Right hand to trigger. But the hand pointed the wrong way – the limb was snapped.
He wedged the butt under his right arm and tried to hook his left forefinger round the trigger.
He felt the tip of his gloved finger touch the side of the trigger, but in pushing to get it through the loop, nudged it sideways. The rifle slithered out of his grasp, falling to the ground.
The last soldier was ready again. Zak looked him in the eyes, and accepted his fate. The soldier fired.
Every bullet exploded into Zak’s chest. He was knocked back with such force he hit the ground hard and skidded several metres on the ice.
He tried to move again, but he had no breath, and no sense of body. There was nothing he could do. His conscious self seemed to drop out of his head and roll backwards, before falling into a deep hole.
Before he could make sense of that, his real eyes opened. He was back in his bedroom again. It was warm, and he was suffering no pain.
He leapt out of the chair and checked himself all over, laughing incredulously. There were no marks or soreness. Of course there wouldn’t be. It had all been experienced through the mind.
‘This is one hell of a game!’ he shouted.
His friends were waiting for him. Three windows open on the bedroom wall.
‘Nice effort!’ said Tom.
Zak opened and closed his fists, to relieve tension in his hands, the only physical aftereffect.
‘Thanks for not ending it Van,’ he said.
‘That’s okay,’ said Van. ‘I enjoyed your pain.’
Zak would choose another day to get back at Van.
‘Can’t believe I screwed up so early,’ said Tom. ‘I was supposed to help you through it.’
‘No matter,’ said Zak. ‘I realise I had to go through that. And it’s changed things. I’ve decided that I want to be more than just a professional V-Commando player.’
