I stood at the front of the church, staring down at the open coffin in front of me. Lying within it was the body of Frank Morrison. We had been friends for over a decade. He was only a year older than me, and now he was dead.
His death came as a shock to everyone but me. He never took care of himself. His diet consisted almost entirely of fast food. He preferred energy drinks and soda over water, and he never went to the gym.
I loved the guy; he was one of my best friends, but I rolled my eyes when people at the funeral asked what happened.
He dug his own grave. That’s what happened.
I took one last look at Frank’s face, all pale and peaceful, and then I left the church. On the way out to my car, a man in a suit and tie with slicked-back hair and sunglasses came waltzing up to me like a car salesman.
What the hell does this guy want?
“Hey there, you’re Patrick Smith, right? The guy who wants to live forever?” he asked.
Oh great, another “fan.”
“Yeah, that’s me,” I replied.
“Is it true that you take a hundred supplements a day?” he asked, his eyebrows peeking over his sunglasses.
“Yeah, that’s right.”
He shook his head and whistled. “That’s insane. Well, anyway, I’m just here to give you this.”
The man pulled out a small business card and handed it to me. It had a string of numbers and letters on one side and a URL on the other. I stared at it. The name looked familiar for some reason.
Playthegame.com
“What the hell is this supposed to b—”
I looked up and the guy was gone. He vanished into thin air while I was reading the business card. I got into my car and locked the doors. The whole exchange weirded me out. I started the engine, but the name of that website kept ringing in my ears.
Where have I heard that name before?
I pulled out my phone and opened my text messages. I scrolled down to my conversation with Frank and looked at the last couple of texts we exchanged:
Me: You’re just being paranoid, man; you need to lay off the caffeine.
Frank: I’m telling you, dude, the guys in suits have been stalking me since I went to that website!
Me: What website?
Frank: playthegame.com
Me: Sounds like a harmless site.
Frank: It’s not, man; you should see what it says on there. I never should have paid them.
Me: You paid them?! How much?
Frank: A lot, but listen, I need your help, man. I’m afraid something is going to happen to me. I don’t have much time left.
Me: Just relax. I’ll call you later when I’m free, alright?
That was the last text I sent him. I felt bad, but I was a busy guy. Not only did I have a software company to run, but my supposedly “extreme” diet and exercise regimen had reporters and bloggers banging on my door all hours of the day.
I was just too damn busy to be babysitting a paranoid guy who never leaves his apartment. When they found him a few days later, and the coroner said his death was a heart attack, I never bothered to look back at our text messages.
I placed my phone in the passenger seat and picked the business card back up.
It’s just a coincidence.
The only problem is that I didn’t believe in coincidences.
Later that night, I was on my computer in my bedroom. To my right, a floor-to-ceiling window showed a stunning view of the city skyline. My apartment was on the twenty-third floor, after all.
My curiosity got the better of me. I decided to just go to the damn website. The home page was bare bones. Just white text on a black background with two buttons. One red, the other blue.
Find out the exact moment of your death—only $15,000. If you have a promotional code, click the corresponding button below.
The red button said Pay $15,000, while the blue button said “Enter promo code.”
I clicked the blue button and entered the string of numbers and letters from the business card. The page switched to a new one with a single sentence and a bright yellow button below it.
READY TO PLAY?
“Sure, why not?” I said, clicking the button. In the blink of an eye, a counter appeared on the screen and began counting down.
10 MINS and 59 SECONDS.
I leaped out of my chair and watched the numbers continue counting down.
“What the fuck? What the hell is this shit?” I shouted.
I tried clicking around the web page. I hit F5 to refresh it, but the counter kept going.
10 MINS and 25 SECONDS.
I spun in place, trying to come up with something. Anything. I felt nauseous and dizzy. My heart was thrashing inside my chest. My mind was reeling.
9 MINS and 45 SECONDS.
I sat back at the desk just as a phone number appeared below the counter.
QUESTIONS? COMMENTS? CALL US!
I fumbled with my phone, trying to type in the numbers as my hands shook violently from the stress of watching the counter ticking down.
It rang once, twice, and then someone picked up.
“Referral code?” a female voice asked.
“What the fuck is a referral code? Who is this?” I asked.
“The code on the card you received, please.”
I picked up the card and read the string of numbers and letters.
“Verified. Thank you for playing the game; how can I help you today?”
“Tell me what the hell is going on! What’s with this counter?”
“The counter is how long you have to change your fate,” the voice replied.
“What? I thought it was supposed to show me when I’m going to die?”
“It does.”
I slammed my fist on the desk. “How could you possibly know that?”
“Another player is coming to eliminate you. If you eliminate them first, you will successfully change your fate. That is how The Game is played, Mr. Smith.”
I spun around in my chair and faced the window, looking out onto the city skyline.
“How do you know my name?” I asked.
A loud crash came from the front door. I set down the phone on the desk and ran over to the side of my bed. I opened the nightstand drawer. Inside was a fully loaded Glock 19 handgun. I always kept it loaded, just in case.
Maybe I’m the paranoid one.
I picked up the gun and turned back around just as a hulking man in a black ski mask wrapped his sausage fingers around my throat.
I turned the gun toward him and fired. His hands let go as he stumbled backward, gripping his right side. I could see blood soaking through his black t-shirt.
“Don’t try anything, and I won’t shoot you again, okay?” I asked.
The man balled his hands into fists and charged toward me. I rolled to the right and grabbed my desk for support, standing up just as the giant man crashed into it. My phone and computer spilled across the ground. He threw the desk to the side like it weighed nothing.
I raised the gun and fired two more shots. The first missed, hitting the ceiling just above my bedroom door. The second hit the man in the chest, but it didn’t slow him down.
He charged at me like a mad bull, roaring with every step. I rolled out of the way again. The next thing I heard was the sound of glass shattering.
A gust of wind hit my back. I dropped my gun onto the ground, turning around slowly to face the window. Shards of glass were scattered across the carpet like glistening snowflakes. My assailant was nowhere to be found.
Holy fucking shit.
My legs shook beneath me as I sat down at my desk. The icy wind and the sound of cars on the street twenty-three stories below were far away and muffled. I looked over to my phone on the ground. The screen was shattered, but the call was still connected.
I picked up the phone and placed it against my ear.
“Hello? Are you still there.”
“Yes, Mr. Smith, I’m here.” the female voice said.
“He’s dead. He’s fucking dead,” I said, barely able to believe the words coming out of my mouth.
“Yes, I am aware. Congratulations!” she replied.
What?
“Why are you congratulating me?” I asked.
“You’ve successfully changed your fate and completed round one of The Game. Round two begins…”
You’ve gotta be shitting me.
“...Now.”
This was epically action packed! I like the nod to The Matrix, haha! The concept of a website is both eerie and brilliant and you executed it with nonstop intensity. The tension had me on edge and that ending? Absolutely perfect! I need more!
Masterful job of making me think Mr. Smith is an ass hat, but then also making me root for him