LITMIR.BIZ

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from a distance I could see Bernard’s wariness as he saw the teenage boy who’d called out his name.

      “What do you want?” he asked.

      “Just to talk,” Rogan said.

      “Who are you?”

      “I’m Rogan. This is Kira. We need some help.”

      He shook his head. “Not from me, you don’t.”

      I looked back in the direction of the mall, but it was blocked by other buildings. This part of the city was vacant.

      No witnesses.

      No witnesses except for the cameras, that is. Two of them approached from behind us, parting and moving to either side of the parking lot.

      Multi-view. How convenient.

      “Who are you, Bernard?” Rogan asked.

      “Wh-what do you mean?”

      “I mean, who are you? Who sent you here? Tell me what you know.”

      Bernard shook his head. “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.”

      There was a sharp, discarded piece of metal on the ground, and Rogan snatched it up. He moved closer. “You have very little time. Tell us who you really are.”

      “There are five minutes remaining in this level of Countdown.”

      Bernard’s eyes widened, but he said nothing to give any indication that he was a game plant.

      Oh, God, I thought. He is just a civilian.

      “Rogan, what are you doing?” My heart was pounding painfully against my ribs.

      He didn’t look at me. “I already told you. I’m doing what I have to do.”

      I shook my head. “You can’t. Please. My family—”

      “What happened to your family has nothing to do with this.” He glanced over his shoulder at me and met my gaze. “I’m sorry, Kira. There’s no other choice. Not if we want to live.”

      His eyes held a look of despair, which quickly closed off to cold blankness. Then he tore his gaze from mine and stalked toward Bernard.

      Bernard froze as Rogan approached, weapon in hand.

      Why wasn’t Bernard running? We didn’t have him cornered.

      “You’re Bernard Jones,” he said.

      “Yes. I already said I was. I don’t know what this is about. I—I don’t want any trouble.”

      “Neither did I.”

      The man blinked nervously. “Listen, you can have my money. All of it. Just don’t hurt me.”

      “Money doesn’t do me any good anymore.”

      I’d approached on Rogan’s left side, and I touched his arm, which felt every bit as hard as that metal bar would.

      “Rogan...” He was going to kill this man in cold blood. I could see the icy determination in his eyes. I felt as helpless as I had the night my family was killed, when all I could do was hide in the dark and wait for the horrible silence to finally come, the silence that meant it was all over.

      “Please!” Bernard’s voice shook as he eyed the shiny weapon. “I have a family who needs me.”

      “Do I look like I care?” Rogan’s voice caught on the last word.

      “I recognize you,” Bernard babbled. “You...you’re Rogan Ellis. You killed people. Girls. Killed them brutally. Some while they were asleep in their beds. I remember seeing it on the news.”

      A tremor went through Rogan at his words. “Do you believe everything you see on the news?”

      “You’re going to kill me, too, aren’t you? Aren’t you?” He fell to his knees and shielded his face with his hands.

      “Rogan, please don’t do this,” I begged. I didn’t understand why this man was giving up so easily, without a fight. Without any physical resistance at all. “Please!”

      Rogan’s chest heaved in and out. Then he raised the piece of metal above his head as if he would bring it down in a death blow.

      But...something stopped him. Slowly he lowered the weapon back down to his side.

      He looked at me, his brows drawn tightly together over haunted eyes. “Do you believe everything you see on the news, too?”

      My breath caught. “I don’t watch the news. But, no. I make my own decisions. And you...I—I don’t believe you’re a bad person—no matter what they say. I don’t. You’re better than this. I know you are.”

      I meant every single word. Somehow, I just hadn’t realized it before this moment.

      His hands were shaking. “I can’t do it, Kira. I can’t do it. I can’t kill an innocent man. Even to save us. We’re going to lose.”

      The deadly piece of metal fell from his grip.

      “There are four minutes remaining in this level of Countdown.”

      I pulled Rogan to me and hugged him tight. “It’s okay. This isn’t losing. If you’d done it, that would be losing to me.”

      Bernard was fumbling around in his pockets. He let go of his shopping bag, and it hit the cement with a thud. Pieces of paper and old tissues fell out of his jacket pockets.

      What was he looking for? His wallet? His ID? A piece of gum?

      Then he pulled out a gun and raised it up to Rogan’s head.

      When he smiled, there was something unnatural about it. “Other contestants have taken me out in less than ten minutes.”

      Rogan tensed and swore under his breath as he let go of me, shoving me behind him. “I knew it.”

      “You are supposed to be a remorseless murderer. I expected that you would have no problem at all with this level. She—” he nodded at me “—was the wild card. She’s not a murderer. It would have been interesting to see if she tried to stop you, but she didn’t.”

      “I did,” I said as confusion slid through me over this unexpected turn of events. “I didn’t want him to kill you.”

      He shrugged. “You didn’t put up much of a fight. He would have killed me, and you would not have stopped him. Unfortunately, Rogan Ellis is a coward. The Subscribers will be horribly disappointed. According to a recent poll, they had very high expectations that you would survive this level.”

      Rogan eyed the gun. “Ask me if I give a shit what the Subscribers think.”

      Bernard smiled that strange, steady smile. “It is fine. The Subscribers will be sated when I eliminate both of you for failing to complete the level successfully.” He moved the gun toward me. “Perhaps I will start with you, Kira Jordan.”

      Rogan put an arm in front of me. “What are you?”

      I frowned at his choice of words: What, instead of who.

      Bernard’s head swiveled toward him. “I am highly surprised you don’t already know the answer to that, Rogan Ellis. I am an Ellipsis Cyber Drone, model number 6.1.”

      What kind of an answer was that? What did that even mean?

      “An Ellipsis Cyber Drone?” Rogan’s eyebrows shot up. “But—but how?”

      “There have been many advancements made in artificial intelligence in recent years, Rogan Ellis,” Bernard said evenly. “I am only one of them.”

      “What does that mean?” I asked, breathless, my hands raised in front of me, shaking. This was too much to understand—my head spun with confusion and frustration.

      “He’s

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