He nods. At least this he does understand.

– Is your timer on?

No reaction.

I shake his shoulder and repeat:

– Did you turn the timer on? Is the timer on?

Unfortunate shakes his head. Uh-oh. The worst case. I turn around – most likely Guillermo watches me, and shout:

– You see? He can't exit by himself! Trace his channel!

I don't quite believe in the success of this though. Thus, I'll have to drag Unfortunate to the end of the level and convince or force him to push the exit button there.

Though, it's nothing impossible in this.

– Now we'll stand up and go, – I say softly, as if talking to the little kid. Although, he surely might be one who managed to seize upon the desired toy in his parents' absence. This happened before. – Can you walk?

An unsure nod.

– Let's rest, – I understand that I talk nonsense, Unfortunate 'rests' here for more than 30 hours already but I go on: – We'll rest, eat and go forward. There'll be nothing terrible anymore. I'll lead you.

I take off my mask-helmet, the air is clean enough on this level and open the package with food. I give him a huge sandwich and a can of soda. The virtual food won't help his body but will give him a fake vivacity in the deep.

I take a bite, chew and look at Unfortunate. He just sits with the sandwich in his hand.

Yeah. A hard case. I wish I came here a day earlier.

– Eat, – I urge him. I outstretch my hand and take his mask off. The red oval from the respirator stays on his face. Otherwise, it's a pretty nice face, a normal, not a standard one: the blond young guy, just his eyes are tired and dim. – Come on! – I encourage him.

He raises the sandwich to his mouth and starts chewing slowly. Good. A piece for Mommy, a piece for Daddy, a piece for Uncle Diver… Maybe he's really just a little kid?

– My name is Gunslinger. What's yours? – I ask. He doesn't answer, too busy with his food. – How old are you?

The last question is a serious offence. Everyone is equal in virtuality. If he has at least a little experience in Deeptown life, he'll certainly answer… Oh, HOW will he answer…!

But he's silent.

Hard work is ahead.

Well, the prize isn't small either. I wouldn't ever exchange it for precious "Labyrinth"'s half a million. It's impossible to buy the Medal of Complete License – a single case like this would immediately ruin it's value.

– Feel better? – I ask Unfortunate. He nods. – Very good. Stand up.

He raises submissively and I return him his gun. This is not more than just a symbolic weapon on 33rd level, but at least he'll feel himself more confident. I really want to believe in this.

– And now let's go, calmly and confidently.

I'm an idiot.

I forgot about the 'grabber' demon around the corner, forgot how Guillermo demonstrated it to me. I walk along the "American Hill"'s fence, stepping like in the parade.

And surely the demon grabs me cheerfully with his long hand, rakes me up and raises into the air. The demon looks like a stomp, covered with tentacles… baobab's stomp most likely. The toothy mouth is in the center of it, strong seven fingered paw grows from the butt, now turning me over in the air, kneading, turning me into an accurate, one-bite meatball.

The Unfortunate's gun whispers: "Tak-tak-tak", shooting the charger out at the monster.

Hanging in the air, I have time to be amazed by his strange posture: the body bent forward, his shoulders drawn back, the gun is in outstretched left hand.

It's impossible to kill the demon with this weapon.

But the paw suddenly stops breaking my ribs, weakens and I fall from the three meters height right down into the greedily opened gob.

To my great luck, the monster can't chew and swallow anymore. I scramble out of the stinking hole trying not to look at the teeth at least ten centimeters long. There are shreds of clothes on them. Not mine.

I'm covered with saliva and it hisses on my armor vest. I wipe myself with tufts of yellow dry grass, then pad to Unfortunate. He's relaxed, sluggish and barely alive again.

It appears so…

– Thanks, – I mutter, press the first-aid kit to the hand, it clicks injecting the medications and disintegrates. Pretty well was I crumpled.

– You're welcome, – Unfortunate says quietly but clearly. Though, this name doesn't quite fit him anymore. To kill the demon with a gun!

Theoretically it's possible though. "Labyrinth"'s creators declared many times that one can kill any monster with a gun or even by the brass-knuckles. Theoretically. If one knows one single super-vulnerable point on the monster's body.

But I haven't heard about such deeds yet.

I drop the winchester from my shoulder and give it to Unfortunate. He takes the weapon melancholically.

I'm armed with the launcher. It's only four loads there, but we'll try to get more now.

– What is your name? – I ask.

No answer.

What the hell… let you be Unfortunate then.

"Disneyland" is made beautifully. I Dunn whether it copies any real park or only embodies the fantasy of game designers. But the monsters riding the view wheel, throwing the fireballs at each other must have been born in somebody's sick mind. The sight is so amusing that I look at it for a couple of minutes before shooting a rocket at the wheel's pivot. Explosion and it falls on it's side slowly. Debris flies at least 20 meters high.

I look at Unfortunate askance: will he appreciate the show?

Not in a freaking bit.

– Let's go, – I growl. Looks like I start to get used to my silent companion.

We pass the water rides. There's blood in the pools instead of water. Some boats sliding along the purple smooth are filled with sitting skeletons, others are empty. The nasty shrilling screech is heard – mechanisms were not made to work in this type of liquid.

Disgusting.

And over there – the whole family of mutants: two adults and three little ones in bright flower patterned dresses, made themselves comfortable for the picnic. On the small gas stove they fry a piece of leg in leather boot. I waste one more rocket. They don't even try to run: those are not a fighter monsters but ones created just to pump up the dread.

I wish I could find the one who created all this vileness and kick his ass. Not in virtuality.

– We'll soon be there, – I say to Unfortunate. – You do pretty good.

He nods, as if with slight gratitude. Why did "Labyrinth"'s divers waste so much time?

The guy proceeds great.

Together we deflect the attack of the flock of petty flying monsters. Unfortunate shoots sparingly and keenly, leather wings break, clumsy bodies fall down and burst.

– Let's go, – I say.

It's only by the big concrete field with small cars sliding along it where the little delay happens.

There's a little kid in one of the cars, a little black boy. He steers trying to dodge from three mutants that drive him across the field with screeching laughter. Once the kid passes close to the fence glancing at us with utter terror.

Unfortunate raises his carbine.

– This is not a player, – I explain tiredly. – This is a part of the program. Some bonus points. You rescue the child, take him to the safe place and get some weapon or an armor as a bonus. Let's go, no need to waste the time.

But Unfortunate had obviously lost the contact with reality completely. He starts shooting.

Three shots – three mutants. They try to fight back throwing fireballs at us but Unfortunate is quicker and much more keen.

The giant spider crawls out from somewhere attracted by shooting sounds and starts pouring on us the bursts from the machine gun implanted into his muzzle. I have to meddle. Two rockets – under the cat's tail { wasted. ;-P }… more precisely: under the spider's mandibles.

The silence falls, just the kid who have got out of the car squats and cries.