Project Battle Royale: A Gamelit Survival Book

by L. S. Halloway

“No. For the love of- with what? You'll never hit him. Just, no.”

  “Fine.”

  “Let's at least figure out where his buddy is.”

  “I can agree with that.”

  Goemon began to formulate an elaborate and presumably well thought out tactical strategy. Stay on the perimeter, he said. Something something element of surprise. Wind resistance, bullet drop, angles and geometry? I’m not positive. Important to make sure that we had a clear shot. Shoot when we could guarantee taking one of them down. I liked that part. My finger itched. He asked me if I was listening.

  “Yeah, for sure. Let’s do this.”

  Goemon was completely right about the element of surprise. Except in this case, in order to keep the enemy in the dark, I found it necessary to keep my partner guessing as well. He stuck with the plan of banking left, I think he said for a better angle or something? It didn’t really matter, I had a plan of my own. I moved right, preparing to initiate a strategic flank and surprise attack. The time had come to get up close and personal.

  I listened for footsteps over the pounding of my own and found them. The sound could have come from the other side of the wall, or it could have come from Australia. I really needed to work on my spatial awareness at some point. But not right now. At least I knew the general direction and felt confident enough the footsteps were close by.

  The moment called for a battle cry but I suppressed the urge, keeping what remnant of secrecy I had left. Besides, I figured the shotgun could do enough roaring for me. My heart knew what was up and tried to either hightail it out of my chest or get first crack at the duo. Probably it was the former, but either way I tried to talk it into staying put. I filled my lungs with air a few times and tried my best to paint a picture in my head of the other side of the wall.

  When I felt like I had as good of a mental image as I was going to get, I took one more big breath and leapt around the corner. My finger was already on the trigger and I fired from the hip as soon as I cleared the angle. Call it aim, good hearing or just plain luck but the bad guy was right where the shotgun and I expected him to be. A cloud of red mist flew into the air behind the buckshot, and as the other player turned around I lifted the gun up to eye level for a clearer shot. Goemon yelled something but I was too busy to make it out. I pumped and fired again, sending the player falling to the ground in confusion.

  “One down!” I shouted in triumph. My target crawled behind a nearby wooden crate, just out of my range. No matter, he was neutralized anyways. Plus, I figured maybe he might lead us to his teammate.

  “Holy- you are so far away from me. What the heck are you doing?” Goemon called back. He sounded less excited about my surprise plan as I would have hoped.

  “I’m sure you heard. I just blasted one of them with the shotgun and he’s down. Now, we just have to find his buddy.” I kept my shotgun high and steady and moved quick towards the downed player. If I knew anything about playing duos in PBR, and I think I do, it’s that the guy I shot’s partner would be desperately trying to pick him up right around the corner, effectively giving me a free shot. I hurried around the crate. “He’s probably right around this- oh no.”

  No way Goemon could have heard the last part of that sentence, but I know he got the gist of it judging by the crack of the gunshot that filled my ears and his comlink. He asked anyways. “Are you alive?”

  “Alive, yes, barely, please get down here please please,” I said. Funny how quick your confidence goes after you eat a sniper bullet. It had to be a sniper shot. The sound was loud enough and the damage matched to boot. The player I had so deftly shot gunned turned out to be just as good at crawling away, and I lost sight of him. Now I could not secure the kill and to make matters worse I had an angry sniper with some ideas about redecorating my helmet.

  “I can’t get an angle from here,” Goemon said. “Just survive until I get down there.”

  I took a few more breaths in an attempt to steady the gun in my hands. It was not happening, but I did not care. Playing it easy was not what knocked down that player a few moments ago, no. I decided to let the adrenaline run through me. Besides, it’s not like my current weapon of choice required perfect aim to be effective. I leaned around the crate, hoping to catch a glimpse of the sniper. He had yet to move. We both fired.

  I probably hit him, but at that range the shotgun really let me down. It was definitely the gun’s fault. Not mine. The sniper rifle, on the other hand, managed to hit me clean, and I fell to my knees. Fortunately for me I made it behind the crate again before he had a chance to chamber another round.

  “Whelp, I’m dead. It’s all over,” I said, resigned to my fate. The panic left me and I felt, for the first time since we started playing, a sense of calm. Almost true peace knowing that the end was so close and that nothing could be done about it. “It’s ok, go on without me. I’m...happy, now. I see the light.”

  “You’re not dead,” Goemon snapped me out of it. “You’ve got like 30 seconds left. Just don’t get shot again and tell me where they are.”

  He was right. No need to give up so soon. “Alright. The first guy I knocked is somewhere over here, east of me. And I can hear the sniper running to pick him up.”

  “Alright. Just try and hide.”

  Hiding was not my favorite thing to do, but being incapacitated and all I figured I would take the advice. I crawled like a slug away from the footsteps behind me, and weaved through the maze of stone and crate to try and buy myself enough space to survive.

  8

  I Require Medical Assistance

  My life was in Goemon’s hands now. Probably it had been since the beginning of the round. Probably it had been for far longer than that. It just seemed far more true in my current state, being that I was downed, knocked, bleeding out, mortally wounded, or just generally messed up. If the game had a designated term for my condition it was out of my scope of knowledge. What I did know was that I had a minute or less before my life bar ticked down to oblivion. In that time, Goemon needed to finish off one wounded player, take down his most-likely-still-full-health buddy, and then sprint over to pick me up, and if he failed at either of those tasks the round was over.

  “He’s got a sniper rifle. Probably a K98 bolt action. You can take him if you get in close. Get aggressive, you know. Confidence, buddy.”

  “Good to know,” he said.

  I had a decent view of the incoming Goemon, but rows of crates and walls obscured any sight of the enemy. He crept forward with near silent footsteps. The enemy duo broke the tension, but not with the blast of a sniper rifle. Instead, something small and angry and fully automatic spewed out a bunch of bullets in his direction. He dove for cover.

  “What the heck, man. You said sniper rifle. As in, one bullet at a time,” Goemon said.

  “He must've picked up his buddy I guess.”

  “Great, now I gotta take them both out?”

  “Yeah, and could you pick up the pace a little? I'm dying over here.”

  “Alright, forget this.”

  Goemon popped out of cover the instant the bullets stopped coming. Although I could not see it happen firsthand, the scoreboard let me know he knocked his target out. “Nice,” I said, playing cheerleader from the sideline. “That was the guy I downed already. They must not have any first aid.”

  The thunderclap of the sniper rifle sounded off again, but Goemon still had plenty of ammo left to respond. I looked back and forth between the scoreboard and my partner to piece together the action. Both players in the enemy duo were eliminated. Goemon did it, and not a moment too soon. I only had a few seconds left before I was toast myself. He trotted over to pick me up as if he had all the time in the world.

  “See? I had a plan the whole time,” I said as he knelt to pick me up. The timer began, and after a few seconds I would be able to walk around and shoot like normal again. Unless I healed up, though, one more bullet would send me right back to the ground.

  “We got lucky,” Goemon repl
ied.

  “Luck? That was all skill, those guys sucked.”

  “That's why we got lucky! If they were better we would have died for sure.”

  I got to my feet and brushed myself off. “Only have to be better than the guys we're fighting. Ever heard the one about the two friends camping and Bigfoot?”

  “No.”

  “So, two best friends are camping. Late at night, they hear some commotion outside of the tent. Cans getting knocked over, bags ripping, tree branches snapping, that type of thing. Possibly heavy breathing, and then a deep, animalistic rumble.”

  “That's Bigfoot?”

  “Yeah, they determine it's a sasquatch. For sure, they've never been so sure of anything in their lives. So friend one says, we gotta get out of here. Friend two agrees. Friend one unzips the tent and as he's leaving, he turns back to check on his buddy. 'What are you doing?’ he says. Friend two is on one knee, lacing up some running shoes. He continues: 'What, you think you're going to outrun that thing?’ Friend two looks at him and says, 'I don't have to outrun Bigfoot.’”

  “What in the world kind of a story is that? Are you trying to say you're going to use me as bait? Why Bigfoot?”

  “No, not you. We're both the guy with the shoes. Trying to, you know, outrun- outlast- the other team. Against an unknown enemy. What do you think?”

  “I think you've lost it.” Goemon knelt by what was left of the sniper rifle-wielding player. I should have bet money on it. Every round, no matter the circumstance, sooner or later he ended up with a sniper rifle. “Looks like this guy had a Kar. With a three by scope, too.” The click of a fresh magazine made it clear there was ammo to spare. The Kar might have been old school- it was made from wood and fired only a shot at a time, requiring the bolt to be pulled back before every squeeze of the trigger. But it turns out anything that shoots a piece of lead straight and fast and a full kilometer away is still pretty good in a fight.

  I checked the other player's pack. No usable health to speak of, and I would have settled for a ripped bandage and half a can of soda. The guy’s vest had soaked up its last bullet, but his level one helmet would do nicely. Sometimes being a bad shot had its perks. He also wielded a semi-automatic Mini-14 rifle which I raised to the sky in triumph. It was a personal favorite of mine, with the accuracy of a sniper rifle and the flexibility of a much higher fire rate. It worked pretty good at a distance, too, which is exactly what I needed next to my trusty shotgun.

  “I got a Mini. And a two times scope. And...a level three backpack,” I shouted.

  The level three backpack had enough room to fit roughly two of everything, kind of like the Arc. It was an excess of space considering my current humble loadout but at least I would not have to worry about running out of room for the rest of the match.

  “Dude nice. Did you get a new helmet?” Goemon said.

  “Yeah, but my vest and the corpse’s are shredded. Also, no first aid kits.”

  “I have...two bandages for you.”

  Goemon tossed them over. Not even enough to get me back up to half health. It did cease the blurred vision, so that was a big positive.

  “There’s never any health at the Ruins,” I said.

  “Nope.”

  “We’ve got to go somewhere to get some more useful loot.”

  “Yep.”

  “I mean, we’ve got good guns now, right?”

  “Mhm.”

  “So we should be fine if we hit Big City,” I said, checking the map. It was the closest place with guaranteed health. Big City boasted enough variety of buildings to guarantee some of everything.

  “Sure.”

  “We’re going to die there, aren’t we.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Well, I’m going to be dead either way if I don’t patch up these potholes in my guts. Might as well go out with a bang. Actually, I don’t want to explode again. I hate that.”

  “Can’t argue with that. I’m following you.”

  Dropping in a city at the start of the match was a death sentence. Not one of those sit-on-death-row-for-twenty-years sentences, either. No, execution by firing squad was usually carried out within the first minute of the round. By now we had been in the game for way longer than that.

  The initial riot should have died down already. Big City would not be empty, though. Most of the looters would be dead, sure, but the strong that survived would be waiting to pick off the scavengers. Maybe scavengers is the wrong word. A little too harsh. I preferred to think of us more as prospectors. Opportunists.

  As we crept along the outskirts of the place, the damage became apparent. Corpses and their abandoned loot boxes dotted the landscape like a Walmart after Black Friday. Combined with the dilapidated architecture of the Soviet-era apartment buildings, the shattered windows and the open front doors, it looked like a plague tornado plowed through the place. Of course, I knew better.

  “The greatest natural disaster,” I ruminated.

  “What?”

  “Man. See what I did there? Man is the greatest-”

  “Shh,” Goemon cut me off.

  Silence permeated the place, like it did in the inside of my car that time I gave Samantha a ride home after sixth period. Our footsteps, on the other hand, grew louder by comparison. I was bright enough to understand why Goemon wanted me to shut my trap. The time for listening had come. Footsteps would be just as good as alarm bells at giving us a heads up.

  A chunk missing from the cinder block perimeter wall allowed us to climb through without having to scale the thing. Vaulting over the top did not make as much noise as crashing through a window but it was close. Fortunately we just climbed on in to Big City’s limits. It should also be noted that the city was not called Big City. We christened the place Big City from the very first time we played the map and it stuck around. The actual name was unpronounceable by any tongue residing within several thousand miles. It sounded like a brand that belonged on a pickled root vegetable jar in the foreign foods section of the discount grocery mart.

  The Hospital stood at the outskirts of the city which worked in our favor. It was, unfortunately, on the other side of the street, which did not. The only thing between me and a full health bar was two lanes of asphalt and a half dozen bodies. The front door would be unlocked. They always were.

  There was also the fear of what lurked at the end of said street. Crossing it would leave us completely without cover. However, if someone shot at us it meant they were so bored after looting the town that they had nothing better to do than stick their rifle out the window. It was possible, but this was the second worst kind of player. The worst offender would be too scared to even stick the rifle out the window and instead just wait behind a door inside the building, for minutes or hours, until someone turned the knob and they could go bang. In either case, I figured I needed the health badly enough to take the chance.

  I led the way, of course. As designated trailblazer, crossing the street first was my duty. Goemon watched my back as I sprinted across what might as well have been a bed of coals.

  “Wait, what are you doing?” Goemon whisper shouted at me.

  “Am I clear?” I asked back. The lure of the loot was too great. Everybody knows you get the best stuff from other players. And there were so many other eliminated players here!

  “You’re in the middle of the street. I can’t see in the windows.”

  “Just cover me.”

  “Oh, OK, sure.”

  “Ah, nothing good. Just a dinosaur mask and a machete.”

  I figured it was worth a glance at one box. Yeah, it came up empty, but the unknown would forever haunt me more than getting gunned down in the middle of the street.

  “Then get inside already!” Goemon shouted, staring through the scope of his rifle down the still-empty street.

  “I’m just waiting on you.”

  I had the door to the hospital open and the hallway cleared by the time he made it across.

  The doors inside and
out remained closed before our entry, usually a telltale sign the place had yet to be looted. But the inside of the place looked as rough as the outside. Rusted gurneys and medical supplies scattered around the hallways gave the impression it had been cleaned out, but the few flickering fluorescent lamps provided less than enough light to make out what actually happened in there. I think I saw a bullet hole or 20 and the sterile smell of a normal medical center mixed with gunpowder only increased my suspicions.

  This time, I chose to keep quiet and play the listening game on my own. If there was someone in there with us they would know first. Footsteps outside only amped my pulse. Turns out they were Goemon’s, but I stayed jumpy. He resealed the metal door behind him, and what was left of the sunshine disappeared behind it.

  9

  Out of Network Provider

  The Mini rifle, while great at a distance, struggled indoors. Fortunately, the shotgun I had equipped was more than capable of clearing out a room. As the light continued to flicker, my hands went white from the strength of my grip on the gun. There would be no aiming if someone lurked around the corner. Only shooting. Gods have mercy on Goemon’s soul if he so much as sneezed.

  Yet behind every privacy curtain and inside of every patient room, the only thing to be found was bandages and useless medical tools. No bad guys lurked around any corner. I can’t say I blamed them. The building was dark and dead.

  “This place gives me the creeps,” Goemon said.

  “Me too. You find anything yet?”

  “Just some bandages. I was holding out for a first aid kit for you.”

  “That would be nice.”

  “Ah!” Goemon shouted and I pulled the trigger on my shotgun, blowing a hole in the wall in front of me. Lucky for him he was in the room across the hall.

  “What? What?” I called.

  “What? You shot! Who are you shooting at?”

  “You scared me. I’m shooting at no one. I’m shooting at a wall. That’s just how scared I am.”

  “Sorry. I just saw a weird shadow.”