. First he dabbed something on the wound.

"I'm neutralizing the connection," he said. "It should prevent the implant from exploding when I remove it."

"It should prevent it from exploding?" Rogan repeated. "You better damn well be sure."

I squeezed Rogan's hand tighter, and then I felt a strange pulling sensation.

Then there was a pain so intense and pronounced that my eyes snapped open and I inhaled sharply.

"Dammit." Jonathan's voice was strained. "Please hold still!"

I felt a series of painful snaps, and then for a moment I saw nothing at all. I'd gone completely blind, and the total darkness felt as if it were smothering me. Just as that thought was settling in, my automatic fear of the dark closing in around me, my vision cleared and I heard a metallic thunk as Jonathan tossed my bloody implant into a metal canister filled with a clear liquid.

He grabbed another instrument; this one was red-orange on the end, and I knew it was because it was extremely hot. He pressed it to the incision, and I smelled my flesh burn as he cauterized the wound.

I couldn't hear the ticking countdown anymore. It was gone. I felt a small sense of relief, but we were only halfway there.

I looked down at Rogan's hand. I'd clutched it so hard that I'd made little half-moons that filled with blood from where my fingernails dug in.

"I'm sorry," I managed, my words still slurred from the drug.

He brought my hand to his lips and kissed it. "You're a very brave woman."

"Thank you." I managed a small smile. "You're next."

"There're two minutes remaining," Rogan tensely told Jonathan.

"Then please hurry," Jonathan said, anxiety coating his words.

Rogan and I switched places and I held his hand, being careful not to hurt him again as Jonathan began working on him. Rogan kept his eyes open through the operation, breathing steadily through his mouth.

I didn't want to look, but couldn't help myself as Jonathan cut a line into his scalp about two inches long. He held back the flaps of skin to reveal the implant, which was an inch square. Little blue and red wires as thin as hairs disappeared into the skull itself.

Jonathan dabbed the implant with the colorless neutralizing solution and then used another tweezerlike instrument to pluck those metallic hairs out of the tissue connecting it to Rogan's skull. When they were detached, the implant itself finally gave way.

"What about his other implant? The prototype one from years ago?" I asked as Jonathan closed the wound and used the cauterizer on it. Rogan squeezed my hand tightly as the smell of burned flesh wafted under my nose.

Jonathan shook his head. 'There's no time. That would be a deep cranium operation. I'd need to saw out part of his skull to get to it. I don't have the time or the facilities to accommodate an operation of that magnitude. Besides, that implant never worked. It's not a priority right now."

I eyed the implant dangling from the end of his silver instrument. "So we're clear?"

"Not quite." Jonathan flipped Rogan's implant into the now pinkish water along with mine, grabbed the container, and took it over to the counter. He dumped the concoction into a blender and hit the on button.

With a churning, metallic grinding sound the implants were destroyed.

"Now, that should do it," Jonathan said, flicking the machine off. "Not terribly scientific, but it works."

I let out a long, audible sigh of relief.

"Are you okay?" I asked Rogan as I stroked his face, which had paled considerably during the operation.

He raised an eyebrow. "I'm still breathing. And you?"

"Never felt better."

"Glad to hear it." He glanced at Jonathan. "Thank you for helping us."

"You're very welcome." Jonathan came over to the table and sat down heavily in a chair facing us. "Now we must see what we can do about getting the two of you to safety."

Rogan's eyes narrowed. "That's all you have to say to me? After everything that's happened? I am grateful for you removing our implants, but that doesn't change a damn thing from the past."

"No, I don't suppose it would. What would you like me to say?"

"Maybe an explanation of what the hell's been going on?"

Jonathan's lips thinned. "It's quite simple, really, and you already know most of it now. An unexpected computer virus attacked the Ellis mainframe and attached itself to the artificial intelligence program that we'd been creating. It took over Gareth's implant and has been using his power and influence to grow stronger with every passing day. It feeds off the brain waves of the subscribers through their implants. Every year he's gotten more powerful. And with the Ellis fortune to back him, all he has to do is throw money around and he has a league of employees willing to do whatever he wants. Most of them believe they're simply working for a power-hungry boss with very little moral fiber."

"How has The Countdown remained a secret all this time?" I asked.

"Very simple," Jonathan replied. "Fear. Those who come to work closely with Gareth sign a confidentiality agreement, which, if broken, will result in the torture and death of an employee's family first, the employee second. There has not been one instance of an information leakage. Currently we have over fifteen thousand subscribers fitted with implants, who each pay upward of one million dollars a year to be a part of the feed." He snorted softly at that. "Ironic. The feed that feeds Gareth. And there is no end to his appetite."

I did the math in my head. The Countdown was grossing a minimum of fifteen billion dollars a year.

Jonathan continued: "Now that the implants and his ability to feed from the subscribers is perfected, he plans to drop the subscription fees and widen his network, even spreading to Offworld. All he needs is people who want to be entertained and are willing to be fitted with the implant."

"Why haven't you tried to stop him?" Rogan clenched the side of the table. His knuckles were white.

Jonathan pressed his lips together. "What makes you think I haven't? I have been secretly working behind Gareth's back on a plan to put an end to all of this before it gets even worse."

"I can help you," Rogan said.

Jonathan shook his head. 'The best thing for you to do is to get as far away from here as possible."

"I disagree," Rogan said firmly. "He's my brother-"

"All the more reason for you to stay away. You're too close to the situation. You will only interfere with what I have planned. Besides, it's my duty to do what I can. After all this time, I've waited too long…."

I watched the different emotions play on his face. "And you feel guilty about it. I read you when I was in the hospital room."

His jaw clenched. "Yes, all I feel now is guilt. So much time has passed, and I haven't known what to do. I've watched the true Gareth slip away and a monster take his place, and all the time my fear for my own safety has kept me from taking the necessary action to stop it." He blinked, and then met my gaze. "I'm still amazed by your abilities, Kira. Can you tell me more about them? You were marked down as a low-level psi, but if that were true you wouldn't have been able to read me so well. I am wondering if perhaps your father, since he, too, was a scientist, may have manipulated the data so you would be able to stay under the radar for so long. There are those who wish harm to anyone who may be different from them."

I thought of Kurtis. He'd wanted to kill me for what I was. What I am. He'd been hired to take me out seven years ago. Maybe my father really did hide how strong my abilities were-and not just from me.

"I don't know. I… I've never really used my ability much before. A little here and there, but it always hurt, so I didn't really explore the possibilities. But now that I've been using it a lot, playing this game, I can do way more than I thought I could."

I licked my dry lips. "I can get pictures, words…. It's as if I'm actually reading somebody's mind … or more like a blueprint of what their thought patterns are. But I've always been able to tell if somebody's a good person or a bad person down deep by touching them."

"Like a flesh-and-blood lie detector?"

I shrugged. "I don't know if you could say that. I read you as being honest, but you've lied to me a bunch of times."

His expression darkened and he looked away. "I'm sorry for all of that."

"But it doesn't mean you're not honest. You obviously want to do the right thing by trying to stop Gareth. A few lies doesn't change what you are deep inside."

"I hope you're right. I really do." Jonathan sighed deeply and then stood up from the table. "I've arranged for two tickets on the next shuttle to Offworld for the both of you. Once there you will be able to go your separate ways."

"Separate ways?" I repeated, glancing at Rogan.

"Of course." Jonathan nodded. "Now that you're not bound together by the ninety-foot implant parameter, you're free to part company."

There was silence for a moment as I let that little piece of information settle in.

"When docs the shuttle leave?" Rogan asked.

"It will be here in four hours, at precisely three o'clock. Out back of this safe house is a set of train tracks. The shuttle appears as a regular commuter train so as not to incite a riot of people wishing to leave. It will stop here for only two minutes and then take you to the docking station, where you will leave for the journey to Offworld." He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out two folded pieces of paper. "Here are your tickets."

We each took one. I stared at the small printing on it. So official. This was what I'd been wanting for so long now that it seemed surreal to actually be holding it. This was all it took? This little piece of paper was enough to change my life forever?

"I've written the name of a man you should contact once you've arrived, Kira. He's a scientist who specializes in helping women like you who are have higher-level psi abilities. He will pay you well for your cooperation in his studies. I promise that the studies themselves will cause you no pain. In fact, the more you use your ability the less pain you should experience. It's like exercising a muscle, you see."

I bit my bottom lip. "And then what?"

"And then the sky's the limit, really. I can see you potentially working in law enforcement." He smiled. "What better way to find out someone's guilt than to see into their very soul?"

"Law enforcement?" I smiled at the absurdity of the suggestion. "Are you serious? Won't they mind that I've picked a few pockets in my time?"

He smiled. "I think they might forgive you." He turned his attention to Rogan, and I noticed that his eyes were shiny with emotion. "As for you, Rogan. I cannot express to you how sorry I am for all the pain you have been through these last four years."

Rogan's throat jumped as he swallowed. "The past is over. I'm free now."

Jonathan nodded. "As I said, Gareth has had a few sentient moments over the years. He was able to arrange for a bank account to be set up for you in the new city in your name. I personally arranged to have your criminal record cleared, so your name will cause no red lights upon your arrival on Offworld. You should be able to access the bank account number I've written on your shuttle ticket without any problems. Gareth wanted you to have enough money to last the rest of your life."

Rogan stared at the ticket. "He … he did this for me?"

Jonathan nodded. "You should know that he begged me once to kill him while he was in control of his body, but I couldn't do it. The virus within has always looked at me with suspicion since that day. He doesn't trust me. He has associates with him … bodyguards … every time I'm in the same room with him."

"And how were you able to get away today?"

"After your escape, Gareth was furious. The headquarters were in chaos. I had a feeling that you might be headed here, and when you pressed the buzzer I was able to simply slip away. I'm afraid I won't be able to stay for much longer, though. In fact, I must leave immediately."

"I'm coming with you," Rogan said firmly.

"No, you're not. My plan does not involve you. I must do it myself."

"What is your plan?"

His expression was tense, and he was silent for a moment before he fished into the front pocket of his pants and pulled out a small card. "I will contact you in a week to tell you if I was successful. However, if you don't hear from me, then it means that I failed. Wait a couple of weeks until everything has calmed down and then go to the location on this business card, even if you must return from Offworld."

Rogan looked at the card. "Why can't I help now?"

"It's too dangerous. Especially with your recent escape. The moment they see you they will kill you. They'll kill both you and Kira."

I held on to Rogan's arm and glanced at the card. It had a strange H-like symbol on it and an address here in the city.

"What is this place?" I asked.

Jonathan lips thinned. "Just a small glimmer of hope after years of darkness."

"You do talk in riddles, do you realize that?"

He gave me a meager smile. "It's one of my talents, actually."

Rogan took a step closer to Jonathan. I wasn't sure what he was going to do until he thrust out his hand toward the other man. Jonathan took it and shook firmly. Then Rogan grabbed the other man into a rough hug.

"Thank you," he said. "And I wish you luck with your top-secret plan, whatever the hell it is. Please do what you can to save my brother."

"I will." He nodded and his eyes were sad. "But I should have done more. Sooner."

"Hell yeah, you should have. But better late than never."

I gave Jonathan a hug, too. "See, I knew you were a good guy after all."

"I wouldn't go that far." He pulled away, and I could see that his expression was sad.

"Thank you for the tickets," I said.

He nodded. "You have four hours. Stay inside this house until then. Understand? There are clean clothes upstairs if you would like to change. Good-bye." He turned away and left the kitchen. A moment later I heard the door slam behind him.

Rogan looked at me.

I stared back at him.

"My head is fucking killing me," he said. "I have no idea why."

"It might be because a big piece of metal just got yanked out of it."

"Yeah, that could be part of it." He looked at me for a moment longer. "I shouldn't have let him leave. I should be helping him."

"You heard him. He has a plan."

"I wish he would have told me what the hell it was." His expression was grim, his attention on the path Jonathan had just taken to leave the safe house. "But you're right. It would be crazy to interfere. Right now, after everything we've been through, I just want to get as far away from here as possible. I want you to be safe."

"I'm really sorry about your brother," I said.

He didn't look at me. "Yeah, so am I."

I reached around to the back of my head and felt the hard ridge of cauterized skin. "I can't believe the implant's gone."

"I know."

"And here I thought I was going to have to get used to having you within ninety feet or less of me for the rest of my life."

His smile faded at the edges. "Good job they're finally out, right?"

"Yeah. I'm … I'm going to go upstairs and look into that change of clothes Jonathan mentioned."

"You do that."

I swallowed hard and turned away from him, leaving the kitchen. Around the next comer was a flight of stairs to the second floor.

Once we got to our destination we'd go our separate ways. Was I thinking there would be another outcome to this story? Rogan had enough problems to deal with without having me-one big problem magnified a thousand times-in his life. He was better off without me.

And I was better off without him.

After all, I was getting my wish. I was getting the chance to go to Offworld, just like I'd dreamed of doing for years. I was going to go where my father had planned to take me and my mom and my sister all those years ago. I wondered what my life would be like now if that plan had gone through. If, instead of living on the streets of this dying city for seven years, I'd lived those years on Offworld, the start of a new civilization with tons of potential and future happiness.

However, I wouldn't have met Rogan.

I pushed the thought away. We'd been thrust together- neither of us had had any choice in the matter-and we'd dealt with it the best we could, and now it was over. It was just dumb luck that I'd fallen hard for him.

I'd never been in love with anybody before.

It sure hurt like hell.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

I took the stairs up to the second floor of the safe house very slowly, as if there were weights attached to my feet. At the top I tapped the light pad on the wall so I could take a better look around. The house was small, but fully furnished. In some ways it reminded me of the house I grew up in. Or maybe it was just the fact that it was a real house, not some crappy place where I could crash for the night to get off the streets.

The stairs behind me creaked, and I realized that Rogan was following me.

"I haven't had a chance to check the clothes yet," I said.

He was frowning. "I know. I just wanted to tell you that since we have a few hours until the shuttle arrives, we should probably try to get some rest if we can."

His words were dry and fairly clipped. He wasn't making eye contact with me anymore, which was a little strange. I swallowed past the lump in my throat.

'That sounds like a good idea," I said, and turned away from him.

"Kira…"

I turned back. He climbed up the rest of the stairs until he was standing next to me in the hallway on the second floor. I waited for him to say something else.

He didn't.

"What is it?" I prompted.

His throat worked as he swallowed. He studied a small picture of a lake and an overhang of trees on the wall over my shoulder. "Will you see the scientist that Jonathan mentioned when you get to Offworld?"

"Yeah, I think so. I mean, sure I will. I want somebody to help me with my abilities. All my life I never even realized anybody else was experiencing similar things to what I did. I thought I was some sort of a freak."

"You're not a freak."

'Thanks for the vote of confidence." I smiled weakly. "And what about you? Now that you don't have to have me tagging along with you everywhere you go, what are your plans?"

"That's a very good question. I'm going to wait for news about my brother, and after that…" He shook his head. "I guess I'll have to see where life will take me."

I nodded and pushed away the sadness that I'd probably never see him again. "Well, I wish you luck."

There was silence for a moment, and I began to feel very awkward, and at a loss for words. I didn't want to say anything I might regret. He'd moved to block my way to the back rooms, where I assumed the clothes might be.

I eyed him uneasily. "Can I get past you or do I need to pay a toll?"

His lips curled. "Of course."

But he didn't move.

"Urn, hello?" I said. 'The moving-out-of-my-way thing we talked about? We do have four hours, but time is fleeting."

He snorted softly and looked up at me, finally capturing me in his gaze. "It's going to be a little strange."

I bit my bottom lip. "What's going to be strange?"

"Not having you around anymore."

My heart began to pound faster. "I thought you'd be glad to finally get the hell away from me."

"Glad isn't exactly what I'm feeling right now."

He was acting so strangely, I didn't know what to make of it.

I took a deep breath. "What are you feeling?"

He shrugged and looked away again. "Forget it. I know the past couple of days have been really rough for you, Kira. To say the least. Getting stuck with a guy like me isn't exactly a picnic, even on a good day. Don't worry; just a few more hours and we don't have to be together anymore."

I touched his face and forced him to look at me.

"But we're together right now," I said, and slid my fingers into his dark hair.

He studied me warily for a moment, as if he wasn't sure what to make of that last comment. Then he closed the remaining distance between us and crushed his mouth against mine in a hard, deep kiss that made me gasp against his lips from the sheer force of it. He pressed me up against the wall, and the picture of the lake went crashing to the floor.

He ate at my mouth, devouring it, sliding his tongue between my lips.

All of the stress, panic, fear that I'd felt over the last two days parted to make way for the single-minded passion I felt for the man in front of me. If this was going to be the last time I got to touch him, to kiss him, before we got on the shuttle, then I damn well had to make it worthwhile. I didn't want him to forget me.

At that thought, my heart ached. I hadn't known Rogan a few days ago. He hadn't been a part of my life. Now he'd managed to become the most important part. The thought both scared me and thrilled me. I had thought I was dead inside, but he'd managed to prove that that wasn't true. He made me remember that I was alive.

With a growl I felt against my mouth, he moved to kiss me down the side of my neck to my collarbone. My hands were on his back, pulling him closer to me, bringing his face back against mine, and I kissed him.

I felt as if I couldn't get enough of him, his taste, his smell, the feel of his body pressing into me. Nothing could stop the flood of desire I felt for him. There was just this moment. Just Rogan and me, and nobody else in the world existed.

Suddenly he broke off the kiss roughly, stared into my eyes for a moment, and ran his thumb along my bottom lip, which now felt swollen and very tender.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked.

I could barely speak, so all I said was, "No. Don't stop."

He drew closer and whispered against my lips, "I'm very glad to hear it."

I thought he'd kiss me again, but instead he sank to his knees in front of me, and I felt his hot breath against my bare thighs. He didn't say anything else and was totally silent as he slid his hands under my short black skirt, catching his fingers at the sides of my game-provided black thong. Then he tore it off.

He parted me with his hands, and I gasped out loud as I felt his mouth and tongue on me. I arched against the wall and tangled my fingers into his hair, trying not to pass out from the intense pleasure.

Stars exploded behind my closed eyelids.

"Rogan …" I moaned his name. After another minute I screamed as an orgasm ripped through me and shattered my world completely.

He rose slowly to his feet and captured my mouth again in another rough kiss that swept through my senses and made my body shake with need. I felt weak and had to cling to him to stay on my feet. What was left of my thong twisted around my ankles, and I clumsily stepped out of it.

"Kira," he managed, and my name was harsh, an almost guttural sound whispered against my lips. "Kira, I want you so much."

I felt his hands on my breasts, his thumbs sliding roughly against my hard nipples, which were very visible through the thin fabric of my low-cut black Countdown top.

I couldn't speak, just nodded in agreement. Nothing mattered to me anymore except his hands, his mouth, and the feel of his hard cock rubbing against my thigh.

He let go of me briefly to fumble at the front of his black pants. Then he pressed me back more firmly against the wall and lifted my right leg up over his thigh. I felt him against me-hard and thick-and then with a deep thrust he was inside of me, driving his length in and out, in and out….

I clung to him, moaning his name over and over as he took me against the wall of the safe house-holding him tightly, my hands in his hair, on his shoulders, clutching at his back as he kissed me over and over and over, and I knew then that I never wanted to let him go.

****

I figured that finding a new outfit could wait for a while. What can I say? I was a bit distracted. For two or three hours.

My lips felt bruised. For that matter so did the rest of my body-but in a very good way this time. I peeked at Rogan from behind a pillow. Yes, we'd actually found our way into a bedroom eventually.

He grinned at me. "Like I said before, the best postprison piece of ass in the city."

I whacked him with the pillow. "That's so funny. You should be a comedian."

He grabbed the pillow and threw it to the side and then pinned me down to the bed. I looked up at him. He stroked back from my eyes the hair that had fallen onto my face. "What am I going to do with you, Kira Jordan?"

I smiled. "Well, you haven't been doing badly so far. I would have to vote for more of the same, please."

He kissed me slowly. We'd progressed from fast and hard to slow and steady and everything in between. He trailed his tongue up my throat and along my jaw line until he came to my ear.

"We'd better get ready to catch the shuttle."

My smile widened. "My, how time flies when you're busy fucking your brains out."

"Such a sweet talker," he murmured. "Even if it wasn't time to catch the shuttle, I'm completely exhausted. You're a lot younger than me, you know."

"I'm almost twenty-three." I frowned. "Now that you mention it, I guess I am. How old are you? Almost thirty?" I made a face. "I think many of the things you just did to me are against the law."

"What I just did to you?" He raised an eyebrow. "Sweetheart, I now have scratches where scratches should never be."

I inspected my fingernails. "Weapons of mass destruction, at your service."

He leaned over and kissed me again. I could get very used to the way Rogan kissed me: slow and precise and warm and firm. His mouth made my toes curl. I'd definitely developed a Kerometh-like addiction to the man's lips in record time.

"Get dressed," he said.

"Yes, sir." I got up on my side of the bed and walked over to the wardrobe. I slid open the door and inspected the clothes inside. "I guess Jonathan never planned on a woman using the safehouse. These are all men's clothes."

"You see anything in there for me?"

I threw him a pair of jeans and a dark green T-shirt. He could still wear the black boots he already had. I took a pair of dark blue pants that were in the smallest size possible and slipped them on. They were still very loose around the waist, so I grabbed a belt, which helped a bit. On top I chose a long-sleeved light blue shirt, which I tucked into the pants.

I turned around.

"Looks good to me," Rogan said.

"Not exactly high fashion, but I've worn worse." I slid on my old black combat boots again. They'd do for now. "How much time do we have?"

He glanced at the digital clock that was next to his side of the bed. "Forty-five minutes."

Just then I heard a slamming sound from downstairs. I froze. Rogan didn't waste any time. He grabbed the gun he'd placed on the bedside table, and we were out of the room in a flash.

We turned the corner at the bottom of the stairs to see that Jonathan had just entered the house and stood by the sink in the kitchen.

I let out a long breath. "Jonathan, thank God it's only you."

He didn't say anything. The lights were off in the kitchen, and Rogan tapped the wall to turn them on.

I gasped. Jonathan looked terrible. His face was as white as snow and damp with perspiration. The skin around his left eye was dark purple, the white of it filled with red. He clutched at his upper chest with his right hand and supported himself against the counter with his other.

"What the hell happened?" Rogan demanded, coming to his side.

Jonathan shook his head. "There's no time. I learned that the shuttle would be early and had to tell you. You must leave now … you have only minutes. Gareth and the others-they know…. They're … they're coming for you…."

"What? They know about this place? Did you tell them?"

"They know that I… that I helped you." He backed up until he was against the kitchen counter. "They've been suspicious ever since I gave you the antidote. They think I helped you escape."

He slid down to sit awkwardly on the floor.

"What did they do to you?" My heart was banging painfully against my ribs. "What can we do to help?"

He gave me a very weak smile. "Just be safe."

Then his expression stilled and his eyes glazed over. His hand dropped away from his chest to reveal a large, bloody wound.

Rogan dropped down beside him and pressed two fingers to Jonathan's throat. He looked up at me grimly. "He's dead."

My eyes filled with hot tears that spilled immediately to my cheeks. "What? He can't be dead!"

His expression was stony, his jaw tense. "They killed him. Dammit to hell." He leaned forward and closed Jonathan's eyes, and then got to his feet. "We need to leave right now."

I shook my head. I didn't want to believe it, but it was true. Jonathan was dead. He was the only one who had helped us. The only one who cared enough … and they killed him because he helped us. I tried to swallow but my throat was too dry.

Rogan's hand closed around my upper arm and he pulled me along with him out of the kitchen. Then I heard banging on the front door. Someone, or a lot of someones, was trying to get in. They were from The Countdown. They were trying to get in and to get me and Rogan and take us back or kill us or-

"Kira, come on," Rogan urged, and I shook my head, trying to clear it enough to put one foot in front of the other. We slipped out the back door just as I heard the splintering of the red door behind us. The back of the safe house looked out on a backyard. Beyond a small fence was a set of train tracks.

A train was stopped there, and my heart lurched at the sight of it.

'That's the shuttle," Rogan shouted. "Come on: we have to hurry."

Why was it early? Maybe they changed their schedules at their whim. How did they even know where to stop? At first glance it didn't look any different from a normal train on the line that crossed the country, but it was different. It was here just for us.

A white-haired man reached out to me from the side of the shuttle. "Do you have a ticket?"

I nodded and showed him the ticket Jonathan gave me, then wiped at my tearstained cheeks with the back of my hand. He eyed the ticket, then eyed me. If he saw anything strange or suspicious, either he didn't show it or he didn't care.

"Welcome aboard," he said.

I climbed up on the shuttle and turned around to look at Rogan.

"Ticket?" the man asked Rogan.

Rogan was looking back at the house.

"Rogan!" I tried to get his attention. He turned slowly to look up at me, and I reached my hand out to him. "Come on, there isn't any time. They're coming."

He rubbed his lips together. "I know."

The man frowned down at him. 'The shuttle's leaving, sir. On or off?"

Rogan didn't tear his gaze from mine. "I'm sorry, Kira. I can't go with you. Now that Jonathan's gone I have to stay. My … my brother. I can't just leave him behind, knowing what I now know."

I felt panic clawing at my chest. "What? No, you have to get on this shuttle right now. We can think about what to do later, when we're somewhere safe. Those men-"

"Those men are being controlled by something evil that needs to be stopped." His expression was strained. "I'm sorry, Kira. I want to come with you, but I can't leave. I have to stop him."

The shuttle let out a sharp whistle. I felt frantic. No. We were on the shuttle. It was here. It was about to leave to take us somewhere we'd be safe. My dream come true of starting a fresh new life, finally, after all these years.

But of course he was right.

"I need to go now," Rogan said, still staring into my eyes. "Please don't be mad."

"Mad?" I managed. "Mad doesn't even begin to cover it, Rogan Ellis."

I jumped off the shuttle. God help me.

"I can't wait any longer, miss," the man said.

I turned to look at him grimly. "I understand."

He nodded and blew a whistle. The shuttle began pulling away from where we stood.

"What in the hell do you think you're doing?" Rogan growled. "You were on the shuttle. You were leaving."

"I know. And now I'm off the shuttle and I'm staying." I clenched my jaw. "Now, are you going to stare at me all day, or are we going to get the hell out of here before those white-coat-wearing freaks figure out where the back door is?"

He chanced a glance back at the safe house and then looked at the departing shuttle.

"That was a stupid decision, Kira." His voice caught on my name. "Dammit."

I sighed. "You're probably very right."

'There's no guarantee you'll be able to find another shuttle."

"Well, that's just the chance I'm going to have to take." I glared at him. "What, do you need a literal countdown all the time to get your ass in gear, or what? Let's go!"

His arms were crossed in front of him, his gun tucked into the waist of his new jeans, and he started walking along the outer line of the fence. We didn't say another word until we found an opening and were able to dart through a neighboring yard and then along a side street that took us back out onto Paragon Avenue. A cool wind had picked up, and it blew my dark hair around my shoulders as we emerged on the populated street.

"They're going to be looking for us," Rogan said.

"Obviously. So what's the plan?"

"The plan is to get you somewhere safe, and then I'm going to the location on the business card Jonathan gave me to see if it gives me any answers. Shit, I just wish Jonathan had told me more. Stubborn bastard." His expression was shadowed with anger and grief.

"You want me to go somewhere safe?" I repeated.

"That's right."

'Think again. I got off that shuttle for one reason and one reason only, and that's to help you stop the virus and save Gareth."

He laughed at that.

I narrowed my eyes. "What's so damn funny?"

"Save him?" he repeated. "Actually, my plan is to kill him."

"What?"

"You heard me. Jonathan said it himself. Gareth begged for Jonathan to kill him when he had the chance. It's the only way to put him out of his misery and to get rid of the virus once and for all before it goes through with its plans to take The Countdown even wider than it already is." His throat worked as he swallowed. "It's the only way."

I shook my head. "There has to be another way."

His gaze tracked sideways to me as we hurried along the crowded sidewalk. We walked past the homeless man, and I noticed there were a few coins in front of him now.

"Oh? And please tell me, being as you're so technically savvy."

I gave him a look. "Sarcasm is not terribly appreciated right now. I don't know anything about computers or viruses or anything, but I can't believe the only option is to kill him."

He hissed a breath out between his teeth. "Don't make this more difficult than it has to be."

"You're not a murderer."

"I killed two men in prison."

"Only because you had to. But this is your own brother."

He glared at me again, and his eyes were shiny with emotion. 'This is difficult, Kira. Don't think it isn't. Why didn't you stay on that shuttle? Then at least I'd know you were safe. Dammit. Why did you have to jump off?"

Because I love you.

But I was too much of a wimp to say that out loud. "Because you need my help. I'm in this just as much as you are, you know. And just because I make it to Offworld doesn't mean that Gareth's men will stop looking for me. After all, I know all about the real motive behind his little game. Can you promise me that they won't look for me? That they won't try to kill me no matter where I am?"

He didn't reply.

I crossed my arms and kept walking. "No, I didn't think so."

My now implant-free brain was working overtime. Computers. Viruses. Artificial intelligence. Stuff that could have been out of my parent's sci-fi DVD collection of old movies. I'd seen things while playing The Countdown that I'd never seen before in my life-things I hadn't even thought existed. Holoscreens, cranium implants, a freaking talking evil robot that shot me in the damn leg.

It was all way, way out of my league. I could pick a pocket or con somebody into buying me lunch on a good day, but that was about where my talents ended.

"Wait," I said after another moment, looking around the street. This area seemed extremely familiar to me suddenly. "Where are we going?"

He handed me the business card. I studied the logo that looked like an H again. I knew I'd seen it somewhere before, but I couldn't place it.

"Somebody there knows something," he said. "But I don't know who or what."

My eyes widened. "I think I know who. Well, I'm sure it's not exactly who Jonathan was dealing with, but I know this place. I know somebody who goes there all the time."

"Who?"

"Colin. The guy from the mall, remember? I've been friends with him for years. He's totally into computers. This.. this place … I know it because he wears the logo on a T-shirt. It's an underground computer gaming network. He hangs out there for hours, sometimes days."

Rogan didn't look convinced. In fact, he looked rather disappointed as he stared at the business card. "A computer gaming network? How in the hell is that supposed to help us?"

I shook my head. "No idea."

"Maybe it's a mistake. Maybe Jonathan gave me the wrong card to throw me off so I wouldn't get in his way. Hell, maybe he didn't have a plan to stop Gareth in the first place."

I touched his arm to stop him from walking. "We can check it out. Maybe Colin will know something."

He looked grim. "Yeah, maybe."

"Considering that your other option at the moment is storming into one of the biggest office buildings in the city and trying to take out the CEO by force, I'd say this is something that we look into. I don't suppose you're on the VIP list at Ellis Enterprises anymore, are you?"

'To say the very least. In fact, they'd probably shoot me on sight."

I nodded firmly. 'Then let's go to this place and hope like hell that Colin's there. If anything seems off then we're out of there."

He didn't say anything for so long I was sure he was going to argue with me some more. "Fine." His forehead creased. "I still think it was a bad move for you to jump off that shuttle, Kira. But… but thank you."

I nodded and ran my hand down his tense, muscled arm. "Oh, and just for the record, Rogan?"

"Yeah?" He raised an eyebrow.

"I really don't think we should have gotten out of bed so soon." I moved my fingers up to his hair and pushed it off his worried face. "I'd say that things were pretty great up until then."

He let out a small bark of a laugh. "Yeah, I have to agree with you there."

I put my arms around him and pulled him close to me in a tight hug. His heart beat fast and loud, keeping pace with my own. He kissed me, and for just a moment I was very glad I jumped off that shuttle.

Then suddenly we were jostled and I had to break my hold on him.

"Watch where you're walking," an old man snapped as he gave us the evil eye. "Get off the sidewalk and get a room. Damn useless kids."

Rogan raised an eyebrow. "See, he doesn't think I'm old."

'The man has to be over a hundred."

"Still." He leaned over and kissed me again lightly on the lips, and it burned right through me.

After a moment I pulled back and felt the reality of the situation settle over me. "We need to get going. I know the place is right around the corner from here."

He nodded. "Then lead the way."

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Years ago, kids used to get together and play networked video games in secret underground locations, staying for hours and hours working their way through the levels- fighting against one another or working in teams to accomplish their digitized goals.

Not that much had changed, really. Ever since the plague, new technology available to the general public had come to a virtual standstill, so the same sort of games were as popular as they were two and a half decades ago.

Colin was one of those kids, bringing his laptop computer to his secret gaming headquarters to get plugged in. He always bragged to me about how amazing he was and how nobody could beat him. He was a god among gods when it came to kicking ass and taking names in the digital jungle. At least, according to Colin himself.

I never listened too much to him. I never liked or hated computers. To me they were freaking boring.

That was before a walking, talking computer put a bullet in my leg.

I was ready to take a stand and say that I didn't like them too much anymore.

"Here." I nodded when we got to the location on the business card almost an hour after leaving the safe house. The front door had no marking other than the H logo on the door. I remembered now. According to Colin, who wore a T-shirt with the same thing, it was the Hagalaz, a rune symbol for "controlled chaos."

Welcome to the Secret Society of Computer Geeks, I thought.

Rogan nodded, pushed the door open, and we went inside.

I still had hope, but it was waning a bit with every passing minute. How in the hell was a place like this supposed to help us? What was Jonathan's purpose for giving us that business card? It didn't make any damn sense. I was hoping it would start to make sense soon or we were going to be shit out of luck.

I didn't want Rogan to get killed trying to assassinate Gareth.

Hell, I didn't want to get killed.

But Gareth had to be stopped. Some way, somehow. There was no other choice.

And the nerdy guy playing the video game on his laptop in the corner of a dark basement at the bottom of a skanky flight of stairs might just be the person to help us stop him.

However, I could be very wrong.

The only light in the basement came from the flickering screens of ten computers. All of the guys-a quick scan told me that they were all of the male persuasion- faced the four walls spread along a jutting table that spanned the circumference.

Any socializing was on-screen. Each monitor showed a different piece of the digitized action. Each player was fitted with a visor that hooked into his computer. Colin told me once that he owed a small fortune to the owner of the place for the extra equipment, but it made everything seem more real-like he was really playing a game of life and death.

Having experienced the real deal, I had to say that playing for your life wasn't all that much fun.

There was a stale smell in the basement of sweat, along with something sweet and a little sickening, and a very faint odor of urine.

Lovely.

I didn't always stay in the nicest, cleanest places, but this was definitely not even up to my low standards. In fact, I would rather never see what might be crawling around in here if they ever turned on the overhead lights.

"Nice place," Rogan whispered to me, and I felt his hand at my waist as he surveyed the room. "You come here often?"

I gave him a look over my shoulder. "Oh, yeah. This is really my kind of place."

"There's your friend." He nodded in the direction of a hunched-over Colin with his back to the stairwell.

"Wait here," I said to him. "Or somebody might recognize you."

"No, wouldn't want that."

I thought he might be insulted by what I'd said, but instead he sounded vaguely amused. I felt his fingers tighten at my waist and then he released me. The floor was carpeted and seemed a little squishy as I walked across it in my boots. I glanced back at Rogan while I moved through the dark room-but not dark enough to trigger my phobia. As long as I could see what was going on around me, then I was fine.

Colin was completely focused on his computer screen. His hands, encased in cybergloves, moved as he worked his way through the game. I could see it on the screen. His computer persona was walking through a darkened hallway with dirty walls. Doors appeared to either side as he moved along. I could see the tip of a weapon at the bottom of the screen. A big gun, maybe even a flamethrower. I wasn't sure.

Despite my disinterest in the gaming world, I recognized the game as one called "Anarchy." Apparently everybody played it. It had something to do with the bad guys trying to take over the world and the good guys trying to stop them.

But first you had to decide which side you wanted to play for.

I wondered what Colin would think about The Countdown.

"Colin." I reached forward and closed my hand over his shoulder and shook him lightly.

He shot up in the seat and let out a hoarse scream. Onscreen, the door in front of the computer-Colin burst open and I could see the outline of a figure who immediately opened fire. Digital blood trickled down from the top of the game screen.

Words appeared on the screen:

YOU'RE DEAD, ASSHOLE! NUCLEARXXX KILLED YOUR SORRY ASS! EVIL REIGNS!

"Fuck!" Colin yelled, and whipped off his gloves. Then he took off his goggles and furiously spun around to face whomever had just made him lose his fake life.

His eyes widened when he saw it was me.

"Kira!" he squeaked. "What are you doing here?"

I grimaced and nodded at the screen. Typed-in taunts were coming in from his opposing players. He wasn't being mourned for his great on-screen sacrifice, that was for sure.

"Sorry about that," I said.

He looked regretfully at the screen, which now read: LOSER!!!!!!

"Yeah, well, whatever." Then his gaze shot back to me. "What… what are you doing here?"

I bit my bottom lip. "I need your help."

He looked confused. "Didn't you ask me for help in the mall and then go all psycho and take off? I thought you were mad at me or something."

"No, I'm not mad. The psycho thing may be debatable, though." I let out a sigh. "I've been really distracted lately. I'm sorry if I seemed like a bitch to you."

"You told me to leave you alone."

I forced a smile. "I was having a really bad day. Do you have a minute?"

"You were with that guy-"

"Colin, listen to me. Can we just go somewhere private where we can talk?"

"Where are you going?" Another gamer next to Colin took off his visor. He looked about fifteen years old. "You need some time alone? Colin, I didn't know you had a girlfriend. She's fucking hot, too." He stuck his tongue out and waggled it very lewdly.

"She's not my girlfriend," Colin said very coldly. "She'd rather be with men who have police records. Sorry I'm not up to par yet, Kira. Where's your new friend?"

"Right here." Rogan appeared at my side. "Is there a problem?"

I glared at him. "I thought I asked you to wait over there."

"I guess I don't take orders too well."

"Obviously."

Rogan looked at Colin. "Now, I believe that Kira was asking you for a favor because she considers you to be a friend of hers. Are you really saying no to her?"

Colin's eyes widened. "I… I… don't know. Um …"

"Just chill," I said to him. "We don't need everybody in here freaking out right now."

The fifteen-year-old took a step closer. "You're Rogan Ellis."

He didn't seem to be freaking out. Which was a good start.

Rogan studied him for a moment. "That's right."

"You can call me Snake."

Rogan eyed him. "Snake, huh?"

'That's right. It's not my real name, but it's my screen name and I prefer it. Man, I can't believe this. Rogan Ellis standing three feet away from me."

My mouth went dry. This wasn't what I wanted. I didn't want a confrontation right here. Not now, there wasn't time.

"Let me guess," Rogan said dryly. "You want my autograph. A lot of people love to collect the signatures of serial killers. Got my share of mail asking for just that."

"Nope." Snake shook his head. "You totally didn't do it."

Rogan's eyebrows shot up. "I didn't?"

"No. Why, are you saying that you did?"

"No … it's just…" Rogan closed his mouth for a moment, and his gaze flicked to me. "It's just that when I meet new people they usually assume that I'm some kind of monster."

The kid flicked his hand dismissively. "You were set up. It's obvious to anybody with half a brain. I even have a Web site devoted to proving the conspiracy that sent you to prison."

I eyed Colin. "Did you hear about this?"

Colin nodded. "Yeah, but Snake's theory is that it has to do with aliens. I never took it too seriously."

Snake glared at him. "Shut up, loser."

Colin didn't even look at the kid; he stayed focused on me. "I tried to show you one of those sites once as a joke but you blew me off. Said you weren't interested in some boring murder case. Guess you've changed your mind on that one now, right?"

Rogan raised an eyebrow at me.

I cleared my throat. "Well, um … right. I think I remember that, now that you mention it."

Hindsight has a strange sense of humor, I think.

Another gamer had taken off his visor and gloves and stood to the side watching our interaction silently. The remaining seven players continued on as if nothing were happening outside of their video game.

"Rogan Ellis," he said after he'd been noticed.

Rogan eyed him. "And you are …?"

"Name's Joe. Screen name's NuclearXXX. I own this place." He extended his hand and Rogan shook it. "So I finally, officially get to meet you."

I took in a quick breath. The owner of the place Jonathan had a business card for was glad to meet Rogan. That had to mean something.

Rogan glanced at me. It was obvious that he was thinking the same thing.

"Good to meet you, too," he said.

"A lot's changed since the last time we saw each other."

Rogan pulled his hand away and studied the guy suspiciously. "We've met each other before?"

"Well, not officially. I saw you in passing five and a half years ago when I came in to interview for a job at Ellis Enterprises."

Rogan frowned. "I never did interviews personally."

Joe leaned back against the table. "No, but we were in the same elevator."

"Sorry." He shook his head. "I don't remember."

"No, I'm sure you don't. But I do."

"Oh, yeah?"

"I was completely floored to be sharing the same air as you. You were so… I don't know. Impressive, I guess. Thought I'd take a moment and try to break the ice, so I commented on your secretary's ass. She had a very fine ass." His lips thinned. "When we got off the elevator you told the interviewer not to hire me. I heard you."

Rogan's expression didn't change. "I don't remember that at all."

Joe shrugged. "Hey, whatever. It's been years. You've been through hell since then; I know that. You're out of jail already? Did your lawyers prove you innocent?"

"Something like that."

I looked at Colin. He watched Joe and Rogan's conversation intently. The other kid, Snake, had obviously grown bored with the whole situation and had gone back to playing the game.

Colin shook his head. "I can't believe you'd want to be with that guy."

There was a dark venom attached to those words. I knew Colin had a crush on me. It was obvious, and I wasn't just being vain by thinking so. There were computer programs in which you could use a real person's appearance on a computer model and then have virtual sex with it. The thought made me feel a bit sick, especially since I'd caught a glimpse of a character on Colin's computer that looked a bit too much like me for comfort. That had been a few weeks ago. Ever since then I'd been trying to keep some distance between us, hoping that he'd get over it.

Not that Colin had never acted on his feelings. He'd never even mentioned them to me. I didn't feel threatened by him at all. But there was still a level of discomfort there. I also didn't want to encourage him, since I didn't feel anything but friendship for him in return.

I was really hoping he would move on to another object of affection very soon. However, even after the little scene in the mall the other day, I'd just seen over his shoulder that his desktop wallpaper was a picture of me.

Terrific.

Therefore, and in my opinion, the hairy eyeballs he was giving Rogan probably had very little to do with the fact that he was a wrongly convicted rapist and murderer, and much more to do with the fact that he was in my company.

"Colin-" I began.

He held up a finger. "I have to take a leak."

He turned his back on me and left the room.

"Okay," I said slowly.

"So what are you doing here?" Joe asked.

Rogan reached into his pocket and pulled out the business card. "Somebody gave this to me."

Joe shrugged. "I appreciate the word-of-mouth advertising. I like to keep things small here. Don't want this place to get too overpopulated."

"Do you know somebody named Jonathan?" I asked. "He works for Ellis Enterprises, too."

Joe shook his head. "Sorry, no. I don't know anything to do with that place. Don't really care, either, since I'm not working there." He grinned. "But no hard feelings, of course."

Why did I think he was lying? It wasn't a terribly friendly grin he was giving Rogan.

Rogan studied him for a moment. "Have you ever heard of something called The Countdown?"

"Rogan!" I grabbed his arm. It felt almost like a magic word that shouldn't be invoked. Say it too loudly and the bad guys might swing in and grab us.

I waited. Nobody swung in.

"The Countdown," Joe repeated slowly. "Now, that could be a listing of popular songs this week, or you might be referring to a secret death game. Survive or die, right? Yeah, I've heard of it. Thought it was just a rumor."

"Just a rumor?" Rogan said. "Then why do you have a folder on your desktop labeled 'Ellis-Countdown'?"

Joe blanched. Even in the half darkness I could see that.

"Dammit," he managed before Rogan grabbed his shirt and threw him up against the table. All the computers shook.

The other gamers removed their goggles to see what the disturbance was.

Rogan glared at them. "Get the hell out of here right now."

He said it with enough menace to clear the room immediately. That is, after they all carefully disconnected their computers so as not to damage the intricate circuitry.

Then they fled up the stairs and out of the building.

Joe didn't fight back against Rogan, but he looked scared to death.

"Talk," Rogan growled.

"Okay, okay. After I didn't get that job I was pissed. And okay, I wasn't just pissed at myself. I blamed you. That was a wicked opportunity my father set up. He said it was a sure thing, and you had to blow it for me. I even met your brother, Gareth. He was awesome and bought me lunch. But one word from you screwed my life."

Rogan didn't let go of him. "So you hated me. What then?"

"I went home and sank into a mega depression. I worked for a year on a little present for Ellis Enterprises to get back at you. I was bitter, yeah. Sure I was. And, hey, I had a hell of a lot of time on my hands, being unemployed. At the time I lived with my father, and he had loads of money, too-that's how he knew Gareth to get me the interview. Same circles and all that. I heard a rumor about your new game, The Countdown, and that's where I wanted to be. I wanted to help develop something for real that I normally just played online. It would have been so sweet."

"What was the present you're talking about?" I asked.

He eyed me. "Well, first I had to hack the Ellis mainframe before I could do anything. Took me a year to do that until I finally got in."

There was silence in the room.

"And when you got in, what did you do?" Rogan asked quietly.

"I uploaded a virus. A nice, juicy one I'd made especially for you. One that would know its way around and sink into everything and start eating all of your company's precious data. I uploaded it and waited to hear news of the system going down. Of everything you'd worked for going up in flames. Other than the blackout later that night there was nothing. However, the next day you got your ass arrested and thrown in jail. I figured my virus was a failure, but karma kicked in and worked its special magic anyhow."

My eyes had widened with every word he said. The virus. The virus that had seeped into the artificial intelligence program and uploaded itself into Gareth's implant during the power surge.

The thing that had ruined Rogan's life.

All because of a job opportunity lost for a throwaway sexist remark.

A flap of a butterfly's wing turning into the proverbial hurricane.

Rogan laughed then, and it sounded just this side of insane.

"What is it?" I managed. "What's so damn funny?"

He let Joe go finally, and wiped tears from his eyes as he tried to bring his laughter under control. "My … my secretary. I don't even remember what her name was."

Joe shook his head. "She had a great ass."

I couldn't believe this. Jonathan must have known. He'd known that Joe was the one responsible for the original virus. That was why he had the address to this place.

Rest in peace, Jonathan.

But why? Why would he care anymore who created the virus? What difference would it make now?

Unless…

I moved closer to stand at Rogan's side. I looked at Joe, whose chest heaved with each breath he took. He didn't look guilty for what he'd done; he looked annoyed that he'd been caught after all this time.

"Is there an antivirus?" I asked.

Rogan looked at me. "Of course. That must be what Jonathan was after."

Joe raised his eyebrows. "An antivirus? After all these years? Why would you even care anymore?"

With a deep breath, Rogan launched into the story. He made it quick. It wasn't long before Joe was blinking rapidly, and a drop of sweat slid down his temple.

"Oh, shit," he said.

I crossed my arms. "You were serious when you said you didn't know Jonathan."

He shook his head. "No, I'd never met him before."

"It still doesn't explain why you have that folder on your desktop," Rogan said evenly.

"Ever since my virus failed …" He blinked. "Or since I thought it failed, I've been a bit obsessed with all things Ellis, especially anything to do with The Countdown. I even reapplied for a job there a couple years ago. Gareth interviewed me personally and offered me something great. Then he told me about the implants. Still sounded cool, so I got fitted with one while I made my decision on the job offer. I got to actually watch a few levels of The Countdown. Man, I was so stoked." He licked his lips. "But… but then I saw somebody get eliminated. They killed him on camera. Gareth laughed it off like it was nothing. Told me that this was the future and I should get used to it. He showed me the contract. Practically had to sign that fucker in blood. Then.. somebody approached me. Told me that they'd help me get out before it was too late. He removed my implant and told me to run. I did."

Rogan and I exchanged glances. So Joe had met Jonathan after all; he just might not have known his name.

"What happened then?" Rogan asked.

"I've been in hiding ever since. I know The Countdown is a big secret. I know I know too much. My father died in a car crash a week later. I've convinced myself that Gareth arranged for his death, but I don't have any damn proof. That's what that folder is. It's research. I know about the game, the levels, how they select competitors. I know about the implant linking." He shook his head. "It's just so horrible. You don't know what The Countdown is really like now."

"Yes, we do," I said. "We've been playing it for three days against our will."

Joe's mouth dropped open. "You're lying. Then how did you get here?"

"We escaped."

"If you have an antivirus," Rogan said, and I could hear the strain in his voice, "then we need it. It must be the only way to stop the virus now."

I heard a door shut as Colin returned to the room. "What arc you guys talking about now?"

I walked over to him. "Colin, I know you're pissed at me. I can understand that. But if you trust me at all, I need you to leave here. Go somewhere safe."

"What are you talking about?"

I pressed my lips together and felt a tear slip down my cheek. I didn't want Colin to be pulled into this any more than he already was. "Look, you said you had a cool new job lined up, right?"

"That's right."

I forced a smile. "I want to hear all about it. Soon, okay?"

He looked at me strangely. "Okay."

I gave him a hug. "Just take off. Come back here tomorrow or something."

"If… if you say so. Sure. Okay. I'll go. Um … I'll leave right now."

I frowned. Why did he sound so scared?

I pressed my hand against the back of his neck and concentrated long enough to flex a little.

It was all I needed.

I pulled back from him to look at his face. "What kind of a job did you say you got?"

He smiled, but it was a little shaky. "I'm going to be working with computers."

I nodded slowly, still close in the hug with him.

"What's going on, Kira?" Rogan said from behind me.

"I'm not sure." I slid my fingers into the hair at the back of Colin's head, hoping I wouldn't find what I was looking for.

But there it was.

Colin had a freshly installed implant.

He took a step back from me.

"I'm sorry, Kira," he said.

My throat felt thick. "You're sorry?"

"I'd already had my interview with them before I saw you at the mall. I had no idea you had anything to do with the game. They took me and fitted me with an implant so I could watch." His expression shadowed. "They told me that if I saw you again then I… I had to contact them."

Rogan now stood beside me. "Where have you been for the last few minutes?"

He wouldn't make eye contact with either of us. "They're going to be here in two minutes."

My eyes widened and my heart started pounding hard-a sensation I hadn't had for a little while, but I recognized it well enough. A familiar sensation of fight or flight.

I was voting for "flight."

Another countdown commences.

"I'm sorry," Colin whispered again.

I opened my mouth to say something to him-to scream at him for selling us out-but Rogan took a step toward him first. That was enough. Colin staggered back from him and tripped on a wire. He fell and hit his head against the side of the computer table, managing to knock himself out.

I grabbed Rogan's tense arm.

"What are we supposed to do now?" I managed.

Joe's eyes had grown very large. "They're coming here? Shit. Somebody go up the stairs and lock the damn door."

Without anyone asking me to, I did just that. I thundered up the stairs as fast as I could, still favoring my sore ankle, and turned the dead bolt. I went back downstairs.

"We have no time," Rogan said. "We need the antivirus and we need it now."

Joe's entire body was tense, and I was certain he was going to try to run away. I was equally certain that Rogan wouldn't let him, but we didn't have time for a physical confrontation. Not here. Not now.

Joe finally nodded his head sharply. "Okay. Let me think." He turned and sat down heavily in front of his computer and put his fingers on the keyboard. "I know it's around here somewhere. It's been a while, man, like, over four years. I hope I didn't trash it."

The idea made me feel like throwing up.

"But will an antivirus actually work?" I asked. "I don't know shit about computers, but wouldn't it have progressed too far for that by now? Like, evolved?"

Joe shrugged with one shoulder as he whipped through folder after folder, which appeared and disappeared in flashes of light and color. "That's entirely possible. But you won't know unless you try. If you can get to the main artificial intelligence server, shove the antivirus in, and launch it, then you might be able to do some damage."

Rogan gripped the back of Joe's chair and he watched the scrolling files appear on-screen. "I wish like hell I knew where the AI server was now. It used to be on the second floor, but that was years ago."

"It's in the subbasement," Joe said absently. "It was mentioned in passing during my orientation tour. Some employee told me by mistake, and Gareth changed the subject quickly, so I figured it was a big secret."

"What room?" I asked.

"Shit, I can't find it." The files scrolled down the screen faster than I could read them. "Where the fuck did I put it? I'm so disorganized."

"The room?" I repeated louder. By my estimation we had less than a minute left to get the hell out of there.

"Uh … I thought it was strange at the time, but now I guess it makes perfect sense. It's marked as Gareth's office, even though I know his real office is on the top floor. The room has a computerized lock that only certain employees can access. The only people who are able to get in have a red name tag, if that helps. I remember that because it made me think of blood. My blood. And I didn't want to spill any of it either, then or now."

Just then I heard a bang and I nearly jumped out of my skin. At the top of the stairs somebody was knocking loudly on the outer door.

"It's a strong door." Joe's voice shook a little. "Trust me, paranoia will take you places. Especially dark, well-locked places. We have a minute."

I looked at Rogan, and his expression was strained and bleak. I moved toward him and slid my arm around his waist.

"I'll hold them back for as long as I can," he murmured into my hair after he kissed my forehead. "And you escape. Maybe I can talk some sense into them."

"I don't think they'll be too interested in talking. They'll just try to kill you."

"Don't be so sure. I have a strange feeling that Gareth will want to see me personally. Find out how we beat the system. I'll be questioned before they kill me."

"Rogan …" My throat constricted at the thought.

"Here it is!" Joe shouted, sounding very relieved. "I found it! I just need to put it on a minidisk for you."

He opened a drawer next to him and fumbled through a variety of objects that included a half-eaten banana. He closed his fingers around a small blue plastic disk about the size of a quarter, pushed it into the slot on the side of the computer, and clicked a few keys. After another moment he pulled it out and handed it to Rogan.

'Take this. If you can get into that room-and I don't have any goddamned idea how you're going to do that- put this into the AI server. If it's going to work, that should do it."

Rogan studied the disk with a frown. "How will I know if it worked?"

Joe hesitated. "That's a good fucking question. I figure if it works you'll still be breathing."

"Great," Rogan said dryly. He eyed me, then looked at Joe again. "Is there a back way out of here?"

Joe swallowed hard. "Unfortunately, no. But now that I think of it, that would have been a really good idea. Escape routes, and all that."

The pounding on the front door increased. We were cornered, with only one way out.

I heard the front door begin to splinter open and I held a hand out to Rogan. "Give me the disk."

"What are you going to do with it?"

"I'll hide it in my bra."

He raised an eyebrow. "I didn't even know you were still wearing a bra."

"A lady has her secrets."

With only another moment of hesitation he handed it to me. "And you'll be giving that back to me when?"

"As soon as I can."

He forced a smile. "I just thought of something funny."

"Oh, do share. I could use a laugh right about now."

"I had no idea how I was going to break into Ellis Enterprises without getting caught. Security's pretty tight."

"Yeah, I bet it is." I blinked. "You think that's where they're going to take us?"

"I'm thinking it's a definite possibility."

I was hoping. I really was. I tucked the minidisk into my bra. Rogan took my hand in his, brought it to his mouth, and kissed it.

Then I heard several sets of feet pound down the staircase as Gareth's men came for us.