The Immortality Game

“Walk faster,” Alexei said. “Call the car, Oskar.”

Moscow

Sunday, June 8, 2138

5:31 p.m. MSK

“Wait. Stop,” Zoya said. She pushed Marcus’s hand from her shoulder and slumped against the jamb of the door at the top of the stairwell. She ejected the card from her slot and held it out to Marcus. “Please…‌take this before I hurt someone else.”

Marcus stepped back, shaking his head. “Hurt someone? If you hadn’t done what you did, that man would have killed us without a second thought. I’m sure of it.”

Zoya slid into a crouch and rested her head against the doorframe. She let her hand drop to her side. “I can’t do this. I just want my life back the way it was.” Her eyes shone with unshed tears.

When Marcus opened his mouth to respond, she shook her head to cut him off. “No…‌I know how stupid that sounds. Everything is gone.”

“I…” Marcus began, then looked down at the floor for a moment before meeting Zoya’s eyes. “I lost my father and my mother. Not the way you did…‌but I can guess how you feel now. Give yourself time. Let’s help your uncle and your friends.” He proffered a hand.

Zoya rubbed her eyes, ignoring his hand. “I’m sorry about your parents, but everyone around me is dying. Please go away. I don’t want your help.”

Marcus’s face flushed, and he stepped into the stairwell. I’m so tired…‌and I’m starving. He tried to calculate the last time he had slept, but his mind wouldn’t work straight and he didn’t feel like asking his father. The idea of going to the embassy-provided apartment and sleeping for several days appealed to his exhausted mind. He looked back at the waifish girl with the ink-black hair. Despite everything, he didn’t want to leave her. He knew he had no chance with a beautiful girl like her, but if nothing else he wanted to keep seeing her. “You said every moment counted. You said they could die if you didn’t help them. If you don’t want my help, at least get up and go help them yourself.”

He began walking down the stairs, hoping that she might follow. If she did, he couldn’t hear it. «Father?»

«Yes.»

«Do you have any way of telling whether any more of these bad guys are around?»

«I can’t say for sure. There are surveillance cameras all over the place, but many of them are broken, and I can’t see everything.»

«Can you have the driver prepare the car? I don’t want to linger out in the open once I get downstairs.»

«I can…‌but Marcus, you should take the chip she offered. It may lead us—»

«Are you kidding me? After all that’s happened, you’re still worried about your damned body?»

«Marcus.»

«No! I haven’t slept in ages. My body is literally shaking. If I leaned up against this wall here, I could fall asleep in seconds. And this poor girl back there has lost everything. I don’t want to hear any more about it.»

Marcus cut off the link to his father. He wanted to run down the stairs, but he was afraid that in this state he might stumble and break his neck. It took several minutes to wend his way down the stairs, and on the second floor landing he nearly tripped over a body lying across his path.

“Hey!” came a rasping voice, accompanied by the stench of alcohol. “Help me, friend.”

Marcus froze, thinking he had run into another gangster. The man had dried blood in his greasy hair and on his stained white undershirt. Even in normal times Marcus would have avoided such a person. He tried to gauge the jump to see if he could get by the man.

“The bitch tried to kill me,” the man said. “Take me to the hospital.”

“Call an ambulance,” Marcus said.

The man’s eyes opened wide and he laughed with a wheezing sound. “Foreigner, yes? I thought your accent was funny. Call what?”

“An ambulance.”

“Is that your word for taxi?”

“You don’t have ambulances here?” Marcus thought he might be able to leap past the man, as long as the guy didn’t reach out and grab him. “They come and take you to the hospital.”

The man groaned and put a hand to the bloody part of his head. “I think I heard of something like that. For the rich folk, right? Do I look rich to you? Please, friend. Don’t leave me here. My head’s fucked up.” His eyes widened suddenly, and he pointed past Marcus. “That’s her! That’s the bitch who did this to me.”

Marcus looked up the stairs and saw Zoya. She had halted and was glaring at the injured man.

“You’d be fine if you kept your hands to yourself,” she said. “Now go home. You’re not hurt that badly, and I don’t have time for any more of your crap.”

The man gave Marcus a pleading look. “You see? Call the police. She’s crazy.”

Marcus stepped over the man’s legs. “Let us pass and she won’t hurt you again.”

“You’re with her? You—”

“I’ve had enough of men today!” Zoya pulled the gun from her waistband and pointed it at the floor near the man. “All of you!”

The man yanked his knees up to his chest and folded his arms around them. He looked away from the gun and mumbled something.