The Immortality Game

Zoya pulled out the package again, untied the string, and folded out the wrapping paper, revealing two black chips. One looked like the standard slot data card, but the other was slightly longer. If inserted it would jut out from her head. The markings on the chips told her little: the long one had a tiny label with ‘AVK 6-6-2138’ printed on it, while the small chip had a similar label marked with ‘K3 - v2.6’.

Georgy had always run drugs, weapons, women, or cash. Zoya had never known his gang to deal in data cards. She considered trying the small chip, but the thought made her nervous, so she slipped the cards back in her pocket.

The cab dropped from the main taxi lane and slowed as the refugee camp in what used to be Kolomenskoe Park came into view. Even at mid-morning the mess of nailed-together boards, shipping containers, canvas, and tiny pre-fab hovels teemed with people.

The taxi plowed to a halt above the cracked concrete parking lot of her apartment building. She stuck her thumb back on the screen to confirm receipt of service, waited for the beep, and shoved her way out of the cab.

She hurried toward the entrance to her apartment block but pulled up short, her heart suddenly thudding in her chest. Two sky cycles and an old green solar car were parked near the entrance. She’d seen the car many times; it belonged to Georgy’s creepy friend Tavik.

She couldn’t stop a whimpered cry from escaping her mouth: “Mama.”

Her first urge was to run upstairs and try to trade the chips for her mother. She remembered all the times Georgy had bragged about Tavik’s ruthlessness. “He leaves no one alive, ever,” he was always fond of saying. Zoya shuddered and tried to calm her spiraling thoughts. She needed to be able to think clearly. Call her!

She took off running toward the entrance, ignoring the stitch as it struck again at her side. She skidded to a halt at the door long enough to punch in the security code. When the door clicked, she flung it open and ran past the broken elevator toward the stairs. Her apartment was on the tenth floor, but she stopped on the fourth and ran down the hallway to Baba Sima’s door. She pushed the buzzer and began rapping hard on the steel door.

“Baba! Open up, it’s Zoya!”

There was a muffled reply and she heard the bolt click back on the door. She pushed it open and flung her arms around the tiny old lady on the other side. Though Zoya called her ‘Baba’, Sima wasn’t truly her grandmother, but she’d been a close friend of Zoya’s mother for more than forty years.

“What—”

“Sorry to burst in like this,” Zoya said. “Mama’s in trouble. I must call her.”

“What trouble? Let me call for help.” Sima tugged at the sleeve of Zoya’s solar coat.

“No, I’ll explain later. Please, just let me call her.”

Zoya didn’t wait for a response. She scurried into the small living room and plopped onto the couch. She pulled the Web cable out of the socket and inserted it into her slot.

It took less than a second to establish a link. She sent a handshake request to her apartment address. The line beeped three times before her mother’s voice answered.

«Zoya? When are you—»

«Mama, please listen to me. Is Tavik there?»

«We’re having tea. He and his—»

«Mama, please. Don’t let him know anything’s wrong, but you need to get out of there somehow. Can you do that?»

«Tell me what’s—»

«Shhhhhh! He’ll hear you if you panic. He’ll…»

She heard Tavik’s voice in the background and realized that her mother had answered on the old hand receiver in the kitchen instead of the Web line in the living room.

«Is that little Zoya? Tell her to come join us for tea!»

Her mind raced. «Tell him you need to come pick me up. Go to a police station. You can call Marina to come get you.»

Her mother whispered, «You’re scaring me. Please tell me what’s happening.»

Zoya put a hand to her mouth to stifle a sob. «He’ll kill you, Mama. Do what I told you, please.»

There was a strange sound from the other end of the line, a shrill cry.

«Hey, Zoya!» It was Tavik. «We need to talk. Come on home. Your wonderful mother will make pelmeni for us.»

«Tavik, I need Mama to come pick me up. Sorry. We can have supper later, after…‌after Georgy gets home. Let her come get me.»

«Uh, no, I think not. You have a package that belongs to me. Bring it to me and everything will be fine.»

«Let Mama come get me and—»

«You think I don’t know where you are? I put a trace on your line. My guys should…» There was a loud pounding on Baba Sima’s door. «…be there any moment. Now hand it over to them or—»

Zoya yanked the cord from her slot. “Baba, no! Don’t open it!”

A rough voice yelled from the hall: “Open up, bitch, if you wanna see your mama alive again. You make us come in there…”

Zoya ran to the living room window and was relieved to see that the fire escape appeared intact. She waved a hand at Sima.

“Hurry, Baba! We’ve got to go.”

“Go? I don’t want to—”