The aide approached the General and whispered in his ear. The General frowned.
‘You’re in luck!’ said the General. ‘It seems we are not allowed to shoot children in cold blood. But let me tell you what I think boy. You and your comrades have come here, gunned down dozens of my men and wrecked my castle. I don’t think you deserve to be shown any mercy. What do you say?’
Zak still harboured the thought there was a way he could complete the mission, so made an assessment. He counted nine healthy people armed with machine guns, whereas he was battered and completely unarmed. Without the cover of his helmet, the wind blowing through the open windows attacked his senses, and left his exposed ears very sore – yet another affliction. At some point he would surely drop dead from the accumulated damage.
‘You’re the bad guys?’ he ventured.
The General turned and nodded to the guard who had escorted Zak in. He strode up to Zak and walloped the butt of his gun into the bullet wound in Zak’s right side.
Zak screamed. His body convulsed, and he collapsed to the floor. Waves of piercing pain enveloped his body. If that wasn’t unpleasant enough, he was sick, he was dizzy, he was distressed at losing control. Up till now the pain had been just bearable. But this was gut wrenching, and his body seized up as all the muscles pulled tight.
It was too much. He tried to open his eyes and return to the comfort of home, but the only eyes that opened were his in-game eyes. Of course, he could not quit. Neither could he think straight, his mind was spinning. Thoughts raced and churned over. It was desperate. He needed help.
‘Van!’ he screamed. ‘I quit I quit I quit!’
The General shook his head disapprovingly.
‘Van!’ screamed Zak again. ‘Help me. Tom. Get me out!’
‘Hello, what’s this?’ said the General. ‘A packed lunch?’ He squatted next to Zak, and pulled the rucksack off his back. Zak hardly noticed.
