The Immortality Game

Zoya stalked by the man and stuffed the gun behind her back. She walked past Marcus like he wasn’t even there.

“Hey,” Marcus said. “Wait for me.” He scrambled down the steps after her.

He caught her as she cautiously opened the exit door and peered out.

“There’s a big black car right outside the door,” she said, hand reaching for the gun again.

“That’s my car,” Marcus said.

“Really? Then get in it and go.” She moved aside to let him pass by.

Marcus checked to ensure it truly was his car, then looked back at Zoya. “Do you have your own car?”

She tilted her head at him like he was being stupid.

Marcus blew out his breath. “What is it with you? I can help you reach your uncle or your friends much faster in a car. No?”

Her lips compressed into a thin line, and Marcus thought she wasn’t going to respond, but then she shook her head at him and said, “Oksana lives nearby. I don’t need a car to check on her.”

“Did I do something to you?” Marcus said. “I’m sorry if I did, but I really don’t—”

“I don’t want to talk about it. If you insist on helping, then get on with it.”

Marcus nodded and opened the back door of the car to let her in.

“What’s the address?”

“No need,” Zoya said, pointing out a side window. “It’s that building over there.”

“She lives close.”

“We met playing in the courtyard as children.”

Marcus tapped the plastic separating them from the driver. The intercom crackled and the driver said, “Yes?”

“Can you take us to that building right there, where she’s pointing?”

“What’s the address?”

Marcus coughed. “It’s right there.”

“I need an address. I don’t drive this thing.”

“Then what are you here for?”

“To help you in any way necessary.”

Marcus blew out his breath. “What, like a valet or something? A guide?”

“If you wish,” said the driver.

Marcus turned to Zoya. “Can you just please give him the address?”

“I don’t know the address,” she said. “I’ve never needed to know it. Never gone there by car before.”

“Look,” the driver said. “I think I can manage it.”

“Brilliant,” Marcus said and slumped back into the deep leather seat with a sigh. “I’m beat.”

Nothing happened for another minute, and Marcus was about to suggest that walking might get them there faster when the car at last began to lift off. It turned slowly in the direction of the indicated building and began to glide forward.

Marcus looked over at Zoya through bleary eyes. It took all his concentration to keep them open. The look on Zoya’s face—fear? thoughtfulness?—made her seem more lovely than ever to Marcus. Had any woman ever before made him feel this way? Not that he could recall. Mother had been a beautiful person, but no one except Father would ever have called her pretty. Marcus had rarely had opportunity to interface with a young woman since schools had gone completely virtual in fourth grade. Robots or drones delivered most products to the apartment, and Marcus disliked taking walks in the brutal Phoenix heat. At least there had once been some pedestrian traffic to observe through the windows, until Meshing took its toll on even that.

Marcus snapped his eyes open and saw Zoya staring at him.

“You’re falling asleep,” she said.

He thought about denying it but realized she was right. He’d been awake and under stress for far too long, and he couldn’t resist the cool comfort of the plush seat.

“Go on,” she said. “I don’t need your help to check on Oksana. Get some rest and…”

Whatever else she said blurred and vanished as sleep overtook Marcus.

Moscow

Sunday, June 8, 2138

5:43 p.m. MSK

Zoya had always envied Oksana her ground floor apartment. Working elevators were all but nonexistent in the poorer parts of the city. Climbing ten flights of stairs each day grew wearisome. Nothing looked out of the ordinary as the air car skimmed in low over the perimeter wall of Oksana’s apartment building.

“Set it down here, please,” she told the driver, “but be prepared to leave in a hurry.”

“Is Mr. Saenz sleeping?” The driver sounded annoyed at taking orders from her.

Marcus snored heavily, and she had no intention of waking him. “Look, you don’t need to wait for me. I’ll manage on my own if you drop me here.”

“Good,” the driver said. “I’ll bring Mr. Saenz to his apartment.”

Zoya nodded at the face in the rearview mirror, opened the door, and stepped out onto the cracked pavement. She examined the area again, but still there was no sign of danger. Taking a deep breath, she jogged to the entrance door and punched the buzzer for Oksana’s apartment. Oksana had the place all to herself ever since her mother had passed away last year. Sad as it was to think it, Zoya’s ability to have Oksana’s mother cremated at no charge was probably the best gift she had ever been able to give her friend.