Chapter 8- The Lost Sailor

  Sweat piles on my back as I slam the mallet onto the orange bar, sounding the following note, then requesting another break.

  “Another one?” Viper sighs impatiently. Her fully loaded paint gun sticks out from the window of her high tower castle, trained on me. “You took, like what, ten breaks already?”

  “Shoot me,” I respond. Playing the music might’ve been easy, but hitting the notes was not. The mallet is a cannonball screwed on like a lollipop, the size of a stop sign, a two-person job. By doing it myself, it drains my energy quite quickly.

  I toss the drumstick. It rolls toward her, thudding at the base of her princess fortress. The only pink and purple dollhouse in the town square, the only place with flower shops, grocers with fruits and vegetables out for sale, a tailor shop, and a printing press, all surrounding the Xylophone. The rest of the place is aligned like any street in the mix-cities, with intersections, crossroads marked on the carpet floor, populated by cars and wobbly figurines with soulless eyes that give me shivers.

  “Shoot me and you won’t find another to do your labor,” I add.

  Technically, I can finish it—I left one last note. But before I finish the composition, I need to sever this alliance. It’s been beneficial—I use them to keep watch and clear of other teams, and they use me for the manual labor, but it's only a matter of time before one of us betrays the other.

  The only problem is: we’re outgunned.

  “Finish the last note,” Viper commands. “Then you may rest.”

  In the lobby, I finish her unspoken sentence.

  Right about now, Raven’s on her way back from her watch, furtively stalking to the castle’s side walls. Like Falcon, she’s keeping guard of the vicinity, only without a gun, and unlike Falcon, she doesn’t stray too far from my view, whereas Falcon has been gone for ages.

  “Alright, Vips,” I say. I stretch my joints and spine before walking towards her, picking up the mallet over my shoulder. “I’ll see you in the lobby.”

  In a wide swing, I smash the mallet onto the thin castle walls. All the dollhouses open like a briefcase, the interior bare from the back. Easily knocked over with a heavy object like mine. The castle tilts backwards, and all the unglued furniture slides out, crashing with Viper on the carpet floor.

  Raven gets to her and her gun first. She shoots. Viper is stunned.

  “Sorry, Genni,” Raven says.

  We wait until her two-minute timer runs out, in hopes that Falcon might come back for his duo. But when the last second ticks and Viper’s elimination bell rings, there are still no signs of him.

  “Did he just give up?” Raven says.

  We search around the town square, staying close to the puzzle to see if Falcon’s hiding and waiting for the opportunity to attack, but another five minutes have passed, and it’s clear the man is gone.

  Fireworks blast, stealing my attention behind to see the bright festivities shoot from the jungle, specifically where I saw the other puzzle. Someone has solved it.

  “Who do you think it is?” Raven asks.

  I shrug. Ever since Qonni and Bison disappeared into the depths of the jungle, we haven’t seen them at all. None of the teams that came to the noise were their team colors. So there’s a chance they completed it, and an even higher chance they’re on their way here.

  There are still too many teams left, so I tuck the mallet under the xylophone, and we make it our goal to find Falcon. He might be quiet and reserved, but out of everyone, he’s the most capable of winning this alone. There have been times we forget about him, and at the last moment, he comes in and bites us in the leg. We can’t continue until he’s out of the equation.

  And before Qonni’s team gets here.

  We walk down the street where Falcon was last seen heading toward a ruckus. That was half an hour ago. The road is silent now, as if abandoned by the warning of an incoming threat we’re about to witness too late. The figurines are supposed to lighten the eeriness. Still, every one I pass makes me believe they’re civilians who used to reside in this town, hit by a curse, trapping their souls behind those plastic sheen eyes following me down the road, screaming and begging for help to deaf ears.

  Then we hear quarrels in the distance. Fighting. Two blocks and around a corner, we locate five players. Three are glowing with amplifiers, knocking into the walls, crashing them all down into a pile. The fight continues chaotically regardless of their ravaged surroundings, dashing like flies across my vision. The other two are out of the battle, one taking shelter with a gun in hand, the other limping out of the fight, his green strips glowing against the dollhouse walls.

  Falcon.

  We waste no time chasing him down, picking up our weapons, and aiming. And once we enter the battlegrounds, everything happens in a flash. A speed-amplified player crashes me into the side of a house, knocking it all down. Somewhere in the struggle, my paintgun triggers and freezes him. But I also suffered some injuries on my side. But my fight’s far from over as another one gets atop me.

  By the time the fighting stops, I’m left with a possible fractured rib and a half health-bar, and Falcon’s nowhere to be seen.

  I turn to see Raven by the side of the house, clutching an arm. She’d been in a fight of her own, drenched, water spilling down her boots. Her health bar is almost non-existent. I sprint toward her immediately to check her condition. She’s fine everywhere except her left forearm, crushed when the house crashed down on her.

  “I’m fine,” she says, and brushes me off. “Did you get him?”

  “Boxer boy fled,” I say regrettably.

  Raven curses under her breath.

  “We need to head back, though,” I say. “And find you a health pack. You’re one nudge away from elimination.”

  *

  We didn't make it back on time.

  When we round the corner of the street, a prominent figure stands atop the xylophone, the mallet over his shoulder. Bison.

  Qonni nowhere in sight.

  I stick against the wall, hoping he didn’t see us. They have half the moon, and they’re about to get the other half. Without a noise, we make our way to the town square through the interior alley and hide in the house adjacent to the fallen castle, peeking at the scene through the paneless window.

  Bison seems bored, marching back and forth on the music bars. “Where the hell is everyone?”

  “Don’t know. Don’t care,” Qonni says. Her voice, too close for comfort. “It’s the blue one.”

  Then it hits me that she’s right above us on the roof of the same house we’re hiding in.

  “Shit,” Raven exclaims hushedly.

  I immediately clamp over her jaw. Shut it. We gesture with nods and shakes of the head, coming up with empty plans to get out of here.

  “Are you sure?” Bison says. “They left one note? Seems too easy, no?”

  “About time things get easier,” Qonni retorts. “And yes, it’s playing The Lost Sailor. I can’t say for you, but I’ve been paying attention this whole time.”

  Of course. The universal nursery song, you’d have to be living in a cave not to know it. I’ve broken it up with random breaks in the interval just to throw the listeners off, but I suppose nothing can slip through her sharp mind.

  Bison sighs irritably. “Alright, alright. I’ll hit the note. You better not be wrong.”

  She’s not.

  Within the few moments in between, I procure a concept of a plan, and urged Raven to hide behind the sofa, so when Qonni comes down, she won't be spotted.

  I have one more bullet left in my paint gun. That, and a shield I picked up a while ago but haven't found a use for yet.

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Bison positions himself before the blue bar and drums the mallet down. The town rings, the puzzle vanishes.

  “Don’t make a move,” I shout, coming out from the side. My barrel on Bison, his arm raises.

  The moment I hear a pop, I raise an arm, and the force shield opens from the back of my hand, blocking the incoming hit. Musty yellow mists across my shield. Another pop. The ball lands yards away from me, bright green smokes the area.

  I come out of the vibrant mist. I see Qonni clearly atop the roof, my gun still trained on Bison. “Careful,” I warn. “You have one bullet left.”

  “So do you,” she says.

  “Yeah, but unlike you, I land my shots.”

  I can smell her sweet disdain from here. She takes no initiative to pull the trigger, but keeps her gaze close on me. At some point, I think she’d challenge my statement. But I still have one more block on my shield before it vanishes. So I’m not worried.

  “Where’s your teammate?” Qonni asks. She cuts across the field and even steals a glance behind her to find no one. “Did someone get to her before I did? In that case, you’re brave, Saber-tooth. It’s two against one.”

  “I’ve won with worse odds,” I reply. “And don't worry, my duo wouldn’t leave the game without taking you with her.”

  Qonni cuts another glimpse around.

  “Step aside,” I order Bison. A crate sits in place of where the xylophone was.

  Bison takes equal steps backward as I stride forward. “Miss you on my team, buddy,” he says. “This other cat’s really mean and bossy.”

  I keep the muzzle locked onto him until I reach the crate, and let out a chuckle. “Maybe next game, big boy.”

  I prob the crate with the rear of my weapon until it pops open. More guns and amplifiers bounce out, along with the last piece of the moon, and a single heart. I must’ve let my gaze linger on the health pack for a second too long, exposing my desperation for health even though my health bar is well above three-quarters. Because Qonni began descending from the roof by hopping the ledge, landing on the second floor balcony, then the ground, scanning the grounds once more.

  From her slim angle, she spots Raven.

  “There you are, you little rat.” Qonni adjusts her gun as Raven sprints away. Qonni chases her down the alley, and in the clear, she shoots.

  Without another thought, I pull my trigger.

  Her merlot red ball flies across the field right at Raven’s back. My ocean blue skids through the window frame into the interior of the house.

  The town makes an odd noise, like the pop of two champagne corks colliding against each other, sounding the alarm of the doom of the world. The two bullets erupt a deep plum violet.

  Qonni swings towards me, the sheen of her velm glares in my eyes. “You.”

  Yes, me. The one who shot her with a bullet.

  When my weapon fades into pixels, Bison tackles me from the side. He reaches for a star amplifier, and in a split second, he takes me five blocks down the street.

  ***Q***

  Not even their shadow can follow how quickly Bison takes Raze off my screen. About time he does something.

  The plum smoke blooms before me, fogging my field of vision, and Raven takes this chance to dash across the wind. Only when she reappears in the town square do I realize she’s headed for the unguarded crate.

  I chase. But she dives for the health pack, slamming it to her chest. Her grossly limp arm reverts to its original shape. I grab her by the ankle, pulling her closer to strike her sternum. She kicks my collarbone before it connects. I tumble onto the ground, but scramble back on my feet, ready for a brawl just as quick.

  But she’s gone. Sprinting down the direction where Raze went like the little rat she is.

  I should give chase, finish her off, but the timer is slimmed down to the last thirty minutes of the drill; there’s no time for side quests.

  Searching the crate, I pocket the guns and pick up the other half of the moon, merging the two. A bright gleam of lasers shines down the middle of the split, sealing it into a whole moon. The brightness doesn’t vanish. It grows until the light beams to the sky, revealing the location of the puzzle piece to the rest of the lobby. Great.

  And the worst part: I can’t store it in my pocket like other items. As annoyed as I am with this new predicament, I’m just glad to be the one holding the key.

  So what now? Cerena didn’t specify exactly where to put the moon, only that it’s on the mural. I’m not an artist myself, but to me, the mural already seems complete; the moon, the stars in the midnight sky, the treacherous tides, the boat, and the lost sailor at the bottom.

  The puzzle piece looks like a moon with painted craters, but in my hands, it’s nothing more than a dish plate from the caveman era. And the mural already has a large moon touching the ceiling, so how would this fit into the puzzle?

  I study the wall again—the Lost Sailor.

  Before Aba went utterly insane, he used to read me this bedtime story. The sailor was lost at sea with nothing but his flute and the mercy of the moon’s furious tides. So every night, he plays a song for her in hopes that it’ll soothe her wrath. It worked, and the moon guided the tides until the sailor found his way home. And every night after, the sailor continues to play the song in appreciation, and as a way of professing his love for her.

  That’s the children’s version.

  Later, on the rare occasions when Dr. Lena spent the night at home, she read me the original folklore, which is much darker and grimmer, because, in her words, I should always learn the truth. Once the sailor returned home safely, he forgot all about the moon and took a new lover. The moon watched them every night with envy. So one evening, she casts an unforgiving tsunami onto his island until it’s buried beneath the sea, drowning him and everyone he ever loved.

  But seeing as this is a children’s room, this isn’t the grim version. It’s the one where the sailor carries unconditional love for the moon, staring at it from the moment she appears and leaves at dawn, never taking his eyes off her. Then I see it; in the reflection of the sailor’s eyes, the moon in one eye. The other, in my hands.

  A low hum steals my attention. Had I not been deep in thought with my gaze averted, leaving my back open, I could’ve evaded what’s to come next. A moving vehicle—a toy car—steering my way. A green-striped driver with a water tank gunned at me. In a long spray, the water drenches my entire back. My muscles lock in place. Nerve shocking, screen malfunctioning.

  I lost all sense and fell over, not knowing how much time had passed until I finally came to. Bison’s calling me from above, shaking me alert. I jolt up despite the numbness in my body, my palms open empty. The moon’s gone.

  “You lost it?” Bison groans.

  “That bastard sneaked up on me!”

  I get up and search the sky, where I locate the white beam in between the narrow streets of the dollhouses. “It’s not far.”

  And I doubt he knows where he’s going. I stride towards a parked car in the street.

  “Just so you know,” Bison continues. “I won my fight.”

  From two houses down, I see Raven crouched beside Raze, lying flat on the ground. He and Bison lost the same amount of health, down to a little below thirty now. Must've been a lethal fight.

  “You had an amplifier,” I remind him. “So I sure do hope you win.”

  The streets are lined with cars, the same size as a real one. From the exterior plastic sheen, I assume it’s all adornment, but the interior says otherwise. Fashion with full leather seats, a dashboard, mirrors, and a stick shift. Regardless of the plastic coat, it’s a fully functional car.

  “Move,” I say, and nudge him aside. I step into the car. “You drive the other one, and flank him, alright?”

  I leave before he says another word.

  *

  I drive slowly at first, forgetting how dragging roads are; Navigating the air is much smoother.

  Even though Falcon has the moon, it doesn’t seem like he knows where to go. I’ve been tailing him for the last ten minutes, running circles around town and through the depths of the jungle, then returning to square one.

  Raze and Raven are no longer on the street where I last saw them.

  Eventually, Falcon turns a corner, and surprise: Bison is on the other end of the street, on high speed down toward us. Falcon doesn’t slow; instead, he tries to maneuver his way out and ultimately crashes headfirst into Bison.

  The collision shakes the houses around us. The plastic windshield crunches, his car door pops open, and the hood is mashed. In the real world, I imagine the same crash would result in immediate death.

  Once the smoke wanes, Bison and I cautiously step out of our vehicle to check. The driver’s seat is empty. Eliminated. The bell must’ve fired at the same time as the crash.

  “Hope that was painless,” Bison says, clutching his right side. He lost about ten health from the crash, swerving his car at the last second, spreading the impact to the side.

  I retrieve the moon, stuck in the crevasse of the mashed passenger seat. When I finally pluck it out, another car rounds the corner.

  Raze’s team.

  Bison hops into my car, and by the time I reverse, I realize it’s too late to pivot. At the rate Raze is going, he’ll crash into me. I can’t stop and fight them here. It’ll take forever, and I have less than five minutes to get to the boat before the drill ends. If this results in another tie, I’ll have to wait another month to break it.

  I gas the pedal, skidding backwards. I unbuckle my seatbelt and turn my attention to the rear windshield, dodging the car parts on the road, steering out of the way from Raze, drifting the corners. My foot pressed on the pedal the entire time. The swerve slams me into the door and toward Bison, an inch away from crashing into a dollhouse.

  “You’re fucking crazy!” he exclaims. He clutches the grip handle with his life. “Do you know what you’re doing?”

  My knuckles whiten on the steering wheel. “Yeah, winning this game for us.”

  Raze is only yards away from me. My reflection is clear on his velm. His speed matches mine. He could’ve crashed into me anytime, but then…he won’t know where to place the moon. Fine, follow me.

  I lead him down the main road, right where the sailor is. There’s an inclined dock that takes us to the boat, a wooden structure nailed to the wall. The wheels of my car roll up the ramp—Raze right after me.

  There’s nowhere to stop on the boat; He’s planning to crash into me. When I get off the ramp, I brake and steer left. The side of the car hammers into the mural, and Raze slams into my hood. The impact throws me into Bison.

  And for a long second, there’s silence, except for the low hum of one of the vehicles. My spine and neck are choking me with shocking pain. I nudge Bison to help me up, but he’s unresponsive. He lost health, but somehow is still in the game. I can only hope he wakes up in time.

  Sixty seconds.

  I grab the moon from Bison’s lap and painfully crawl out the shattered window. My legs barely listen.

  Raze and Raven pop out from their side of the car. Both sustained minor joint injuries.

  “Great driving, psycho,” I say.

  With the prize in my hand, I face the sailor, then something hits the middle of my spine. The next moment, my muscles lock in place, and a notification pops up on my screen. Awaiting teammate’s assistance.

  No.

  No.

  The moon is yanked from my hold. Raven comes into view, her middle finger in my face. I can’t even scream as she slams the moon into the eye.

  My screen whitens with the letters in bold. DEFEAT.