The Immortality Game

The entry hall looked normal—pegs on the wall holding coats, hats, and umbrellas; pictures of various family members on one wall; a stand-up mirror; open doorway into the empty kitchen; closed door on the left leading to the bedroom; and an open walkway to the right leading to the living room. The living room light was on.

Almost as quickly as she had knelt, Zoya regained her feet and pressed her back to the wall to study her tactical options again. The card didn’t offer much this time. She could call out, make a quick entry through the door, or change her mind about entering altogether. The top choice was to use the mirror. At first she thought it meant the small mirror in her pouch, until she understood it meant the mirror in the entry hall. As soon as the thought occurred to her, she spun across the gap of the doorway to the other side. From this angle she could see into the mirror, which reflected a small part of the living room. Both the ceiling light and a lamp were turned on, and she saw part of the dining table and one of the couches. Nothing else.

She wanted to cry out in frustration, but the card wouldn’t let her. What to do now? The living room was the obvious place to check, but it would mean leaving the bedroom door at her back. At least the door was closed; anyone in there would need to open it first to get at her. The living room it is, she decided, and as she took her first step and her heart began to pound, the world about her seemed to slow. She saw everything with the crystal clarity with which she had attacked the big thug in her own building. Gun held upright, she spun through the doorway. Using one wall of the entry hall to narrow the angles of sight any attacker might have, she leveled the gun into the living room and scanned every corner. No one…‌except…

“God! Oksana!”

Despite the ropes, the gag, the gaping, terrified eyes, it was clearly her friend bound to one of the wooden dining chairs. With recognition, the card placed a green aura about Oksana, and then flashed an insistent warning that she should check both the bathroom and the bedroom. Zoya ignored the warning and rushed toward her friend, only to find herself heading for the bathroom door instead. Goddamned chip! She halted and looked through the options the card gave her, and this time she noticed a little override option in the lower right corner of her vision. She chose it and cried out with relief when she could move freely again. Oksana made funny, muffled sounds through the gag, and her eyes were so large they sent a chill through Zoya.

“I’m here, Oksana,” she cried, and tears coursed down her cheeks. “Everything will be okay now.”

Oksana continued her hoarse cries and frantically shook her head. Zoya could only imagine the terror her friend had gone through. She wanted to remove the gag, but she felt compelled to look into Oksana’s eyes first and try to calm her somehow.

“Shhhh,” she said, and brushed a hand across Oksana’s sweaty brow. “I’ll remove the gag and—” Her breath caught in her throat in horror, and she yanked herself upward and away as Oksana began to thrash uncontrollably within her bonds. An angry red welt rose at the spot where she had brushed Oksana’s forehead. Oksana screamed continuously through the gag and shook so hard that the chair tumbled backward to the floor. Zoya was desperate to help in some way, but she had no idea what to do and even the card gave her no good options.

Oksana’s skin turned red all over and seemed to be moving in some way, crawling or sizzling, like the moment a frozen slice of bacon is first dropped onto a hot frying pan. Her eyes bulged crazily and turned crimson.

Zoya stuffed her fist in her mouth to stifle a scream. Her only thought was Oh God! over and over and over again.

A faint smell like rotten eggs filled the room. Over Oksana’s muffled screams Zoya heard something, the barest crackling sound, and this sound, too, seemed to be coming from Oksana. Then Oksana’s left eye burst from its socket and ran, like a soft-boiled egg, across her nose.

Zoya threw herself backward and vomited on the carpet. She heard Oksana continue to thrash behind her, but there were no more muffled screams. She vomited again, and then retched and retched until her throat was raw with pain. There was only silence now from Oksana. Zoya rolled onto her side and pulled her knees to her chest, her body racked with sobs. She’d never for even one instant wanted to keep these blasted cards from Tavik, yet the bastards never gave her an honest chance to hand them over and instead continued to murder everyone she held dear. And what the hell had they done to Oksana?