The Leveller - Julia Durango Page 0,61

clear here, too,” he says. “How many was that total? Nineteen?”

“Nineteen? We’re missing one,” I say, looking around and keeping my machete up.

Wyn sidles around in the dark, his crowbar at the ready, his flashlight arm up and pointed. He reminds me of Buzz Lightyear. “How do you know we’re missing one?” he asks.

“Who creates an army of nineteen zombies? It’s too . . . prime.”

“Too prime?” Wyn says, and I hear the amusement in his voice. Then I see the shadow behind him.

“Get down!” I yell.

He drops to his knees just as my machete swings through the space his head occupied a second ago. THUNK.

“Twelve,” I say, offering a hand to Wyn as he gets back to his feet. “For a total of twenty.”

“Nice even numbers,” he says, nodding at me in mock admiration. “You must be well pleased.”

I’m about to remind him that my insistence on even numbers just kept his brains from being some zombie’s Snack Pack pudding, but the lights go on, nearly blinding us.

I blink my eyes shut, then open them. Everything is white.

Oh God, not the maze from hell again. Please no.

“Inventory!” I yell, bracing myself.

But then I see that everything is white because it is snowing. And it is snowing because it is Christmas in the Landing. I twirl around and see Wyn’s face transform from wariness to relief as he slowly comes to the same realization.

“Oh my God. We did it, Nixy!” he says, his voice loud with excitement. “Hot damn. We’re home!” he yells, then picks me up and starts spinning me around in the snow.

We’re both laughing now, giddy with relief and happiness, or maybe it’s pure exhaustion, I don’t know. But we gaze into each other’s eyes and smile and laugh and twirl in that big virtual mall like we’ve just found a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. A Meeple choir sings “Have a holly jolly Christmas” in the background, though a strange whirring noise interrupts.

We look up from our celebratory hugfest and see a cute animatronic penguin on wheels rolling toward us. In his flippers, he’s holding a gift-wrapped present with a tag that reads TO WYN, FROM SANTA.

Wyn looks at me with a look of surprised amusement. “One of your dad’s ideas?”

“Must be . . .” I start to say, though something’s nagging at me. “Wait—”

I’m too late.

Wyn opens the box and we explode.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

..................................................................

AS SOON AS MY EYES OPEN, I SCRAMBLE UP, INVENTORY AT THE READY.

Wyn jumps to his feet next to me. We’re still in the Landing, right where we last fell.

Why? Why? my brain screams. Why the explosion if not to send us back a level to the cemetery?

“Beware penguins bearing false gifts,” I joke, but neither one of us is in the mood for humor now. I’m already scanning for the next challenge that awaits us, and so is Wyn. He’s got both laser guns out and is doing a slow sweep of the mall.

The Landing is deathly quiet now and it has stopped snowing. The Meeple choir has vanished. There are no festively dressed shoppers roaming, no elves passing out discount flyers, no mini-games in action. Just twinkling lights everywhere and in the middle of the atrium, the big three-story Christmas tree opposite the Information Desk.

The beautiful Information Desk.

That big, shiny, blinking control panel on top of it is all I need to shut this game down.

And it’s only a pool’s length away . . .

An Olympic-size pool, but still. It’s doable.

I just have to get there without dying.

My legs are ready, poised for a mad dash to the desk.

I will myself to be still.

Focus, I think. Just like chess.

Study the board.

Anticipate your opponent.

Think before you move.

Focus.

“See anything?” I ask Wyn.

“Nothing,” he says. “But I don’t like this. It’s too quiet.”

Somewhere nearby we hear a tiny tinkling sound and we both jump.

A pretty red and silver Christmas ornament rolls toward us.

Wyn doesn’t waste any time. He shoots it.

The ornament explodes into a thousand little pieces and . . . that’s it. It was just an ornament.

Wyn swears under his breath. “Someone’s messing with us, Nixy. They’re watching, I can feel it.”

I feel it too, but I don’t want to believe it. We’re too damn close to home. “All we have to do is get to the main controls. Hit the Reset button. That should automatically boot us out,” I say, remembering my dad’s conversation with Diego Salvador.

Wyn raises his eyebrows at me. “In theory, you