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To Glory
Peter’s team was winning.
Crossfire of red and green lasers assaulted Peter’s vision. He rolled away from the steady neon glow of a wall he’d taken cover behind as soundless lasers scattered around him in a frenzy. He could feel the coiling madness of competition urging him forward.
Peter’s best friend was pinned down a few yards away, crouched behind a sickly green alien statue. Ned’s arm was crooked around the statue’s base. He was blindly firing his gun, so not to risk shots hitting his vest. Red lightning from the room flashed across Ned’s body. Peter looked up, acutely aware that he was exposed to the room, as saw two figures curled around a pulsing wall. One burst of the light momentarily illuminated one of the figures. Sleek black hair turned purple in the light. A face of pure determination. Cindy. Peter couldn’t make out her companion before the figure rolled away.
Light flared in Peter’s vision, rendering him blind as he sprinted behind cover. Kitschy toxic waste barrels bit into his back.
There was the acute feeling of static, electricity a current of warning under his skin. Peter flung his head around, catching a lithe figure attempting to sneak up on him. A surge of anxiety filled him. He barely dodged the laser to his chest. The artificial sound—like a phasor—as it issued from the gun urged Peter to fire his own. The red lights of the vest lit up, turning white before flashing three times. There, he saw the face of MJ before her vest went completely black to the room. “I swear to God I’m gonna get you back.” In the storm of lasers and the room’s flashing lights, Michelle’s silhouette was gone.
Peter guessed he deserved that. He’d killed her—including everyone else on her team—several times. The girls-versus-boys match was close, but Peter had to admit he was keeping them afloat.
Peter rolled closer to Ned--now merely a silhouette, as MJ had been--still pinned against the alien statue. Finding cover close to the wall, Peter managed to stay out of the black lights. His shoes were offending white sneakers he’d been stupid enough to wear today.
Ned’s vest flashed, three times white. Peter dropped to the floor. Red lasers scanned nearby. Ned was feet away.
The bored voice of the laser-tag official boomed over the speakers. “Red team takes the lead.” Every light in the room flashed bright red before dying back into the mixture of flashing rhythm they’d had before. Ned’s ‘death’ had put the girls barely ahead of the boys.
On the balcony above, there was a concussive pounding. Feet beating the metal grating. It could be Abe, Flash, or any member of the girl’s team. The pounding faded away. The blood in Peter’s ears was thrumming, they had to get back ahead.
Alert eyes, barely glinting with light, stared at Peter. Diving against an adjacent wall to the statue, Peter dodged another burst of laser-fire. Two quick shots out and Peter watched two vests flash white. One on the balcony, one of the ground level, right in the middle of the floor. From the frustrated growl, he assumed the latter had been MJ. Something akin to smugness swelled in his chest.
“Team Green takes the lead.” The lights blared green. Died away into chaos again.
“Leave me!” Ned cried. “I’ve got guns on me from all angles!” The point meter on Ned’s chest was low. Peter assumed he’d been stuck here for most of the game.
Snatching Ned’s vest, Peter pulled him close, imagining this was battle. The clunky laser guns in their hands morphed into rifles. The pinging and swishing sounds bouncing across the room turned to gun fire. The damp smell of a dingy arcade morphed into the balmy smell of sweat and tears. Peter unleashed his determination onto his friend. “I’m getting you out of here! No man left behind!” With a firm shake, and a spattering of more laser fire, Ned nodded.
“Stay behind me. I’ll get you out! Most of the girls congregated on the upper deck. If we can get—” Another set of fire. Peter fired around the statue, catching the flash of a vest in his sights. Three staccato flashes of white light. A curse on the balcony that sounded like Cindy. Peter and Ned’s corner was suddenly no longer assaulted by light. “Go!” Peter yelled. He rolled out across the worn black carpeting. Landing on his feet, he darted a safe distance to a plastic wall of slime, seemingly oozing from the balcony above.
A tremble forced its way through Peter’s bones, alerting his senses. Ducking, Peter barely evaded a laser headed straight for his heart. He called out to Ned, who in turn set a shaky few shots in the direction of a gun poking around a glowing pillar. It turned from blue to orange. No white light.
Ned, electing not to copy Peter’s somersault away from the alien, merely ducked and ran. They both ended up backing a large slime wall. Holes in the slime gave Peter a look at their attacker.
Glowing pink in the lights, her face turning then a vibrant blue, was Betty Brant. Her gun was at the ready, yet she wasn’t shooting. It looked like she was waiting. Lights burst on the balcony. Green and red beams clashed in the air. Someone shouted. It sounded like Flash.
Over the roaring sounds, there was Abe’s voice. It cracked in hast. Peter could tell he was running across the balcony. “It’s a trap!” His feet pounded overhead before instantly dying. “We need back up! I repeat we need back up!” His voice cracked again and then was silent.
“Shit.” Ned slapped his gun against his shoulder. The thunder above their heads intensified. Feet pounded the metal grating of the balcony. Shadows passed between the cracks in the floor.
“Red Team takes the lead.” The room pulsed again with taunting red light. Peter growled.
From above they could hear a shuffle. Someone’s gun knocked something metal, creating a resounding ping.
Swallowing the pulse in his throat, Peter peaked out of the gaps in the slime once more. There was Betty, hidden under a pillar, barely visible between to neon walls. The red of her vest flickered when she moved. She was hiding, and Peter didn’t know why. Something told him MJ was plotting something.
There was a familiar sizzle across Peter’s nerves. He bounced on his haunches, ready, scanning the room. Light continually swept across their eyes. He could barely get a good look at the room.
More pounding above. Flash screeched. “Mayday! Mayday!” Green lasers cut across the room. Peter caught just the shadow of white light over a wall. Lasers answered the call in a clap of red and green
“Green Team takes the lead.” Flares of green. Bursts of adrenaline.
More lasers overhead. Betty was still a hunched figure across the room, never moving to take place in the action on the second floor.
“It’s a bloodbath up there, they need help. Run up to the balcony, I’ll cover you and be right behind.” Peter pushed Ned before holding him back for one last message. “Betty is over there behind that pillar, try and stay out of her sights.” Peter pointed Betty’s way. Ned nodded, readying his gun.
With the release of Ned’s vest, the boy bolted across the room. He ducked here and there. Betty stood. The red lights on her vest a beacon for Peter’s laser. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.
How many people were on the balcony? Why was Betty a lone figure on the ground level?
Betty cut around, aiming at Ned. He dodged the fire. Peter was about to let his laser fly when his instincts pulled him away. Blood thrashed painfully inside his head. Peter lurched behind a flashing neon wall. He barely dodged one, two, lasers that hit the spot he’d just been in. He shot blindly around the corner. A knife of shock pierced his head as he realized there was a second person on the ground level besides Betty.
Peter attempted to see if Ned was okay. He couldn’t tell from his skewed vantage point.
Close to the floor, Peter poked his gun, then head around the corner. He fired three determined pinpoints of green light at his attacker. She rolled behind a drum of toxic waste. There was a flash of hair, pulled into a ponytail. It was a mess of kinky curls. Peter’s lips tilted up. He aimed his gun at a flare of red light bursting from MJ’s vest. Peter could see her bare shoulder, the wolfish grin on her lips. His pulse squeezed tight in his throat.
Before he could pull the trigger, alarm bells whirred in his head. Abe screamed above, “No man’s land! We need a sandwich!”
Peter and the boys had come up with code names for certain situations when they went laser tagging. No man’s land meant everyone one was pinned down and needing a sandwich meant they needed a flank. They could win this. They just needed to flank the girls.
Ned was trapped by Betty. Peter could hear the synthetic sound effect of MJ’s gun. Could see her laser hitting the wall. The floor. The shots were threat more than an actual attempt to hit him.
Peter took a calculated risk.
He rolled behind the adjacent wall. Purple light from the it flooded his vision. Overhead, one, two, three lasers fired on the balcony. There was a cry. A grunt. Someone swore.
Every light flashed ominous red. Green. Back to Red. The score was fluctuating so fast the referee couldn’t keep up. He merely bumbled, “Uh, Red Team takes the lead.”
Peter couldn’t let them win.
Pulsating with energy, the room went still. Peter was electrified. His body, vibrating with adrenaline, cut through the thick air.
He could vaguely smell popcorn from the arcade. The lights overhead swung around in giant loops, orange, blue, pink. The weight of the gun in his hand steadied him. Calmed his racing heart. They would not lose today, he would ensure it.
Across the room was Betty, gun tucked into her shoulder, a smug smile etched on her face in the spooky blue flash of the lights. She looked like a silenced killer. Her gun aimed right at Ned’s cover. She was ready for him to make one movement she could fire at.
Peter hit Betty, a long shot from across the room. Ned bolted from behind his cover, up the stairs and onto the balconies. Betty’s vest flashed. Her laser died just as she’d begun firing at Ned. Peter ducked behind another slime wall, not taking time to evaluate his surroundings.
The room flooded with green light. “Green Team takes the lead. Five minutes remain.”
Peeking out of a gap in the plastic slime, Peter watched Betty drop her gun. Her vest lights flickered back on. Her gun continued to dangle, even after she came back online. Peter could just see her vest, her arms, and the smile crawling across her face. Her eyes flicked over to him, made contact.
Peter’s spider sense blared inside his body. “Oh, shit…”
The smell of popcorn turned bitter, burnt. Peter scrambled to his feet, gun at the ready. He was kicked back against the plastic slime. His vision burst. There was the black floor, the cheap shutter of the slime against his back. A halo of light around a dark head.
“Oh, shit is right, Loser.” It was MJ. Her black tank top and pants virtually invisible to the arena. Her sharp eyes tormented him as they raked over his body. The tangles of her hair looked like a triumphant crown glittering in the neon lights. Her sly smile seized up Peter’s breathing. Pink light hit her face on one side, died. Blue light hit her cheeks from the other side. Peter was dazed, frozen by her kaleidoscope of colors.
In his stupor, MJ smacked his gun out of his hands. Her body pressed into his, pinning him. The wall groaned. It was a sound Peter matched as her lips crashed into his.
The world zoomed in, kicking the air out of Peter’s lungs before exploding back out again. MJ’s lips were dry against his but warm. He could feel her breath giving him life. Could feel the lightheaded thrill of her lips dragging and pressing against his.
Her fingers wound into his hair, yanking on the strands. Peter managed a sharp inhale, clasping his hands to her hips, dragging her closer to his own body. The arena was everything and nothing at the same time. He was acutely aware of lights flashing, voices yelling, but nothing could penetrate him now.
Her lips tasted like tea and honey, and something musty and arousing buried under all of that. He tasted them the same as he’d watched the lights reflect off her chocolate skin. She was a kaleidoscope created by God himself.
Fingers pressed on the back of Peter’s neck, dragging his lips impossibly closer to her own. She was everything, everything, everything. He squeezed her hips ever tighter, feeling the sharp bite of her bones beneath his palms. Her tongue ran across his bottom lip and they both gasped. Peter opened his mouth, eager as he began to wrap his arms around her slender waist.
She broke away, leaving him dazed.
She was a blurred epiphany as she faded away from him. Colors still played across the plains of her face. In her eyes light reflected back darker. Richer. And that stupid grin on her face. The grin Peter thought was because she’s just kissed the crap out of him, grew into a devious smile. Her lips were still swollen, and the tip of her nose was blotchy from the kiss.
Her gun rocketed up between them. She pulled the trigger. The lights on his vest flashed white, blinding him. “You’ve got to be kid—MJ!” He lunged for her. Oh, he was going to murder her, or kiss her. He didn’t know.
Red flooded the room, the referee’s voice cracked across the speakers. “Red Team takes the lead. Twenty seconds remain.”
MJ dodged him, propping her gun towards the ceiling. Another cryptic smile. “To glory, girls!” Her voice was so loud, so sudden that Peter jumped. The room erupted in shouts and calls. There was an explosion of laughter and cries on the balcony. A jumbled sound of guns firing, and red lasers cut across the top half of the room. Peter saw three separate bursts of white lights against the walls. He knew immediately that the boys had lost. That the girls had set them up.
He had no doubt that MJ was the mastermind behind everything.
“What the hell was all that, MJ?” Peter growled, letting the world crash back into him. The lights were nearly strobing now. A countdown from ten was blasting in the arena. Peter couldn’t seem to move his arms anymore, starting to wonder if MJ’s kiss had meant anything at all. She seemed so unaffected by it.
“Me winning, Loser. I told you I’d get you!”
He set his jaw, letting the truth crash over him.
That was, at least, until MJ came within a few inches of him, again, leaning her lips down just enough to brush against his own. His skin was burning from the inside out. The heat in his face was unbearable. “Of course, that doesn’t mean that I didn’t set this whole plan up just so I could kiss you.” Every word her lips formed around brushed against Peter’s. He made a move to fully kiss her again, feeling a writhing sense of frustration deep in his gut. God, he wanted to get her back.
MJ yanked her head away at the last minute. She was already bounding away from him, cackling. “Bye, Loser.” She called it over her shoulder, disappearing into the concoction of lights flashing erratically while the time ticked to a close. The horn blared, the game over.
“Red Team takes the game!” The speakers blared.
Peter couldn’t bring himself to care, his mind still frozen in the memory of the kiss.
Every light was frozen in the color they’d been when the time stopped. Peter could see MJ walking to the door through the patchwork of light. The rest of their friends followed her. “This isn’t over!” He shouted around the knot in his throat. Heat writhed deep inside him, watching MJ’s hips sway through the door.
“I certainly hope it’s not!” Her voice filtered back to him, the only promise he needed. A smile took over his face and he finally moved to exit with his friends.
To glory, indeed.