Origins. James Frey
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course.” Because what’s Xander going to do, come home from swimming the English Channel or battling a fleet of ninjas—then go play video games in Marcus’s basement? Not going to happen.
“Anyway, I’ve got kind of a surprise for you,” Xander says.
Marcus grunts. He’s tired of surprises.
“They gave me three days before I have to leave,” Xander says.
“For your magical mystery tour.”
“Yeah. That. Three days . . . and access to a helicopter.”
Marcus freezes. Despite his foul mood, he feels his lips drawing back in a smile. He can’t stop himself.
Because he knows what a helicopter means.
“So?” Xander says, hope lighting up his face. “You in?”
With a helicopter at their disposal, they can fly from the nearby Daskalogiannis airport to Nea Kameni, a remote, uninhabited island where an active volcano pokes out of the Aegean and into the clouds. They can, as they have done before, hike up to the lip of the volcano and then rappel down into the maw of the beast, feel the heat of the lava on their backs, test themselves against the most powerful foe nature has to offer. Thirty-five hundred years ago, a volcanic eruption on the island of Thera destroyed the Minoan settlement at Akrotiri and devastated communities all along the coast of Crete. The eruption spelled the beginning of the end of Minoan civilization—now, every time Marcus bests a volcano, he feels he’s striking a blow on behalf of his ancestors. It’s rare they can find a way to get themselves to Nea Kameni—rarer still that Xander agrees to try. He may have overcome his childish fear of heights, but he’s never much liked the idea of climbing into a massive cauldron of boiling lava. Marcus usually has to butter him up for days, whine and plead and promise to do his homework, before Xander finally gives in.
Not this time, obviously.
Xander knows what he’s doing, dangling this trip before Marcus. A volcano climb is the one thing he can’t resist.
“No way will they let you,” Marcus says, trying hard to maintain his sulk. It’s tough: Even thinking about the climb has him jittery with excitement. “You think they’re going to let their precious Player risk himself on a stupid volcano?”
“Leave that to me,” Xander says. “If I can’t handle a few overprotective instructors, how am I supposed to save the world?”
Good question, Marcus thinks.
Then he thinks:
Enough.
Yes, a mistake has been made. Yes, Marcus deserved this win. Yes, he is in despair, and his life is pretty much over. But that’s not Xander’s fault. And if their positions were reversed, Xander would find a way to accept it. He would find a way to be happy for Marcus, because that’s the kind of person he is.
Marcus resolves to be that kind of person too.
He resolves to be happy for Xander.
Or at least do a better job of faking it.
It is easy, at the base of the volcano, to imagine they are the last two people on Earth. That Endgame has come and gone, the human species wiped off the face of the planet, the two of them abandoned to live out their days on this bare rock. It wouldn’t be so bad, Marcus thinks. Blue sky and turquoise sea, days in the sand and nights by the campfire, nothing to do but race each other up and down the volcano, no one to say who won and who lost, who is special and who is not—no obligations to their people or to the future. Only the present moment, only the two of them.
The first night, sitting around the campfire, toasting marshmallows and doing their best impressions of Elias Cassadine, it’s hard to remember that this won’t last forever.
They’ve brought tents, of course, but both of them prefer sleeping under the stars. They lie on their backs, side by side, the silence between them comfortable instead of awkward. Like it used to be, before.
“What if I can’t hack it?” Xander says quietly.
“It’s only a couple thousand meters,” Marcus says. “You can do that in your sleep. And if you can’t, I’ll just toss you over my shoulder and carry you up. Not like I haven’t done it before.”
“That’s not what I mean,” Xander says.
Marcus knew that.
He doesn’t want to talk about it—not now, in this place where it’s so easy to forget. Once they leave here, Marcus will begin the rest of his life. His loser’s life. He’ll never be able to forget again. This is supposed to be their escape from all of that. And Xander is about to ruin it.
“What if it actually happens? Endgame. And it’s all on me.” Xander speaks slowly, like he knows this isn’t anything he should admit out loud. “How do they know I’ll be good enough? What if they’re wrong?”
“They’re not wrong,” Marcus says, glad Xander can’t see his face in the dark. “They know what they’re doing. They’ve been doing this for centuries, right? If they picked you, then it’s supposed to be you.”
“You sound so sure,” Xander says. “Everyone is so sure—except for me. Doesn’t that mean something? That I’m not sure?”
“Not everything has to mean something,” Marcus says. “You take things too seriously.”
“We’re talking about the end of the world,” Xander says, frustration leaking through. “I’m not supposed to take that seriously?”
Marcus says nothing.
“You wouldn’t have any doubts,” Xander says—and, incredibly, he sounds jealous. As if Xander has reason for envy. “You’d know you could do it. You’re probably thinking right now that you could do a better job than me. Admit it.”
“Maybe I am,” Marcus says, because Xander is his best friend. And because it’s easier to be honest in the dark. “But maybe being sure isn’t always the important thing. Maybe having doubts will make you stronger.”
“How?” Xander’s voice is small, almost afraid. Eager for Marcus to tell him what to do. And for that one moment, Marcus truly wishes he had the answer—knew the words that would calm Xander’s fears and help him believe in himself.
But he doesn’t.
“I don’t know,” Marcus admits.
“Exactly.”
The morning is crisp and clear, perfect for a climb.
Neither of them is in the mood to talk.
They pack up their ropes and carabiners, then begin the long haul to the summit. The volcano looms above them, hissing smoke and ash into blue sky. It’s like climbing any mountain, but it feels different when you know what’s waiting for you at the top. When, at any moment, the cavernous mouth could spit out a glob of lava that would incinerate you in seconds.
Marcus focuses on that feeling of approaching danger. He focuses on finding handholds and footholds, on pulling himself up one arm-length at a time. On the crumbling rock beneath his fingers and the heat of the sun on his back. On the loamy smell of the rock and the twitter of distant birds. On his body, pushed to its limits; on this lonely wilderness at the edge of the world. Tunnel vision: it’s another reason he’s so good at climbing. To summit the great peaks, you have to shut everything else out. You have to believe nothing matters but making it to the top.
He and Xander do not race, not this time. Competition seems beside the point for them now. They climb at a steady pace, Marcus leading the way. Until, impatient to reach the summit, Marcus pushes himself to climb faster.
“Thought we weren’t racing,” Xander pants from behind him, which only makes Marcus speed up more.
He tells himself it’s only about getting to the top. That it has nothing