Lucas tore his eyes away from the television screen and stared at Stephen, who had set the controller on his lap and was gazing out the window at a bunch of children.
“Which one? Spyro?”
“No…that game with jail... you ran around and tried to find something… I can’t remember what it’s called. But do you remember it?” Stephen turned his gray eyes on Lucas and leaned back into the beanbag chair.
“Capture the Flag? Sure. You sucked at it. Why?” Lucas reached for a can of soda and looked out the window. “Hey, it looks like they’re playing it now.”
“I don’t know,” said Stephen, dragging the words as though they took effort to voice. “I just feel…” he shrugged, and his face contorted in a variety of emotions- confusion, fright, uncertainty. Lucas choked on his soda.
“Well, that explains a grand total of nothing,” he said, wiping his mouth on his sleeve and picking up the controller again.
“Wait.” Stephen put a hand on Lucas’ wrist. “It’s like…I feel like I’ve lost something, or I’ve hidden something, but I can’t find it. Or maybe someone else hid something, and I can’t find it. Like capture the flags.”
Lucas shot Stephen an odd look before shaking his wrist loose.
“You’ve always been paranoid, Steph, it’ll wear off. Let’s get back in the game, shall we?” he asked, ignoring the pleading look on Stephen’s face.
“Okay…” Stephen mumbled, casting one last worried look at the children out the window.
**
What am I doing here?
Lucas glanced around. He was high in a tree, back braced against the trunk and legs dangling on either side of a branch.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d climbed a tree. To tell the truth, it felt good.
He tried to move his body to get down; as he could not see the ground- leaves blocked his vision all around.
He tried to remember what he’d been doing before. Nothing came to mind, but he found he didn’t care. He rested his hands in his lap and waited.
After a time -it might have been a minute or a month—he heard people coming to his tree, their chatter punctuated with shouts of anger.
“There he is! He’s the end, GET HIM!”
He leaned forward to see, if he could, who was so wicked, and found a man climbing up the tree, a dagger between his teeth, a cord of rope wound around his arm.
Faster than Lucas thought possible, the man was level with him and tying rope around him.
“Wait—what’re you doing—“
He still couldn’t move his arms or legs. The man ignored him.
A chant rose from below them.
“Blood! Flag! End!”
The man picked Lucas up, and with an oomph!, he tossed Lucas bodily from the branch, into the mantra.
He blacked out before he hit the ground.
**
“Lucas! Lucas!”
Something was prodding him in the shoulder. “Lucas! LUCAS!”
“Stephen!”
Lucas’ eyes popped open.
Stephen stared down at him from underneath a heavy-looking helmet, a spear clutched in one hand, the thing that had been poking him. They seemed to be in a forest, and the night sky peeped through pine trees. A pine cone was lodged between his back and the earth, and it hurt.
“What the hell are you dressed like that for?” demanded Lucas, taking in the fact that Stephen was wearing a pair of coarse pants, a tunic and shin bracers. Stephen’s face was white.
“I remembered, Lucas.” he said, withdrawing the butt of his spear. “I remembered what I’d hidden.”
“How is that important? Can you untie these ropes?” Lucas wriggled.
“I can’t do that. I remember what I’d hidden, back in that world. A flag.”
“What are you talking about? Are you going to untie me or not?”
“A flag, in the womb of a person…”
“Why were they calling me ‘wicked’, back there? Will those people come back? D’you know them?” Lucas squirmed again.
“You have the flag, Lucas.”
“No, I don’t! What are you talking about?” roared Lucas, frustrated with his friend for being so dense. Now, of all times!
“I have to kill you, Lucas.”
“What!”
Stephen stared up at the sky- for the first time, Lucas realized that there were two moons in the sky. The sight sent a chill across his skin, and he shuddered, feeling his heart flutter against his chest. It hurt.
“You’re not – you’re not seriously going to kill me. What kind of game is this?”
A tear fell down Stephen’s face.
“It’s a horrible, cruel game,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “We hide our colors in the wombs of people, and capture them when they are born…it’s our sport, Lucas. This game can end, but only with your death. You’re the last.”
He pointed the spear at Lucas’ chest. “Forgive me.” he choked out. The spear plunged.
**
“I don’t like to be the one to say this, Mrs. Hunt… but he is dead.”
Mrs. Hunt choked, and shook her head. Her hair was still in curlers, her eyes were red and swollen, and her face shone with blood and tears.
The body on the bed was covered up, though blood drenched the blankets.
“The wound to his side was fatal, and we suspect the homicide is connected with another disappearance that happened early this morning. Stephen Sun.”
“Steph-! Stephen was Lucas’ best friend!” A new wave of tears fell in a funeral procession down her cheeks. “B-but, our security system w-wasn’t breached!”
“Anyone can do anything with a computer, these days.” Officer Bran put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry for your loss. We’ll contact you with any evidence the coroner finds.” He looked at the bed for a fleeting second. “Ma’am,” he said, quietly. “He died in his sleep. He didn’t feel anything.”
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.___. uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, yeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah. Weird. And that's all I can say besides, this is for "The Game is Afoot!". And I don't think this is very good.....too....bare. Yeah.
Sumi
