BLOOD CLICKER
CHAPTER 1 — ONE MORE CLICK
Evan Hale died at 11:47 p.m. on a Tuesday.
He didn't know that when it happened.
He knew his feet hurt.
He knew the convenience store had smelled like burnt coffee for nine straight hours.
He knew the plastic bag in his right hand held a microwave burrito, two cans of cola, and a chocolate bar he'd almost put back because two dollars felt ridiculous.
He wanted a shower.
Food.
Bed.
Then somebody leaned on a horn.
Evan turned.
Headlights.
Too close.
His body tried to move.
The car hit him first.
There was no slow motion.
No final speech.
Metal slammed into his side.
His feet left the ground.
Then the pavement hit him.
His head bounced once.
The plastic bag burst.
A cola rolled under a parked car.
Evan tried to push himself up.
His left arm didn't move.
Move.
Nothing.
Pain arrived everywhere.
His ribs.
His hip.
His skull.
He tried to breathe.
Couldn't.
That scared him more than anything else.
A woman screamed.
"Call 911!"
Someone ran toward him.
Evan dragged in half a breath. Something wet entered his mouth.
"Don't move," somebody said.
He wasn't trying to.
He couldn't.
His eyes settled on the curb.
The chocolate bar lay there, wrapper torn open.
His brain produced one useless thought.
I didn't even get to eat it.
The street blurred.
Someone was talking to him.
He couldn't understand the words anymore.
He thought of his mother.
Then his sister.
He'd left a dirty cup on his desk that morning.
His mother hated that.
Why was he thinking about a cup?
Evan tried to breathe again.
Nothing.
Mom.
His heart beat.
Once.
Again.
Then it stopped.
Click.
Evan opened his eyes.
Darkness.
He sucked in a breath.
Another.
Another.
Too fast.
He rolled onto his hands and knees.
His palms struck something.
Except there was nothing there.
No floor.
No texture.
No temperature.
Nothing.
Evan stared downward.
His own body was perfectly visible.
Everything else was black.
"Mom?"
His voice disappeared into the dark.
No answer.
He stood.
His knees nearly gave out.
"Hello?"
Nothing.
He touched his chest.
Heartbeat.
Fast.
Both arms worked.
He grabbed his left wrist and flexed every finger.
The road returned in pieces.
Horn.
Headlights.
Impact.
No air.
Evan stepped backward.
"No."
His work uniform was gone.
So were his shoes.
Plain gray clothes covered him instead.
"What is this?"
A white shape appeared several feet ahead.
Evan flinched.
A computer cursor.
Floating in midair.
It moved downward.
A red circle appeared.
One word sat inside.
CLICK
Evan backed away.
"No."
The cursor waited.
"Where am I?"
Nothing.
"Hospital?"
Nothing.
"Am I dreaming?"
Silence.
Evan walked away.
Ten steps.
Twenty.
He turned.
The button remained several feet behind him.
He ran.
It never became farther away.
Evan stopped.
His breathing sharpened.
"Help!"
Nothing.
"CAN ANYBODY HEAR ME?"
He shouted until his throat hurt.
Nobody answered.
The car flashed through his head again.
His lungs refusing to work.
His useless arm.
Evan squeezed his eyes shut.
When he opened them—
CLICK
Still there.
"Did I die?"
The cursor moved.
Click.
The button depressed.
A heartbeat struck through the darkness.
THUMP.
Red text appeared.
BLOOD CLICKERPLAYER: EVAN HALECLICKS: 1TOTAL ENHANCEMENT: +0.001%
Evan stared.
"What?"
Another line appeared.
EVERY CLICK IMPROVES THE PLAYER.
"What player?"
EVAN HALE
His mouth dried.
"Am I dead?"
STATUS: DEAD
Evan stopped moving.
"No."
STATUS: DEAD
He pressed two fingers against his neck.
Pulse.
"I have a heartbeat."
YES.
"I'm breathing."
YES.
"Then I'm not dead."
No response.
Evan's voice shook.
"Tell me I'm not dead."
Nothing.
"What happened?"
CAUSE OF DEATH: VEHICULAR TRAUMA
His stomach turned.
For a second, he was back on the road.
Pressure in his chest.
Blood in his throat.
No air.
Evan bent forward and gagged.
Nothing came up.
Then another thought struck harder.
"My mom."
He straightened.
"Does she know?"
Nothing.
"My family. Do they know I'm dead?"
Silence.
"Can I go back?"
The button returned.
CLICK
"Answer me."
CLICK TO PROGRESS.
"Progress where?"
CLICK TO PROGRESS.
Evan punched the circle.
His fist passed through it.
He tried again.
Nothing.
"ANSWER ME!"
The darkness didn't care.
Eventually, Evan sat.
There was nowhere else to go.
He thought about his mother getting a phone call.
His sister waking up.
Somebody identifying his body.
A funeral.
His room being cleaned out.
That stupid cup still sitting on his desk.
"Stop."
He stood.
The button waited.
Evan pressed it.
Click.
CLICKS: 2TOTAL ENHANCEMENT: +0.002%
Nothing else happened.
He clicked again.
Three.
Again.
Four.
"What are you improving?"
Words appeared.
Strength.
Speed.
Reaction Time.
Coordination.
Stamina.
Durability.
Healing.
Vision.
Hearing.
Balance.
Memory.
Learning.
Focus.
Bone Strength.
Muscular Efficiency.
Cardiovascular Efficiency.
Immune Function.
The list continued.
"Everything?"
EVERY NATURAL HUMAN CAPABILITY.
"Do I stay human?"
YES.
"No mutation?"
NO.
"No monster?"
NO.
"How much per click?"
BASE ENHANCEMENT: +0.001%
Evan did the math.
One thousand clicks.
One percent.
Ten thousand.
Ten percent.
He looked at the button.
"How many until I go home?"
RETURN REQUIREMENT: 10,000 CLICKS
"Alive?"
YES.
Evan stared at the number.
Then pictured his mother's face.
He clicked.
One hundred.
Nothing.
Five hundred.
Nothing obvious.
At one thousand, his hand cramped.
Evan stopped and flexed his fingers.
The soreness faded.
Maybe faster than normal.
Maybe he only wanted it to.
He switched hands.
At two thousand, he started alternating fingers.
At four thousand, his shoulders hurt.
At five thousand—
TOTAL ENHANCEMENT: +5.000%
Evan stopped.
He jumped.
Ran.
Flexed his hands.
Nothing dramatic happened.
He wasn't superhuman.
But his body felt unusually good.
At six thousand, he noticed the clicks coming faster.
Not because he was forcing them.
His coordination had improved.
So had his reaction time.
His hands tired more slowly.
Evan stared at the button.
"Oh."
Each click made him slightly better.
Being better made clicking easier.
Which meant he could improve faster.
"That's bad."
The system didn't answer.
Evan clicked anyway.
Seven thousand.
Eight thousand.
Nine thousand.
By then, he could feel differences everywhere.
Small ones.
Balance.
Breathing.
Focus.
Movement.
At 9,990, Evan stopped.
Ten left.
"What happens at ten thousand?"
RETURN.
"Still me?"
A pause.
Then:
YES.
Evan didn't like the pause.
9,991.
9,992.
9,993.
His mother's face.
9,994.
His sister stealing fries from his plate.
9,995.
Headlights.
Evan froze.
For one terrible second he couldn't breathe.
He slapped a hand against his chest.
Heartbeat.
He dragged air into his lungs.
"I'm here."
9,996.
9,997.
9,998.
9,999.
One left.
"What happens to you when I go back?"
Nothing.
"Do you disappear?"
Nothing.
Evan swallowed.
"Of course."
Click.
10,000
Darkness vanished.
Evan woke screaming.
Cold.
Bright light.
Metal rattled beneath him.
Someone screamed nearby.
Evan twisted toward the sound and screamed again because a woman in navy scrubs had backed into a counter, staring at him.
Neither moved.
"Where am I?"
She didn't answer.
"Where am I?"
Her hand reached for something on the wall.
"Don't."
She froze.
Evan's chest heaved.
"Please."
Her face had gone pale.
"Stay there."
"What?"
"Don't get up."
Evan looked down.
A white sheet covered his legs.
His chest was bare.
Bruises covered his skin.
Dried blood marked his hairline.
Then he saw the room.
Steel tables.
A drain.
A covered body.
Rows of rectangular metal doors.
"No."
He looked at his wrist.
A plastic band.
HALE, EVAN.
A tag sat beside him.
His name.
Birth date.
And beneath them—
DECEDENT.
His hands started shaking.
The door opened.
A man in scrubs rushed in with a security officer behind him.
Both stopped.
The officer's hand went toward his belt.
Then stopped there.
Nobody seemed to know what to do.
Evan looked at the corpse drawers.
Then the tag.
"I died."
Nobody answered.
The woman covered her mouth.
That was enough.
Evan started crying.
He bent forward.
"I died."
The man in scrubs approached slowly.
"My name is Daniel. I'm going to come closer."
"My mom."
"We need to examine—"
"My mom."
Daniel stopped.
"Does she know?"
Nobody answered fast enough.
Evan saw the glance between them.
His stomach dropped.
"Does she know I'm dead?"
He tried to stand.
Pain ripped through his side.
Three people moved.
"Don't stand."
"I need a phone."
"Evan—"
"Give me a phone!"
His voice cracked.
Daniel hesitated.
Then nodded.
"Get him one."
His mother answered on the fourth ring.
"Hello?"
Evan couldn't speak.
"Hello?"
"Mom."
Silence.
"Who is this?"
His eyes closed.
"It's me."
Another silence.
"It's Evan."
"No."
"Mom—"
"No."
"I'm at the hospital."
"No, you're not."
He heard his sister in the background.
"Mom, it's me."
"Evan?"
"Yeah."
Her breathing broke.
"I saw you."
Evan froze.
"What?"
"I saw you."
She had identified him.
He hadn't let himself think that far.
"I'm sorry."
"For what?" she cried. "What are you apologizing for?"
"I don't know."
Neither had anything useful to say after that.
Neither hung up.
The hospital didn't instantly understand anything.
One doctor thought somebody had made a catastrophic mistake.
Another had already read the records and knew that explanation didn't fit.
Nurses whispered.
Some details spread wrong.
Security restricted access.
Police came back.
Administrators started asking for names and timelines.
Nobody had the complete story.
Questions repeated.
"What's your name?"
"Evan Hale."
"Do you know where you are?"
"Hospital."
"What do you remember after the accident?"
Evan looked toward the corner.
CLICK
The button floated there.
"Nothing."
It was his first deliberate lie.
It came too easily.
That bothered him.
His mother arrived forty-three minutes later.
She ran into the room.
"Evan!"
He barely stood before she wrapped both arms around him.
Hard.
He gasped.
She immediately loosened her grip.
"I'm sorry."
"No."
Evan pulled her back.
"It's okay."
Her hands moved over him.
Hair.
Face.
Shoulders.
As if checking that every part was really there.
She stared at him, touched his cheek again, then hugged him.
His sister stood frozen in the doorway.
"Evan?"
He held out one arm.
She broke.
She crossed the room and grabbed both of them.
Nobody said anything for a while.
The button remained in Evan's vision.
He ignored it.
He stayed in the hospital.
His death had been documented.
His mother had identified him.
Hours later, a morgue employee had watched him sit up.
That wasn't something one blood test could explain.
His injuries remained, but they were healing too quickly.
Doctors noticed.
They didn't agree on why.
Evan barely slept.
Whenever he closed his eyes, headlights returned.
A cart crashed in the hallway the second night.
He nearly jumped out of bed.
His mother stood immediately.
"Evan?"
"I'm fine."
He wasn't.
She didn't argue.
At 3:16 a.m., while she slept in the chair beside him, Evan stared at the button.
10,000
He hadn't clicked since returning.
He was alive.
That had been the point.
He closed his eyes.
The car hit him again.
His eyes opened.
Ten percent stronger.
Faster.
Tougher.
If he'd had that before—
He stopped himself.
Maybe the car still would've killed him.
Maybe not.
CLICK
His hands hadn't moved.
Evan stared.
10,001
He thought about pressing it again.
Click.
10,002
Mental clicking.
He could do it anywhere.
Nobody would know.
10,003
Evan looked at his sleeping mother.
"Not now."
He stopped.
Four days later, he went home.
The drive was awful.
Every car approaching an intersection caught his attention.
A horn sounded behind them.
Evan flinched hard enough to lock the seat belt.
His mother glanced over.
"You okay?"
"Yeah."
She didn't call him a liar.
She simply drove slower.
His apartment looked unchanged.
That bothered him.
A bicycle was chained outside.
A package sat beside somebody's door.
A sprinkler clicked over the lawn.
He had died.
The world had continued anyway.
His room was exactly as he'd left it.
Laundry.
Controller.
Unmade bed.
And the dirty cup.
Evan stared at it.
Then picked it up and carried it to the sink.
Afterward, he locked his bedroom door.
He opened a notebook.
BLOOD CLICKER
10,003 clicks.
Things I know
1. I died.
He stopped.
Then continued.
2. 10,000 clicks brought me back.
3. Each click improves natural human capabilities by 0.001%.
4. I remain human.
He almost wrote:
Nobody else can see the system.
He stopped.
Crossed it out.
Instead:
5. Nobody else has reacted to the system. I don't know if they can see it.
6. Mental clicks work.
7. I don't know what continued clicking does long-term.
Underneath:
TEST BEFORE TRUSTING ANYTHING.
He tested strength with an old dumbbell.
Reaction time on his laptop.
Memory.
Balance.
Nothing supernatural.
Some results were better.
Others varied.
He refused to count anything he couldn't prove.
Then he searched the accident.
A local news article appeared.
NINETEEN-YEAR-OLD PEDESTRIAN KILLED IN HIT-AND-RUN
His name.
His age.
Driver fled.
Investigation ongoing.
The article still called him dead.
Evan stared at the words.
Pronounced dead.
Headlights.
No air.
CLICK10,004
Again.
10,005
Again.
10,006
He stopped.
"What am I doing?"
No answer.
The button wasn't threatening him.
No deadline.
No punishment.
Just—
Click.
10,007
Slightly stronger.
Click.
10,008
Slightly faster.
Click.
10,009
Slightly harder to kill.
That was the problem.
If every click hurt him, refusing would be easy.
If it hurt somebody else, refusing would be easy.
But this?
10,010
A message appeared.
MILESTONE ACHIEVED: 10,000FIRST UPGRADE AVAILABLEBLOOD FINGER I
Click value ×2.
HEARTBEAT I
Generate 1 passive click every minute while alive.
DEEPER BLOOD I
Enhancement per click increased by 10%.
Evan opened his calculator.
Heartbeat:
60 an hour.
1,440 a day.
525,600 a year.
He calculated twice.
Same answer.
More than half a million clicks without doing anything.
His skin prickled.
He closed the menu.
It reopened.
He closed it again.
This time it stayed gone.
Evan exhaled.
Choice.
He still had a choice.
He went to the bathroom and splashed water over his face.
When he looked up, red text appeared behind his reflection.
PLAYER RANKING UNLOCKED
Evan spun around.
Nothing.
He looked back.
PLAYER: EVAN HALETOTAL CLICKS: 10,010WORLD RANK: 8,214,771,903
Evan stared.
"World rank?"
YES.
"Against what?"
Nothing.
"People?"
Nothing.
His pulse rose.
"Are there other players?"
Silence.
Then—
YES.
Evan stepped backward.
"How many?"
Only the ranking remained.
8,214,771,903
That didn't prove there were eight billion humans.
It didn't prove what counted as a player.
It didn't prove anything except one fact.
Evan wasn't alone.
Somewhere, something else could click.
Maybe one person.
Maybe billions.
Maybe some had been doing it for years.
His eyes dropped to his total.
10,010
Then his rank.
8,214,771,903
The button appeared between them.
CLICK
Evan remembered the horn.
The morgue tag.
His mother's voice.
I saw you.
Then he thought about the ranking.
If he was 8,214,771,903rd—
someone was first.
Evan did not click.
Not yet.
But he didn't look away.
And that frightened him more.
BLOOD CLICKER
END OF CHAPTER 1