Page 83 of Tapeworld Induction

Talia nearly tore it apart looking for any trace of information. Nothing on the cardboard panels but barcode stickers.

“Let me see those,” Sacha said.

He pulled out a phone from his pocket. A huge grin formed on his face after he used it to scan one of the barcodes.

“SKU reverse lookup. Pretty neat, huh?”

Talia looked impressed. “You got a shipping address?”

“Not yet, and it’ll take some time, but we’ll get there.” Sacha pocketed the phone.

Dylan took Isaak’s hand, hoping that some part of him knew they were there, trying to help him. “What are we going to do about this thing on his head? I saw this online, advertised as some kind of sleeping aid. It’s called the Sleeper. But…” She looked at Sacha. “Are you thinking the same thing as me?”

“You say it.” His eyes were on poor Isaak.

Talia’s eyes darted between them.

“I’ve never been as certain of anything as I am of this. This thing is something to do with the tape. He’s stuck in the Tapeworld. And any address we get from the box it came in is either going to be Astrid’s, or the Third Kingdom.”

Sacha nodded.

There was no way to tell how well Isaak was doing. He was breathing, and he even automatically drank some of the water they poured on his lips, but there were no signs of malnutrition. He was otherwise unresponsive.

30

Mercury

Isaak

Flowers lined the floor and walls of his hospital room. His feet were cold. Isaak made a move to cover them up, shifting both of his legs in the bed, but his right leg didn’t follow the left.

Hairs rose on his back, and he went immobile. The shiver crept up his spine like the disquieting thought spreading through his mind. What if he’d lost control of his leg? He kept still and held his breath. If he stayed still, maybe whatever ailment he had would get better quicker.

Feeling braver after a few moments, he took a deep breath and pulled off the sheet, revealing his legs.

He winced. Twice the size it usually was, his knee felt extremely tender to the touch and painful if he even tried to move it.

Put your mind on something else, he told himself. What was that black shape he saw on the field? And what about Sacha? Was he alright? That bastard Haze must have gone full steam at him.

Fucking Armageddon.

The World Series now lost, it would be a tough off-season for the Lazarus. The first game of next year’s league would be against the Paris Polyphontes. Famed worst team in the league against London. But what chance was there that he would even recover, never mind be back on form by then? It would be utter defeat for the Lazarus.

And after that? Most likely he’d be let go. The fuckers.

Would they really do that to me, their team captain?

He couldn’t count how many victories the Lazarus had won from plays he’d completed, the laser ballet between him and Sacha, coordinated as a figure-skating pair.

He tried to get up, out of reflex perhaps, but gave up when the pain became too much.

He picked up his phone from the side table. The list of contacts was shorter than he remembered. And there was a name in there he couldn’t place. Dylan…

Eyes closed and fists clenched, he wracked his brain, scoured his mind to figure out who this person was. There was a scent, and a face… A pair of legs and raised fists. A warm hand in his.

The door opened and a nurse came in. A middle-aged man, hair dyed pure black but still failing to completely hide the roots of lots of white hairs.

“You’ve got a visitor!” he said in a sing-songy voice that made Isaak immediately dislike him.