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Reap
James Frey
A short prequel story set within the world of Endgame – the New York Times bestselling series and international multimedia phenomenon by James Frey.Humanity rests on the shoulders of the Players representing the twelve lines. But there are some people out there who aren’t keen to let their fate be decided by twelve strangers. They are Endgame conspiracy theorists, people who fear and know of the coming Event and will stop at nothing to ruin Endgame in a desperate bid for survival. They call themselves The Zero Line, and they have one goal: kill all of the living Players before Endgame even begins.
Copyright (#ulink_2ee5d628-6537-5742-b53b-24c78a78be2a)
First published in ebook in Great Britain by HarperCollins Children’s Books 2016
HarperCollins Children’s Books is a division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
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London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)
Endgame: The Zero Line Chronicles: Reap © 2016 by Third Floor Fun, LLC
Cover design and logo by Rodrigo Corral Design
Additional logo and icon design by John Dismukes
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN: 9780062332721
Ebook Edition © 2016 ISBN: 9780007585304
Version: 2016-05-11
Contents
Cover (#u23807963-6049-588c-981a-2680a04ba99a)
Title Page (#u4e0fd2ee-e1c9-557f-8f6f-e7e6f833e7b6)
Copyright (#u861147b7-5b22-5419-ac78-784c630ba5db)
Chapter One (#u98b58b16-596e-5a9f-ba67-6bc92066c8b9)
Chapter Two (#ufe2768a8-630a-5858-9dea-1d683d17864f)
Chapter Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Keep Reading for Endgame the Calling (#litres_trial_promo)
Keep Reading for Endgame the Complete Training Diaries (#litres_trial_promo)
Endgame series (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_c7b9ea17-ac5d-5124-b2c0-03d3b162b1e8)
“It’s time,” I said to Kat.
We double-checked our guns, made sure they were loaded, flicked off the safeties, and headed down the hall. We stopped at room 412. It was five in the morning.
Ready? Kat mouthed.
I nodded.
I knocked on the door.
This was it—what we had been preparing for all summer. We—just Kat and I—were knocking on the door of a Player. Raakel, the Minoan. Last week, Kat and I had planted a bomb next to her house in Istanbul, “inviting” her to come to Zero line’s fake Calling. We thought she might have died in the explosion—the bomb was supposed to imitate a sign from the heavens, a message from the alien Makers.
And now we were supposed to reason with her, with this Player who was trained to be a killing machine. That’s what a Calling was meant to be: the starting point of a bloodbath in which twelve killing machines, representatives of their civilizations, would each try to be the last one standing in a global fight that would decide the fate of the world.
And we needed to stop it.
My M1911 pistol was tucked into the back of my pants, covered by a long Munich Olympics T-shirt. Kat was carrying a Beretta in the front pocket of her sweatshirt. I had my backpack for our walkie-talkie and a few other supplies we might need.
There was the sound of the deadbolt being unlocked, and I tensed up, wishing my gun were in my hand. But no. We were here to talk to her, not to kill her.
Kat and I already had blood on our hands, and we didn’t want more. The door opened.
Raakel stood there, fully dressed in a pair of jeans and a loose blouse. Her black hair was pulled back in a ponytail. There was a smirk on her face. Despite the early hour, she looked fully awake and ready for the Calling.
“I was wondering when you would show up,” she said with very little accent. “You followed me with all the stealth of stampeding bulls.
You’re staying in a house with sixteen or seventeen others?”
I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. We were supposed to be surprising her, not the other way around.
“We’re here to talk to you,” Kat said.
“How do you know who I am?” Raakel asked. “For that matter, who do you think I am?”
Kat answered. “You’re the Player for the Minoans.”
“How do you know this?” she asked. “What line are you from?”
“Zero line,” I said, finally getting my voice back. “We have important things to talk to you about.”
“There is no such line.” She opened the door an inch or two wider, just enough to let us pass. With her eyes trained carefully on us the whole time, she motioned us into her room. I caught a flash of metal at her side, and I realized she was carrying a blade that looked like a sword of some kind. My pulse was pounding so loud I was sure she could hear it.
“Consider us a group of concerned citizens,” Kat said. I noticed the shake in her voice, and I wondered if Raakel could tell how nervous we were.
Raakel laughed as she closed the door. I walked to the table in the corner of the room, and when we sat, I got a better look at the weapon she was holding: a long, skinny machete. My heart jumped into my throat at the look of the sword.
“Oh, this?” she said with a cold smile, sitting on the foot of the bed and laying the sword across her lap. “It’s called a yatağan. I assume you’re both armed. I wanted to even things out. Now: talk.”
Kat and I gave each other a look. Her tanned face was pale, or maybe it was just an effect of the lamplight. She was scared. I wondered if she could see the same fear on me.
I turned to Raakel. “We’re here to tell you to give this up. Our group is talking to all twelve lines this morning. We want you to ignore the Calling, and to stop Playing.”
Raakel laughed. “I am a Player. I’ve trained for this for seventeen years. My whole life. It’s not just something I do; it’s who I am. Why on earth would I give it up just because two strangers ask me to?”
“The Makers shouldn’t be running the world. They shouldn’t be toying with humanity like this. It’s just a game they’re playing.”
“It’s a game I’m Playing,” she said.
Kat and I exchanged glances. We knew we were right, but I don’t think either of us felt fully prepared to convince someone to give up everything that made them who they were.
“You have to give it up. All of you do—all of the Players from all of the lines. Listen: if you don’t Play—if we can keep everyone from Playing—then there can be no Endgame. We can save the world.” Raakel narrowed her eyes.
Kat jumped in. “The best way things can work out right now is that one of you wins and only your line will survive, and the other eleven lines on Earth get destroyed. Right? That’s the best-case scenario if you Play Endgame. Millions of people will still die.”
“And you two think that my not Playing will save those lives?” Raakel tightened her grip on the machete. “I don’t know what you believe you understand about Endgame, but this entire world rests on the game. The history of the human race rests on the game. That’s why we Play. It’s always been this way.”
“But,” I said, “what happens if no one Plays? If there’s no winner, there will be no losers.”
She shook her head. “If there’s no winner, we all become the losers. If we defy the Makers, what’s to stop them from killing all of us as punishment? Just wiping us off the face of the Earth and starting over?”
“Here,” I said. I reached to pull several papers from my back pocket. Raakel jumped up, her sword ready in her hand.
“Sorry,” I said, freezing. “I have something for you to read. Can I just pull it out of my pocket?”
“You read it to me,” she said.
I had spent a year as a furniture salesman, and I knew when I was losing a customer. Usually they didn’t threaten me with swords, though.
With trembling fingers, I unfolded the Xeroxed pages. “This is from an ancient document that we acquired from trusted sources on the inside.
“‘This is the lie, the one that has fueled your life and the lives of all who have come before you. I have risked everything to remove the veil of mystery that shrouds the Annunaki … It will all be for nothing …
“‘The Mu had a choice. You have a choice.
“‘To Play the game is to lose the game …
“‘Prove to the Annunaki that you are not mindless animals, that you can think … We, all of us, deserve a chance to live.
“‘Choose to question what you have been taught.
“‘Choose to be free, that we might all be free.
“‘Choose not to Play.’”
Kat spoke. “That’s from the Brotherhood of the Snake. We know at least two lines had this document in their archives. Maybe you recognize it?”
“The Brotherhood of the Snake?” Raakel scoffed. “Who are they to tell me how I should be Playing? I’ve never even heard of them.”
“Just think about it,” Kat said. “I totally understand what you’re feeling right now. You’re being confronted by two people you don’t know, and you’re being told to give up everything that you’ve ever been trained to believe. But this is real. It doesn’t get more important than this.”
I watched Raakel watch Kat, her eyes narrowing. Now that we were sitting there, facing a real Player, I couldn’t help but see the cracks in our plan. We’d been thinking about this as a question of reason, that the Players would discuss it rationally. But I didn’t realize until now what an emotional decision we were asking them to make.
What did it feel like to be asked to give up your entire belief system? I remembered how hard it had been for me to believe in what Zero line was doing. It took having my hand forced—realizing I had nothing left—for me to join them. I wondered: If I’d had a real choice, would I have left Berkeley to go on this crazy mission?
Raakel shifted the sword to her left hand.
“So what if I don’t Play, and you can’t convince every other line? I will have to Play, or my line will perish.”
“We’re out this morning to stop every other line,” I said. “That’s our goal.”
“Why should I trust you? Maybe you’re working for another line, trying to remove some of the Players.”
“Look at me,” I said, raising my voice slightly. “My name is Michael Stavros. I’m Greek. Odds are I’m a Minoan, just like you. If I believed that stopping you would cause the death of me and all my family, do you really think I’d be doing it?”
“What is this word you use? Stop? What is that supposed to mean?”
Kat’s voice was pleading now. “It means that we want you to turn around and get on a plane back to Istanbul. Don’t Play the game.” “Just ‘don’t Play the game’?”
“That’s right,” she said. “Don’t Play the game.”
“And what do I tell my family? My line? Their hopes are pinned on me. The lives of millions rest on my shoulders. And I should just turn my back on my responsibility?”
“You tell them just what we’re telling you. That you don’t believe in it. That you’re walking away.”
Raakel stood up. For what felt like several minutes she paced the room. The machete never left her hand.
“And if you can’t convince me to do that, how are you supposed to stop me? Does your Zero line have a plan for that?”
Damn it. For a minute I’d thought we had her.
