Dream Park

Chapter Twenty

THE SEA OF LOST SHIPS

It was 1350 hours by the watch imprinted on the cuff of Griffin's denim shirt. The group had been back on the march for an hour and a half.

The line wasn't jolly. A grim singularity of purpose could be seen in every face, heard in every terse word. Mary-em had tried to get songs going, but the efforts had died stillborn. Finally she gave up, her ta

Subsonics and subliminal imagery? he wondered. Lopez psych­ing us out? Maybe. Griffin had known it from the first: this was a blood duel.

Acacia walked next to him, her hand occasionally finding his for a few moments, squeezing then releasing. As if she too needed the reassurance of physical contact. He took comfort in knowing that his strange mood was shared.

Although the path was broad, Alex found himself wandering over to the edge to look into the gorges below, now mostly shrouded with mists. There was no wind, and it didn't feel any colder; but it looked cold. Alex gave in and put on his wind­breaker.

Acacia was mumbling under her breath.

"What did you say, Cas?" He tried to force warmth into his voice and it came out sounding just that way: forced.

Reflexively, she moved closer to him and took his arm. "Noth­ing meant for human consumption, that's for sure." She shivered. "I really am getting uptight, and I don't know why. We haven't taken really heavy losses... yet."

"Yet?"

"The replacement period ends tonight. Tomorrow and the day after we'll get hit with heavy artillery. I know it."

Alex thought about that. "Is there any way to minimize the im­pact?"

"Yeah. Don't make mistakes. You can see how easy that is. There are just too many ways to die in this Game. Think about it:

how have we lost people? Riddles, monsters, natural hazards, gun­shot..."

"You know, that doesn't sound like you, Cas. Where's the get up and go?"

"It got up and went. I know I'm acting strange, dammit, and I don't really understand it, either." She kicked a pebble out of the way, dark eyes following it as it skipped across the road and vanished over the edge: not falling, but suddenly gone, kicked be­yond the hologram illusion of a misty chasm at their feet.

"Listen. What if I told you that if you keep your chin up you'll get a surprise tonight?"

"Gary-I told you that we shouldn't take things any further. There's been enough trouble."

"I'm not talking about trouble. Just a little harmless fun."

"Harmless, huh? Fun? Just what do you have in mind?"

"Everything but."

"But what?"

"But taking things any further. We can go as far as we went, can't we?"

She squinted an eye at him. "And what about Tony? If we're off alone together somewhere not taking things any further, we might as well be screwing."

That word was a jolt. Alex thought it over. "You're right either way. Okay, either we don't go off alone at all or we take things wherever they go. How's that sound?"

"Indecisive. Gary-"

There was a sudden jolt as the line came to a halt. On a ledge seven feet above the trail, there stood a slender dark figure. At first Alex was reminded of Millicent: the short, tightly-curled hair, the delicious figure and the skin tones were all similar. But this woman was nearly a foot taller than little Millie, and Millie would never have been found in that bold, challenging stance.

She wore buckskin boots and beige leather pants with a copper-buckled belt. She wore a red vest over a beige blouse, and carried a businesslike dagger in a fast-draw sheath high on her left side. The knapsack on her back rode as if weightless. She stood fists on hips, legs spread apart and braced firmly. Alex found her beauti­ful. His lips pursed into an automatic whistling position.

"Who is she?" he asked Acacia.

"I think I saw her at the Gamer selection proceedings, but I don't know the name or the rank."

The tall woman jumped down from the ledge. A miniscule wob­ble spoiled the illusion of a perfect landing. Chester greeted her. "Holly Frost, I presume?"

"You've got it, lover. Second-level Thief, first-level Magic User, and generally excellent lady." She dusted off her buckskins by knocking them against each other. "And it looks like I arrived just in time. What have we here, a zombie march? I don't see a bright face in the bunch. What the hell, maybe I should join the other team-" She turned as if to walk away, then turned over her shoul­der and smiled slyly.

"On the other hand, since I obviously have no competition here, maybe I should stick around, accrue a few points, steal somebody's old man..."

There wasn't a sound from the other Garners, although a few mouths hung open in shock. Then Mary-em pushed Bowan out of the way and waddled over to Holly, gazing up at her like a demo­lition man examining a condemned skyscraper.

"Think you're pretty hot, do you, treetop?"

"I know it, grandma."

Mary-em drummed her fingers on her waist for a few moments, then her crinkled face split with a grin. "It's high time we had some new blood. These lackards are slacking off already. Think you can roust things up a bit?"

"Or know the reason why."

"Good enough." The little woman stuck out a grimy hand, and they shook. "Name's Mary-em, but you can call me Mary-em."

"Done." Holly looked at Chester. "You're the man. Let's get this show back on the road!"

In spite of himself, Henderson's tired face lit up, and there seemed to be new bounce in his step. "All right, group, you heard the lady. Let's do it!"

"I want her with me," Mary said. She glared at Bowan. "Why don't you find yourself another perch, so

Holly slapped her on the back. "Do you know ‘Friar Malone'?" Their mood was infectious. Soon the entire line was moving at a brisk pace, singing a tale of the unlucky persona of an unskillful Gamer of bygone days.

"Through dungeon and city Both ugly and pretty

Went the brave lawful Cleric named Friar Malone.

He whirled his warhammer ‘Gainst the vampire's glamour

Crying, ‘Down with the Demon Undead, Undead, ohi"

Alex noted that Acacia's expression was no longer strained, and he was happy. It seemed that everything was right again, that the mission would be successful, that- How could he have forgotten Rice? None of this was real; not the mountains, nor the mists, nor the warm arm of the woman at his side, nor the happiness he had felt a moment ago. But Rice was real; Rice's bound corpse was real. And the Garners sang with no sign of grief:

"But a Succubus found him And in her lair bound him

And became the foul death of brave Friar Malone.

Now his ghost stalks the barrow That he tried to harrow, Crying, ‘Down with the Demon Undead, Undead Oh!"

But death had been real for Rice, and Griffin would not forget it again.

The trail wound down out of the mountains, cramping them be­tween masses of granite. Presently it rounded a tight turn, and GriffIn and Acacia stepped out of shadow into a view of sand dunes and ocean.