Project Battle Royale: A Gamelit Survival Book

by L. S. Halloway

“Lemme get this straight. Are you saying you somehow stumbled into an outdated version of the game, where some other player got stuck, and possibly mutated into a horrifying radioactive creature?”

  “Those are your words, not mine,” I said.

  Elly shot a glance at her partner. Clearly this was not a topic the two of them had discussed before.

  “What?” Nails shrugged. “I used to lurk the forums back in the day when we first started playing. I might remember somebody mentioning something about it.”

  “Mhm,” I said in triumph. I basked in the glory of the minor victory. Maybe the story would get through to them.

  “Well? Are you gonna finish the story?”

  Our footsteps were endless just like the hall they marched down. Goemon and I seemed to share this silent compulsion to continue. The only sounds around us were the dull thud of our footsteps pressing on cement, and the haunting unnatural growl of the creature that reverberated through the vents. We did not seem to be getting closer to the source.

  The game clock had long since stopped. The only indication that we were not stuck in a loop was the growing moisture in the air. The atmosphere of the den took on a thick, heavy quality not found in any normal area of the game. It felt as though each step was weighed down, almost sticking to the floor. The walls and the ceiling seemed to sweat as much as I did, but I would not feel them this time. Once was enough.

  After what must have been several hours, the concrete began to show signs of heavy wear. The further we continued, the more cracked and broken it became. Raw dirt seeped in between the gaps. Pale sand cascaded onto the floor from a long-running gash on the wall.

  Then, we reached the end of the hall and a doorway.

  The strange part was not that this hallway did indeed have an end to it and a door leading outside. It was that the whole thing was encased in ice. Not a clean, flash frozen ice, either, but the kind of chunky white stalagmites that form in a thirty year old freezer. Every part of the end of the hall and the door was frozen or snowed in solid. Every part except for the door handle itself, which appeared to remain unaffected by the rest of the environmental takeover.

  I reached out for it instinctively. Goemon and I had come this far. We both needed to see what was on the other side. As my hand neared the metal handle, a voice inside of me gave the briefest of hesitations. It was enough of a second thought to delay whatever process was supposed to take place. An entity on the other side of the door, perhaps related to the one inside of the vent, or perhaps even the source of the otherworldly groans, began to pound violently on the metal. The door shook with each strike, sending shard after shard of ice falling to the ground. The blows to the door were accompanied by an escalating howl, much louder now than it had been, louder than anywhere else in the hallway.

  Despite any common sense that would have cried danger and destruction, the louder the howling became the more I felt compelled to pull on the handle of the door. I reached closer to it once more. It seemed as though if I did not pull the handle the entire entry would come flying off the hinges by force anyhow.

  “Wait,” Goemon said, his voice faint and distant despite his proximity to me. He said it again, and on the third repetition I turned to look at him. He looked pale and ghostly even amongst the white of the strange snow. “Don’t open it,” he continued.

  At that, the entity from the other side wailed as though it were in immense pain. It began scratching and hammering at the door in desperation. I knew if we did not turn away at that very moment then we may never have the opportunity again. I summoned all of the will I could muster and turned around, placing one foot in front of the other again and again until walking felt natural once more.

  The way back was far shorter than the way in. It took mere seconds to find the initial stairwell, a sight I must say was greater than any vista or wonder I had ever laid eyes on before. I sprinted up the stairs, Goemon following close behind.

  When I opened the door, sunlight and fresh air hit me like smelling salts. Waves of fear and anxiety washed away, and I fell to my knees in the grass. As it turns out, there were two duos outside in the midst of a firefight. Another wave washed over me, this one full of high caliber ammunition, and I never got the chance to find out who won.

  21

  Bridge Crossing

  Nails did not look back as she stormed off. “Alright, that’s enough time of mine you’ve wasted,” she said. “Come on, Elly. Let’s go.”

  “You’re not seriously going to go for The Drop, are you?” I asked. They had already begun the trek in that direction, which was enough of an answer. I was hoping my knack for dragging things out had ruined their chance at going for The Drop, but she was determined. “You can’t go this late in the round.”

  “Or?” Nails called back. They were about to turn the corner of the road, and thus, take the offramp exit of our highway of love forever.

  “Just let them go,” Goemon said. “They know what they’re doing. Or, they don’t. But you know we can’t stay together.”

  “The last Safety Circle will be on the island!” I called out. “You’ll have to make it across the bridge, it’s a suicide mission!”

  “Ha, Safety Circle. You guys are funny,” Nails laughed in the distance.

  “See you in the lobby,” Elly yelled back with a wave.

  “Wait! What do you call the Safety Circle! What lobby!” I shouted.

  “They’re gone, man. Let them go,” Goemon said as he put a hand on my shoulder.

  “I just...I love her man.”

  “Love her? Which one?”

  “Which- How dare you. Elly!”

  “Oh, right.”

  “I can’t believe she’s out of my life, forever, again.”

  “Mhm. Grab some of this first aid, will you?”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “Ah, come on. Things aren’t so bad. You’ve got a Para. And an auto shotty. And there’s only twenty people left.”

  “Yeah, but there’s only ONE girl left for me. And now, she’s gone.”

  “Brother.”

  “OK. You’re right. Besides, Elly would want me to continue. We have to stay strong.”

  “If that’s what it takes. You ready to move on?”

  “From Elly? I don’t know if I ever will, buddy. I don’t know if I ever will.”

  “No, from this spot.”

  “Oh, yeah. Let’s see here,” I said, opening up the map. The Blue was headed our way again, faster than I expected. Guess I chatted for longer than I thought. The size of the Safety Circle was getting smaller and smaller in comparison. “Hm. The Circle is going to end up on the island.”

  “Island? Like the warmup round?” Goemon asked.

  “No not that island. The bigger one. You know, the military base.”

  “Oh, you mean Military Base.”

  “Yeah. We should probably cross the bridge before it gets too late.”

  “Now you’re talking,” Goemon concurred.

  “I really don’t think they’re going to have enough time.”

  “Well, not everyone has your advanced meta knowledge of the best strategies of Circle survival.”

  “Wow. That’s really nice of you to say, man.”

  “Sure.”

  “At the risk of eroding all of the trust you have in my planning ability, I should tell you that there’s no way we are going to make it on foot.”

  “Oh no.”

  “But I’ve already found a solution.”

  “Oh no.”

  “It’s a motorcycle. A two-seater, built for speed.”

  “Oh no.”

  The two-wheeled ticket to freedom rested behind a poorly rendered bush. But the jagged shrub could not contain our motorized salvation. The fact it was upright and parked with some attention to detail meant it had somehow gone undiscovered and undriven for the entirety of the round. The model was an off-on road hybrid with knobbier tires and elevated clearance in the front. This was useful in the event of a
crash landing off of a stray jump. Any time airborne on a motorcycle was dangerous so any design choices to give an edge of survival were welcome. The bike was jet black from fuel tank to fender. The other motorcycles in the game with yellow paint jobs looked kind of cool but stuck out worse than I did at a house party. The black finish would suit the stealth run across the bridge much better.

  “I’ll drive,” I said.

  “Oh no,” droned my partner. It was like he was caught in a loop.

  “You’re so dramatic. It’s not like you would rather drive.”

  “You’re right.”

  “Then saddle up, partner.”

  The bike roared to life at the insistence of my hand on the throttle. At the same moment, the Blue engulfed us, muffling the noise of the engine.

  “You didn’t tell me it was that close,” Goemon said.

  “I didn’t realize,” I winced. The pain of the Blue would not press past the adrenaline for at least a few seconds. By that time, we would be well into the safety zone.

  I opened up the gas and almost lost control. The bike was floaty in the steering department but responsive on the throttle. I knew from personal experience the brakes worked just as well. Too well. It was better to lay off the gas than hit the brakes unless you wanted to go head first into a tree trunk. The helmets in PBR might have helped against the small caliber bullets but they did nothing against high speed collisions.

  I held on tight enough for the fishtail to correct itself and peeled out down the road. The Blue Wall of Death was in sight, maybe a couple seconds ahead. We gave chase with the same determination that the Blue did, but had the advantage of two wheels powered by 65 million year old fuel.

  I laid off the gas for a moment when we burst through and the damage stopped. Pressing forward was necessary. We had the speed to outrun but any sort of break would place us right back in the deadly tide. It was a delicate dance to perform. Drive too slow and get enveloped by the choking, formless entity. Too fast, go off a bump and into the certain death of a cement wall.

  Those were just the dangers if we were playing on the map all by our lonesome. But PBR was not a driving sim. The handling of the bike and the physics of forward momentum made sure to remind me of that. Basic comprehension of safe motorcycle propulsion was necessary to keep you alive. You had to avoid the scenery, but sometimes the scenery came after you.

  It sounded like the bike backfired. Goemon yelled in my ear, asking me what the noise was. We both knew what it was because the engine was running just fine. I told him it was a gun, a sniper rifle, probably, unless somebody decided to try firing a single shot out of their AK at us. That was not true, of course. But on the plus side, the shooter was far away based on my read. On the negative side, we were headed straight towards them.

  One of those flat fields spread across the middle of the map would have been nice. It would have been great to be somewhere we could pour on the speed, where the hills were too far away for any enemies to have a good angle on us. But we were headed for the coast, a cluttered area full of towns we needed to avoid and canyons we could not.

  “I think he’s in front of us,” Goemon said.

  “I think you’re right.”

  That would make the angle even more difficult for Goemon to land the shots needed to take the other guy down. Realistically, my wingman would not be able to land any. That’s not to say it was his fault, either. He was a crack shot, no doubt, but shooting from the hip on the back of a bike at something more than eight feet away was impossible. The only way to survive was to drive.

  I considered opening up my map for another way around, but taking my eyes off the road for even a second would spell the end. A master of the craft might dip into the town alongside our currently traveled road, slicing up open lanes between rusted out cars and alleys. I was not that master.

  “Hang on!” I yelled.

  “Oh no.”

  I opened the throttle fully and weaved from side to side in the middle of the road. The stone hill on which the sniper laid prone was a recognizable landmark. It butted up to the cliff face of the shoreline. The only way up was a path on the left hand side of the hill. If we maintained speed, banked right, and managed to keep the bike up on both wheels we could blow past them before they would have a chance to follow. From there it was just a prayer that no one would be waiting on the bridge.

  At that speed, a single pothole would have sent us off the motorcycle, into orbit, over the sniper’s hill and all the way back down into a horrible bone-crunching demise into the rocky depths below. A single squirrel probably would have done the same. For reasons of game balance, bullets in PBR lacked the same stopping power against players in vehicles, off-road motorcycles included. So I watched my health fall off in chunks, but I kept my hand on the throttle. Either the sniper switched to something fully automatic or he had a teammate up there spraying alongside him. A headshot would have knocked me both literally and figuratively. A single shot to the tire would have likely spelled the end for our duo as well. Instead, I soaked up the bullets with grit and Kevlar and made the turn.

  “What is happening?” Goemon yelled. He fired a burst up at sniper rock. Maybe it was covering fire, maybe he actually had a clear shot, my goal was the same regardless. Speed. Nothing else mattered, except for the rust bucket of a Dosha on the side of the road I swerved to avoid. I corrected again, regaining balance, the gunshots behind quieting down and landing in covered ground. My instincts or the adrenaline or maybe even destiny had taken over, like I was having an out of body experience. Only when I glanced at my health did I suddenly recall that I was not invulnerable.

  “I need to heal,” I said.

  “What? Now?”

  “I don’t know. I mean one more hit and I’m done.”

  “I’m hurt, too.”

  “Before or after the bridge?”

  Goemon had to answer fast. Once we entered the fabled bridge the only way out was through a body bag or out the other side. With enough distance between us and the aggressors behind, I took my hand off the throttle in preparation.

  “Before, I guess. In case there’s someone waiting.”

  The proposition was awful either way. Head onto the bridge with nothing but a sliver of health and a single stray shotgun pellet would end the round. Take too long to heal, and everyone trying to cross the bridge to reach the rapidly shrinking Safety Circle would converge on us. I agreed with Goemon, though. We did not know what was in front of us, across the bridge. But we knew what was behind, and it was a threat we could hide from.

  I engaged the brakes slow, and kept the bike facing towards our destination. Rust eaten cars littered the entrance. Two sandwiched together formed decent enough cover from threats on either side. Still, a firefight at that location would be the worst case scenario. If we got bogged down there we would get chewed up by the Blue even if we did survive the engagement.

  First aid was still plentiful in the inventory. That was one less thing to worry about. The problem was the time it took to use it. There was no avoiding it though. We would need all the health we could get for the final stretch. After the initial heal, I stared at the bottle of painkillers needed to get up to max.

  “Don’t forget the painkillers,” I reminded Goemon.

  “I was thinking of saving them.”

  “Don’t. Might not get another chance.”

  “Fair enough.”

  I peeked over the car down the length of the bridge. There were probably a dozen more piles of scrap metal all the way down. Any one of them could hide an opportunistic duo looking to poach someone late to the party. Fortunately, we were not the only ones looking to cross the bridge.

  22

  The Dance

  The SUV that rumbled towards the bridge took us by surprise. It should not have. Based on the previous encounter with Elly and Nails we had hard evidence that several duos still remained outside the island of Military Base. We were not the only ones desperate to reach the final stages of
the Safety Circle, and we could not be the only ones who hated the bridge.

  The auto shotgun was a possibility if the SUV got close enough, and it looked like it might. I could also get lucky with a fully automatic spray down courtesy of the Para. Goemon could peek and line up a headshot with the Kar, maybe. He had that scope, after all.

  Instead, we made a silent agreement to hold. No need to go all in anymore with the finale so close and this was not the prize. The scoreboard placed us in the top 15 still alive. We had the guns, we had the ammo, and we had the armor, bullet-ridden as it was. But it did not mean we needed to use them. At this point in the game, stealth was just fine.

  The tactical goal was to stay behind the other players, but inside of the Safety Circle. This strategy would become more important the smaller the Circle got. The Blue made for the best camouflage, but it did no good if you could still get shot in the back.

  Goemon went prone and stared through the scope underneath our rust bunker of a car.

  “These guys are coming in hot. I don’t think they know we’re here. Or they don’t care,” he said. “I think I- hey, I’m pretty sure I see those girls, they’re on foot.”

  The SUV, meanwhile, roared past without letting off the gas. There were multiple reasons for passing us by. It was possible we stayed hidden, they were scared or under equipped at this stage, or they could have been desperate to make it to the Safety Circle before it was too late. Whatever the reason, they were going too fast to navigate the obstacles of the bridge.

  I checked the map to see how far away The Blue Wall of Death was from our position. We still had some time to spare to see how the bridge would play out. If Goemon was right about Elly and Nails and they were already stuck in the Blue, things looked grim for them. My own scope showed me nothing but a featureless duo in a full on sprint through the death wave. It was a bad way to go. Part of me hoped it was some randoms. The other part wanted it to be them, with the caveat that they somehow survive.

  But there were more pressing matters than dwelling on the potential plight of my future ex-girlfriend and her evil partner. The speeding SUV hit something on the bridge, and then crashed into something else, and in the midst of playing pinball became the target of some heavy arms. I turned around just in time to watch the car erupt into a fireball before catapulting over the top of the bridge support beams. Lucky for the players within, the icy water beneath the bridge put the fire out. According to the scoreboard, though, they were cooked and it was down to the top 13.