The Aftermath by Jen Alexander Read Free Book Online Page B

leave their characters in a safe place while they’re away from the game.
    My head starts to buzz just as I hear the noisy click of the padlock on one of the doors downstairs. I stare up at the only window in this room, watch the rain splatter in places where the spray paint hasn’t completely blocked the glass. I wait.
    An eternity passes by with me sitting and staring, staring and waiting. What is Olivia doing? I don’t understand why I haven’t blacked out yet, and for a moment, I wonder if I have and this is me waking up again.
    “Just do it already!”
    These four words echo through the empty building, like hundreds of bullets going off all at once. I’m breathless when the silence returns. Are these my words? My whole body trembles at even the idea.
    “My name is Claudia Virtue, and The Aftermath is not real,” I whisper. “The Aftermath is just a game.”
    Years of conflicting thoughts and words, and the first ones that are truly mine are agitated, partially psychotic. I’ll take it. Right now, I’m too afraid to try and move. I feel as though at any moment, Olivia will take over my body. Then she’ll make me let this go.
    When another several minutes pass and I am still looking up at the window, I move my right foot off the bed, then my left. I am hungry. I am thirsty.
    I am free.
    I raid the box of food Jeremy left on the counter downstairs. I eat a chocolate protein bar slowly, and then I think of the sustenance gauge—bright red with a disgustingly low percentage—on Olivia’s screen and devour two more. I twirl around in dizzying circles on a ripped bar stool. Scream at the top of my lungs until my throat is raw and my chest heaves up and down.
    And suddenly I have an idea. I grip the edges of the counter, place my forehead against the warm, grimy laminate, and I concentrate. I think of Olivia and everything I’ve learned about myself just recently. I imagine getting out of the game that’s been my reality for so long.
    I think of revenge.
    When Olivia’s mind sucks me in, I’m in her world. And despite the beautiful freedom I’ve tasted for mere seconds, I’d rather remain here, stuck inside her head. We are in the back of a car. But this is nothing like the one with the missing tires and shattered windows Ethan and I took shelter in a couple of years ago. For starters, this car must be self-driving, because there’s nobody else in here with Olivia and me. The interior is immaculate, sleek black leather with gleaming metallic accents. There are flat monitors mounted on the backs of the headrests, one that’s tuned to a ribbon cutting taking place in front of a gleaming glass building and the other on a loop of silent advertisements.
    Olivia’s used to seeing all this, so there are limits to what I’m able to observe since she’s not paying very much attention to our surroundings. Intricate skyscrapers tower over the car. The path we’re taking weaves between the buildings, and the car speeds effortlessly through traffic. When the car stops itself at a red light, my attention is drawn to the bus next to us. There are commercials playing on the side of this bus.
    Once the current advertisement ends, a woman comes on the screen. Even from inside Olivia’s car, I can hear what she’s saying. “If you’ve received a diagnosis for the Warrior gene or AVD Type A or B and have received a physician’s order, visit us at LanCorp International, where you can complete your treatment in as little as—”
    I don’t have a chance to wonder about what AVD Type A and B means because Olivia grumbles something under her breath and runs her fingertip across one of the monitors mounted to the headrest. She enters a series of numbers. Suddenly, all the windows darken until nothing on the outside is visible inside the car. There’s no sound coming in now, either.
    This is incredible.
    With the push of a few buttons, Olivia can cancel out distractions. I’ve never seen anything so incredible, and I