Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Jamie
Shannon is sound asleep, a soft purr escaping from her lips. She looks peaceful curled up with two pillows. Her dark hair fans out around her head. Delicate curves peek out from beneath the covers.
I’m getting used to having her in my bed. I enjoy having Shannon around more than I would have thought. Over the past few weeks, we’ve become so much more than friends. She spends a lot of nights with me. I never even saw it coming, not after everything I went through over the summer.
Shannon was right under my nose all along, and I overlooked her because I was still in love with Cece. And now, I’m making room in my heart and my life for Shannon.
I slide off the mattress, careful not to wake her.
It’s five o’clock in the morning, the entire house is sleeping off their hangovers.
Preston and Bex went at it for most of the night.
At one point, I wondered if we were in a competition for who could wake the house first. Drake wasn’t as lucky.
No matter how much chasing after Taylor he did, I doubt he even got a kiss.
Sinking into the chair in front of my computer desk, I tap the mouse to wake the four monitors in front of me. I quickly dim the screens and turn them away from my bed. Shannon knows about The Queen. But I don’t want her to know how obsessed I am with this girl.
She’s a true hacker, a skilled coder who has my full attention.
Every chance I get, I attempt to narrow down her location.
Any time I get too close, The Queen finds some way to block me.
I love the hunt, and I wonder if she knows it.
Because it seems too convenient that she always lets me go so far.
I log in to my server and flip through a few tabs until I find the correct browser.
Technically, what I’ve been doing to find The Queen breaks a few laws, but I’m good at covering my tracks.
My fingers glide across the keyboard, and as I go through the motions, I finally hit a dead end.
Another firewall prevents me from passing through—or is it something else?
The green text on the black screen disappears, and as it does, anxiety creeps into my chest. I enter a few recovery codes, doing everything I can think of to make it stop.
And then the green cursor blinks in the middle of the screen.
I stare at it and then attempt to type. None of the keys work.
The commands I enter don’t appear on the screen.
What the fuck is going on? I have no way of controlling my system, and now I know I have gone too far. Maybe Preston was right. Should I ask my dad for help? He’d never have allowed someone to attack his server.
After a few more seconds, the cursor stops flashing.
What appears to be an ancient video game appears.
It reminds me of Doom, one of the most iconic first-person shooter video games from the nineties.
Except this is a custom design, a lookalike of the original with several modifications.
Whoever is orchestrating this attack wants me to play. So I do.
I fight droves of demons as I make my way through the first level.
Blood splatters with each demon I kill, satanic imagery present throughout the fictional world.
There are elements in this game that remind me of The Fallen Universe my father created.
The classics inspired my dad. Doom and Diablo are two of the games he’s publicly mentioned over the years.
Whoever coded this game must know that because I see so much of those games infused with parts of The Fallen worlds. I enter a dungeon, one that reminds me of those I’ve seen in Diablo. The more I play, the more I see how much Mage Wars is like both games.
Does this person want me to know something?
Was my dad more than inspired by these games?
He would never. I know deep down in my soul that his worlds are his and his alone.
Yes, there are similarities. I can say the same of any creative product on the market.
Even the most popular books have others like them.
I’m about to fight the last battle when demons ambush me.
Hitting the buttons as fast as I can, I do my best to shoot and dodge, but my efforts are worthless.
Because the owner of this game never planned to let me pass.
That would mean granting me access when all they have done is keep me from the truth.
This is The Queen’s doing. I must have gotten closer to her this time.
Grunting and yelling at the screen, my fingers move faster.
I work even harder to reach the next level, and then I’m hit, one after the other, until my character is dead.
The game slowly fades until the screen turns black.
Deep red blood runs from the top of the screen, dripping down the center where it forms words.
It spells out, You Lose, Jamer.
Fucking bitch. How is The Queen this good? And how does she know my screen name? Only gamers and hackers from my inner circles know who I am.
“Everything okay?” Shannon asks.
I spin the chair around to face her. “Yeah. Sorry if I woke you. It’s early. You should go back to bed.”
She shoves her hair behind her ears and yawns. “What are you doing?”
I grip her hips and pull her down to sit on my lap. “Looking for The Queen.”
“Oh.” She sounds surprised. “How come?”
“So, I can shut down her website. So, I can make her pay for the shit she’s doing to my friends. We lost our last game because everyone on our team is fighting. And it all started with her.”
“What does she have against you guys?”
“We assume one of us dated her. I’ve been looking for her since the first edition of Dethroned. I was hoping she’d quit… I should have found her by now.”
She presses her palm to my shoulder and smiles. “You’re the smartest guy I know, Jamie. If anyone can find her, it’s you.”
“She’s beating me,” I admit. “Always one step ahead.”
“Maybe you just need to find the reason for her hatred.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, thinking over her words. “How do you suggest I do that?”
“Can you catfish her somehow?”
I laugh in her ear without meaning to.
Shannon smacks me on my bare arm, and it stings a little. “Don’t laugh at me, Jamie. It’s not a bad idea. Isn’t there some way to use your super nerd skills to lure her into a trap?”
I consider her question. “Yeah, I guess.”
“This is a first,” she coos, running a hand through my hair to push it off my forehead. “I’ve never seen you so unsure of yourself.”
I stare into her green eyes, and my pulse races, my heart slamming into my rib cage. She’s beautiful and smart, sexy without even trying, and I’ve never liked her as much as I do right now. She just called me out on my shit. I’m acting like a scared boy running away from a girl.
The Queen is another coder with legit skills. But I’m better. I just have to act like it.
Two days later, we’re hanging out in the living room of our house when our cell phones ding with a notification from the Dethroned app. A look of horror crosses each of our faces. Who will The Queen dethrone next? A chill rolls down my spine as I open the app to read her latest post.
Dethroned
November Edition
Mirror, mirror, on the wall who’s the douchiest of them all? I was planning to give this week’s D-Bag Award to Preston Parker, Mr. MVP and captain of the men’s ice hockey team, for his scandalous affair with his coach’s daughter.
But the Kane twins have stolen the throne. Their latest shenanigans make you wonder…. can two princes share one crown? Or in this case, one girl?
XO,
The Queen
I breathe a sigh of relief that I have escaped her wrath. Not like I ever do anything particularly memorable to land on her blog. Still, I have to keep my nose clean and out of her line of sight. My dad’s company and reputation are on the line. So is mine.
“Fucking bitch,” Preston yells, throwing his phone across the living room. It hits a pillow on the couch next to me. “If Coach Bryant finds out about Bex and me before I get the chance to tell him, he will flip out.”
“Then, man up and tell him,” Drake says.
Preston tugs at the ends of his hair. “I will. Eventually.”
Two weeks ago, Trent and Tucker accidentally hooked up with the same girl.
She’s Shannon’s Little Sister in her sorority.
Trent stares at his phone, re-reading the blog post over again while shaking his head at the screen.
I feel bad for him. Tucker loves the attention and probably couldn’t care less that he’s been the star of the last two monthly editions of Dethroned.
“You’re missing the point,” Preston growls at Drake. “The fucking Queen will ruin our lives if we don’t stop her.”
“I still can’t track her IP address.” I kick my feet up on the coffee table separating us. “She’s good, whoever she is.”
My friends don’t understand the technical aspect, so there’s no point in filling them in on the details. The Queen is becoming a real thorn in my side. I can’t sleep most nights knowing a girl is getting the best of me.
“Ask your dad,” Preston snaps.
I shake my head, insulted by his request. “No way. I’m not getting him involved. I can do it. Just give me some time.”
I’m not telling my dad about The Queen. I also don’t want him to know how hard of a time I’m having breaking through her firewalls.
It will disappoint him. I learned everything I know from him, and she’s testing me.
Every time I hit a wall, she’s there to laugh in my face.
And some part of me respects her for the challenge.
“That’s what you said last month,” Preston says. “Just make the call. If you don’t, then I will.”
I glare at Preston, and he crosses his arms over his chest. The vibe in the room is miserable. We’re all sporting scowls and mad at each other for no reason. The Queen started this, and because of her, our team is feeling the pain.
“All of you, knock it off,” Trent booms, standing up from the couch. He slides his cell phone back into his pocket and sighs. “There’s no point fighting with each other over something we can’t control. I got enough shit to deal with.”
His blue eyes full of hatred, he walks out of the living room. Preston is next to leave. Irritated, I follow behind him, desperate for some air. I hate when Preston challenges me in front of everyone. He keeps pushing me to call my dad for help, as if I’m not good enough to track down The Queen.
I will find her.
And when I do, I will make her pay for everything she has put us through.