GalaxyNet: The Eighth Zak Steepleman Novel: Zak Steepleman, #8

1

My feet sank into the snow. It was only when it came up above my shins that I really began to feel the chill slinking up my spine.

Rubbing at my chest, I tried to instil some warmth in my body. I only wore a light jacket over a pair of jeans. I thanked my lucky stars that I hadn’t gone with my standard wardrobe choice of cargo shorts for this particular outing. And in retrospect it seemed nothing but a wise choice to have put on a pair of trainers instead of flip-flops or — God forbid — going barefoot. My breath forming misty clouds of warmth before my nose, I composed myself, glanced from side to side across the snowy landscape, trying to get a hold of my bearings.

The moon beamed down over everything, setting the whole scene in a strange, ethereal glow . . . kind of like finding myself in the middle of a dream.

But this wasn’t a dream.

This was happening.

The sea filled a good three quarters of my vision. The water was still — midnight still — and there was no sign of another animal. I supposed that any animal with any sense would have found themselves a nice warm spot and be snoozing away till dawn swung around. But it was fair to say that — at least where animals are concerned — I’ve never been a very smart one. Somehow — somehow — I allow myself to be manipulated — others might say talked into — situations such as this one.

Zak? Are you there, Zak?

Kate.

It was Kate’s voice.

I reached up for the audio bud stuffed into my ear, jabbing it further inside, to bring her words clearer. What’s up? I replied, my eyes still skimming the landscape, searching for any sign of motion. And finding nothing.

A hundred metres. Due south.

I rolled my eyes up to the clear sky, taking in the brilliantly clear stars blinking down on me. I turned my attention back to Kate, in my ear. Which way’s south?

Do a ninety-degree turn to your left.

I did as instructed.

Looked off across the snow dunes.

Tried to see something — anything . . .

With a sigh creeping its way up my throat, I prepared to let Kate know I couldn’t see anything at all. But then — right as I was thinking up some biting quip to throw back at her — I spotted motion.

Life.

An animal.

A person.

It was nothing more than a shadow. And one which appeared to be staring directly at me. If Kate hadn’t told me precisely which direction I should be looking in then I wonder if I ever would’ve managed to notice.

Zak? Zak? There was Kate’s voice in my earbud again, then, What do you see?

I gulped a breath and took off after the shadow.

Now, I don’t know if you’ve ever tried running in snow — snow that comes up to your thighs — but I can assure you it’s even harder than you’d think.

I’d hardly gone more than four or five steps before I felt an extreme heat wreaking its way through my legs. The pain concentrated itself in my calves, then worked up to my thighs. I felt my shoulders slump. Somehow — somehow — a sweat broke out on my brow. And I began to breathe heavily. When I glanced up, I saw the shadow continued to stand where it had been previously.

Staring at me.

With a shake of my head, I gulped down yet more air and forced my feet forwards, soothing myself with the reassurance that I’d get myself a hearty hamburger and chips when this was all over. I’d make sure to round things off with a Brizzmere Buzz too.

After I’d dragged myself — panting and sweating all over — from the latest snowdrift, I realised I’d made some good progress.

I was only a matter of steps away from the shadow now.

Still, the shadow had failed to take its chance to escape.

To run from me.

Then again, what does a shadow genuinely have to be afraid of?

Isn’t it just an absence of light anyway?

A smile cracked the corner of my lips as I approached. It felt as if I was close to accomplishing something. As if I was growing close to completing the mission . . . if that was what this even was.

Perhaps it was the dimness of the moonlight which made everything seem more unreal — or maybe it was due to my heightened awareness brought on by the impromptu calorie-burning session — but one thing was for certain, I didn’t get a good look at the shadow until I was mere footsteps away.

As I shook all over — from heat, cold and exertion all at once — I got my first look at the shadow. I couldn’t help but feel a strange inevitability about the whole situation.

It was me.

My likeness.

The shadow was me.

2

It’s the mark of an inexperienced gamer that — upon spotting something eerie or unusual — they freeze up. Just stand and stare. But I am not an inexperienced gamer . . .

Before I’d so much as blinked an eyelid, I grabbed the shadow, seizing it by the throat. I stared at my own face which, in turn, stared right back at me. I looked for pain in the eyes, telling myself I was squeezing so hard I had to be causing some kind of discomfort. But there was nothing there.

Only a half-bored interest.

A neutral expression lining the lips.

As if this was some sort of a macabre comedy.

I held myself still for several moments, then reached up for my audio bud. It’s me, I said, sounding more exasperated than I felt.

Okay, Kate replied, not missing a beat. Bring him in.

Her tone made it sound as if this was precisely what she’d expected, and — to be honest — I would’ve been a fool to doubt her.

Kate always seemed to understand just what was going on.

I muttered a curse beneath my breath as I realised the full implication — that I was going to have to trek back the way I’d come.

I released one hand from the shadow’s throat and then dragged him along behind me. After a couple of footsteps, he seemed to get the idea and began to follow.

One good aspect about the shadow was how he seemed not to weigh anything at all. It’s a difficult sensation to describe because he felt substantial — there was no mistake that he was present in reality — and yet there was nothing to him . . . there was no steady, reassuring weight. It was like dragging a bedsheet behind me.

We must’ve been walking for half an hour when I eyed the warm — and impossibly welcoming — light. I snatched at a breath and my exhale turned into a sigh. I used my angry energy to jostle the shadow — my shadow — further along on the way. Up a steep-sided dune which’d been significantly more fun coming down than going up.

I eyed the log cabin, and the door which I had left open. It wasn’t like there was anybody here. Aside from the Sirocco 3000 which’d been hooked up to a suspiciously new-looking TV within, there was no other sign of life.

"Come. On!" I said, as I took up the rear, shoving the shadow towards the log cabin porch. Finally, I got the two of us over the threshold and into the overwhelming warmth of the log cabin — I had had the good sense to flip on the gas stove before I’d headed out into the frozen wasteland of . . . wherever the hell we were.

I brought the door shut behind us with a slam, and then, with a suspicious glance at the shadow, I switched my attention to the TV screen, and to the logged-in session which it was running off the Sirocco 3000.

I had Inside Kids Chat pulled up. All the guys were there — my team:

Mikey.

James.

Alan.

Chung.

And, of course, Kate.

Despite myself — despite my somewhat foul mood at having had to trek through the snow to bring back my own dim-witted shadow — I couldn’t help but give a slight smile. I snatched up the gamepad and tapped away:

Exit Strategy

As I waited for the whole world to go all swirly, for the blackness of the night outside to bleed into the cosy log cabin, I looked over at the shadow version of myself.

It stared back at me eerily.

Did it want something?

Was it possible for shadows to want something?

3

Iarrived back at PORTALS — the office space which for official purposes was a video game development studio. That was just half the truth, though. What we were doing at PORTALS — what me and the Inside Kids were doing at PORTALS — was nothing short of a world-changing feat. Simply put, it was our responsibility to explore and protect a mystical technology which we had revealed together.

The ability to transport into video games themselves.

As I stepped from out of the glass chamber — which always reminded me of a shower cubicle — I nodded to Brian . . . Kate’s dad.

With a well-chewed pencil gripped between his teeth, he gave me barely a grunt before turning back to his computer screen, his fingers rattling over the keyboard as he mashed out lines and lines of code.

Used to this sort of welcome — actually quite comfortable with it — I trod away from the chamber, gripping the shadow’s wrist firmly.

The two of us emerged into the office space where the other Inside Kids — Chung, Mikey, Alan, James and Kate — all busied themselves with their own computer terminals. Just what they were each up to was anybody’s guess . . . I was just a garden-variety aspiring pro gamer; albeit one with more trinkets and gold stars than most.

Kate was the only one who got to her feet, leaving her computer behind. The others — after giving me a mumbled word of greeting — returned to their world unfazed by the shadow I was leading along.

Kate cocked her head to one side and closed one eye. "Looks like your skin has turned a slight shade of blue."

It’s funny what arctic temperatures do to a human body.

Kate glanced to the shadow then turned on her heel. Come on, you two.

I left the warm office behind to tread into a chilled room we referred to only as ‘The Store’.

I held back at the threshold as if this might be a means for stoking some kind of empathy in Kate. But, of course, she simply grabbed the front of my shirt with her free hand and dragged me in right behind her . . . alongside my shadow.

I hadn’t taken more than a couple of steps into the Store when I found myself meeting my shadow’s eye. The two of us exchanged a glance of sympathy.

Kate took us past the doors which lined the narrow corridor — almost all of them with glimmering red lights above the entrance. Each one of those red lights indicated that the cell was occupied. That there was a shadow of some sort held prisoner within.

Kate eventually released both of us from her hold when she came to a halt outside a door with a green light above. She punched a code into the number pad and the door slid open. She trod inside without missing a beat while I hung back.

I couldn’t quite put my finger on just why I did hold back . . . only that it seemed to be the natural thing to do. I knew it couldn’t have anything to do with my shadow — with the fact that I was about to put my shadow into cold storage. I had done this countless times over the course of the past few months.

It’d become a routine.

Boring, really.

Zak?

I snapped out of my daze. Looked to the shadow. Gave it . . . him? . . . a nod.

Of course, the shadow didn’t move.

It merely remained where it was.

That’s the thing when something has no free will of its own, it has to have everything done for it. Thankfully our acquaintance wasn’t going to stretch beyond this whole imprisoning thing . . . I can’t say I was at all relishing the prospect of taking it to the toilet with me.

I took hold of the shadow’s wrist and guided it inside.

Beyond the door, there were half a dozen cells . . . three on each side.

When I say cells, what I really mean is cubicles.

They were like the ones back on the office floor.

Unsubstantial.

They certainly wouldn’t hold up against much more than a light shove.

There was only one cell free now.

As I walked past the other shadows with the latest arrival, I couldn’t help but feel their eyes upon me. The other five shadows were from our allies. The others who worked with us in guarding the gateway of the real and virtual worlds. Among them was Gerta, who I had teamed up with on Team Europa; Paul Ghast, Gerta’s ex-boyfriend, and a member of Team North America; then there was a shadow version of Mikey and then two copies of James. From our point of view, the appearance of the shadows seemed to be random.

They were detected by a system we had worked on with our benefactor — Archer Waugh. Whenever a shadow cropped up somewhere in the world, the program would sound a warning and whoever was on duty — yours truly as was the case that particular night — would get called in to bring the shadow back to the PORTALS offices. Under Archer’s orders, we locked the shadows up in cells.

To be quite honest, it seemed completely pointless.

The shadows were as docile, inoffensive . . . as inanimate as a dog turd . . . why we couldn’t just allow them to wander the Earth escaped me.

Then again, I suppose I wasn’t the best person to give advice on how to handle the incoming invasion of the virtual world. I did what I was told.

And they liked to say that I was some kind of leader . . .

Kate closed my shadow in the cubicle. The main danger with shadows — with capturing them — was that they would take it upon themselves to go wandering off.

Hence the security measures.

Kate dusted her hands together and shot me a wry grin as if we’d just completed some arduous task. Well, to be fair, I was still waiting for the sensation to return to my fingers and toes . . .

Kate was almost all the way to the door when something struck me.

Maybe it was hypothermia setting in or perhaps I was just in one of those ditsy-brained moods which so often get me into trouble.

Where do you think they come from? I asked.

Who?

The shadows.

Uh. Kate flashed a glance over the room of shadows, as if they were going to say something by way of response; as if they were going to complain that we were talking about them behind their backs. I dunno.

I waited a moment. Well, thanks for the comprehensive answer.

Before I could slip out of the door in one of my huffs, Kate reached out and took hold of my jacket sleeve. What’d you want me to say, Zak?

"You must have a theory — some sort of idea."

She gave me a bug-eyed stare.

I breathed in deeply, trying to get my head back together. Aren’t you worried about space at all?

‘Space’ ?

"Yeah, you know . . . in the real world. I looked out through the doorway, to the corridor. Just how much capacity do you reckon we have for more of these shadows?"

As much as it takes.

I rolled my eyes. I’m being serious.

Kate didn’t flinch. I’m just telling you what Archer told me. She paused. For reals. She only managed to keep her expression straight for another few seconds before cracking a grin. She reached out and gave me — quite a substantial — bump on the arm. Come on, Zak. Let’s go see what the others are up to, huh?

And with that — without pausing politely for me to confirm — she ventured out into the corridor, leaving me alone with the shadows.

I looked them over.

And couldn’t help but catch my shadow’s eye among them.

We must’ve stared one another out for a good three or four seconds before the shadow looked away, turning its blank focus onto something more worthy of its attention.

I followed Kate out of the cell.

4

Things in the PORTALS offices were pretty much as I imagined.

Everyone working hard at their computer terminal. Hardly bothering to take stock of the real world surrounding them. The humungous flat-screen TV on the wall was showing a 3D-rendering of a world map. Upon the map were various white dots marking locations where shadows had been picked up. I glanced about the map for the new dot, finally settling on Greenland — where I’d been this evening.

I puffed out a breath and then collapsed onto a sofa which Brian had decided — by some stroke of genius — would make a useful addition to the PORTALS offices.

I felt my heart beating against my throat.

I’d got myself warm now.

Well, almost.

Zak?

I turned to look.

Saw Brian standing in the doorway — eyes bleary from behind his glasses, hair all over the place. You fancy a coffee?

Hot chocolate?

Brian grunted in that way of his then sloped off to the kitchenette.

I spread my arms out over the back of the sofa and stared at the ceiling, trying to make sense of just where we’d got to . . . of just how we’d ended up like this.

Before we’d implemented this plan — the plan which was known by its none-too-subtle codename Shadow Snatcher — Archer had made himself very busy indeed, sailing about the world in his yacht — Solar Flare — placing Sirocco 3000 consoles just about anywhere he could think of. He had done this so that we could transport ourselves at the drop of a hat to wherever we might be needed . . . wherever the latest shadow happened to crop up. Even Deepest, Darkest Greenland had its very own Sirocco 3000 for our exclusive purposes.

Zak?

I snapped out of my daze, wondering how Brian had managed to rustle up my hot chocolate so quickly. With an internal groan of despair, I soon realised it wasn’t Brian at all . . . it was Mikey.

His sleek hair coiled into a bun, he gave me the slightest of smiles, and said, Wanna hear a joke?

No.

How many gamers does it take to screw in a lightbulb?

Dunno.

None . . . is it just me, or is it dark in here?

I allowed a polite couple of seconds of silence then cracked a slight grin.

You get it?

Uh-huh . . . think so.

Apparently satisfied with my reaction, Mikey took off.

I glanced at the clock on the wall — the one which showed how long remained of our shift. Just over an hour. Already, I could feel the almost overwhelming desire for sleep. I told myself that — very soon now — I would be all tucked up in bed, drifting off into dreamland. It was fair to say this was becoming a kind of never-ending nightmare . . . that Archer had set us this task as some means of psychological warfare.

Just why he wanted to declare war at all beat me.

Finally, Brian brought me along the hot chocolate. It was that instantaneous stuff. It had been made mostly with water, with no more milk than the little splash which those disposable plastic sachets contain.

But it was warm.

And it did the trick to thaw the ice in my blood.

A drowsy haze descended upon me.

It was only when I felt someone poking and prodding at my forehead that I realised I must’ve slipped off.

I opened my eyes.

Chung and James stood over me . . . Alan on their heels.

Shift’s coming to an end, James said.

I padded about myself — pressing down the sofa cushions.

I got myself back up into a sitting position.

I glanced around in a kind of panic.

Looking for this? Alan asked.

He clenched an empty cup in his fist.

As I hoiked myself back to my feet, I screwed up my eyes, as if that small gesture might be enough for me to wish the world away.

It wasn’t.

I sort of hung on the back end of the group as we traipsed towards the chamber — to what served as our Portal leading to the outside world . . . to the various Sirocco 3000s hooked up around the globe . . . the road which led back to our own bedrooms, and, most important of all, to our beds . . .

We all stood by as Brian worked the computer terminal beside the chamber.

I stifled more than one yawn and wondered just what the hold-up was.

Finally, though — inevitably, I guess — the chamber glowed slightly . . . nothing more than a shimmering of the air. Within the space appeared some familiar faces: Gerta, Florian, and Andrea.

The gamers who I had done battle with at EuroNet.

They had arrived from their respective countries: Gerta from Germany, Florian from France, Andrea from Italy. All of them looked to us with sleepy smiles.

I knew that