The Deathalator

by Daniel Shebses

part 3 of 4

Halftime flew by. No sooner had the teams entered the locker room they charged back out. Now Southern State would receive the kickoff. Parker and Jackson were shouting in each other’s faces, getting pumped up, while on the opposite sideline McGenty stood strikingly alone. Mike could tell trouble was brewing.

The kickoff flew past the return runner for Southern State and sailed out of the end zone. Southern State would begin on its own 20 yard line. The drive started badly with McGenty and another linebacker ganging up on Parker and sacking him. The fans booed as the play had cost Southern State 8 yards, making it 2nd and 18. Damn McGenty, thought Mike.

After the catastrophic sack, Southern State slowly moved the ball down field, but in the end they had to settle for a field goal making the score 14-10. It was better than nothing, but Southern State was not going to win with field goals. They needed touchdowns.

What remained of 3rd quarter was a blur. Both defenses were brutal and inflicted terrible damage. Halfway through the quarter, McGenty struck low on Southern State’s left guard Gary Lane, who collapsed with a knee injury and had to be carted off the field. The fans howled their discontent, but the officials didn’t call it.

With three minutes left in the 3rd quarter, Southern State’s linebacker Cory Grey broke Ian Mudd’s ankle, costing Northern State their star running back. At the end of the 3rd quarter, Mike shook his head. No scoring had been done and the rivalry was fast turning into a bloodbath.

At the start of the 4th and final quarter, Northern State had the ball on their own 25 yard line. Mike was worried. At this point in the game Northern State would simply move the ball downfield while chewing up as much time on the clock as possible. If they got a touchdown, it would be next to impossible for Southern State to stage a comeback.

The subdued crowd sunk in their seats as the reality of yet another loss swept over them. Adam’s sweat was fast washing away the blue paint and he looked as though he would break out in tears at any moment. Southern State’s defensive line was allowing Northern State’s fullback 6 or 7 yards a carry, meaning easy first downs. At the rate Northern State was going, two-thirds of the fifteen-minute quarter would be used on this drive. Mike stared at the clock as Southern State’s chances continued to spiral downward.

Northern State marched the ball all the way to Southern State’s 30 yard line when it happened. Southern State’s defensive tackle stripped the ball from the backup running back. The fans lurched back up to their feet as a free-for-all ensued on the field. Bodies crushed each other for the ball. It took a few moments for the officials to sort out the melee, but when they had, Southern State’s Roger Carpenter held the ball. The fans exploded as Mike’s attention darted to his pant pocket to the grinding of the X Phone.

“WARNING: A RECENT ENTRANT IS AT A HIGH RISK OF DEATH! CLICK ENTER FOR DETAILS.”

No, thought Mike, not again. Please not again. In near tears he clicked enter, GEORGE PARKER... 15%. Mike watched as the smiling quarterback snapped his helmet on and ran onto the field. He was determined. Parker had just over 8 minutes and 70 yards of ground to cover. It was a tough chore, but Parker could do it, but he wouldn’t, Mike realized.

Frantic, Mike looked around for help but found only Adam.

“It’s doing it again.”

“Huh?”

“The Deathalator. Look, Parker is going to die. It’s up to 18 % now.”

Adam rolled his eyes and glared at Mike. His joviality and humor were gone. Now there was just anger.

“Mike, knock it off with that stupid thing and watch the game.”

“But you gotta listen...”

“No, you listen. Shut up and leave me alone. The game is on the line.”

Mike slumped back in his seat. Bill hadn’t heard the exchange, but what was the point in talking to him? As Tyrone Jackson made a 15-yard pickup past McGenty, Parker’s chances rose to 23%. The fumble, thought Mike. That damn fumble.

Southern State had time but none to waste, and they needed a touchdown to take the lead. A field goal would not do. By the time Southern State had reached the 50 yard line, Parker’s chances of death had risen to 40% with no hint of halting.

It was at the 50 that Southern State’s offense began to falter. The first two passes sent by Parker were knocked down by defenders, one was almost intercepted. Jackson tried running up the middle, but McGenty put a stop to that.

It was 4th down and 8 and Southern State was out of options. With only 4 minutes left in the game, they had to chance going for the first down rather than punt the ball away. Both teams set up on the line of scrimmage. The crowd was on its feet for the biggest play of the game. The Deathalator hovered at 45%.

On the snap, Southern State’s left guard slipped and fell to the ground. The offensive line crumbled as McGenty and several other defenders rushed Parker. The quarterback scrambled back and right, desperate to escape, but there were four men closing in on him now led by an enraged Omar McGenty.

Mike looked back at the Deathalator... 35% and dropping. The defenders were closing in on Parker, but Mike couldn’t have been more grateful. Silently he prayed for Parker to be sacked. The game would be lost, but Parker would live. McGenty grabbed Parker’s jersey... 25%. McGenty wrapped his other arm around Parker... 15%. There was no stopping McGenty now. Then, to Mike’s horror, McGenty was stopped.

Out of nowhere, Tyrone Jackson rushed in and creamed McGenty. The thuggish linebacker careened to the ground leaving Parker standing and looking for an open receiver. Parker, in desperation, lunged the ball downfield into the waiting arms of tight end Joe Benton. The fans roared. With just over two minutes in the game, Southern State had the first down. Mike sunk into his seat as the Deathalator reached 60%.

After the miracle pass to Joe Benton, Southern State resumed its onslaught toward the end zone. With each play the percentage on the Deathalator increased. Mike squirmed helplessly, his eyes jumping from the X Phone to the game. By the time Southern State had reached the 5 yard line, the Deathalator was at 85%. On 3rd down and goal, Jackson inched his way to the one but missed the end zone.

Finally, with less than a minute in the game, and the ball sitting on the 1 yard line Southern State took its final timeout. Parker and Coach Kenton began talking on the sidelines and regardless of what they were saying, the Deathalator was going wild. Mike stared at the Deathalator as the numbers jumped. It dropped to 80% then shot back up to 90%... 86%... 83%... 88%... 81%...

“We’ll try sending Jackson up the middle,” said Kenton.

“His knee is bothering him. I say I sneak it,” replied Parker.

“Now don’t be a glory hog,”

“Nobody’s a glory hog,” scoffed Parker. “His knee is bugging him. I can do this.”

“I don’t know. McGenty’s developed a liking for you,” Kenton said gravely.

“To hell with McGenty. Let me sneak it in.”

Kenton reflected a moment. Parker was good at the quarterback sneak, but McGenty and Northern State’s defense scared him. Normally he wouldn’t risk his star quarterback, but the game was on the line and he needed to win. Northern State had fired him as head coach five years before, and he was itching for some payback. If Jackson’s knee was hurt, giving him the ball might be too much of a risk, and looking into the eyes of his All-American, Kenton knew he couldn’t lose.

“Okay, George, get it in there.”

Parker smiled and raced back out to the field as the deathalator crept up to 95%. The grinding was fierce and the screen blood red. Mike stared glumly at the field. He didn’t want to watch, but he couldn’t look away. It was a horror movie and Mike watched Parker moving toward the door, but no matter how loudly he yelled “Don’t go in there!” Mike knew he would.

At the snap, Parker burrowed into the center as the two lines of muscle and pads clashed. Then forward momentum. Inch by inch Southern State was approaching the goal line. Somewhere in that mass was George Parker with a 99% chance of death. Still the mass went forward. Then Mike saw McGenty.

He thought McGenty was already part of the pile, but he had stayed outside and observed its movement. From the far side he ran up, made a terrible arch, and drove himself headlong into the center of the mob. Under his force the pile collapsed outside the end zone. The X Phone blinked 100%. It was over, and underneath that pile was the corpse of the All-American George Parker.

Mike was numb. He sat stoically as the pile slowly arose one my one. There were boos from the sidelines and cheers from the Northern State bench. Only Mike knew for the moment, but in a matter of seconds the sickness he felt would spread through the stands.

Tyrone Jackson was the first player to see the devastation. He popped up, chucked his helmet, and ran screaming toward the sideline. As the remnants of the pile arose, a gasp spread through the crowd. George Parker’s helmet had been torn from his head. He lay belly down on the 1 yard line, yet he was facing the sky.

The players cleared the field while medical personnel rushed in. Julie Erickson and several of her sorority sisters began sobbing. The players of both teams knelt in prayer huddles, minus Omar McGenty who looked as though he was feeling remorse for the first time in his life.

The ambulance came, and the All-American was placed inside. No one said anything, but everyone knew George Parker was gone. Tyrone Jackson was wailing loudly enough for Mike to hear from his seat. Bill had his hands glued to his head as though he might rip his hair out at any moment. All eyes were transfixed on the ambulance as it exited the field except two. Those eyes belonged to Adam Maynard, and they were on Mike.

The clock quickly ran out after Parker was taken away. Northern State won, but no one cared. The grief was beginning to set in. Outside the stadium, groups of students came together and wept for their slain All-American. Some who knew him were already eulogizing. Others were cursing McGenty’s name.

Wary of Adam’s stares, Mike wandered off. He needed solitude. He possessed a great power, and it brought him nothing but misery. Deadly chains of events could be broken but not always, and that knowledge filled Mike with rising guilt. He couldn’t save George Parker. His chain could not be broken.

He wandered the campus for nearly an hour. When he got back to his dorm room it was nearly 1 a.m., but Bill and Adam were still out. At the very least he had made a believer out of Adam. The fat prick couldn’t ignore him now.

He kicked his off his shoes and tossed the X Phone on the night stand next to Goldie’s bowl. Goldie saw the phone and began tapping at the glass eager to get at it.

“Oh, you want to eat my phone do you, Goldie?” Mike asked shrilly. “Well, be careful. This phone predicts when people die. It’s called the Deathalator application. I’ll show you.”

Mike typed in GOLDIE... 0.0998%. “Well, Goldie aren’t you a safe little fish. See? But that doesn’t matter cause at any given time your chances can suddenly rise. For example, I’ve been thinking about pulling you out of that bowl. Wouldn’t that be mean of me?”

Mike peeked at the Deathalator as it crept up to 3%.

“Oh, yes Goldie. I’m sick of you. You’re a nasty little fish, and I’m gonna pluck you right out of that bowl.” 9%.

Mike stood frozen as the rage, red as blood, crept over him. His face flushed, his teeth ground, and his muscles hardened with adrenalin. He had the power, not the Deathalator. He decided who lives and who dies and when, and Goldie was going to die now.

Mike plunged his hand into the bowl and groped for the terrified fish. Goldie swished around the bowl trying to escape the invader. He was able to dodge Mike’s hand twice before his claw seized him and yanked him into the terrible air. The deathalator read 45%.

“Now you’re going to die Goldie. DIE DIE DIE... and I want you to die. Take a look Goldie. The Deathalator says you will, 60% and climbing.”

The fish’s struggles grew weaker as his gills began to give up the fight. He ceased flopping about in Mike’s grasp. Mike looked into the fish’s eyes and saw the pleading, begging for one more chance. Mike could almost hear the fish swearing to be nicer from now on, but that hardly mattered to him. As the Deathalator raced past 80%, Mike let out a roar.

“DIE, GOLDIE, do as the Deathalator says! Nothing can help you! DIE DIE DIE!”

“Mike what are you doing?”

The surprise from behind caused Mike to release the fish, and luck carried him back into the safety of the bowl. The fish swam in gratitude as Mike’s other roommate, Jose Mendez, entered the room. The deathalator returned to 0.0990%.

“Jose,” gasped Mike. “You interrupted me.”

“You were gonna kill your fish.”

Mike turned away, ashamed. He had been going to kill Goldie, but now he didn’t even know why. Jose looked on nervously. He had been sleeping peacefully until he heard Mike screaming. Dressed only in his boxers and still half asleep, he had broken Goldie’s chain.

“Were you at the game tonight?” asked Mike.

Jose nodded. “Yeah, it was terrible.”

“The X Phone has a function called the Deathalator. It calculates the odds of someone dying. It told me Parker was going to die, but I couldn’t stop it.”

“It’s a phone, a good phone, but it can’t do that,” said Jose.

“No, Jose you don’t get it,” whined Mike. “It can and it has. It doesn’t make bad things happen, but it can see it coming. It sort of sees chains of events as they’re happening, but the chains can be broken. You saved Goldie just like Jaime Winters saved Julie Erickson. You know about that, right?”

Jose nodded again. “Look Mike, the X Phone is the best phone on the market. Lot of cool apps in it, but it’s just a computer, just a bunch of microchips and algorithms put together. A computer can’t predict anything.”

“Oh really?” quizzed Mike.

“What about predicting the weather, earthquakes, volcanic eruptions? Computers have predicted all of that and more. Why is this so far-fetched?”

“It’s different, Mike.”

“No, it isn’t. You’re a computer guy. You know better than anyone that this type of stuff is getting better all the time.”

Jose looked away and swallowed hard. He had run into Adam after the game. Adam told him everything. It had to be a coincidence. Computers were getting better and better but this was impossible. Then he thought of the natural events computers could predict which chilled him to the core. Perhaps Silicon Valley had made a giant leap in computer kind.

“Type my name in.”

Mike, shocked at first, hesitated, but then obeyed, JOSE MENDEZ... 0.0015%, safe.

The two remained silent for several minutes, lost in thought. They privately pondered the applications of this power as well as its consequences, but at 2 a.m. each of their brains were too weary to be wrapped around something so big. Jose rubbed his head and left the room without another word. A few minutes later Mike stripped to his boxers and climbed into bed. He drifted off to sleep, hoping Saturday would prove better.

Proceed to part 4...