EleMental: A First-person Shooter

Chapter 8: 'Go to hell, Lance Hack'

Chapter 8: ‘Go to hell, Lance Hack’

Ding-dong. The chime sounded again.

Zeb burst from his bedroom and into the corridor. Willis hurried after him. ‘Do you usually get visitors at this hour?’ he asked. He didn’t know the exact time but he knew v’gaming chewed up the hours, making them shoot past like minutes. It could well be coming around to midnight.

‘We don’t get visitors any time,’ Zeb replied, stretching his stride as if about to take on another v’game challenge. He reached the front door and yanked it open.

Willis stopped behind him.

A man stood on the step with his back to them. His breath steamed in the sour autumn air as he muttered something incoherent. A heavy orange and black object shaped like a small cannon hung diagonally across his back. It was smothered in red and white Caution! and Danger! symbols.

The man slowly turned and gazed blearily at Zeb. He possessed the sallow face and stoop common to all spacers, and wore the convict-like, moon-grey coveralls typical of an asteroid miner, complete with the insignia on the breast pocket of a sparking rock drill biting into a spinning asteroid. In the half-light, Willis could see tiny golden leaves stuck to the hard toes of his damp and blocky antigrav boots. He rolled his head, scratching at his oily blond hair. He seemed to be struggling to think, remembering how to form words. Then he pointed straight at Zeb and spoke: ‘I know who you are.’ He kept his gaze fixed on Zeb, paying no attention to Willis. ‘Your mum in?’

Zeb shrugged.

‘Ya gotta tongue?’

Zeb gave another shrug. ‘Maybe she is, maybe she isn’t.’

Willis listened, shocked at Zeb’s feigned nonchalance. Was he taking this guy on? This was no boss enemy you could repeatedly challenge until you defeated it. Or shut down and walk away from. This was real.

The man glowered, balling his fists, but seemed uncertain what to say.

Then Ms Redman’s shaky voice travelled down the corridor as she approached from somewhere behind. ‘Is everything all right?’

Willis turned and took her in as she stepped up. Her dressing-gown was mis-buttoned and her eyes widened in alarm.

‘Lance?’ she said. ‘Oh God.’

The man grunted. ‘Hello, Marce. I’m back earthside.’

‘What do you want?’ she asked. And then without waiting for an answer, added, ‘Zeb, you and your friend go back to your room. Now, please.’ She spoke without looking at them, maneuvering in front of them.

Zeb straightened, affronted. ‘Not until you explain who this man is.’

The man – Lance – curled his upper lip and seemed about to step forwards, towards Zeb. But Zeb’s mother got in first. ‘Leave this to me,’ she said in a fierce whisper.

Zeb slowly shook his head, his face set. ‘Has this got anything to do with Dad not contacting us yesterday?’

A faint smile played on Lance’s lips. ‘He’s not here?’ He looked from Ms Redman to Zeb, clearly trying to read their blank faces. His smile broadened. ‘He’s overspace, isn’t he?’

His mother glared at Zeb. ‘Go!’

Then Willis saw something he didn’t think possible: Zeb crumpled. His face turned beetroot and he turned on his heel and stomped away.

Willis followed but slammed into him a few steps up the corridor. Zeb had recovered quickly. With a finger pressed to his lips, he gestured to Willis to remain silent.

Willis placed his mouth to Zeb’s ear. ‘Who’s this Lance guy?’

Zeb gesticulated in the air, indicating he was at a loss. Together they listened to the words uttered at the front door.

‘I need a place to crash.’ Lance said. ‘This place.’

Willis couldn’t make out Ms Redman’s words, they were muffled, but he could hear the fear in her tone.

‘Ya gonna let me in?’ Lance demanded.

Zeb turned to Willis. ‘He’s spinning out on Fast,’ he whispered.

His mother said something. Something pleading.

‘Ya gotta. I’ve got nowhere else to go.’ His voice sounded closer, as if he was inside now.

Abruptly Ms Redman came down the corridor and saw them. With a hand signal, she tried to shoo them away, back to Zeb’s bedroom. Zeb remained in front of Willis and didn’t budge. Scowling, she went to a closet and dragged out a load of bed linen. She shook her head at them and went back down the corridor. Setting Lance up in the living room, Willis guessed.

A door creaked and Willis turned in its direction, suddenly aware of another presence. Spud’s round face peered from behind his bedroom door. He stared, wide-eyed. Zeb stepped past Willis, took the boy’s small hand and led him back into his room. Willis stood at the door and watched as Zeb tucked him in and stroked him on the forehead.

Back in the bedroom, Willis didn’t want to v’game, he wanted to sleep. Zeb was disgusted.

Willis began undressing anyway and, to his surprise, Zeb followed suit. When he was in his pajamas, he found his sleeping bag, rolled it out alongside Zeb’s bed, and shrugged himself into it.

The night was cold against his face and the sleeping bag gave little warmth. Slow hours later and still awake, Willis heard a muffled, urgent voice from beyond their door.

‘Stay away. I mean it.’ Through his foggy consciousness, Willis vaguely recognized Zeb’s mother’s voice.

There was a long silence. Then Lance’s voice barked out: ‘C’mon, Marce.’

‘I’ll call the police.’

There was the sound of scuffling, then: ‘Let go of me!’ That was Zeb’s mother. Willis imagined Lance’s grabbing arms. His balled fists.

‘Marce!’

‘Go to hell, Lance Hack.’ Her voice shook.

A door slammed and footsteps moved quickly away down the corridor.

‘Well then schoff off!’ Lance’s shout came from the living room.

Willis waited. After a while, he heard Ms Redman’s faint sobs through the wall. And whining. Who? It took him a second to realize it was Spud.

Turning, Willis looked through the darkness and up at Zeb’s bed. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he discerned Zeb’s intense gaze. Directed at him. It was as if Zeb had been waiting for him to turn and look.

‘I’ll just settle Spud,’ Zeb said. He got out of bed and quietly left the room, leaving the door ajar. Willis listened to Zeb’s soothing voice as he comforted his kid brother.

‘That man’ll be gone in the morning,’ Zeb murmured. ‘And the next time we hear from our dad, it’ll be to say he’s coming home.’