Arcade Catastrophe
Page 87
Nate took that opportunity as his cue and arrowed toward the deadly hall. He could fly, and his senses and coordination were enhanced, but his body was as vulnerable as ever. One wrong move and he would get shredded to ribbons. Even fully under the influence of Peak Performance, navigating the lethal hallway looked virtually impossible. He could see a way in, but even with his senses enhanced, Nate could not chart a complete route through from his current vantage. He hoped that he would somehow find ways to keep moving forward, yard by yard, foot by foot, without getting decapitated, flattened, or impaled. Gritting his teeth, he prayed that he and Peak Performance would be up to the challenge.
Nate entered the hall near the upper left corner. All of his senses were focused on survival. He tried not to get overwhelmed by the abundant lethal threats. He attempted to focus on the most immediate dangers, on how to survive one second to the next while still advancing. There was no time to plan, only to react. With desperate faith, he entrusted his life to his enhanced reflexes.
A huge blade swished by close enough that the metallic smell registered distinctly. Nate curved his body to avoid a thrusting spear, then ducked to barely dodge a pair of axes. He began to spin wildly, eyes roving, because it was the only way to see everything around him and avoid getting blindsided. He not only looked but listened.
Peak Performance offered no sense of security—even with the enhancement, he was stretched to his limits. Too much was coming at him too fast. He flew in strange new ways. Sometimes he flew feet first. Sometimes he flew spread-eagle. Sometimes he would drop or rise suddenly. He flew tucked into a tiny ball, he flew with his body ramrod straight, he flew in bizarre poses to dodge simultaneous slashes and stabs.
Nate didn’t think about reaching the end of the obstacles. There was no opportunity to examine how far he had come or how much farther he had to go. He only had time to twirl and tuck, to climb and fall, to flip and swoop and twist.
He made dozens of split-second decisions. He chose to let a blade graze his back to avoid having an arrow plunge through his neck. He permitted a spear to nick his thigh to keep a speeding column from crushing his arm. When two ways to proceed presented themselves, he tried to estimate which was the lesser evil. There was no time to choose well.
Flying had never felt so exhausting. Nothing had ever felt so exhausting. He scantly avoided death over and over and over and over. How many near misses could a person survive? How many scrapes and scratches could one accept to avoid getting maimed or worse? There was no place to pause, no chance to regroup, only a host of fatal threats, followed by another barrage, and then another.
When he emerged from the far side of the obstacle course, it came as a shock. Nate flew to the ground and spread out his arms to embrace the floor. He had never felt so happy to be at rest. Little cuts and scrapes stung all over his body. He was truly stunned to be alive. Somewhere deep down, he had known that eventually he would reach a place where no amount of clever contortion would avoid a certain combination of threats. And that would have been the end.
Except he had survived. Would he have to fly back through the obstacles after reaching Uweya? Probably. He didn’t want to think about that yet. For now, the frenetic corridor separated him from his enemies. Maybe not for long, though. Katie would be coming after him. How long would it take for Jonas to empower her? Even with additional enhancements, would she be able to navigate the lethal corridor? He had to assume she would survive. He had to keep moving.
Instead of standing up, Nate flew to the door. It was more than three times his height. A metallic lever to one side of the doorway seemed the obvious way to open it. Nate pulled the lever. The door opened.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Uweya
Nate decided to walk through the doorway rather than fly. A short hall led into a circular room with a high, domed ceiling. The shape made Nate think of an observatory he had once visited. Thanks to his enhanced state, he took in many details, but his attention was not drawn to the tightly fitted stone blocks of the walls or ceiling, or the worktables positioned around the room, or the stacks of supplies against some of the walls. He found himself entranced by the familiar sphere floating in the center of the room.
Nate had seen globes, and he had seen pictures of Earth from space, so it was easy to recognize that the ball hovering above the floor was his home planet, rendered in breathtaking detail. From his present vantage, he could see most of the Atlantic Ocean, along with much of North and South America and part of Europe and Africa.
At least twelve feet in diameter, the sphere hung inexplicably suspended, slightly tilted on an invisible axis. Even from a distance, mountains stood out in clear relief, islands poked up out of the sea, and icecaps covered the poles. The color was so true to life that Nate imagined he could splash his hand in the ocean. Unlike with photos from space, no clouds obscured his view of the planet.
Fortunately Nate was still chewing his gum, which allowed him to dodge the two arrows that hissed toward him. Although the attack surprised him, after the obstacles in the corridor, the effort to evade the arrows felt minimal.
“What was that?” Nate complained loudly, now flying again. He swiftly gained altitude.
A young man and a young woman emerged from hiding, each armed with a bow, each nocking another arrow. They both appeared to be Native American, and they wore modern clothes. “You don’t belong here!” the young man called.
“So you’re just going to shoot me?” Nate asked incredulously.
They both fired again. Nate avoided the arrows.
“Wait!” Nate cried, fishing out the keychain William had given him. “I have permission to be here!”
They paused in the act of setting new arrows to their bowstrings.
“Where’d you get that?” the young woman accused.
“William Graywater gave it to me,” Nate explained. “I’m here to protect Uweya. William told me I have to use Uweya to keep Jonas White from stealing it. There are others right behind me who work for him.”
The young man set his bow aside. “Come here so I can have a closer look.”
Keeping hold of her bow, the young woman shook her head. “It’s a trick.”
“I wasn’t expecting to find people here,” Nate said, unsure whether it was safe to approach.
“Yeah, well, surprise,” the young woman said, aiming her bow at him.
The young man laid a hand on her shoulder. “Celia, nobody outside our family knew about the token. Uncle William must have really given it to him.”
Nate entered the hall near the upper left corner. All of his senses were focused on survival. He tried not to get overwhelmed by the abundant lethal threats. He attempted to focus on the most immediate dangers, on how to survive one second to the next while still advancing. There was no time to plan, only to react. With desperate faith, he entrusted his life to his enhanced reflexes.
A huge blade swished by close enough that the metallic smell registered distinctly. Nate curved his body to avoid a thrusting spear, then ducked to barely dodge a pair of axes. He began to spin wildly, eyes roving, because it was the only way to see everything around him and avoid getting blindsided. He not only looked but listened.
Peak Performance offered no sense of security—even with the enhancement, he was stretched to his limits. Too much was coming at him too fast. He flew in strange new ways. Sometimes he flew feet first. Sometimes he flew spread-eagle. Sometimes he would drop or rise suddenly. He flew tucked into a tiny ball, he flew with his body ramrod straight, he flew in bizarre poses to dodge simultaneous slashes and stabs.
Nate didn’t think about reaching the end of the obstacles. There was no opportunity to examine how far he had come or how much farther he had to go. He only had time to twirl and tuck, to climb and fall, to flip and swoop and twist.
He made dozens of split-second decisions. He chose to let a blade graze his back to avoid having an arrow plunge through his neck. He permitted a spear to nick his thigh to keep a speeding column from crushing his arm. When two ways to proceed presented themselves, he tried to estimate which was the lesser evil. There was no time to choose well.
Flying had never felt so exhausting. Nothing had ever felt so exhausting. He scantly avoided death over and over and over and over. How many near misses could a person survive? How many scrapes and scratches could one accept to avoid getting maimed or worse? There was no place to pause, no chance to regroup, only a host of fatal threats, followed by another barrage, and then another.
When he emerged from the far side of the obstacle course, it came as a shock. Nate flew to the ground and spread out his arms to embrace the floor. He had never felt so happy to be at rest. Little cuts and scrapes stung all over his body. He was truly stunned to be alive. Somewhere deep down, he had known that eventually he would reach a place where no amount of clever contortion would avoid a certain combination of threats. And that would have been the end.
Except he had survived. Would he have to fly back through the obstacles after reaching Uweya? Probably. He didn’t want to think about that yet. For now, the frenetic corridor separated him from his enemies. Maybe not for long, though. Katie would be coming after him. How long would it take for Jonas to empower her? Even with additional enhancements, would she be able to navigate the lethal corridor? He had to assume she would survive. He had to keep moving.
Instead of standing up, Nate flew to the door. It was more than three times his height. A metallic lever to one side of the doorway seemed the obvious way to open it. Nate pulled the lever. The door opened.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Uweya
Nate decided to walk through the doorway rather than fly. A short hall led into a circular room with a high, domed ceiling. The shape made Nate think of an observatory he had once visited. Thanks to his enhanced state, he took in many details, but his attention was not drawn to the tightly fitted stone blocks of the walls or ceiling, or the worktables positioned around the room, or the stacks of supplies against some of the walls. He found himself entranced by the familiar sphere floating in the center of the room.
Nate had seen globes, and he had seen pictures of Earth from space, so it was easy to recognize that the ball hovering above the floor was his home planet, rendered in breathtaking detail. From his present vantage, he could see most of the Atlantic Ocean, along with much of North and South America and part of Europe and Africa.
At least twelve feet in diameter, the sphere hung inexplicably suspended, slightly tilted on an invisible axis. Even from a distance, mountains stood out in clear relief, islands poked up out of the sea, and icecaps covered the poles. The color was so true to life that Nate imagined he could splash his hand in the ocean. Unlike with photos from space, no clouds obscured his view of the planet.
Fortunately Nate was still chewing his gum, which allowed him to dodge the two arrows that hissed toward him. Although the attack surprised him, after the obstacles in the corridor, the effort to evade the arrows felt minimal.
“What was that?” Nate complained loudly, now flying again. He swiftly gained altitude.
A young man and a young woman emerged from hiding, each armed with a bow, each nocking another arrow. They both appeared to be Native American, and they wore modern clothes. “You don’t belong here!” the young man called.
“So you’re just going to shoot me?” Nate asked incredulously.
They both fired again. Nate avoided the arrows.
“Wait!” Nate cried, fishing out the keychain William had given him. “I have permission to be here!”
They paused in the act of setting new arrows to their bowstrings.
“Where’d you get that?” the young woman accused.
“William Graywater gave it to me,” Nate explained. “I’m here to protect Uweya. William told me I have to use Uweya to keep Jonas White from stealing it. There are others right behind me who work for him.”
The young man set his bow aside. “Come here so I can have a closer look.”
Keeping hold of her bow, the young woman shook her head. “It’s a trick.”
“I wasn’t expecting to find people here,” Nate said, unsure whether it was safe to approach.
“Yeah, well, surprise,” the young woman said, aiming her bow at him.
The young man laid a hand on her shoulder. “Celia, nobody outside our family knew about the token. Uncle William must have really given it to him.”
