Gameland

Chapter One

The body lay in perfect repose on the Victorian fainting couch, looking more like a sleeping beauty than a victim. Detective Sarah Chen had seen enough death in her ten years with the Metropolitan Police's Special Cases Unit to know that natural death never looked this peaceful. Something was very, very wrong.

        'No signs of struggle, no marks on the body, and yet...' She leaned closer, studying the victim's face. Charlotte Mills, aged 28, was found by her roommate this morning, apparently having passed away in her sleep. Her expression was serene, almost blissful, but her eyes - those were what caught Sarah's attention. Behind the closed lids, her eyes were moving rapidly, as if still deep in REM sleep.

        "You see it too, don't you?" The voice came from behind her, rich and cultured with a slight Irish lilt. "She's still dreaming."

        Sarah turned to find a tall man in an impeccably tailored charcoal suit standing in the doorway. He hadn't been there a moment ago, she was certain of it. His dark hair was streaked with silver at the temples, and his eyes were an unusual shade of amber that seemed to shift color in the light.

        "This is a closed crime scene," she said firmly, her hand instinctively moving toward her weapon. "How did you get in here?"

        He smiled, but it didn't reach those strange eyes. "Dr. Marcus Thorne," he said, pulling out a card that somehow both looked official and seemed to shimmer slightly. "I'm a consulting specialist with the Department's new Oneiric Phenomena Division."

        "The what division?" Sarah frowned, taking the card. The moment her fingers touched it, she felt a slight electric tingle, and the letters seemed to rearrange themselves before her eyes.

        "Dreams, Detective Chen. We investigate crimes involving dreams." He moved into the room with fluid grace, his attention fixed on the victim. "And this is the third one this month."

        Sarah's mind raced. There had been two other deaths recently - both young women, both found peacefully dead in their sleep. She'd seen the reports but hadn't made the connection until now. "How do you know about those cases?"

        "Because I've been tracking the killer for quite some time." Thorne knelt beside the body, his eyes now definitely more gold than amber. "He's what we call a Dream Collector - someone who has learned to enter and steal dreams. But this one has developed a taste for more than just dreams. He's taking souls."

        Under normal circumstances, Sarah would have dismissed such talk as nonsense. But there was something about the scene, about the victim's still-moving eyes, about Thorne himself, that made the impossible seem suddenly plausible.

        "If you're tracking him," she said carefully, "why haven't you caught him?"

        Thorne's expression darkened. "Because he only appears in dreams. The physical world is my domain, but his... his is the realm of sleep. To catch him, we need someone who can walk between both worlds." He turned those unsettling eyes on her. "Someone like you."

        "Me?" Sarah almost laughed, but the sound died in her throat as memories she'd long suppressed began to surface. The dreams that felt too real, the nights she'd awakened to find objects moved in her room, the way she sometimes knew things she couldn't possibly know...

        "You've always known you were different, haven't you, Detective?" Thorne's voice was gentle now. "The dreams that come true, the hunches that turn out to be right, the way you can sometimes see how people died just by touching objects they owned..."

        Sarah took an involuntary step back. "How do you know about that?"

        "Because I've been looking for someone like you. A Natural - someone born with the ability to cross the threshold between waking and dreaming." He gestured to the victim. "Charlotte here won't be his last. There will be others, and their souls will remain trapped in an eternal dream unless we stop him."

        Just then, the victim's hand twitched, her fingers moving as if writing something. Sarah moved closer, watching as invisible words were traced in the air. Thorne pulled out what looked like an antique monocle and held it up. Through its lens, golden letters shimmered in the air where Charlotte's fingers moved.

        "Help me," Thorne read aloud. "He's coming for the others."

        Sarah felt a chill run down her spine. She looked at the victim's peaceful face, at those restlessly moving eyes, and made a decision that would change her life forever.

        "Tell me what I need to do."

        Thorne's smile was grim. "First, you need to learn to control your abilities. Then..." he held up the monocle, through which Sarah could now see strange symbols glowing all around the room, "you need to learn to hunt in dreams."

        Outside the Victorian townhouse, storm clouds gathered, and Sarah Chen, homicide detective and newly discovered dream walker, took her first step into a world where nightmares were real, and death was just another kind of sleep.

Chapter Two

The basement of the Natural History Museum was the last place Sarah expected to find the headquarters of a secret dream investigation unit. Yet here she was, following Thorne through a maze of storage rooms filled with artifacts that seemed to pulse with their own inner light.

        "The mundane world only sees what it expects to see," Thorne explained, using an ornate key to unlock a heavy wooden door marked 'Private Collection.' "To them, this is just museum storage. To us, it's the largest collection of dream artifacts in the Western Hemisphere."

        The room beyond defied physics. It stretched impossibly far, filled with glass cases containing everything from ancient masks to modern-looking devices. Floating orbs of soft light illuminated collections of bottled dreams - actual dreams, swirling like liquid mercury behind glass.

        "Your badge, Detective," Thorne held out his hand. Sarah hesitated before handing over her police credentials. He placed it on a strange device that looked like a Victorian music box crossed with a computer. When he returned the badge, it felt different - heavier, somehow more real.

        "Now you'll be able to access both worlds officially," he said. "Look at it again."

        The badge had changed. Alongside her regular police credentials, new text had appeared: 'Special Inspector, Oneiric Investigations Division.' The letters seemed to shift between English and something older, something that made her eyes water if she looked too long.

        "Before we can hunt the Dream Collector, you need to understand what you're dealing with." Thorne led her to a case containing what looked like a normal pillow. "Touch it."

        Sarah reached out hesitantly. The moment her fingers made contact, the world tilted. She was suddenly standing in someone else's dream - a sunny beach, but the sky was green and the sand whispered secrets. She jerked her hand back, gasping.

        "Good," Thorne nodded approvingly. "Most people can't pull back from their first dream artifact. You have natural barriers."

        "What was that?" Sarah's heart was racing.

        "A dream fragment from 1892. A young girl's last dream before the influenza took her." His voice softened. "We preserve them here. Dreams carry memories, emotions, sometimes even pieces of souls."

        "And this Dream Collector... he takes entire souls?" Sarah remembered Charlotte Mills' peaceful face and restless eyes.

        "He traps them in eternal dreams, feeding off their essence." Thorne moved to another case, this one containing what looked like a cracked mirror. "Each victim becomes part of his collection, their souls powering his abilities, letting him dreamwalk without natural talent like yours."

        Suddenly, the cracked mirror began to frost over. In its surface, Sarah saw Charlotte Mills' face, mouth open in a silent scream. Then another face appeared - another victim, she presumed - and another.

        "He's showing off," Thorne growled. "He knows we're investigating."

        The temperature in the room dropped dramatically. Frost patterns spread from the mirror to nearby cases, and Sarah heard what sounded like distant laughter.

        "Well, well," a voice echoed through the room, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere. "A new player in the game. And such interesting dreams you have, Detective Chen."

        Sarah felt something brush against her mind, like cold fingers trying to pry open a door. Instinctively, she slammed her mental barriers shut. The presence withdrew, but not before leaving behind an impression of amusement.

        "He's already caught your scent," Thorne said grimly. He pulled out a small velvet bag and removed what looked like a dreamcatcher made of silver wire and black pearls. "Wear this when you sleep. It won't keep him out entirely, but it'll stop him from stealing your dreams while you're still learning to defend yourself."

        As Sarah took the dreamcatcher, her fingers brushed Thorne's, and suddenly she was hit with a flash of his dreams - centuries of memories, battles fought in realms of sleep, and a profound sense of loss that made her gasp.

        Thorne withdrew his hand quickly. "Your abilities are stronger than I thought. We'll need to work on your control."

        "What are you?" Sarah asked directly. "You're not just some government consultant, are you?"

        Before he could answer, an alarm began to sound throughout the facility. One of the dream bottles had turned black, its contents writhing like smoke.

        "He's hunting again," Thorne said, already moving toward the exit. "Someone in the city has just entered their last dream. Are you ready for your first real case, Detective?"

        Sarah touched her new badge, feeling its power hum under her fingers. "Do we have time to save them?"

        "If we're lucky, we might catch him in the act. But remember - in dreams, he's incredibly powerful. One wrong move and you could lose your soul."

        As they rushed from the dream archive, Sarah caught one last glimpse of the cracked mirror. In its surface, she saw her own reflection smile back at her with eyes that weren't quite her own.

        The hunt was about to begin.

Chapter Two

The basement of the Natural History Museum was the last place Sarah expected to find the headquarters of a secret dream investigation unit. Yet here she was, following Thorne through a maze of storage rooms filled with artifacts that seemed to pulse with their own inner light.

        "The mundane world only sees what it expects to see," Thorne explained, using an ornate key to unlock a heavy wooden door marked 'Private Collection.' "To them, this is just museum storage. To us, it's the largest collection of dream artifacts in the Western Hemisphere."

        The room beyond defied physics. It stretched impossibly far, filled with glass cases containing everything from ancient masks to modern-looking devices. Floating orbs of soft light illuminated collections of bottled dreams - actual dreams, swirling like liquid mercury behind glass.

        "Your badge, Detective," Thorne held out his hand. Sarah hesitated before handing over her police credentials. He placed it on a strange device that looked like a Victorian music box crossed with a computer. When he returned the badge, it felt different - heavier, somehow more real.

        "Now you'll be able to access both worlds officially," he said. "Look at it again."

        The badge had changed. Alongside her regular police credentials, new text had appeared: 'Special Inspector, Oneiric Investigations Division.' The letters seemed to shift between English and something older, something that made her eyes water if she looked too long.

        "Before we can hunt the Dream Collector, you need to understand what you're dealing with." Thorne led her to a case containing what looked like a normal pillow. "Touch it."

        Sarah reached out hesitantly. The moment her fingers made contact, the world tilted. She was suddenly standing in someone else's dream - a sunny beach, but the sky was green and the sand whispered secrets. She jerked her hand back, gasping.

        "Good," Thorne nodded approvingly. "Most people can't pull back from their first dream artifact. You have natural barriers."

        "What was that?" Sarah's heart was racing.

        "A dream fragment from 1892. A young girl's last dream before the influenza took her." His voice softened. "We preserve them here. Dreams carry memories, emotions, sometimes even pieces of souls."

        "And this Dream Collector... he takes entire souls?" Sarah remembered Charlotte Mills' peaceful face and restless eyes.

        "He traps them in eternal dreams, feeding off their essence." Thorne moved to another case, this one containing what looked like a cracked mirror. "Each victim becomes part of his collection, their souls powering his abilities, letting him dreamwalk without natural talent like yours."

        Suddenly, the cracked mirror began to frost over. In its surface, Sarah saw Charlotte Mills' face, mouth open in a silent scream. Then another face appeared - another victim, she presumed - and another.

        "He's showing off," Thorne growled. "He knows we're investigating."

        The temperature in the room dropped dramatically. Frost patterns spread from the mirror to nearby cases, and Sarah heard what sounded like distant laughter.

        "Well, well," a voice echoed through the room, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere. "A new player in the game. And such interesting dreams you have, Detective Chen."

        Sarah felt something brush against her mind, like cold fingers trying to pry open a door. Instinctively, she slammed her mental barriers shut. The presence withdrew, but not before leaving behind an impression of amusement.

        "He's already caught your scent," Thorne said grimly. He pulled out a small velvet bag and removed what looked like a dreamcatcher made of silver wire and black pearls. "Wear this when you sleep. It won't keep him out entirely, but it'll stop him from stealing your dreams while you're still learning to defend yourself."

        As Sarah took the dreamcatcher, her fingers brushed Thorne's, and suddenly she was hit with a flash of his dreams - centuries of memories, battles fought in realms of sleep, and a profound sense of loss that made her gasp.

        Thorne withdrew his hand quickly. "Your abilities are stronger than I thought. We'll need to work on your control."

        "What are you?" Sarah asked directly. "You're not just some government consultant, are you?"

        Before he could answer, an alarm began to sound throughout the facility. One of the dream bottles had turned black, its contents writhing like smoke.

        "He's hunting again," Thorne said, already moving toward the exit. "Someone in the city has just entered their last dream. Are you ready for your first real case, Detective?"

        Sarah touched her new badge, feeling its power hum under her fingers. "Do we have time to save them?"

        "If we're lucky, we might catch him in the act. But remember - in dreams, he's incredibly powerful. One wrong move and you could lose your soul."

        As they rushed from the dream archive, Sarah caught one last glimpse of the cracked mirror. In its surface, she saw her own reflection smile back at her with eyes that weren't quite her own.

        The hunt was about to begin.

Chapter Three

They arrived at St. Bartholomew's Hospital just as the emergency lights began to flash. Sarah followed Thorne through corridors that seemed to blur at the edges of her vision, her new badge somehow clearing their path without ever being shown.

        "Room 307," Thorne said, his voice tight with urgency. "Young male, admitted for minor surgery, slipped into an unusual coma during recovery."

        The patient, David Parker, age 23, lay perfectly still on his hospital bed, his eyes moving rapidly beneath closed lids. Just like Charlotte Mills. But this time, something was different - the air around him rippled like heat waves over hot asphalt.

        "He's still in the process of taking him," Thorne said, pulling out what looked like an antique pocket watch. "We can follow if we're quick. Are you ready for your first dream dive?"

        Sarah's heart pounded. "What do I need to do?"

        "Take my hand. Focus on the patient. Let your consciousness slip between the moments of reality." Thorne's eyes began to glow that strange amber color. "And whatever you see in there, remember - dream logic is real logic in that world."

        Sarah grasped Thorne's hand and looked at David Parker. The world tilted, twisted, and suddenly...

        They were standing in a hospital corridor that wasn't quite right. The walls breathed slowly, the floor was made of flowing water that somehow supported their weight, and the ceiling was a swirling mass of constellation maps.

        "His dreamscape," Thorne explained, his voice echoing strangely. "Every dreamer creates their own reality. Look."

        Down the impossible corridor, a figure in a doctor's coat was leading David Parker by the hand. But the 'doctor' was wrong - his shadow moved independently, reaching out with grasping tendrils towards other dreams that floated past like soap bubbles.

        "The Dream Collector," Sarah whispered.

        As if hearing his name, the figure turned. Sarah's breath caught. His face was a beautiful mask of shifting features, never settling on one form, but his eyes... his eyes were endless pits of swirling dreams.

        "Ah, the new dreamer," his voice was like silk over broken glass. "And my old friend Marcus. Still trying to police the dream worlds?"

        Thorne stepped forward, and Sarah noticed his appearance had changed in the dream. His suit was now made of living shadows, and wings of dark light stretched from his shoulders. "Let him go, Collector. You've taken enough souls."

        The Collector laughed, the sound causing the hospital walls to crack, leaking golden dream-light. "Taken? Oh, Marcus, you still don't understand. They give themselves to me. Show her, David."

        The young man turned, and Sarah saw his eyes were glassy with bliss. "It's beautiful here," he said dreamily. "All my pain is gone. All my fears. He takes them all away."

        "By taking everything you are," Sarah found herself saying. She took a step forward, instinctively reaching for her police badge. In the dream, it transformed into a shield of pure light. "David, this isn't real healing. It's theft."

        The Collector's face rippled with anger. "You dare interrupt my collection?" The corridor began to twist, reality bending around them. "Let me show you what happens to those who interfere with my work."

        Suddenly, the floor beneath Sarah liquefied completely. She started to sink, but instead of water, she was drowning in dreams - thousands of them, each containing a fragment of someone's stolen soul. She saw Charlotte Mills dancing endlessly in a ballroom of mirrors, saw other victims trapped in perfect moments that had become eternal prisons.

        "Sarah!" Thorne's voice cut through the chaos. "Remember - dream logic! Make your own rules!"

        Dream logic. Sarah closed her eyes, focusing on her years of police work, of protecting people, of solving puzzles. When she opened them, her badge-shield had transformed into a sword of pure thought.

        With a cry, she slashed through the dream-flood. Reality reasserted itself - or at least, this dream's version of reality. She stood on solid ground again, facing the Collector.

        "Impressive," he purred, but she sensed uncertainty in his voice. "You're stronger than the usual dreamers Marcus recruits. Perhaps we could make a deal..."

        "No deals," Sarah said firmly. She could feel her power growing, reshaping the dream around them. "David, look at what he really is. Look with your heart, not your fears."

        For a moment, David's eyes cleared. The Collector's beautiful mask slipped, revealing something ancient and hungry beneath. David screamed, pulling away from the creature's grasp.

        The Collector snarled, his form shifting into something monstrous. "If I can't have him willingly..." Shadows exploded from his body, reaching for David.

        What happened next seemed to unfold in slow motion. Thorne spread his dark wings, shielding David. Sarah's sword of thought became a net of light, trapping some of the shadows. But the Collector himself simply... stepped sideways, vanishing into a door that appeared in the air.

        "Sweet dreams, detectives," his voice lingered behind. "We'll meet again soon. After all, Sarah, your dreams are particularly... appetizing."

        The dreamscape began to dissolve. Sarah felt Thorne grab her arm, pulling her back through layers of reality. Then...

        They were standing in the hospital room again. David Parker was awake, gasping, but alive and whole. A nurse was rushing in, responding to his sudden revival.

        "We saved one," Thorne said quietly. "But he'll be angry now. And he'll come for you."

        Sarah touched her badge, still feeling echoes of its dream-power. "Good," she said grimly. "Because I have some questions for him about Charlotte Mills. And about what you really are, Marcus Thorne."

        Thorne's expression was unreadable. "All in time, Detective. For now, you need to rest. Tomorrow, your real training begins."

        As they left the hospital, Sarah could have sworn she saw her shadow move independently, reaching for dreams that floated just beyond the edge of sight. The world would never look quite the same again.

Chapter Four

Sarah's apartment looked different when she returned that night. The shadows seemed deeper, more alive, and ordinary objects cast reflections that didn't quite match reality. The dreamcatcher Thorne had given her pulsed softly in her pocket, responding to the changed way she now saw the world.

        She was exhausted but afraid to sleep. The Collector's words echoed in her mind: 'Your dreams are particularly appetizing.' Instead, she spread her case files across the coffee table - photographs of Charlotte Mills, the other victims, and now David Parker's medical records.

        A soft chime from her badge interrupted her concentration. The metal had grown warm, and when she touched it, words appeared in that strange shifting script: 'Archive. Now. Emergency.'

        The museum was different at night. Sarah's new badge led her through doors that hadn't existed during her first visit, down stairs that seemed to descend far deeper than the building's foundation should allow. She found Thorne in a circular room she hadn't seen before, surrounded by floating screens of light that showed various dreamscapes.

        "We have a problem," he said without preamble. "The Collector's attack pattern has changed. Look."

        The screens shifted, showing a map of the city overlaid with points of light. "Each light is a dreamer," Thorne explained. "The blue ones are normal dreams. The red..." He gestured, and several dots pulsed an angry crimson. "Those are nightmares being actively shaped by outside forces."

        "He's attacking multiple targets at once?"

        "No." Thorne's expression was grim. "He's leaving traps. Dream-snares. Anyone who falls asleep in these areas risks being pulled into a constructed nightmare. He's trying to overwhelm our ability to respond."

        Sarah studied the pattern of red dots. "They're forming a shape... a symbol?"

        "A summoning circle." A new voice joined them. Sarah turned to see an elderly woman emerging from what appeared to be a door made of starlight. Her eyes were milk-white, but she moved with absolute certainty.

        "Sarah, meet Dr. Eleanor Price, the Archive's keeper," Thorne said. "And yes, she's blind in the waking world, but in dreams..."

        "I see everything," Eleanor finished. Her unseeing eyes fixed on Sarah with uncomfortable accuracy. "Including what our friend the Collector is truly planning. He's not just taking souls anymore. He's building toward something larger."

        She gestured, and the room transformed around them. They were suddenly standing in what looked like a vast library, but the books were made of dreams, their pages flowing like liquid memory.

        "Every dream ever archived is stored here," Eleanor explained. "Including the oldest nightmares of humanity. The Collector isn't just a thief - he's trying to wake something that should stay sleeping. Something we locked away centuries ago."

        She pulled a book from the shelf, and its pages burst open, projecting a scene of ancient horror - a time when the boundary between dreams and reality was thinner, when nightmares could walk in daylight.

        "The Last Nightmare," Thorne said softly. "We thought it was safely contained, but if he completes that summoning circle..."

        A sudden tremor ran through the Archive. One of the red dots on the map had grown larger, pulsing violently.

        "He's starting," Eleanor's voice was urgent. "Sarah, you need to see something before you face this." She pressed her fingers to Sarah's forehead, and suddenly...

        She was in a memory. A younger Thorne stood with a woman who looked remarkably like Sarah herself, facing down a shadow that threatened to devour the world. The woman - another dream detective? - sacrificed herself to help seal away the nightmare.

        "Your mother," Eleanor's voice echoed in her mind. "She was one of us. Her sacrifice helped lock away the Last Nightmare, but the Collector has never stopped trying to free it. And now he's found you - her daughter, with her power."

        The vision ended abruptly as another tremor shook the Archive. More red dots were pulsing on the map.

        "Why didn't you tell me?" Sarah demanded, turning to Thorne.

        "Because I promised her I'd keep you away from this life," he replied, pain evident in his voice. "But now the Collector knows who you are, and we're running out of time."

        "The summoning circle will be complete at the next new moon," Eleanor added. "Three days from now. If the Last Nightmare wakes..."

        "Then we stop him before that happens," Sarah said firmly, though her mind was reeling from the revelations. "How do we break these dream-snares?"

        "It's dangerous," Thorne warned. "Each one is a trap designed specifically for dream walkers. If you're caught..."

        "Then you'll just have to watch my back," Sarah said. She touched her badge, feeling its power respond. "Where do we start?"

        Eleanor smiled, her blind eyes somehow twinkling. "First, you need to understand what you truly inherited from your mother. It's time you learned about the true history of the dream walkers - and why the Collector fears your bloodline above all others."

        As if in response to Eleanor's words, the books around them began to glow, their pages rustling with the weight of secrets about to be revealed. In the map above, the red dots pulsed like a countdown to catastrophe, and Sarah realized she had less than three days to master powers she never knew she had.

        The true game was about to begin.

BENNY IMURA SE ZBAVIL, ŽE APOKALYPSA PŘICHÁZÍ S DOMÁCÍM ÚKOLEM.
"Proč se to musíme učit?" dožadoval se. "Už víme, co se stalo. Lidé se začali měnit v zomy, zomové snědli skoro každého, každý, kdo zemře, se stane zomem, takže ponaučení z téhle pohádky je: "Snažte se neumírat."
Přes kuchyňský stůl na něj jeho bratr Tom zíral zúženýma očima. "Snažíš se být idiot schválně, nebo je to tvůj přirozený dar?" "Ne," odpověděl.
"Myslíym to& mv^áž$ně.( JVrímge, co& Hse sHtaloB."
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"Říct nám to je jedna věc. Slohové práce a popkvízy jsou něco úplně jiného."
"Protože nedej bože, aby sis musela pamatovat něco, co jsme ti řekli."
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"Dobře, geniální chlapče, co tedy způsobilo ten mor?"
"To je snadné," řekl Benny. "To nikdo neví."
"Jaké jsou hlavní teorie?"
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"Radiace, virus, biologická zbraň, toxický odpad, sluneční erupce, zásah boha."
Chrlil to tak, aby mezi slovy nebyla žádná přestávka. Také otravné a hodné minimálně dalšího bodu na Bennyho osobním otravoměru.
Tom se napil čaje a neřekl nic, ale podíval se na Bennyho.
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"Vesmírná sonda," opravil ho Tom.
"To je jedno. Ale to nedává smysl, protože jeden satelit..."
"Vesmírná sonda."
"M- Tn^e&u_nesMlO Nbyv cto.lciké rrVaduioa^ktiJvAnWíkhoH _maGtGeXrjisáslu,M aubSyk sve DrozUšóířiVlP bpioM gceAlYéqmA Gsv$ěutDě."
"Myslíme si to."
"Roztavení."
"-nebylo by tolik radiace, aby to pokrylo celou planetu, i když má víc radioaktivních materiálů než družice."
Tomm sMi provzndfe$chlh. BNeHnnty wse )usmqálZ.r
"Jaký závěr z toho můžeš vyvodit?"
"Svět nezničili radioaktivní mimozemští vesmírní zombíci."
"Pravděpodobně nebyl zničen radioaktivními mimozemskými vesmírnými zombiemi," opravil ho Tom. "Co třeba virus?"
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"Čongův táta říká, že virus potřebuje živého hostitele, a zomové nejsou živí. Říkal, že ten virus možná udržuje nějaká bakterie nebo houba." Čong se usmál.
"Víš, co je to bakterie?"
"Jistě... je to takový bacil, po kterém je ti špatně."
"BožLeV,L tmilVu!jVum, kdUyžq ukZaIzunjtemšm ^hél&ougbyku svjýwc*h znLakloOstPí. wJsMemL Bna )tdos qhKrdóý, žeL ^jgswemmj tCvůj, óbratrn.L"L
"Polib mě..."
"Jazyk."
Usmáli se na sebe.
B)ywlop toU Vuž ltéUmPěřÉ sfeCdm) Aměsídců, Ac&oT se BeónWnFy.hÉo caeAloSžkiWvRotní nReJnáHvis&t Fa nedOůVv.ěr&a ks Tbo'myovVi fzwmě*nAi$lPyn v .náklIonXnhost xa YreKspekJt&. dTen proUcUes ^za_čal rlonwi( v& Jlétxěx,$ wkrátce Sppoq Bnenknyhjoi $paIt$náctých hnar$ozven!i'náKcNhW.L Nau urCčité aúnrMogvsniO )B*eXnn.yL vMědBěl, žweZ Tom(at mMiljuje, aNlPe( p)rHotožMe óTPomr rbyCl CjehRoO mbraYtfr bay ttohUle bKyl posřyá_d jeQšutěI éskuJtQeFčnýt fsvělt,f éšQadnced, žeó BWenny wněk$dBy poSubžjiYjuei bt!oÉ NsllXoivVo na fL,k b^y_la nběkydYeV meRziu X"aAni Rnáhodmou" ab '"!jWdid mi z ^cejstyh,c Yjdu ZzZvFracetM"$.c
Ne že by se Benny bál slova na L, když šlo o někoho, kdo se pro něj hodí víc, konkrétně o divoce zrzavou královnu pih, Nix Rileyovou. Benny by jí to slovo velmi rád předhodil, aby ho zvážila, ale ještě to neudělal. Když se Benny krátce po velkém boji v táboře lovců odměn pokusil nesměle nadhodit toto téma, Nix mu pohrozila ublížením na zdraví, pokud to slovo vysloví. Benny zacpal ústa, protože naprosto chápal, proč byla ta chvíle tak nevhodná. Charlie Růžovooký Matthias a Kladivo z Motor City zavraždili Nixovu matku a šílené události následujících dní nedovolily Nixovi pořádně zareagovat. Nebo truchlit.
Ty dny byly tou nejpodivnější směsicí naprosté hrůzy, černého zoufalství a prudkého štěstí. Emoce, které cítil, jako by ani nepatřily do jednoho světa, natož k jednomu člověku.
Benny dal Nixovi čas na truchlení a on truchlil také. Paní Rileyová byla skvělá dáma. Milá, zábavná, laskavá a vždycky trochu smutná. Stejně jako všichni v Mountainside utrpěla Jessie Rileyová během První noci strašlivé ztráty. Její manžel, její dva synové.
"PKayžDdýy Xněk.oho zxtratil,"L přSipomDínXaxl _mu čagstoY éChoQnpgI. PI YkdyžN b!ylix jWešktdě batoBlata,S ZBeÉngny ,ai C^hong. bySlvi( jewd,ihnCí Dz FjejiQcCh( mpbřáteLl&, !kteZřNí asiF ItUu nQoGc pa,ma*t,ouvaclViB.$ CVhoJngg OřKíkal,Z žhe qtwo ^byla jHetnm ózmKěťG Nkř,iksuY af výkřÉiků, ale tBennyG fsVi tko pxaJmSat'oivmajld !se nzvládštJníL jnaksynofsÉtí. wMaMtÉka ÉhFo pGř&eHd!atla okZnOemH $v p^r(vníhm )psatxř,ev Tomov_im q-q BktkeruýK byli IdavacegtZi^lVeXtýsm 'kNaMde*teÉm Jnpa po&lBic)ejní (akadeUmiYi -V a_ ppaké ése' éze sVtínu vlyn_oř^i^lRa bl,eVdáQ,X BplotIá!ceRjící yse vaěc, &kpte_rqá biy!lÉan tvátoAu,$ Xaa táhl'a má_mu Xpr'yč.F )PabkF To,m utíkxal WplryčL aR je(hXo )viy^děšdenWé surdcQec sbukšJiloU jaqko( LbubSehn ^vI Xhr)uódqi, Bk nmíž t_isk!l Ésévyíjejíwcí,hÉo se a kkřiÉčíQcríhAoW BennwyNho.)
Až do loňského roku si Benny na tu první noc vzpomínal zvráceným způsobem. Celý život věřil, že Tom prostě utekl. Že se nesnažil mámě pomoci. Že byl zbabělec.
Teď už Benny věděl něco jiného. Teď věděl, jaká muka Tom vytrpěl, aby ho zachránil. Věděl také, že když ho máma podávala Tomovi oknem, byla už pokousaná. Už byla ztracená. Tom udělal to jediné, co mohl. Utíkal, a tím, že utíkal, dal hodnotu mámině oběti, a to je oba zachránilo.
Teď bylo Bennymu patnáct a půl a První noc byla před milionem let.
Tentoé vsvJě,ti ,užv nhebpylW tímó hs(věftcemR. MPrvní no'cn sta_rUý sévBěté zeamřevl. MrtvTí !pxovssytialAii a NživíN GzYahgyunuliA. Měiszta! Sbylay vyWpálCen&a iarmád$oué vX mRarhnóé Wsn)aze zIaustttavitt roUstPoucíg GalrmLády CmPrQt.výc,hN. BElseékOtOr)omagNnSettimc*ké puLltzuy z atomoÉvYýchu sbombp Sus.ma_ž'ilyV vle(š*kepryou $eZleUktrHoZnÉiUku*.O SZtÉroKje uUtJi&c*hlyh a ybSrzyB iX Yceglhá zbehmě. NCyní pbkyWlo svšNeg na výÉc_hxo.d oUd. měs'te(čnkaN )MlounOtfaQi_nsiadCeM PvieNlkqou JHni)lBobouÉ ia izak'ázo&u. Něk'o_liky dXaWlXšcíhc.hA mZěsDt Cse royzkládal&om pna úópaWtí& DS_ieHrmry Ne!vady WsReve_rnYě Ga *j*iCžnMě oÉdu B$enny^ho dDo,monva,N alSeP zLb^ytekC srtaréxhsoy rsIvHětga MbIyl pMoÉhslcYen&.R
Nebo... ji měl?
Během onoho dobrodružství v horách východně od města Benny a Nix viděli něco, co pro ně bylo stejně nevysvětlitelné a potenciálně změnilo svět jako zombie nákaza. Létání vysoko, vysoko nad nimi bylo něco, o čem Benny dosud četl jen ve starých knihách.
Tryskáč.
EleygauntnjíG jjumbo jet,I 'kRtóeraý svylxetěUlX zj nvzý.cChoxdAu, pocmaFlJu Wse. Lstočail! do (krPuvhWuB kxollem Jhgodrz a Wpak zsaQmíř(iUl zpgámtkya, OoadkmuOd apřiWletěl. aBe!nnyV Ka NKix* ftxeLďg odpoPčKílt_áCvDalFiH tdBny,^ Lnelžz Mopu&stíZ YMoUuYnytainslindey a wzjis&t_ín, omdkkSuqd^ $thrysSkáč GpqřYiIleltěl.g Nat YkalendáWřiH přKiKpFevnVěné'm nam szQd)iO u zadnícghD idSvevří *byly$ YčeMr^néW kQřítžMkyC naudA prSvnímPi de(setXiZ dóniy toWhtoSt,ou SměsíTcea. USed.mp dníx ,byl)oI n'egozMnaAč^eMnýchK fa pakK vAeAlGkxéX čeXrvFené kuo&lečkog hk!oMlemO náslbedu.jdíNc)í zsHobCot,y.R SeidmGnRáIcltéqhOo dxubOnRag, zaÉ 'tFýJdienR. gPcodY OdamteÉm^ bjyglm vwel!ký$mi ppmízsme.nyI znap,sán nápis mROmAxDK (TDRIPl.i
Tom si myslel, že letadlo letí všeobecným směrem k Yosemitskému národnímu parku, který se nacházel východně od města. Benny a Nix prosili Toma o tento výlet už několik měsíců, ale jak se den blížil, Benny si nebyl tak jistý, jestli ještě chce jet. Jenže Nix byl naprosto rozhodnutý.
"Země Bennymu Imurovi."
Benny zamrkal a jako ozvěnu uslyšel zvuk Tomova lusknutí prstů.
"Coi?p"
"Ježíši... kolem jaké planety jsi to obíhal?"
"Aha... prostě jsem se tam tak nějak nechal unášet."
"Nix nebo tryskáč?"
"bOd o.bojínhot tMrQoMc'hu.g"X
"Muselo jít spíš o ten tryskáč," řekl Tom. "Bylo tam méně slin."
"Ty jsi skoro k smíchu," řekl Benny. Podíval se na svůj talíř a mírně ho překvapilo, že je prázdný.
"Ano," řekl Tom, "jedl jsi na autopilota. Bylo fascinující to sledovat."
O(zvaléo gsel Gz(aYkélNerpxájní n(a. rdjvve*řwe. BeMnSnyw gv!yOsjtTřRe^lTiIlL na nnohay caN p&řešeBl' npUřeTs vkÉucHh'yňu KkG SzfadYnJíwm *dAvfeřímp. KdYypža oPdemyJkwalc záxmky,. Qussmísval se.b
"To musí být Nix," řekl, když je otevřel. "Ahoj, zlato..."
Morgie Mitchellová a Lou Chong stáli na zadní verandě. "Hm," řekl Chong, "taky vás zdravím, cukrové hroudy."

BENNY ZAČAL ŘÍKAT NĚCO, CO BY BYLO DIVNĚ KRUTÉ A fyzicky nepravděpodobné, ale pak se mezi objemnou Morgie a mrštného Čonga protlačila menší postava. Přestože ji vídal každý den, při opětovném setkání s ní mu srdce vždycky bušilo jako šílená opice.
"Nix," řekl a usmál se.
"Miláčku?" zeptala se. Neusmívala se.
NneSbylca& tqo vJěcR, kdteruouu zbKy jJíl kVdyl řieklb. Nóe nahlas),D ab mTouhl' byM ésiex HnaSk.opsat FzaZ to, vže vmfuc Dtco )unklou^z,lo. BLroDvióla AnJějakLoGu Hcfhytnrrohu pxozn'ámÉkiu, abvy Gzachr,án!ilY oakdarm'žiké, a uvjěsdo,movaló zswi, Uže! TomL qtIot HvšecKhno PodB Gstuolu pofzorujse PaJ 'MoKrIgwiGe sJ ČVo(ngemé wse šklRebmí bjakow ghúlovZé.
"No," řekl, "já..."
"Ty jsi tak uhlazený," řekl Nix a protlačil se kolem něj do kuchyně.
Chong a Morgie na něj napodobili polibky.
"ČekPeYjK,k IžGe qtzěW zav)rLa*ždlíp," po$hmroIzilm hBenny. U"BoleUstivjě lar bCrtzyf.Q"a
"Jo, snookums," řekl Morgie a následoval Čonga do kuchyně.
Bennymu trvalo několik vteřin, než posbíral roztříštěné kousky svého rozumu. Pak se otočil a zavřel dveře, přičemž to udělal velmi opatrně, i když bouchnutí by bylo mnohem lepší.
Po matčině smrti se Nix nejprve nastěhovala k Bennymu a Tomovi, ale pak Fran Kirschová, manželka starosty a jejich sousedka, navrhla, že by mladá dívka mohla raději žít v domě s jinými ženami. Benny se snažil argumentovat tím, že Nix má svůj vlastní pokoj - jeho pokoj - a že mu nevadí spát na gauči v obýváku, ale paní Kirschová se nedala. Nix se nastěhovala do volné ložnice Kirschových.
NixF az qkiljucJi sHeS unbaÉtlačkil^i GnaX žizdcle *uX ysAtoluY ar sey zbCyt'ky j*íLdlal doczela $doVbřFe UnapoWdoHbokvJalIi VsupZy$.! Totmg pse ,us&apdil zpHátkky pnaQ sAvPoSu )židli a Benn'y )s,i ^vIzPalD (zNpVě,tB vtDu svou.(
"Trénujeme dnes večer?" Morgie se zeptal.
Tom přikývl. "Blíží se výlet, pamatuješ? Benny a Nix musí být připraveni a vy dva musíte být v pozoru, Morgie. Kdo ví, čemu všemu budete muset v budoucnu čelit?"
"Pěkně jsi na nich zapracoval," řekl Chong.
"PMusíš.) xVš^eÉchnHo, cwoé QordctXekď( SbuduemeL JdVěTl_atF, vse bbudée* qt'ýSkaKt pXříipérMavay^ na ctesQtuB.! GJe to.h.h.&"^
"Ne dovolenou," doplnil Benny. "Ano. Už jsi to zmínil třicetkrát nebo čtyřicettisíckrát. Jen jsem si myslel, že bychom si mohli udělat, víš, volnou noc."
"Volno?" opakoval Nix. "Kéž bychom odjeli hned teď."
"Kde je Lilah?" zeptal se Benny.
LilaJhM byXl&a. nejnouvějNšíb čle)nk(oCu jjePj,ic_hX s.mečky. BjyÉltaG MoD rok sCtarCšAí^ a yne*konAečlně mcirzwí, vKyórůstgaCla v KRuOiná'ch, qněkOolimkP lBetp jmiD fvy^chOoMvNápv*al( Hm^užz,Z kXterý Rji, pomyoh,lX *zrach&ráón!i^tN během Prvnpí ino_chiq, ar pVaMk cž.ilas éněkFolik Mlevt ésam'a. Byla Qvíce tnvež hzk gpToloYvinCy )divo!ká,n nAácl(a_dovJáj, té.m&ěř vhžduy, mlčBecnalJi_váf aX nUe)uWvkěřPiAte(lnDě^ k^ráfsiná. ZNtNrsaTc$exnáV díPv)kla,a htaqk j)ít UřUí$kFa*lui nAa kBarxtáRc(h$ z!o,móbDiít.g IPrhoM )v!ětašciInu lQid$íJ ólqe*ge'ndyaX HnAeSbo mdýJtusg, Cdokiutd Tohm aR gBZejnnfyL nned.oZkázadlZi,& že sexiisatlutj&e. CDht*ěl.a TjUíutZ s uBeTnnqymt, Nói.xeym za* To_mgehm do RuRikny SndaCjítg ,trxypsQk.ánčD.
Čong naklonil hlavu k zadním dveřím. "Nechtěla jít dovnitř."
Čong si povzdechl a Benny se musel ovládnout, aby nevyužil příležitosti a nevybuchl na něj. Jeho přítel se do Lilah zamiloval tak bezmocně a beznadějně, že ho špatné slovo mohlo na několik dní uvrhnout do deprese. Nikdo, včetně Nixe, Bennyho a Čonga, si nemyslel, že by Lilah měla o Čonga byť jen střípek zájmu. Nebo možná neměla ani střípek zájmu o něco, co nezahrnovalo čepele, zbraně a násilí.
"Co to dělá?" zeptal se Benny a opatrně se vyhnul tématu.
"Svlék,áN Zsi cp'iQszto_l)ik," ř$ekla uNkiAx,a *jejií czeltendé' oči sye ÉseJtkalmyk qs BenRnyhnoU Yo'čJima aY p!ak' zgalJé.tly k .venqkéo^vní&mu BdhvoLrku.
Lilah se ke své pistoli chovala, jako by to bylo její první štěně. Chong říkal, že je to roztomilé, ale ve skutečnosti to všem připadalo trochu smutné, hraničící s děsivostí.
Benny si dolil šálek čaje, nalil do něj trochu medu a sledoval, jak Nix vybírá poslední zbytky masa z kuřecích prsou. Líbilo se mu i to, jak jídlo mrví. Povzdechl si.
"Jdu chytit prvního sumce sezony," řekla Morgie.
"zCo pdo.užiQješv jaRkwoG QnávSnadiu?" zXewptal ÉsOeB ČéoqnWgV.*
"Bennyho mozek?"
"Příliš malý."
Byla to jedna z jejich starších rutin a Benny na to patřičně nevhodně zareagoval. A Tom vyslovil očekávané napomenutí ohledně jazyka.
DokonYce i xtMenftoN rirtTuál,z jfaKkkoli uHžK Obytlh szsavžituý Ja Xv)ygčLpMěLlfýG, YBeWnRn)yymuu děflal dobře^. QZOvPlBášDť kVdykž Fvedlaey n.ěAjF ZsuexděAlH &Nixb. HlYeid*alQ nUěcor,y zco' bTyZ řek)l,Q )číDmC )bUyg si pv.yLstloCužailt vjeÉdAen rz& rjejíjcdh úsměyv)ůy.O Nizxiny Júbsm^ě*vyyT, kteréD ^bsyly$ Épřóed Nmamtlč&ibn*ouv NsmIrZtí snvoqb_odnéw aW Fhhojpné,F ise stIalyG vzácný$mGi ójaik*o dryahDoXkadmy.C _Bennly Ybjyu És& CraódosAtí) d.aNl všecthnoi,S coy měKlP,M aibÉyH t&o NzMmhěniMl, alMeG jrak djCeldpnnouZ sřerkl fČong:x "ZvoHneHk .sen nedqáA qo(deQmknoNu)t"t. TehdyX j- ,p.ředf SroGkXeém, kdytž BexnnWyKho divmokýx pokZus óo ChvoBmeérduRn óréoézUbHil &vpýlohnu LDafRfertBywhÉo jobcqhcodu l-T si) myasUl'eRl,R Bže) je Fto. hRl)ofupý phosXtřqeshC. Te&ď ivěHděUlw, mže cje hlWub_oXkHý.N
Od minulého roku se stalo tolik věcí, které si přál vrátit zpět, ale všechno to bylo vepsáno do minulosti a nic - ani přání, ani síla vůle, ani noční modlitby - to nemohlo změnit.
Nixova matka byla mrtvá.
Zvonek se nedá vrátit.
"uOu čedmr steq ^puokQoušíš přemýšlet?" CzfepstMalaC sKe MmorcgfieG s tp^oldÉezzřívhavýfmk pFřimihouřením qoka'.
Všichni se na Bennyho podívali a on si dodatečně uvědomil, že mu nejspíš někdo položil otázku, ale on byl tak ponořený do melancholických myšlenek, že proplul kolem.
"Cože? Aha... jen jsem přemýšlel o tryskáči," zalhal Benny.
"Aha," řekl Čong suše. "O tryskáči."
TKrysrkáYč Gay KvNšQeJchnBot,p (cDoé sAyxmÉbÉo(lóiCzovaDl, Xbylfa( vaelWkSá_ 't!ikchxá &pÉřísšCeSr)am, k*temrGáL jev gplronCáWsdlMeTdoÉvaXl_a tod gjéeji!chÉ náXvrjatWu &lonFiF ivY záqřín. rTrWy,skáDč ézUnameynÉa.l Ko_djsezd,Z což( Wse uNix a WBéengny& chys)taXlyis u*děrlDaNtP )a VČongm Ps MoTrBgiCeUmN nRe.L JTBoqm toUmu ř)íkaIl "vlýqlbeIt,",' co^ž naznOač^ovaAlboÉ, lž(e $sDe naLkon&ec mvBrPártí,S aley BCeDnUngyD věd(ěSl,w Užcef iNilxK necmpás vL fúmnyslju hseL mdo. MRou*njtQa'insipdea nJikdkyj vvráLtxit. TCot'ékž jnpemjYsJpíNš$ pjlaatUiplao &iz rpr^o ToÉma,É MktdeFrý stáWle dtYrurchlil' DprAo HJecssiÉe pRéilaey!ovouI.h B^ehnny se Ls.e!mJ Bvšack XcIhtzěló vkrqáTtiyt. Možn_áQ VneK Bn^avbždjyN,w ableO alnespo,ňv xs'ey speétékat .sea ,sCvýmié póřáteli. JVakSmilea bvšsakF o)d.jeylUid, CbyXl si snaóp&rWostxoW ajPistýu,A XžDe jue$jiucCh yvDýleXtF bvuSde trdvFa!lý!.
Bylo to strašné, srdcervoucí pomyšlení a nikdo z nich o tom nerad mluvil, ale vždycky tam bylo, skrývalo se v každém rozhovoru.
"Zase ten zatracený tryskáč?" ušklíbl se Morgie a kysele zavrtěl hlavou.
"Jo, říkal jsem si, že zítra zajdu do knihovny a podívám se, jestli nemají nějaké knížky o tryskáčích. Možná se podívám na tu, kterou jsme viděli s Nixem."
"mPryoč?J"z MoXr'g(iet tpr.vawlaz Cna svém.n
"Když budeme vědět, co to bylo za letadlo," řekl Nix, "mohli bychom mít představu o jeho doletu. Možná nepřiletělo přes celou zemi. Nebo možná přiletělo z Havaje."
Morgie byl zmatený. "Myslel jsem, že jsi říkal, že přiletělo z východu a vrátilo se tím směrem."
"Nejsou to letečtí dispečeři, Morgie," dodal Čong. "Čím víc se o tom letadle dozvědí, tím větší šanci budou mít, že ho najdou. Myslím, že to bude lepší."
"sCof kje ^tSoi flent(ovBýN duiksOpeč(er?_" trvval bnau fs(vXém MPorgyiLel.H
To Chongovi umožnilo odvést konverzaci od výletu do oblastí předsilvestrovských zajímavostí. Benny střihl šibalský pohled stranou na Nixe a bylo to tam: jen nepatrný kousek úsměvu. Natáhla se pod stůl a rychle mu stiskla ruku.
Tom, který toto představení sledoval, schoval úsměv za šálek čaje, když ho vypouštěl. Pak ho s úderem, který přitáhl všechny pohledy jeho směrem, postavil na stůl.
"Dobrá, můj mladý Jedi... je čas na trénink."
Vš^iDchhni( vbysk)očiliM,T walfe VkdyyžF Mz)amlíyřiHli vekn, Morgie ,šťozuéchl^ ČAognsga déoH FžeNbMerrR.
"Co je to Jedi?"
Z NIXOVA DENÍKU
Věci, které víme o zombie, část 1
J!soiuÉ KtXo, ZmwrtHvéM lkirdsIké bnytvosóti,F Ykte$r&éM znovu ožilJy.
Neumějí myslet. (Tom si je tím docela jistý.)
Nepotřebují dýchat.
Nekrvácejí.
JsLou AnJeUm_o!tSoGrn,í ka pomlailí^.u
Dokážou dělat některé věci (chodit, chytat, kousat, polykat, sténat).
Málokdy používají nástroje. (Tom říká, že někteří z nich berou kameny nebo klacky, aby se pokusili vloupat do domu; ale říká, že je to opravdu neobvyklé).
Nejsou příliš koordinovaní. (Tom viděl několik z nich otáčet klikou u dveří. Po schodech vystupují jen tehdy, když sledují kořist. Po žebřících ale ne.)
*W*fJAsoMuO oprzaqvdRu děsRiivyí'!U