Downfall And Rise Read online

  “Seriously, go for it Faren.” Triumph said. “You figured out how to kill the thing. None of us care if the game rewards you for it.”

  The rest of the guild echoed Sky and Triumph, so I walked up to the corpse and activating the looting sequence- again, something only the lootmaster and raid leader should be able to do.

  “You have to tell us what you get though,” Turtle shouted.

  “And if it's cake you have to share!” Fatuzen yelled. “Especially if it’s magic cake!”

  “Or beer!”

  “Yes!” that started off a chant faster than I had thought possible. “Beer! Beer! Beer!”

  The entire guild took up the chant. I laughed and just focused on getting through the abnormally long looting sequence.

  “It's a....”

  Someone began drumming. The “beer” chants faded just enough for me to be heard.

  “...Ancient Weathered Handle.”

  Silence.

  “That's not beer,” Someone pointed out. A couple people chuckled. But looking back, I think most of the Aussies really were half-expecting me to deliver on virtual beer.

  “Congrats...?” Sky half-offered, half-asked.

  “Maybe?” I half-answered. “No stats on it, and it's un-equipable. Says it's trash-level loot...”

  The guild groaned in sympathy.

  “But also Unique.” I finished.

  The groans turned from sympathetic to confused.

  “Doesn't that mean you can't give it away or destroy it?” Sky asked.

  “I think so,” I replied, trying to move the item to a trade window, and sure enough, getting an error message. “Yeah, I'm stuck with it.”

  “That... doesn't make sense,” Triumph said, and he was right. The game had, for all appearances, rewarded my world-first kill of a supposedly unbeatable monster with an item that I could neither use nor get rid of.

  “Gotta be a quest item somehow,” I decided, and most people agreed with me. “Not sure how I start the quest with it though- there's no description to it.”

  “Maybe you can take it to an NPC,” Skybladex offered. An NPC being a Non-Player-Character.

  “Yeah, maybe,” I replied, though I had no idea which NPC would want it. “But I need to go get ready for school now.”

  “You have fun with that mate. We're all going to a local bar for some real beer, then log on the forums and brag to the Koreans that they don't have the number one raiding guild any more.”

  “Hey lay off!” Turtlepants shouted. “My grandmother's Korean!”

  “Well she doesn't have the number one raiding guild anymore now, does she?” Sky shot back.

  “Or any Aussie beer!” Fatuzen taunted.

  “Like hell she doesn't! She can out-drink all you bastards!”

  Smiling, I left my Australian friends to celebrate and began to log off, reflecting off my accomplishments.

  Because if I can handle a ninety-foot long dragon here, I can sure handle my own body out there.

  Logging off in thirty seconds! Thank you for playing Heroes Unbound!

  The world went black, and then bright again. The throbbing headache that had left me when I crawled into the harness returned, and this time it coupled with the disorientation of leaving the simulated world of the game. I waited a few moments for part of the dizziness to pass, then I began to remove my VR helmet and harness, wincing as my eyes were re-exposed to normal light.

  I head my mother shouting from across the house. She wanted me to wake up and get ready for school, unaware that I was way ahead of her. I stumbled into the bathroom to shower and freshen up for the day. As I pulled my way around the bathroom counter, I used the bathroom mirror to look over myself.

  I looked a little different than I did back before my condition developed. My once vibrant red hair had faded slightly, supposedly due to pain and stress. I was still tall and lean, but my muscle tone had taken a toll and they sagged visibly -at least to me, I had no idea what other people saw. As always, my hands and feet trembled slightly. But none of that mattered, I told the man in the mirror.

  “You have already done the impossible,” I said to myself. “The rest of the day will be no different, including the exams.”

  “Today is going to be a good day,” I added.

  When I stepped out of the bathroom, I could still hear my mom shouting.

  “Wes Malcolm, I've been calling you for ten minutes! Get out of the game and get ready for school!”

  “I heard you Mom! I'm already out and showered!”

  Ow, I said inside my head. Loud noises made everything hurt worse, and if Mom wasn't so stressed about today, she'd remember that. I'd better try and hurry to the kitchen before she starts really freaking out, I thought to myself.

  I headed to the kitchen, keeping a hand to the wall just in case I needed it to keep from falling.

  But I made it the whole way. Another huge victory.

  Today was going to be a good day.

  Chapter 2: Second Step

  “Now you know how important this test is...” My mother began in the car. Sarah Malcolm was a beautiful but tired looking woman with short blonde hair that had somehow still hadn't gone gray yet, despite being a widow and having to deal with my condition.

  “Yes, Mom,” I replied. She was stressed, but that was okay. I just had to deal with it until I aced my tests. “It's actually three tests. That they moved to one day for me.”

  “To accommodate you,” She said, sounding tense. “One final time.”

  She will not get to me today, I said firmly in my mind. Today is going to be a good day.

  “I know Mom,” I said, trying to grin. “I get that it's a big deal. Seriously. This is my last chance to keep my scholarship. To keep the future I've worked so hard for-”

  “We've worked for,” She corrected firmly. “You haven't been alone in this. Your sister and I have been right with you. We've both sacrificed to help you make your dreams come true.”

  I turned to look at her. Where the hell did that come from?

  “I know, Mother,” I said, trying to keep the frustration out of my voice. “I'm grateful for the both of you. Thank you, really. I love you guys.”

  She was still looking forward, her hands on the steering wheel of the car.

  “I just want to make sure you’re taking this seriously.”

  “Why the h-” I caught myself from swearing. For better or for worse, I've stuck to a lot of the habits Dad ingrained in me. Even after his suicide, and finding out about his double life, I still couldn't bring myself to disappoint him by swearing at my mother like most of my eighteen-year old classmates did.

  “Mom,” I tried again. “Why wouldn't I be taking this seriously? This is my life.”

  “You know what I'm worried about,” she replied tensely.

  No, I honestly don't I wanted to shout, but shouting would hurt my head and I didn't want to turn this into a fight. Today is going to be a good day, I reminded myself.

  “Is this about the game?” I finally asked. “The game that you let me play because the doctors told us that it would help me improve my condition? The one that I use to focus better, remember more, work on my coordination? The one I was playing this morning to help me get ready for the tests?”

  Mom looked uncomfortable. I had to remind myself that she was as worried about today as I was trying not to be.

  “I'm just concerned about you,” She finally said. “I just want to make sure you're not using this game to cope instead of using it to help you.”

  The way you're still using wine to cope with Dad's suicide? I didn't ask. I'd had way too much practice fighting with Mom these days- these years, actually. I knew what would happen if I said certain things to her right now, just like how I knew I'd react to her saying certain things to me. Then that would ruin my good mood, my morning, and possibly my tests and scholarship.

  Today is going to be a good day, I told myself once more. Even if I have to work to keep it that way.
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  “Well Mom, I really don't know how to answer that,” I finally said, and she stiffened. Being too serious, and too calm, reminded her of Dad. A lot of things I did reminded her of Dad, and thanks to what he did, that was a bad thing now. But I couldn't help it because being calm seemed like the right idea right now.

  “Look, if it helps you understand,” I continued. “I tried to play in a way that would help me today. The Aussies helped me pick a spot in the game that would simulate a lot of what I normally feel when my body starts freaking out, like where it was hard to concentrate, move, and remember things. That's happened to me every time I've tested so far, so I wanted to practice against that condition. That's why I got up so early to play- and why I've been playing after studying every day this month.”

  “Okay,” Mother answered, still focusing on driving me to school. She was obviously still worried, and probably still tense over me sounding like Dad. But she was trying to get past this too, and I had to give her some slack or we'd fight again.

  “So...” She finally continued. “How did it go?”

  She was trying to show interest. That was a good sign.

  “The Aussies and I fought a dragon that screamed in our ears and made the ground shake under us. I was able to figure out how to counter the effect and we killed it on our first try.”

  “Really?” She asked, eyes widening and brightening up a little. “That's... good, right?”

  I smiled. I knew it. Today is going to be a good day.

  “Yeah, it's great, actually. World-first kill. That means no one else has been able to do so on any of the game's servers- not even the best raiding guilds, in any country. Gaming news groups and the game's company itself like to sponsor interviews for players who pull off victories like this. I was going to tell you after the test, but I checked my email on the way out and I've already gotten an interview request. Sometimes there are even small rewards- cash or other prizes, to really spice up interest in the content. It's too early to tell if I've gotten that though.”

  “Really?” She said, actually sounding impressed, in spite of the fact that she hated games, and hated anything else that reminded her of Dad. “That sounds incredible, honey.”

  I didn't like it when she called me ‘honey,’ but I overlooked it because it had been a while since Mom sounded this impressed with me.

  “Since I logged off early,” I continued, really wanting to milk this approval for all it was worth. “I tried going over all the study questions you and I have been reviewing together this month. I was able to remember the answers to fifty math, fifty science, and fifty English. That's the total number of my practice questions, right?”

  Mom nodded.

  “Good. I've also been able to walk down all the halls in the house without stumbling. My head feels better than it's felt in months. Maybe even years.”

  Mom was smiling now too. Another rare victory. All in one day.

  I was determined to make them count.

  We finally pulled up to the school. I looked at all the other students walking outside, then began to gather my things and open the door.

  “Wesley, honey?” Mom said as I put my hand on the door.

  Uh-oh. My full first name usually meant trouble. But I still chose to hear her out.

  “Yeah Mom?”

  “Can you please do me a favor?”

  I knew that look. She looked tense, as if she was preparing for another fight.

  That was a bad sign.

  “What do you want Mom?” I asked carefully, not leaving the car yet. Even though I knew staying to hear her out would be a bad idea.

  “I want you to wear the helmet today.”

  I needed to rethink that swearing stance with her.

  Because, well, shit.

  “I don't think that's a good idea, Mom.”

  Because it really, really, wasn't.

  “Honey if you fall and hurt your head, today of all days, it could undo all your hard work.”

  I sighed.

  “That's why it's a bad idea, Mother. We've talked about this.”

  My classmates were, objectively, assholes. Well, okay. Not all of them. But there were enough jocks who still hated me from my old football days and who also decided that I was different enough on top of that to be a target. Wearing the leather helmet around my head, on top of carrying the cane I walked around with, would bring every asshole's “hit or push this guy,” impulse straight to the front of their little brains.

  The problem was, despite the frequency of these events, no one had ever believed me. The jerks had always testified together at school and for some reason, the supervisors believed that I fell every single time on my own.

  For the past two years.

  My mother had begun to believe me, but she still didn't believe that the helmet made things worse.

  “Wes, sweetheart, please do this for me,” Mom asked.

  She always talked like that when she needed me to do something and she didn't want to have to fight about it.

  I sighed and reached for the helmet. Call me a momma's boy, but having fight with my mother right before I got to school, just when we had managed to get along the whole morning, would have ruined my mood even more than wearing the helmet would have. Shouldering my pack, I placed the helmet on my head and fastened the straps with my free hand.

  And just because today was going to be a good day, I smiled.

  “There you go, Mom. I am now theoretically safer and empirically more dorky. Satisfied?”

  She gave me a sad smile, the kind she does when I remind her of Dad, and then she remembers he's dead and that she misses him, even though he lied to us all.

  “I appreciate it, Wes,” She said. “And I'm already proud of you, no matter how today turns out.”

  That might have just made it worth it, I thought as I got out of the car. A faint dizzy spell followed, but I walked right through it, cane held but not needed for an entire three steps. Several idiots shouted and jeered at me, but I ignored them.

  Today was totally going to be a good day.

  Chapter 3: Out-Think, Out-Stumble

  “Watch your step, cripplehead,” One of the football players muttered as he stuck his leg out in front of my cane.

  “I'm good,” I replied, waving the cane above his foot and walking right past him. “Thanks, though.” I had been acting like I needed it to rely on it for every step today in order to throw the bullies off. Not five minutes into the day and it had already proved necessary. A couple of the thug's friends snickered as he stumbled and nearly fell from his own trick.

  “You fake lying motherfu-” I heard him begin to shout, then tuned him out with two years of practice. I had a free ticket out of this place to earn. He could keep all the curses and football he wanted if I could keep my full scholarship and go on to earn my architectural engineering degree.

  And yes, that's a real degree. People would make fun of me if they knew, but I still wanted to design cities. Actual, real cities that people lived their lives and sought their dreams in. People told me that I was ridiculous, because no one thought they'd be interested in living in a completely new town these days, and no one believed an old city could really be fixed up either. But that was still my dream. Either reconstruct a city that was falling apart, making it a much better place to live, or else build a brand new place that people could find new opportunities in. Call me crazy, but I swore I'd' never give up on that.

  Enough, I told myself with a smile. Gotta earn all that first.

  I walked into the room that would have my English test, still barely needing the cane. I was just a little more dizzy, my hands shaking just a little more than they were in the morning. But I was probably just imagining that because I was nervous. And if it was getting worse, screw it. I was tired of letting this condition limit me. I was going to succeed today no matter what and no person or disability was going to stop me. Not this time.

  Ms. Springsen looked up at me and smiled as I entered the room
. She was in her early thirties, with curly blonde hair that she kept short like Mom did, and she dressed in a way that looked like she was trying to strike a balance between professional and relatable to students.

  “Good morning Wes,” She said with her honest smile. I don't know why, but I swear most of us students worked harder just because of the way she smiled at us. It wasn't like it was some supermodel smile, it was just something that said 'I believe in you, and I won't stop until you realize it.'