Play or Die Read online

  Play or Die

  Jen Cole

  Text copyright 2012 Jen Cole

  All Rights Reserved

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Thanks to John Garnett for his wholehearted and unflagging support during the writing of this novel.

  Thanks also to Jane Smith, whose desire to see it published resulted in a great adventure for the author.

  To my family, for their willingness to read and critique, and to the friends who enthusiastically provided feedback, I am forever grateful.

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  CHAPTER 33

  CHAPTER 34

  CHAPTER 35

  CHAPTER 36

  CHAPTER 37

  CHAPTER 38

  CHAPTER 39

  CHAPTER 40

  CHAPTER 41

  CHAPTER 42

  CHAPTER 43

  CHAPTER 44

  CHAPTER 45

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  CHAPTER 1

  They watched her walking along the city street, and wriggled in anticipation.

  Jo flowed with the crowd, barely aware of it. The thoughts playing over in her head reduced the traffic’s blast to white noise. Was she mad going to this interview? She had a farm to run. How could she even think of becoming a student as well? Her dad would have said, “Forget the farm, you’re eighteen. Don’t tie yourself down. Sell up, get your degree and have a life.” She bit her lip. It wasn’t that easy letting go. Maybe I could put a manager on while I study, she thought.

  “Are you ready, my dear?”

  The question, spoken in her ear, snapped Jo back to the present and she whirled. A man of about thirty with slicked-back ginger hair, was smiling at her wolfishly. His lime-green trousers and candy-striped jacket looked ridiculous but there was nothing funny about him. He flicked the tip of his tongue over his lip and his grin broadened.

  “Ready to play the game of your life?”

  Her response was immediate. “Get lost!”

  She pivoted and strode down the bustling street, senses alive for the presence of a follower. My God, did something about her cry out, country girl? Well she’d shown that pervert she was no easy mark.

  A minute of brisk weaving through the crowd and Jo risked a glance back between the somber business suits. No lime-green or pink in sight. She gave a short laugh. There hadn’t really been anything to worry about. This early in the morning, with so many people around, someone would have stopped to help if that creep had tried anything. Besides, she was a Shep girl and Shep girls could handle themselves.

  Concerns about how she’d manage the orchard while she studied came crowding back, but Jo pushed them away. She wasn’t ready to let go of the farm. The answers to her father’s death lay there and selling up would mean she’d never learn what really happened.

  A wave of sadness washed over her. Strong coffee helped at such times, and her interview wasn’t for an hour. The narrow street coming up on her left looked promising. Turning into it she stood on tiptoes, straining to peer over the moving heads. Was that a cafe halfway down?

  “Jo Warrington,” the oily voice spoke in her ear. “You really do need to know the rules of the game.”

  Gasping, she turned to face the toothy smile. How had he caught up with her? Fear vied with anger and she allowed anger to win.

  “What the hell! How do you know my name?”

  He bowed, arms widespread. “Allow me to introduce myself. Danny Fitani, world-renowned Game Show Host extraordinaire.”

  “Right.” Jo could not help a snort. “So renowned I’ve never heard of you.”

  “Yes, sadly.” He brought one hand to his heart. “Because the world in which I’m renowned is not this one. That is to say, it is this world, but many years into your future.”

  A loony then, but not harmless. He knew her name. She’d only arrived in Melbourne last night and he hadn’t been at her hotel. Could he have followed her down from Shepparton?

  As Jo stared at the grinning face something clicked. She’d never doubted that the coroner’s verdict – Accidental death due to improper maintenance of machinery – was wrong. Her father had always been meticulous in maintaining his equipment. Yet the idea of someone deliberately tampering with the giant tree shaker seemed equally absurd. Her dad had been well liked. His sole annoying habit, a tendency to jump rather too readily onto his anti-globalization soapbox, was hardly grounds for murder. The only other possibility was that some lunatic...

  And now standing before her was a stranger who knew her name, claimed to be from the future and wanted to play games.

  Jo adopted a soothing tone as she eased open the zipper of her shoulder bag and slipped her hand towards the phone. If things got out of control, she’d pull it out and threaten to call the police.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Fitani. I’m not into game shows, but I’m sure you’ll have no trouble finding someone who is.”

  He laughed. “Call me Danny. I can see you don’t believe me, but you will.”

  He half turned away and then spun back, swinging an open hand at her face. Instead of connecting, it passed through her head like a shadow. Jo gave a choking cry.

  Fitani laughed. “See? I’m an avatar, or hologram if you will. In my world we can’t physically travel in time, but we can gain electronic access to any year in the past that has sufficient microwaves. Microwave photons are different from other electromagnetic radiations. As they hit curved space-time, they gradually lose energy and change to secondary photons. It’s a very slow decay, which leaves a trail across time. The right kind of signal can follow the trail back. I hope my translator is helping you make sense of this.”

  “Your translator?” was all she could say.

  “Sure, language changes rapidly – a grandmother only two generations removed could tell you that. My world’s English would sound like gibberish to you.”

  Jo exhaled as she worked it out. No lunatic could orchestrate this. She was being set up by one of those TV shows that put unsuspecting members of the public through bizarre ordeals. She hid her anger at being picked as their stooge on this of all days, and realized there was no point in walking away. They’d only keep following and taunting her. To get it over with she’d have to play along.

  “Okay, Mr. Fitani.” Jo spoke coolly as she glanced around for hidden cameras. “Tell me about your game.”

  From the corner of her eye she noticed a white van parked opposite. Could the hologram projector be inside? If so, would she be able to see dust motes dancing in its projection light? She couldn’t detect a light stream coming from the van and the Danny Fitani hologram seemed solid and real.

  “The game is quite simple,” he said.

  “Wait a minute.” Projecting a hologram onto a street and even moving it along the pavement might be doable, but getting it inside a building? Perhaps there was a way she could shed these people. “I was about to have a coffee.” Jo indicated the tables outside the cafe
ahead. “Can we sit down while you tell me about your game?”

  Fitani nodded. “If you like.”

  She set off towards the tables, but at the last minute leapt for the cafe door and slipped into a world of smothering warmth and clattering dishes. A coffee machine screamed as Jo looked back through the fogged window. No sign of the hologram. They’d have to get themselves another sucker.

  A waitress approached, tucking back a wave of dark hair. “Will you be having breakfast with us this morning?”

  The melodious Irish accent made Jo smile. “Just a coffee,” she said. “If there’s a table at the back.”

  The waitress twisted through the close-set tables where customers sipped coffee over newspapers and tablets, and Jo almost bumped into her when she pulled up.

  “I’m sorry, I thought there was a free...”

  Beyond her the game show host sat waving his arm.

  “Over here, Jo. I found us a table.”

  The waitress cocked her head and Jo sighed, slipping into the chair opposite Fitani. She ordered a short black.

  “And for your friend?”

  Well, Jo thought, I’m not hallucinating. How are they doing it?

  Fitani waved dismissively. “Nothing for me.” He was lounging in his chair with one hand resting on the table.

  Could they have guessed she’d run for the nearest cover and planted the real Danny Fitani in here to wait for her? Jo grabbed for his hand. He made no effort to withdraw it and her closing fingers became an empty fist.

  He smiled. “Still an avatar.”

  “How are you doing this?” Exasperation put a squeak into her voice.

  “I told you. This era’s abundance of microwaves enables us to send and extract data anywhere on Earth.”

  The waitress returned and Jo gratefully sipped the strong coffee, preparing herself for the upcoming laughter and calls of “Surprise!”

  Instead Fitani continued to speak, adopting a lecturing tone. “To explain the game I’ll need to fill you in a little on my world. It’s a harsh place, only bearable because our technology, too advanced for your understanding…”

  Jo lost patience. “Can we do this without the patronizing attitude?”

  Fitani beamed. “That’s the spirit! Here it is, then. In my world, people rely on entertainment to get them through each day. We at Fun ’n’ Games bring our viewers the very best in entertainment, and I can tell you, after a four-hour shift at the Edge, there’s nothing to beat a real, life-and-death drama. That’s where your world comes in.”

  He leant forward, holding Jo in a magnetic stare. “From this dark era we choose contestants for the ultimate sporting event – a five-day struggle for… LIFE ITSELF!”

  Jo broke free of his gaze and strove to keep her voice steady as she extracted coins for the coffee and put them on the table. “Sorry, that’s not my kind of game. I wouldn’t play for any prize. I have to go now. I have an appointment.”

  “Ah yes, your university interview for the agricultural degree course.”

  Her knees jellied and she found herself unable to rise.

  “Don’t think you were chosen at random, my dear. Only special people become candidates for Play or Die. Prey must have few family members and be unable to procreate. You’ve just lost your last close relative and your medical scans, taken after your mother was diagnosed with cancer, show you cannot bear children. That means your premature death won’t cause any significant changes to the future world.”

  Jo clenched her fists to hide the tremble in her hands. How had they found out about her medical scans? She’d told no one – not even Tayla, her best friend. She went on the attack. “Surely any change to the past would affect the future. Just talking to me must be changing it.”

  “Ah, a thinker. We like that in our Prey, but no, small changes in the past peter out, leaving no important impact. The world’s too big. Too much inertia to overcome. Our mathematicians assure us that only a great change involving masses of people could significantly alter the future.”

  Jo spluttered and Fitani held up a hand. “You would theorize that an important change in the past could begin a domino effect, but our mathematicians insist a domino effect from a single event can’t be sustained. Status quo will always be re-established with no great change to the future. Still, nothing is certain and we prefer to play it safe at Fun ’n’ Games by avoiding what we deem extreme changes, such as prematurely ending a family line. Since your family line has already ended, we classify your death as an insignificant change.”

  “But if I’m killed, people will ask questions!”

  “Who, your one old aunt in the Adelaide Hills? How much impact do you think she’ll have? People die every day in all sorts of ways – take your father. After a brief kerfuffle, the world rolls on. By the way, you needn’t worry about your interview. We sent an email from your account to the university administration explaining about your father’s recent demise, and requesting some time to settle his affairs. The reply we intercepted was most understanding. They’ve pushed your interview date forward a week. So you see, you now have five days free in which to play the game.”

  Jo couldn’t hide the horror in her voice. “Are you saying you killed my father to set up a game?”

  Fitani raised his eyebrows. “Come now Jo, that would hardly be sporting, and didn’t I just tell you we don’t prematurely stop family lines? Your father’s death was simply an event we recorded during our search for candidates. It shot you to the top of our Possible Prey list.”

  “You recorded his death?” Jo momentarily forgot all else. “So you know if it was an accident?” The minute the words were out she mentally kicked herself. I must look like an idiot falling for their Back to the Future crap.

  The game show host looked amused. “I could get one of the crew to check our recordings, but why should I waste my time?”

  Jo laced her words with sarcasm. “Are you waiting for me to say I’ll play your game if you give me the information?”

  Fitani guffawed. “Good heavens no. You’re already playing, my dear.”

  “Like hell I am! I’m not co-operating with this.”

  His expression became serious. “It’s a brave person who’s willing to sit and wait to be killed. Before you make that decision, let me explain what you’re up against. The Hunter was given your dossier this time yesterday and so has a head start on you – a twenty-four hour head start of planning and preparation.”

  Fitani paused to let his words sink in, and then went off on a tangent. “Believe me, choosing a suitable Hunter is no easy task. The same parameters of few family and an inability to perpetuate their genes apply. On top of that, the Hunter must have sufficient sociopathic tendencies to be open to the idea of hunting and killing someone for money. Hunters cannot be professional assassins – that would give them an unfair advantage. Likewise in the spirit of fair play, the Hunter and Prey are physically matched as closely as possible.”

  Jo blinked. “If this is no joke, that would make the people of the future completely evil.”

  “So other Prey have mentioned.”

  “Other Prey?”

  “Oh yes, our show’s near the end of its third year. We run three seasons a year and your Hunt is our ninth. By the way I should tell you that crack about us being evil got lots of ironic laughter and lost you several points.”

  “What?”

  “This is an audience participation show. The viewers’ emotions as they watch how you deal with your situation are continually uploaded, decrypted and converted algorithmically to join a scoreboard tally. Accusing us of evil was a bit much, coming from a member of the most evil age of all.”

  Jo spoke hotly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Fitani flapped his arms in mock dismay. “Oh Jo, drop the outraged innocence, before you lose all the points you’ve gained so far.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about. What’s my world going to do that’s so evil?”

  “
It’s not what you’re going to do. It’s what you’re not doing right now. It’s your criminal neglect.”

  “Neglect?” Jo thought of the issues she’d studied at school. “Sure we have problems, but we’re dealing with them. We’re fighting pollution, deforestation, water shortages, third world starvation...” She faltered under Fitani’s continuing sneer.

  “You’re citing symptoms,” he said. “You haven’t even mentioned the problem. You do know what I’m talking about don’t you? Only one country in your time is making any real effort to do something about it.”

  As Jo hesitated, he pronounced a word at a volume that attracted frowns from nearby tables. “Over-popu-lation. How can you possibly believe paltry conservation plans will more than briefly delay the outcome of your era’s multiplying millions? Your world is on a fast track towards global depletion and widespread wars, leading ultimately to a nuclear holocaust, which will wipe out nearly all life on Earth.”

  Jo stared. “But you’re here.”

  “Only because of The Company. There would be no future without them. After the holocaust they will piece together the remnants and painstakingly rebuild our world.” He patted the gold embroidered logo on the pocket of his jacket, adding, “Praise The Company.”

  Jo narrowed her eyes. “So this game is a kind of retribution? A punishment for our sins?”

  “Glad you understand.”

  “I don’t. If you feel so strongly about this, why aren’t you contacting my world’s governments? Get them to change their policies and prevent the nuclear holocaust from happening.”

  Fitani gave a harsh bark. “The people of my era have suffered and struggled greatly, but we have survived. Would you have us sacrifice ourselves to save your selfish world?”

  “Okay,” Jo spoke slowly. “But if you’re not prepared to change the past, then surely you have to accept your situation. Get on with your lives and leave us alone.”

  “Enough! You think your world should get away scot-free? It’s responsible for our pain and a price must be paid. You have been selected to pay it.”

  “But why me? As you pointed out, I won’t be adding to the population.”