him. Red flame licked the craggy banks. Lava flowed in scalding ripples. Its heat on his face felt like sunburn. âSo what do we do?â
âWe jump it.â
âI canât jump that. Thatâs eighteen feet, easy.â
Tom snorted. âYouâre afraid to try.â
âNot really.â Brett stared down into the glowing current. âIt looks so real, doesnât it?â
âItâs a game,â Tom said, âand Iâm not afraid of a game.â
âTom â¦â
âJust do as I do.â Tom walked back fifteen yards, planted his feet, then sprinted for the river. His arms pumped. The sword and pistol barrel whooshed in the air. When he reached the fiery bank, he jumped.
He almost made it to the far side. Almost.
âBrett, help me!â Tom hung by his fingertipsfrom a crag, his feet two inches above the flames and doing their best to scramble higher.
âWhat am I supposed to do?â
âSomething. Anything!â
As Brett watched, one hand slipped loose, then the other. Tom dropped, screaming, into the flames. His body, all red and bubbled, boiled up once to the surface, then was gone.
PLAYER ONE HAS ONE LIFE REMAINING. GAME CONTINUES .
âAll right.â Tom, whose body was as good as new, was standing beside Brett again. âWeâll do it your way.â
They followed the river parallel to the mountains. Three minutes into their hike, the banks drew together. Brett could have waded across in three steps if it hadnât been lava.
âYou were right,â Tom admitted. âThis wonât take more than a ten-foot jump.â
âSee what happens when you use your head?â Brett leaped the river and landed five feet beyond the far bank. Tom joined him.
On their trek to the mountains, Brett kept waiting to run into an invisible wall; the gameroom was only so big. He wondered if the floor rolled back, like a treadmill. Maybe they werenât really walking at all. Maybe with the game all around them, they just
thought
they were walking.
âThis is weird,â he muttered. âWay too weird.â
They had to cross two more fire rivers, but they jumped them easily. The mountains ahead loomed larger, gray and green and purple pyramids scraping the sky. Brett was beginning to wonder if the game had malfunctioned and left the buzz-bugs out of its program when he heard a noise.
At first it was hardly even a whisper. But the whisper became a rumble, and the rumble became a roar that echoed in his ears.
âWhere is it?â Brett searched the sky, the mountains, the sand in front and behind. âWhat is it?â
âBuzz-bug!â Tom shouted. âOver there!â
A small green dot darted from behind the mountains, growing larger with the sound. It turned from a dot into a dot with wings, then with wings, six black legs, and a round head with balloon eyes and mandibles like scythes.A dragonfly the size of a jet fighter was racing straight toward them.
Tom charged the buzz-bug, his sword raised. The bug flew at him, then by him, as if he werenât there. When Tom struck at its side, the sword glanced off its armored shell. The bug kept comingâstraight at Brett.
Brett raised his pistol and fired. The bug dodged quickly to the side, avoiding the bolt, then charged him even faster. He slashed his sword across its face, aiming for its eyes, but the bug was fast, and its mandibles were long and strong. Their pointed ends punctured each side of his chest, like hot spikes. The blood flowed. Brett couldnât breathe. As the bug lifted him off the ground and the sand and world dropped away, everything went black.
PLAYER TWO HAS ONE LIFE REMAINING. GAME CONTINUES .
Brett stood in the sand. The buzz-bug was gone, and its death bite just a memory. âHow are we supposed to fight something like that?â
Tom shrugged. âI tried stabbing it, and nothing happened. Youâd have to be John Wayne to