Page 92 of Tapeworld Induction

Dylan glanced at the lean man-shape behind her. It was getting up from the floor and ready to strike back. She was cornered between the two figures.

She turned towards it and swept out its leg as it tried to steady itself. The lean grey leg felt slimy against hers… Ugh. The shape hit the floor again and Dylan followed through, mounting it with her legs and punching it repeatedly in the face.

The remaining black shape held the advantage, as she was still kneeling on the lean one until it finally disappeared. Bulk exercised its supremacy by kicking her, first in the stomach, and then a second kick that narrowly missed her head as she pushed herself back up.

Resentment took hold of the black shape, and it became furious, twisting its limbs in a display of anger.

It tossed hasty jabs at Dylan. She dodged most of them, breathing between weaves and swerves, feet hopping side to side, her legs tired. Sweat dripped down her chest and back, her dress coating her form.

The thing’s bloated muscles jostled as it attacked her.

A feint punch from Dylan prompted the shape to leave its left side unguarded.

She roared, psyching herself up. Arms raised, she kneed the shape in its ribs. Flipping her stance into a back kick, she pushed the thing to the floor.

It was still moving, and it thundered out a loud scream. It was about to get up again. Dylan sprinted and jumped, driving her elbow into its head as she fell.

Its head shattered against the floor.

The body turned to mist.

Good.

“Fucking hell, I knew you were good, but not that good! That was insane, Dee!” Talia walked to her with a huge grin on her face, still moving a little guardedly.

Dylan returned the smile. “Took me back to beating up the guys who’d bother you when we were younger.” She pushed her hair back from her sweaty forehead.

“Are they gone gone?”

“I don’t know.” Dylan looked around. “They better be, if they know what’s good for them.” She was putting on a brave face, but it had been a bit touch and go at a couple of points there. If they’d subdued her, would she have died? And what where they? What the fuck is going on…?

She looked at the opening into the arena. Spotlights shone on the field, grass impossibly green.

“Let’s go.”

The two of them walked toward it.

As they breached the entrance, a lone figure stood ahead of them.

33

Sleep

Isaak

Isaak studied the wall. It was grey, with nondescript bricks, which all looked the same – perfectly rendered replicas of a real-world cement brick. The mortar that kept them together was white.

He noticed something off about one of the bricks. That crack wasn’t there ten minutes ago…

Facing it, he pushed his mind to summon anything that might help tear through the bricks. But nothing came. He couldn’t summon any tools in this part of the Tapeworld. The strain of trying, like a guitar string plucked to the point of breaking, wore him down. He sucked in air, running out of breath.

A sound tore through his concentration. A scream – guttural, throaty, human. It sounded like someone shouting his name.

The bricks started falling from the wall, pushed out of place by an unknown force. The white mortar between them dissolved. Hope crept into his chest.

More to test it than believing it would work, he pushed a brick himself. It fell, disappearing into the black floor. Through the newly formed gaps in the wall, bright light shone. The ground on the other side was green. Freshly mowed grass, dewy and leafy.

Fists clenched and arms protecting his face, he pushed through the remaining bricks, and found himself in the arena. The same arena where he’d played for the London Lazarus so many times.