Endgame: The Calling

Endgame: The Calling by James Frey, Nils Johnson-Shelton Read Free Book Online

Book: Endgame: The Calling by James Frey, Nils Johnson-Shelton Read Free Book Online
Authors: James Frey, Nils Johnson-Shelton
together. She was hoping to give her parents the slip, find a secluded gate, and make out one last time.
    “Okay,” says Christopher, clearing his throat. “So you’ve got twelve ancient tribes abiding by these weird rules and waiting for some sign. And that’s how you’ve chosen to interpret the meteor that, admittedly, is a pretty fucked-up and crazy coincidence. But what if that’s what this is? Just a coincidence and you’re like a hot, brainwashed, alleged killing machine only because of some dumb prophecy that doesn’t really exist.”
    Christopher catches his breath. Sarah stares at him, smiling sadly.
    “It’s for real, Christopher.”
    “How do you know? I mean, is there some kind of commissioner who runs this game? Like the NFL?”
    “Them.”
    Christopher dips his chin. “Them?”
    “They have lots of names,” Sarah says, not meaning to sound so cryptic. She’s having trouble putting the next part into reasonable-sounding words.
    “Give me one,” Christopher says.
    “Cahokians call them the Sky People.”
    “The Sky People?”
    “Yes.” Sarah holds up a hand before he can interrupt. “Listen—you know how every culture around the world believes that their god or gods or higher power or source of enlightenment, whatever you want to call it, comes from above?”
    Christopher shrugs. “I guess. I don’t know.”
    “They’re right. God, or the gods, or the higher power, whatever and whoever it is, did come from above. They descended from the sky amid smoke and fire and created us and gave us rules to live by and left. All of the world’s gods and myths are just variations of the same legends, variations of the same story, the same history .”
    Christopher shakes his head. “This is crazy. Like, Jesus-riding-a-dinosaur crazy.”
    “No, it isn’t. It makes sense if you think about it.”
    “How?”
    “It all happened so long ago that every culture adapted the story to fit their experience. But the core of it—that life came from above, that humanity was created by gods—that’s true.”
    Christopher stares at her.
    “Sky People. You mean like . . .” He shakes his head. “This is insane . What you’re saying can’t be real. It’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard! And you’re crazy if you go.”
    “I’m sorry, Christopher. If I were in your shoes I’d probably react the same way. Actually, probably way worse. You know me as Sarah Alopay, your girlfriend, but I’m also someone else, and even though Tate was supposed to be playing, I always have been someone else as well. I was raised, as were 300 generations of my people, to be a Player. Everything that just happened—the meteor, the piece that we found, my necklace becoming part of it, the message and the code—it was all exactly as foretold in our legends.”
    Sarah studies him, waiting for a reaction. Christopher’s face has gone completely serious; he’s no longer trying to talk her out of Endgame, as if that tactic ever had a chance.
    “Why now?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Why did it have to start now?”
    “I’ll probably be asking myself that question until I die, Christopher. I don’t know the answer. I know what the legend says, but I don’t know Their real reasons.”
    “What does the legend say?”
    “It says Endgame will begin if the human race has shown that it doesn’t deserve to be human. That it has wasted the enlightenment They gave to us. The legend also says that if we take Earth for granted, if we become too populous and strain this blessed planet, then Endgame will begin. It will begin in order to bring an end to what we are and restore order to Earth. Whatever the reason, what will be will be.”
    “Fucking Christ.”
    “Yeah.”
    “How do you win?” he asks in a low voice.
    “No one knows. That’s what I’m going to find out.”
    “In China.”
    “Yeah.”
    “And it’s going to be dangerous?”
    “Yes.”
    “You talked about choice in your speech—choose not to do

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