Seconds To Zero

CHAPTER 10

The white light was not a light. It was a weight. It felt like a mountain of ice pressing down on Evan’s chest. It pushed the air out of his lungs. It pushed the thoughts out of his brain. Then, the world screamed.

It was a sound like metal tearing. It was the sound of a billion clocks ticking backward at the same time. Evan felt his skin stretch. He felt his blood flow in reverse. His heart gave one final, violent thump against his ribs, and then—

Silence.

The coldness disappeared. The smell of the wet trash tunnel was gone. The smell of the rot and the copper-tasting blood vanished.

Evan blinked. His vision was blurry, swimming in a sea of blue and gold. He felt a sudden, sharp pain in his ribs. He gasped and clutched his side, waiting for the agony of the shock-baton. He waited for the snap of his arm bone.

But there was no snap. His arm was straight. His jacket was clean.

"Move," a voice grunted.

Evan flinched. He spun around, his eyes wide. He was not in the dark tunnel. He was not dying in the mud. He was standing in the elevator. The metal box was shaking. The numbers above the door were climbing.

Level 4. High Stakes.

The guard behind him, a man with a thick neck and a mean scowl, shoved him forward. "I said move, rookie. You’re late for your funeral."

Evan stumbled. His legs felt weak. They felt like they belonged to someone else. He looked down at his left wrist. The skin was clear. The bio-watch was not cracked. It did not show 0.00.

Current Lifespan: 8 Years, 4 Months, 12 Days.

Evan’s heart skipped a beat. Before the rewind, he had over ten years. The System had taken its payment. Two years of his life were gone. He felt it in his joints. They felt stiff. He felt it in his breath. It was a little shorter, a little more shallow. He was twenty years old, but inside, his body felt like it had skipped a few chapters.

"I'm back," Evan whispered.

"Shut up," the guard said.

The elevator doors hissed open. The smell hit him—ozone and expensive cologne. The red carpet looked like a river of dried blood. It was exactly the same. Every detail was a sharp needle in his brain.

He knew what was coming. He had lived this. He had died because of this.

Evan walked into the arena. The dark glass walls reflected his own face. He looked pale. He looked like a ghost. Behind the glass, the rich spectators held their crystal glasses. They looked at him like he was a bug under a microscope.

In the center of the room sat the black table. And there was Silas.

The old man looked exactly the same. His white hair was perfectly combed. His gray suit was sharp. He looked bored, tapping a silver ring against the shiny surface of the table.

"A child," Silas said. His voice was like dry paper rubbing together. "The system sends me a child."

Evan stopped at the edge of the table. He did not grip the edge this time. He kept his hands at his sides, even though they were shaking. He looked Silas in the eye.

"I am not a child," Evan said. His voice was steady. It was stronger than the last time.

Silas raised an eyebrow. He stopped tapping his ring. "Oh? You have a spine. That is rare for a rookie on the fourth floor."

"I know how this goes," Evan said.

Silas smiled. It was the same toothy, predator smile. "Then you know the game. 'Gravity Shift.' A game of physics. A game of luck."

Silas tapped the table. The holographic screen flickered to life. The digital ball sat at the top, waiting to drop.

"Do you know the rules?" Silas asked.

"I know them better than you think," Evan replied.

A blue box suddenly appeared in Evan’s vision. It was the System. It was small, hovering in the corner of his eye so it didn't block his view of Silas.

[ANALYSIS ACTIVE]

[SUBJECT: SILAS 'THE VETERAN']

[THREAT LEVEL: HIGH]

[OBSERVATION: SUBJECT IS CALM. PULSE STEADY. HE HAS PLAYED THIS MATCH 4,102 TIMES.]

Evan stared at the text. He realized that this time, he wasn't alone. He had a weapon.

"Let us begin," Silas said. "Standard entry. One week."

Evan looked at the hologram. He saw the digital pegs. Last time, he had played it safe. He had tried to be smart. He had lost.

"One week," Evan agreed.

The ball dropped. Ping. Ping. Ping. It bounced off the pegs. Evan watched it with intense focus. He remembered this drop. It was going to land in the blue zone.

The ball landed. The table chimed.

"Winner," the mechanical voice said.

Evan didn't smile. He knew this was the bait. Silas was letting him win to make him feel confident.

"Another," Silas said. "A month."

"A month," Evan said.

The ball dropped again. Evan didn't even look at the ball. He looked at Silas’s hands. Silas was leaning back, but his left foot was pressing a small pedal under the table. Evan wouldn't have noticed it before. But now, he saw the tiny movement of the old man’s shoe.

The ball landed in the blue zone again.

"You are lucky," Silas said. He leaned forward. His gray eyes were like cold stones. "But luck is a fickle mistress. She leaves you when you need her most."

This was the moment. The trap.

"You are careful," Silas said, repeating the words Evan remembered. "But careful men do not get rich. Careful men starve slowly."

Silas slid the slider on his side of the table. The hologram turned a violent, angry red.

"The Multiplier," Silas whispered. "Ten times. If you win, you gain a decade. You leave this place a king. If you lose... well, you don't have to worry about the future anymore."