The Game

Book 1 – The King of Nogero

Chapter 1 –Leaving New York

-1-

The universe. A large, inky void, full of galaxies, stars, planets, moons, and in some places, sentinent beings. We stand on the edge of the universe, a place where no being has ever travelled within a million lightyears of. We are searching for something in the seemingly infinite void. We cannot grasp ahold of it, but we begin to be pulled towards something, as if we were being dragged along by a fast-moving stream. We begin with slow speed, and we pick up until we begin to pass galaxies. We start to zip faster, zooming past the first planet on our way in an instant. On this planet, evolution has just begun. In a million years, the first animals will begin to form. Live will take it’s course. Wars will arise, peace will be achieved, and someday perhaps the dominant species of the planet may escape the bounds of their solar system and travel to other worlds.

It is not this planet we are concerned about.

We speed even faster, now travelling millions of lightyears a second. Time is not an issue to us. We get closer to our target. We pass suns being born, suns in their primes, and suns dying. We pass thriving planets, planets dying, planets that once had life and planets that will never have life. We feel closer to our target. We begin to sense the lifeform we are seeking out. We start to slow down, little by little until we are moving at a small pace. There are planets in front of us, all revolving around a star that’s just getting on halfway through it’s lifetime. Finally, we see the one planet out of a billion that we are looking for. Our descent into this blue-green planet is pleasant. We are ethereal, we have no body to account for wind resistance. The speed in which we are travelling feels slow, yet we do not dare speed up lest we leave the atmosphere of this planet. Cities pass us. People, places and things zoom by us in a blur. Finally, our speed is slowed almost to a stop. We enter an apartment building through a window, pass under the crack in the door, go up the stairwell and down the hall. We see our target: room 803. In this room, something extraordinary is about to be put in motion.

We float into a bedroom, where a man is sleeping with the covers half-on and half-off. We recognize him as Grayson Michaels. He is 24, with a dead-end job and few friends. His oldest and dearest friend is Justin Zolak, a man he met in highschool. Justin also has a part in the events that are about to take place, although neither Grayson nor Justin know of them yet.

Suddenly, we are surprised by a sound. We turn, and see that the digital clock on Gray’s bedside has turned to 6:00 AM. Gray stirs on his bed and slowly lifts his head. He frowns when he sees the time. He flicks the alarm off, and the sound of Supertramp, so seemingly loud earlier (although, we must note, we just arrived from a vacuum,) wavers and fades until it finally dies. Gray sits on his bed, rubs his eyes, and stands up with great resistance. Gray decides it’s time to begin his morning cleansing ritual.

We follow Gray like a lost dog as he gathers some clothes for the day from his dresser drawer. He exits the room, and we follow. The sun is just beginning to rise outside in downtown New York, although it is not too obvious to us due to the overcast sky outside. Gray turns towards the bathroom door, and we allow him to have his privacy – we may be etheral, but we aren’t perverted. He spends thirty minutes in there as he goes to the bathroom, showers and dresses. He exits the bathroom wearing buisness atire, and he goes towards his kitchen where he will serve himself his breakfast. Like clockwork, he places two slices of bread in the toaster, presses it down and goes to the fridge to get himself some margarine and grape jelly. After a minute, the toaster pops and Gray slides the two (mildly hot) slices of bread out of the toaster. He butters them and carefully spreads jelly onto the toast. He takes a bite out of it, smiles, and pours himself a glass of Florida Orange Juice.

Suddenly, the phone rings. Gray knows who it is, and he does not answer the phone. It is part of his morning routine. The phone rings again, and then a third time, and then his answering machine clicks on and the voice of the answering machine fills the room.

“Hello,” It begins, “You have reached the house of Grayson Michaels. I can’t come to the phone right now, so please leave your name and number and I will phone you back as soon as possible.” An audible beep is heard, and another voice joins the sound of the machine.

“Hey, Gray, it’s Justin,” the voice states, “Just wanted to wish you a good morning and to tell you that it’s raining cats and dogs out there – I wouldn’t be stuck out there without your umbrella, if I were you. Anyway, see you later.” A click is heard and the machine goes dormant.

Gray looks out the window and sees the abundance of moisture in the air. He grimaces, and realizes that he forgot his umbrella in his office at work. Last time it rained, it was a beautiful day by the time Gray left, and he left the umbrella under his desk. Gray instead decides to get his raincoat, and with one fell swoop he drinks his orange juice and eats his toast. He looks at the clock. 6:45. His job begins at 7:30, and he budgets 40 minutes to get to work. He walks towards his closet, takes his coat, and we follow him into the hall as he locks his door behind him.

In the hall, Gray passes by an elderly lady that was just taking out her garbage. He gives her a warm smile (he believes in being kind to strangers,) and ambles towards the elevator. He presses the down button, and in 30 seconds the elevator dings and Gray enters it. He presses the button for the first floor, and the elevator whirs down. Nobody else gets on the elevator.

When we reach the bottom floor of the building, we follow Gray ouside. It really is raining hard, and Gray grimaces as he steps outside. He puts his hood on and walks hunched over. He waits at the crosswalk, the only person there at this time of the morning, and when the “DON’T WALK” changes to “WALK”, he begins to walk across the street. He hears a horn, looks to his right, and seconds later he’s laying on the ground with his major internal organs bleeding. He looks up and utters a confused gasp and dies. The man who is driving the car runs towards Gray, but there is nothing he can do.

Grayson Michaels is dead at age 24. The world melts away from us. We are done here, at least for now.

-2-

We reappear a few seconds later in a land completely different from the place where we just witnessed a death. We are in a clearing, with large spruce trees all around us. In front of us, sprawled on the grassy ground, is Grayson Michaels, stark naked, unconcious and apparantly unhurt. Beside him is a silver-colored chain that shines in the sunlight. We move closer to the chain, which Gray seems to have a deathgrip on (no pun intended,) and we notice a small dogtag on the chain. Closer examination reveals the following information:

HUMAN #1029382910

G.N: GRAYSON MICHAELS

U: 27GAMMA, 14OMEGA, 3ALPHA

Z.H – G4, H3

We try to decipher this message, but our train of thought is cut short when a white-haired, strong-faced woman strolls into the clearing. She looks aged, but she broadcasts an aura that makes us feel like she was still sixteen. She looks at Gray and nonchalantly picks him up from the ground, as if she had done this feat a hundred times before. It seems like she posesses a superhuman-like strength – Gray easily has fifty pounds on the woman, and she’s lifting him as if he was a bag of yellow feathers. She steps out of the clearing, and we follow.

Eventually, we reach a small hut. We are out of the forest, now, and there are seemingly endless plains around us. In the distance, we see smoke (or something like it,) which gives the horizon a grayish-blue tinge. The sun is high above us, and it is apparent we are no longer anywhere within a thousand miles of New York City.

The woman opens the small door and enters, but we opt to fly through an open window. Inside, the rooms have a very rustic feel. Wooden beds with down-stuffed matresses and heavy quilts greet us as we enter the first room, and on the far wall we see a wooden dresser with a large mirror. Beside the bed is a wooden nighttable, with three small drawers in it. Suddenly, the door on the far wall opens and we see the woman enter. She drops Gray onto the bed and covers him. She manages to pry his hands open and take the chain, and she carefully places it on the dresser. This woman has an obvious attention to detail. Finally, she turns to the dresser, takes out some clothes that look like they may fit Gray’s frame, and leaves the room. We remain in the room, waiting for Gray to wake up.

-3-

The next day, we decide to roam into the forest after staying in the room all night with Gray. At certain intervals throughout the night, the woman who had rescued Gray came in and gave him medicines. We figure that because we stayed with Gray for so long, it is time to stretch our ‘wings’, as it may. After slowly flying for what seems like ten minutes, we see two men carefully hunting rabbit. As they are hunting, one man speaks to the other in a hushed voice.

“Jacob,” the first man begins, “do you think that man that Elise brought in has woken up yet?”

“Danno,” the man named Jacob replies in a surprisingly heavy and unplaceable accent, “but Cynn, ye aughta knoo dat Elise is tah best maid we haf ever had. If anyoon can take car of heem, it be her.” He pronounces Cynn as if written with a hard K.

“I guess you’re right,” the man addressed as Cynn says, “but he seemed to be in pretty rough shape. He wasn’t responding to any of Elise’s meds, and you know how strong those are.”

“Ahh, doont worrah aboot it, he be fine, I’m soor.” Jacob rebutes.

“I hope you’re right. I don’t think Elise will be able to handle another F-Bug patient. You remember what happened last time an infected person came to us.” Cynn shudders a bit. “All those men, dead at the hands of one mutant.”

“Woold ye plees shoot up aboot it?” Jacob snaps. “Symptooms usooly doon’t appear aftor two days. If dey infect’d heem, he’s proobably imoon.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Hey – maybe we’ll get lucky and he’ll be a psychic.”

“Maybe.”

We have stretched enough for the day, and we decide to head back.