GAMELAND Episodes 1-2: Deep Into the Game + Failsafe (S. W. Tanpepper's GAMELAND) Read online

“Tell them you’re going to Ashley’s then.”

  “That’s like two miles away. Eric’ll offer to drive. Then what?”

  “You’ll figure it out.”

  “I always do, don’t I?”

  Eric is still ranting in the kitchen, going off about some plan to expand the duties of his department at work. He’s standing at the sink and flinging soapy water around as he washes the dishes, his back facing the doorway. “As if I don’t have enough paperwork to do already!”

  Grandpa’s sitting in his chair leaning back. He’s got his hands laced behind his head and he isn’t moving. Just as I’m about to turn the corner, his chair turns and he looks at me. He doesn’t say anything, just looks.

  “I’m, uh…” I point at the door. “I’m going over to Ash’s. Me and Micah and Reggie and…Kelly. They’re picking me up, so I don’t need a ride.”

  He just sits there while I mess with the strap on my backpack. Finally he says, “Don’t forget your medicine.” Then he turns back around. Eric isn’t even aware of what’s happening behind him. He’s still talking a mile a minute.

  I slip out into the night and hurry over to Kelly’s as fast as I can, afraid that if I turn around, I’ll see my grandfather standing there watching me.

  “That was quick,” Kelly says.

  “Yeah, well, things at my house are a bit explosive right now. Sounds like there’s something going on down at the police station.”

  Kelly looks over. “Is everything all right?” He means did stealing a copy of Eric’s inner zone permit cause any problems.

  I shake my head and say, “It was something about having to do more work.”

  “Wonder if there’s been another outbreak.” He tilts his head like he’s thinking.

  I shrug. “I haven’t heard anything about one.”

  My brother works in the Necrotics Crimes Division. Basically anything to do with offenses committed by or against the Undead is his responsibility. It’s generally agreed that NCD is the suckiest job on the force, but it fits Eric’s personality to a tee.

  “Can we talk about something else?” I ask, and Kelly nods.

  Ten minutes later we’re standing on Reggie’s front walk. We hear a low whistle and see Micah standing in the shadows beneath some tall bushes. He waves us over. “This way. We’re in back.”

  “Why all the secrecy?”

  “Reg’s mom.”

  Kel and I both nod. Mrs. Casey is the nosiest woman on the face of the planet. If she got a whiff of what we were planning, she’d be on it like a bloodhound on the trail of a killer.

  We circle around the house to the garage. Reggie’s father had it converted years ago into a retro game room. There’s a pinball machine and some ancient video arcade games, a pool table with worn felt and a ping pong table. It’s totally lame, but the older generation seems to like it. That’s why we hang out at Micah’s instead, even though his basement is musty and the couch sags and smells like dogs and stinky feet and the downstairs bathroom should probably be condemned. Or at least fumigated.

  “Hey guys,” Reggie says, meeting us at the door. He’s smiling. He hands me and Kel one of his father’s beers and waves us in. I see that Micah’s already got a bottle and that it’s nearly empty. “I hope your weekend’s clear, because we’re shooting for Saturday. Whoever can make it, that is.” He looks pointedly at Kel. “Right now there’s four of us.”

  Kelly stops. “Four?” He looks over at me. I give him a quick shake of the head to indicate it doesn’t include me. “Who’s the extra?”

  Reggie gestures with his beer behind us.

  We turn just as someone says, “I am.”

  Stepping out from behind Ashley is a boy. I recognize him immediately. His name is out of my mouth before I realize it: “Jake?”

  Kelly does a double take.

  “The kid from this morning?” he says. “This is the guy who was hitting on you at karate?”

  Jake raises his hands. “Whoa, wait a minute. I wasn’t—”

  “What are you doing here?” I exclaim.

  “Wait,” Kelly says. His face is starting to turn red. “Let him finish what he was going to say. I want to hear this.”

  I frown my displeasure, silently willing him to drop it.

  “You two know each other?” Ashley asks, as she swings around Jacob to stand between him and Kelly. I can tell she’s amused by this unexpected development.

  “No, they don’t,” I say. “Not really. And I just met Jake this morning.”

  Ashley turns to him, raising her eyebrows. “You didn’t tell me—”

  “Jessie gave me really good a workout,” Jake says, glaring back at Kelly.

  Kelly takes a threatening step forward. I pull him back. “It was nothing,” I say. “We sparred. At the dojang. There weren’t any other students around so I—”

  “No one else was around, Jess? You didn’t tell me that.”

  “We weren’t alone, Kel! Rupert was there.” I turn to Ashley, eager to change the subject. “I don’t understand, Ash. How did Jake get involved in our little…outing?”

  “He knows about LI. Everything. And Jake was my lab partner last year, so…”

  I narrow my eyes. Ash always hated science. And yet I seem to remember she got an A in the class, though. “Just your lab partner?”

  She shrugs and doesn’t take the bait. “Look, guys, we needed equipment. I got it for us. That’s all. There’s no conspiracy, no quid pro quo here.”

  “Fancy words,” Kelly grumbles.

  “So your uncle owns Eppy’s?” I say. “You’re that Jacob Esposito? Little Jacob?”

  Jake nods. “Nobody’s called me ‘Little’ in a while.”

  “I remember you!” Kelly says. “Little punk on the playground, always picking on the smaller kids. What’d you, like, grow a foot over the summer?”

  “Something like that.”

  Reggie comes over and manages to get between us all, somehow spreading us all apart to a safe distance. Kelly’s still glaring, but the look in his eyes is not as hateful as it was a moment ago. Now it’s filled with distrust.

  “It actually works out having Jake join us,” Reggie says. “He’s a rescue diver and his uncle has all kinds of scuba gear. He’s agreed to let us borrow it.”

  “Well, actually, it won’t be scuba gear. And Uncle Joe doesn’t know.”

  “In exchange for what?” I ask.

  Jake looks around at the rest of us. “For inclusion in your little party, of course. I thought that was clear. I want to be included.”

  I narrow my eyes. “Why the hell would you want to break into Long Island? Don’t you know it’s illegal?”

  “I do. And why would you?”

  “Because we’re hackers,” I say. “Mostly anyway. Isn’t that what you called us this morning? Jackers? That’s what we do.”

  “Maybe. But hacking isn’t the same as physically breaking into a Forbidden Zone.” He shrugs. “That’s where I can help. I’ve done all sorts of survival training. What can I say? I’m more of an outdoorsy type.” He pauses. “Computers, on the other hand, well, that’s just not my thing.”

  “And now there’s an even number,” Reggie says, giving Kelly a look.

  “Why is that so important?” he asks.

  “The first thing they drill into your brain in survival training is that you partner up,” Jake answers. “You can do threes, but it’s best to have twosomes, especially in a dive group. You both watch each other’s back.” He glances at me, and I don’t know if it’s just my impression, but that hungry, animal-like look is back in his eyes. I feel Kelly tense up next to me, even though we’re not physically touching.

  “And anyway,” Micah quickly adds, “once we told him we needed the equipment, it’s not like we could exclude him.”

  “You’d squeal on us?” I ask.

  Jake pauses just long enough before shaking his head. There’s little doubt what he’d do.

  I sigh and throw my hands up in the
air. “Fine.”

  “I’m not fine with it!” Kelly shouts. “I don’t trust this guy as far as I could throw him.”

  “Don’t go then,” Jake counters. There’s just a hint of a grin at the corners of his mouth.

  “If Kelly doesn’t go, then I don’t go.”

  Jake’s grin falters.

  “Guys,” Ashley says. “Don’t be like that. Jake can partner up with Micah.” She gives Micah a wink.

  Suddenly I’m not thinking about Jake and Kelly, but Micah. This new question enters my mind. In the year or so that I’ve known him, have I ever seen him with a girl? I mean, other than just hanging out with me and Ash. Micah’s always been the spare tire of our group, though it never felt like that big of a deal. There was never any jealousy at all.

  Reggie raises his bottle for a toast. “Tomorrow, Jake’s going to give us a quick lesson on diving using this special gear he’s getting for us. Tonight, we plan. We need to figure out what to take. I’ll look at the tide charts, all that stuff. Then, assuming the currents are right, we’ll shoot for Saturday morning.”

  “Tides are on a roughly six-hour cycle,” Jake adds, “so that’ll give us a few hours to hang out before we need to come back.” It bothers me how much he’s inserted himself into the plan. And into our group. It doesn’t feel right.

  “Don’t worry, Jess,” Reggie says, misreading the concern on my face. “We’ll have you back home long before dinnertime.”

  Micah and Ash clink bottles with him. I raise mine too, but don’t drink. I notice that two other bottles are missing: Jake’s and Kelly’s.

  I sigh unhappily, feeling as if my pent up excitement and worry are at war with each other. We’re really going to do this. Or at least try.

  But I’m not so sure I want to anymore.

  ‡

  Chapter 9

  “The oxygen rebreather was developed by NASA about a dozen years ago,” Jake explains, holding the odd-looking mask up so that we can all see it, “and further adapted by the Navy for short-term underwater use.”

  It’s just after eight o’clock in the morning and we’re at the Page Mill levee and, except for some fishermen a few hundred yards away, we’re all alone. The fishermen don’t even bother to glance over at us. They look like they’re well into their second case of cheap beer, and by the sounds of their singing, it doesn’t appear they really care if they catch anything.

  “Where’s the air tank?” Ashley asks.

  It’s such a stupid question that I just know it has to be a set up.

  Jake smiles. “I’m glad you asked that, Ash. By the way, I hope you don’t mind my saying, but you look really…nice today.” He turns to me and adds, “You both do.”

  Kelly makes a sound of disgust and looks away. Ashley beams. Of course she looks nice, she’s wearing a skimpy white Ronnie Marx two-piece bikini that really highlights her red hair and green eyes. Not that any of the guys are looking at her hair or eyes. They’re checking out the other assets that suit is also highlighting.

  I look down at my own outfit, a pair of dingy oversized gray workout sweats. Underneath, I’ve got on a relatively modest rainbow-colored two-piece with French-cut shorts. Suddenly I feel like a shapeless blob.

  “Thank you, Jake,” Ash says, tossing her hair.

  “What a loser,” Kelly murmurs, too quiet for anyone else to hear, and for once I have to agree.

  “As I was saying, the rebreather was developed to take the place of an oxygen tank, but primarily for use in short-term situations and tight spaces, such as between airlocks and docked vehicles.”

  “Are we traveling through any airlocks?”

  Jake’s eyes narrow. “You could say the tunnel is one long airlock.”

  “Just not in outer space.”

  “No.” He clears his throat and continues. “The cartridge is perforated to allow pressure equalization. It’s essentially a cage protecting an inner Mylar sack that contains a catalytic converter—beads linked to a chemical that converts CO-2 back into good old fashioned O-2.”

  “Ah, good old fashioned oxygen. It’s so much better than the new fangled stuff.”

  I snort and hip check Kelly. “Just ignore him, Jake. Go on.”

  “The rebreather wasn’t intended for underwater use, but the Navy has been employing them successfully for strategic missions, rapid insertions and near-surface operations in confined spaces. They’re a lot less bulky. Inert gasses, such as nitrogen are simply passed through the matrix, maintaining a proper balance and concentration relative to oxygen. That way your brain doesn’t think it’s either oxygen-deprived or in surplus. And that’s important because either of those scenarios will cause you to faint. I probably don’t need to tell you what happens if you faint while under water.”

  “Maybe you should explain it anyways,” Kelly shouts. “You know, just in case Ashley hasn’t figured it out.”

  I slap his arm and tell him to behave. Ashley gives him a dirty look and Reggie chuckles. Micah just sits and stares at Jake, whose confidence has all but vanished.

  He disengages a canister from the hose attached to the mask and holds it up. It’s about the size of a tub of Cheezy Cheeze. “There’s enough chemical converter in one of these to last roughly three hours, give or take. Ample time for us to get through the tunnel and out the other side. But, just in case, each of us will carry a spare on our belt. They’re sealed. All you have to do is insert into the hose and twist.”

  Just in case of what? I think. I don’t want to be underwater for more than hour. Then I wonder: How long does it take to swim a mile?

  “Why not just use scuba tanks?” I ask.

  “You have to be certified to get the tanks,” Jake answers. “And it’s illegal to rent them out to uncertified divers.”

  “Isn’t what we’re doing already illegal?”

  “Look, guys,” Micah says, inserting himself in front of Kelly, “it’s either the rebreathers or we don’t go. Jake’s uncle would definitely notice six dive tanks missing. But these?” He holds one up. “They’re cheap and disposable. They’ve got cases of them in the store.”

  “What the hell for?”

  “Military surplus,” Jake says. “Uncle Joe bids on closed crates at auction. He gets whatever he gets. You’d be surprised what people will come into the store to buy.”

  “We’ll also pack a third set in a waterproof pack for the return,” Micah says, steering the discussion back to the trip.

  “Talk about overkill,” Kelly whispers.

  “Better safe than sorry,” Jake replies.

  “Who put you in charge anyway?”

  “Kelly! Stop it! Please.”

  “The rebreathers work just like the old fashioned masks. Bite down on the mouthpiece and inhale. You also exhale through the mouth, but instead of the waste gas bubbling into the water and going to the surface, it goes into the bag and gets recycled.”

  He tosses the rebreather into a box and comes up with a pair of goggles.

  “Now, with scuba, to clear your goggles of leaks, you’d normally exhale through the nose. With these systems, you don’t want to do that because…why? Anyone?”

  “You’ll lose your air?” Ashley quips.

  “Exactly. The canisters don’t create oxygen, just recycle it. Lose it and it’s gone. So unless you have gills, I’d suggest you pay attention. These goggles are equipped with their own clearing mechanism.”

  He points to a silver cartridge inserted into the elastic headband. It’s about the size of a large hotdog. “This is highly compressed air. Just push the button on the top …here…which releases a puff, thus forcing any water out the bottom. You can get as many as twenty puffs, but then that’s it, so make sure your goggles are a good fit. They should be tight and well sealed. Otherwise you’ll be looking out through water goggles for the rest of the dive.”

  “Speaking of the water, are we actually going to get in it today?” Kelly asks. “Or are we just going to sit here and listen to you?”
>
  Jake’s ability to ignore Kelly reaches its limit. His face flushes and he fumbles the mask. He was so confident last night, so confrontational, that I almost don’t recognize him now. It sort of worries me, because it makes me wonder if he’s a little bipolar. There’s enough emotional drama in our group without adding his baggage to it.

  “I, um,” he stutters, “was going to say it’s time to get—uh, to put on the equipment.” He quickly turns and picks up a box behind him. “There’s another crate in my van with wetsuits, weight belts, and fins. Everyone gets a set. I took a guess on the sizes.” He looks at Reggie and adds, “Although some might be a little tight.”

  Reggie grins and turns to Ash and says, “The tighter the better.” She slaps his arm and sticks out her tongue. But then she thrusts out her chest at him and laughs.

  “Let me know if you need any help getting it on.”

  “Let me know if you need help getting it off,” Ash counters.

  The rest of us are used to this, but Jake’s face turns so red that I’m afraid he’s going to spontaneously combust or something.

  To distract himself, he launches into a lecture on fitting and prepping our goggles. The spitting part to keep them from fogging up amuses Reggie, of course. He makes a show of hocking a nasty loogie into the lenses, much to Ashley’s disgust.

  We don’t get to use the rebreathers right away. Rather, Jake has us snorkel around a bit near the shore so we get used to being in wetsuits and flippers and being neutrally buoyant, which I seem to be having trouble with.

  At first I have too much weight on my belt and keep sinking. I quickly grow tired from trying to keep myself at the surface. It’s frustrating, especially since nobody seems to be noticing. Kelly’s ignoring me as he paddles around twenty feet away, as if he can actually see anything in the murky depths below us now that we’ve stirred up all the mud. Finally I give up and waddle ashore to take some of the lead weights off.

  “Here, let me help you,” Jake says, startling me. I’d thought he was still in the water. He yanks my belt and it falls from my waist. Holding one end up, he threads a pair of one-pounders off. “You don’t need as much weight because you’ve got so little body fat.”