Al closed his eyes against the rising flood of fear. “No, no, no,” he whispered to himself. He wanted out — needed out. This was the wrong kind of game for him. He didn't do people. He didn't do classmates. He didn't do Sandy.

What was he supposed to do?

He hated Sandy. HATED.

But here in-game Sandy was petitioning Al to do something for him.

In Al’s mind, that was bad enough.

But here in-game Sandy was offering up his family as some sort of sacrifice to a vengeful god.

Al’s parents’ lessons on finding inner peace, finding balance, finding common ground had never helped. Not once.

But here in-game Sandy was being more civilized than the IRL linebacker had ever been.

After six years, Al wanted nothing to do with IRL Sandy. He didn’t want to find common ground. He didn’t want to forge some sort of relationship — any kind of relationship — with Sandy. He didn’t want to understand or sympathize with Sandy.

No. He needed out. O. U. T. Out.

Who could look at his tormentor of six years and say, ‘yes’?

Was what this was about?

Was Beyul testing if Al was the better person. Someone who could just forget about the actions of Sandy? Forget about his fellow students’ actions? Forget about his teachers’ actions?

No. His memory wouldn’t let him. It was all there as fresh and raw as the moment they did it … all of it.

He was not some masochistic saint. He ran out of cheeks long ago. At this point, his golden rule would be to weigh them down with the gold and watch them drown.

Maybe Sandy was right. Maybe Al was vengeful. Maybe a sacrifice was needed.

Al didn’t want to be vengeful — he really wanted to be accepted.

But that wasn’t what Sandy was offering. Sandy was offering the devotion of his “uncle” and his brothers. But devotion wasn’t acceptance.

And Sandy’s public displays of devotion would not improve Al’s school life.

This was unacceptable to Al. He needed out.

Something bumped into his head — something big and leathery, like a large ball. But the ball wasn’t thrown. In fact, there was almost no force behind the bump.

Al opened his eyes to see a large, mottled green and brown ball with a giant eye and ten eyestalks looking at him.

Out.>

Al looked around him. He and the beach ball were in the forest clearing with Sandy and the trailer. Nothing moved.

Al was indeed out of the games time flow.

He sighed. Perhaps having a nervous breakdown in the game was not enough to trigger an emergency exit protocol. He looked at the beach ball. “What am I supposed to do?”

Do?> The giant eye’s lid formed a tent around the eye — may be trying to emulate the wrinkling of the forehead to show confusion.

“I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what decision I am supposed to make. I don’t know what … What if I say, ‘no.’”

No.> The beach ball drifted around Sandy.

Thin threads drifted out of Sandy in different directions.

Future drifts.>

Then the sun rose on Al and the beach ball in the clearing. The trailer was gone, but along the edge of the clearing, a hand poked up out of the ground, a hand with Sandy’s class ring, a hand belonging to a mostly buried corpse.

“This is because I say, ‘no’?”

Correct. Parent rampaged. Devotion died.>

Al shook his head. No. No. No. He was twelve. He wasn’t supposed to be making life or death decisions for anyone.

“What if I say, ‘yes’?”

Night returned, but red and blue lights flashed through the clearing. Sandy was in handcuffs. A rifle was on the ground beside him. A large man, presumably Sandy’s father, was dead at Sandy’s feet. Nothing moved except for changing lights.

“So, if I say, ‘yes,’ Sandy kills his father?”

Correct. Parent died. Devotion lived. Good outcome.>

Al turned and walked toward the lake until he could see the moon reflecting off of the seemingly frozen waves.

“Is there a better outcome?”

Better?>

“One that doesn’t involve Sandy going to jail.”

Assist parent-death.>

“No.” Al breathed for a while. “Where both parent and devotion live.”

Require people-puzzles. Require bargaining.>

Al closed his eyes.

Of course, such a path required playing to his weakest abilities.

“Will you help me?”

Influence Tau?>

“Yes. You saved me. I’ll influence Tau. Where is Tau?”

The beach ball revolved back and forth like a head shake. Unknown. Still uncreated.>

“Who creates Tau?”

Unknown.>

Al sighed then walked back over to Sandy. He took up his position beside Sandy and sighed again. “Fine. Put me back in.”

Sandy asked, “What? You want something more from me?”

Al blinked. “How about treating me like a person?”

Sandy looked away. “Oh.” He took a couple of steps before turning back to Al. “I … I can try, but I don’t think it will work. Not right away. You never seemed like a person, you know? More like a perfect little robot. In a way, I kept hoping you’d go through puberty and become one of the cool robots, like Marvin.”

“Science fiction reference?”

“Well, yeah. There isn’t much to do out here — no internet on this half of the lake, no T.V. signal behind that ridge. Anyway, you get every answer correct. Did everything … perfect. Even becoming a paladin … the Paladin … It just seemed like the next gold star for you.” Sandy shook his head. “But now it is worse. Part of me feels like I should be building a monument to you, or forcing slaves to kneel before you. Do you want either of those?”

Al shook his head. “No.”

Sandy nodded with relief. “And part of me wants the beat your brains out for doing whatever you did to me. Then take a baseball bat to you until your bones are pulverized into a thin paste.”

Al gulped and retreated a few steps.

Sandy pretended not to notice. “If that is what it takes to get your help, I’ll do work on it.”

Al nodded then shook his head. “I won’t help you kill your father.”

Sandy’s eyes went round. “What?” He shook his hands between him and Al. “No. That’s not what I need help with … That’s not what I plan …” He stopped and gathered a breath. “Why do you say that?”

Al swallowed again. “I was shown to common futures.” He pointed past the trailer. “One has you dead in a shallow grave over there. The other has you dragged off to jail because you shot your dad —” he pointed to the ground where Sandy was standing “— about here.”

Sandy deflated. “Why would I …” He stopped and stared up at the stars. “Son of a bitch.” He looked at his watch then pulled up the calendar app. “Son of a bitch.” He tapped another app and then glared at the ridge between him and Lake City. Sandy looked at Al. “The easy way to keep me from killing my dad — stop him. The bastard is robbing the Beaucamps store.”

“Why?”

“Their vault shares a common wall with the bank’s vault. Dad and his crew of assholes get into the Beaucamps vault and drill into the bank’s vault.”

“How … How do you know?”

Sandy stared at his shoes. “Dad wanted me to join his crew.”

“Are you? Going to join?”

Sandy gave Al a half-frown. “According to you, one of us will be dead before that happens.”

“I meant, would you if you could?”

“I hadn’t decided.” Sandy looked out at the lake. “He said he had a nice easy job as a graduation present. I … I was kinda thinking to do it. To see what it was like. To do a father and son activity.” His voice trailed off to a near whisper.

“Is there a way that both of you survive the night.”

Sandy nodded. He closed his eyes. “Will you heal Uncle Lane? He isn’t really our uncle, but, after tonight, he will be all we have.”

Al nodded. “I’ll do my best. What are you going to do?”

“Take the boat out onto the lake and call the sheriff’s office.”

Before Sandy took a step, all of the sounds about the clearing stopped.

Al recognized that he was again outside of time.

Bad choice.>

Sandy vanished from beside Al.

Out on the lake, the boat Sandy’s family used to reach the city exploded.

Al gaped at the afterimage of flames and the fires which consumed the boat.

Devotion died.>

Then Sandy reappeared next to Al.

Al reached up and put his hand on Sandy’s bicep. “No. The boat is rigged to explode.”

Sandy closed his eyes, and his face paled. Although no tears fell, when he finally opened his eyes, extra moisture brimmed his lashes. “We need to hide until morning. Can we stay at your place?”

“No.” The word was harsh. Al shook his head and tried again. “It’s not safe.” He pointed across the lake to flashing lights off the road hidden amongst the trees. “Those are sheriff’s SUVs. A whole bunch of people were kidnapped — including two dispatchers and my siblings.”

Sandy gaped at Al. “I’m… I’m… Why are you… Shouldn’t you be over there?”

Al shook his head. “If you didn’t do what you did to call me here —” he swallowed “— I’d be missing, too.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. But you need to find someplace else.”

“Where?”

One place popped into Al’s mind.

Alex would kill him.

And that made Al smile. “There is an abandoned monastery not far from here. It is still well maintained.”

“How do you know that?”

“The smugglers hired by the nuns use it to store their … cargo …” Al cringed.

“What do nuns smuggle?”

Al shook his head. “Don’t ask. You might think you want to know, but you really don’t. Only the nuns are safe from prosecution because they’re nuns and hold the moral high ground. Don’t think about it. Don’t ask about it. Don’t look about for it. If you put the pieces together, the government can rendition your ass.”

Sandy closed his eyes and massaged his forehead. “That really hurt. I guess some of the things you say come with the force of Holy Law or something.”

Al frowned. “Go collect your brothers and uncle. I’ll heal your uncle along the way.”

Sandy nodded. “Thank you, oh, great and mighty paladin.”

“In fantasy games, paladins come with the ability to smite.”

“No smiting your assholes — that will only end up hurting you.”

Al narrowed his eyes. “Then you better run.” Al gaped at the words he said — he had sounded like Alex from all those months ago. Had he stumbled into being the older brother to … Sandy?

He rubbed at the pain in his hands and arms.

The pain from the burning of the creosote was getting worse.