The Spirit of the Game

(continued)

By Rik Hunik & Jo McKee

Davey pushed me away. "You are nuts. What can a holographic projection do to us?"

He wasn't afraid yet, but he had always been slow to catch on. "It's not just a holographic projection. Because of your stupid meddling in the graveyard, it is possessed. You brought an unknown entity into this house, gave it a way to manifest, and now you have to deal with it." I thrust my finger at him.

"You're crazy. That stuff doesn't work." He didn't sound very sure of himself, and he was trying to back up through the kitchen counter again. "If you want it shut off so badly, you explain it to Mom and you shut it off."

"I'll shut it off all right, with a hammer, and I'll explain afterwards." It no longer mattered to me that Hank was coming soon to take the equipment away.

"Okay, okay, I'll do it." He was whining now.

I stepped aside to let him out of the corner I had talked him into, then followed him into the living room. He stopped in his tracks, and I nearly bumped into him. The holoprojection was smiling in a sinister way that Dad had never used. As soon as it became aware of us, the sinister smile shifted to a normal one. It turned our way, without that brief static burst.

Mom wasn't moving. Her face was gray and it was covered with beads of sweat. She was tense in her chair, staring straight ahead and clutching her chest. She looked like she was having a heart attack. I grabbed the phone to dial 91l, but the line was dead. By then Davey had taken in the picture. He needed no further convincing that what I had just been saying was all true. He lunged forward, diving for the main power switch, I assume. A bright blue spark a foot long snapped out and touched his index finger. He collapsed onto the carpet.

The projection looked right at me and said, "You're next." Its eyes were bright red at the center, and they stayed that way as it stood up and came slowly toward me. It walked out of range of the projector and right through the coffee table. A deep chill assailed me as it approached. I didn't know what it could do to me, but I knew it wouldn't be good. I didn't want to find out.

I backed up a couple of steps and bumped into a shelf. I reached back, half turned, grabbed a small but heavy speaker and threw it as hard as I could. The wire snapped, and the speaker passed right through the image of my long-dead father as it reached for me, smashing into the stack of electronic equipment I had aimed for, knocking it all to the floor. Cases and circuit boards shattered, wires came loose and sparks flew.

"You bitch," the projection cried out as it vanished, its clutching fingers just inches from my face. The curtains rustled, even though the window was closed.

There was a loud knock at the front door. "Come in," I shouted. I rushed to my mother's side. She was struggling for breath and still in pain, but the horrible, strained look was gone from her face.

"That wasn't Jake," she gasped. "That wasn't your father."

She breathed hard. "Oh my God, it had me fooled." She rested one hand on her heaving, oversized breasts.

"What the hell is going on here?" Hank demanded.

"I'll explain later. Call 911. Get an ambulance." He pulled out his cell phone and punched in the number. I went over to Davey. He was breathing okay, but he was still unconscious. I made sure he and Mom were warm and comfortable, but my first aid skills couldn't do any more for either of them.

I went into the kitchen and started searching through Mom's drawers. Hank finished his call and came up behind me. Without waiting for his question or interrupting my search, I began to explain what I knew about the possession. I found a set of plastic tongs, and Hank followed me into the living room. No doubt he found my explanation to be quite fantastic, but my actions added weight to my words. I didn't give him time to interrupt.

I kicked the speaker aside, eliciting a clatter of broken parts. I poked among the remains with the plastic tongs and extracted the disc from its plastic tray. The entity seemed to have fled, but the disc was undamaged and I was taking no chances that it might be called back. Hank lit up a cigarette and I borrowed his lighter. I took the disc to the kitchen sink and put the lighter to it until it was a distorted, melting chunk of plastic. I was careful not to let it catch on fire but a little wisp of black smoke did drift up to the ceiling and disappear.

I looked down and met Hank's blue eyes as he looked down. His eyes were open wide. "It looked like that smoke went right on up through the ceiling."

I nodded. "That's what it looked like to me too."

The ambulance arrived just then to take Mom and Davey to the hospital.

Hank and his assistant gathered up the damaged equipment. I asked, "What are you going to do with that?"

"All of this is going into the trash. We'll build another one."

"I don't know what it's worth, but I'm willing to pay for what I destroyed."

Hank shook his head. "You don't have to pay for anything."

His eyes met mine, and I wished, not for the first time, that he wasn't married. "I believe your story. "

I raised an eyebrow. "Really? I have trouble believing it myself now that it's over."

Hank's smile was thin. "I can understand that, and I don't know how much I'll still believe myself tomorrow, but your story all fits together. It does offer an explanation for what we saw as we came to the door." He looked to his assistant, who nodded confirmation, then back at me. "A luminous cloud flew out through the window and rushed past us, over our heads. I felt the wind of its passage on my face and I heard leaves rustle on the trees, but by the time I turned around it was gone."

I smiled. "I'll need more evidence than that."

He grinned. "Me, too. But it's all we have, and it won't stand up in any court."

"Of course not. " I touched his arm. "Thanks for coming."

"I had to come. I should have come sooner, but I didn't know Dave had come so far with the programming, so I didn't realize the urgency." He leaned closer. "I found a rough copy of Dave's spell where he dropped it. I didn't think much of it, but when I showed it to my wife, she said it was a crudely-pieced-together spell, and it was dangerous. It looked like it would create an open channel, which is always a dangerous situation. That's when I phoned you."

They held Davey in the hospital for a few days. His right index finger was burned so bad it had to be amputated; so far down he didn't even have a stub left, and his hand never did regain full sensitivity. All the hair on his head turned white, and it went from curly to frizzy, sticking straight out from his head. He went back to work a month later. The new team had assembled an improved prototype. Their Bogie program was good enough to be amusing but remained unconvincing. With Davey's help they eventually made it convincing enough to get the interest of a major gaming company, but Davey never regained his edge, and his commission, after Bogart Inc. got their cut off the top, never amounted to much. Before long he was back to his old ways, borrowing money and never repaying it.

Mom recovered quickly. Her doctor blamed her heart attack on the heavy meal, and she let him think what he wanted. She seldom talks about dead people and never plays games with them anymore. She's more focused on living now and spends more time gardening than playing at her computer. She even started exercising and lost a lot of weight. Maybe too much. Her doctor suspects she may have stomach cancer. I visit both of them more often.

The unknown entity that Davey summoned from who-knows-where didn't succeed with its plan, but it certainly left a mark on us. We never talk about that night, but I've been getting plenty of hugs. I'm not quite so uptight, and I'm doing better in all my classes. I even have a new boyfriend. Unfortunately, his family lives in Oregon, and he wants to move there after he graduates. I might go with him.