Against all logic, he jumped to the top of the ridge, exposing himself to any snipers. Staring down the hill, he could see a handful of soldiers and snipers hiding in the rocks, picking off his teammates in the village below.
Eight seconds.
He fired a burst.
Forty-nine kills.
Only one more.
He fired again, but the gun didn't shoot. In his furor, he lost track of his ammo. He was empty.
Five seconds.
He switched to his pistol. Three seconds. Then his screen went red. His vision was blurred. He could hardly see. He'd been hit by a sniper round. Another hit would finish him completely. Spencer fired rapidly and blindly into the rocks. He still had explosive ammo no matter which gun he used.
Blam!
His screen lit up. JUGGERNAUT flashed at the top in blood red letters and underneath it read: 50 kill streak! His vision instantly cleared. He was invulnerable.
With two seconds left, he picked off two more enemy soldiers before the game ended. He was 52-0. A nearly perfect game and he entered the round late.
He jumped out of his seat and threw his headset onto the bed. He pumped his fist in the air. “Yes, yes, yes!” he yelled with as much enthusiasm as he dared considering the late hour.
Spencer was so pumped he didn't even listen to the game lobby taunts. He paced his room with untamed energy. He had to tell someone, but who? He could brag to his friends in the morning, but they wouldn't believe him and he didn't care if they did. The only person who would understand was Deathdirge.
Spencer put the headset back on and quit the game. He pulled up Deathdirge's name and clicked ‘send message’.
“You're not going to believe this, Dirgey,” he said excitedly into the mic, “but I just did it! I hit a fifty-kill streak in one game. I did it with just two seconds to spare and a sniper shooting at me. I even got in two more kills before it ended. I can't believe I did it! Where you been anyway? It's no fun killing without you.”
He sent the message and felt some satisfaction knowing that Deathdirge would know about his accomplishment the next time he came online.
Spencer slipped out to use the bathroom and was surprised to hear his parents talking in their bedroom. He was about to walk past until he heard his name mentioned. Naturally, he stopped and listened.
“I don't think Spencer understands what's going on.” His mom's voice was anxious and tense. “He's old enough; you should explain it to him.”
His dad, always the rock of the family, remained calm. “I had a talk with him last week. He knows what's going on.”
“Are you sure? He seems so distant. I'm telling you, it's those games. They're desensitizing him. Not just to violence, but to life. We should make him quit.”
Spencer cringed. They wouldn't!
“I think that's a bit extreme.”
Good old dad.
“He doesn't seem the least bit concerned that…” his mom choked up, “that we could lose you.”
“It's okay, sweetie. I'm not going anywhere.” His dad assured her. “Even on the off chance that I am drafted, I'll be sent to one of the safe zones, maybe even right here in the states.”
“Oh, I hope so. I just don't want to lose you.”
“You're not going to lose me, honey. I'm right here.”
“I heard on the news today that the mortality rate is up to nearly fifteen percent.”
“That's just in the war zones. If I'm recruited, they'll have me drafting designs or fixing engines; something I know how to do. They're not going to put a gun in my hand.”
“They also said that they need more soldiers — of any age.”
“Look at me.” Spencer heard his father slapping his paunchy belly. “No one's sending this into combat.”
She laughed softly. “They better not.”
Spencer slipped back to his room, crawled into bed and thought about their conversation. Uncle Paul had been drafted, but Paul was five years younger than Dad and worked as a firefighter. Spencer could see why the military recruited him. Was it possible they could take his dad? His dad didn't seem to think so, but maybe he's just saying those things to console his mom.
Spencer realized all of this anxiety stemmed from his mother. She was always worried about something. As kids, she worried he and Toby would break something whenever they rough housed. If they went outside and skinned an elbow or knee, she freaked out even worse, telling them to play inside where there was carpeting.
Knowing how his mom made things out to be worse than they were, he decided not to worry. In the months that followed, Spencer realized it was the right decision. Dad wasn't drafted, but his mom continuously worried that the military would show up at any minute to take him away.
Spencer was playing online with his friends when an icon popped up on his screen. Deathdirge was online. Spencer was elated, but surprised he was on so early. Wouldn't it be mid-day in New Zealand? Not that it mattered. He was happy just to see his friend online.
Spencer sent out a chat invite, but after a few minutes he noticed it had been refused. He sent another, and again it was rejected. Finally, he sent a voice message, “Hey, what's going on? You haven't been on in ages? I'm surprised you're on so early.”
He waited and wondered if he'd done something to piss Deathdirge off. This wasn't like him. It was another ten minutes before he received a reply. Spencer clicked the icon to playback the recording. The accent was the same, but the voice was different.
“Sorry, mate, I'm not who you think I am. Deathdirge was my cousin. I'm only playing his account until it expires. I feel weird telling you this, but I guess you should know. A few months ago, my cousin took a job on a fishing vessel. About three weeks ago, they were having engine problems when they hit rough waters. They sent out an SOS, but then radio contact was lost. None of them made it back. Sorry to break it to you, but Deathdirge is gone.”
Spencer listened to the message again just to be sure he heard it right. It didn't seem possible.
The friends he'd been gaming with sent him invites to rejoin the game, but Spencer ignored them. He listened to the message one more time before powering off.
The next few weeks, Spencer hardly gamed at all. He studied harder and finished his papers days before they were even due. The school year was winding down, and finals were fast approaching. He used his free time to help tutor his friends, almost all of whom needed help if they wanted to pass. When they finished studying, they would invite him to play, but Spencer always made up an excuse.
He didn't tell his parents, but they noticed the change in his habits and demeanor. One night, while working on a term paper, his mom surprised him with some freshly-baked cookies.
“I thought you needed a break.” She held out the plate. “Are you almost finished with the paper?”
“Not really,” he replied, grabbing a cookie. “I still have five pages to go.”
“They're still warm, just the way you like them.”
She stayed in the room while he ate another two cookies. Finally, she said, “I noticed you haven't been gaming much lately. Is there some reason you quit?”
Spencer shrugged. “I guess I just haven't felt like playing.”
“Oh,” another awkward silence followed. Then, “Is everything okay?”
Spencer nodded. “Yeah, Mom. I'm fine. Thanks for the cookies.”
“You're welcome.”
Spencer wanted to turn around and continue working on his paper, but he didn't want to turn his back on his mom. Then she added, “Well, if you need a break, maybe you should play a game or two.”
Spencer smiled, knowing how she felt about it. “Okay,” he agreed.
An hour later, he punched in. The game came up and he viewed his options. Carnage was out of the question and he didn't feel like Slaughterhouse. He opted for a nice simple game of Global War. Five minutes into the game, he realized tears were pouring down his cheeks and he could hardly breathe. It was the first time he truly mourned. He quit the game and powered down, uncertain if he would ever play again.