by Arthur Stone
ARTHUR STONE
Respawn: Nightmare Mode
Contents
ARTHUR STONE
Respawn: Nightmare Mode
Chapter 1
Life Seven. Old Friends
Chapter 2
Life Seven. Assembly
Chapter 3
Life Seven. The Scandal, or, A Company of Fools
Chapter 4
Life Seven. Passing Through
Chapter 5
Life Seven. Spider on the Road
Chapter 6
Life Seven. A Roundabout
Chapter 7
Life Seven. Sweet Nodium Nectar
Chapter 8
Life Seven. Get the Popcorn
Chapter 9
Life Seven. So... boring... wait. Boring!?
Chapter 10
Life Eight. Nightmare Mode Dungeon
Chapter 11
Life Eight. Car Problems
Chapter 12
Life Eight. Looking for Wheels
Chapter 13
Life Eight. Field Medicine
Chapter 14
Life Eight. The Human Compass
Chapter 15
Life Eight. Bait
Chapter 16
Life Eight. A Cunning Plan
Chapter 17
Life Eight. Rest and Relaxation
Chapter 18
Life Eight. Geographical Boundaries
Chapter 19
Life Eight. Between the Sands
Chapter 20
Life Eight. Off to the Races
Chapter 21
Life Eight. Ever Closer
Chapter 22
Life Eight. Suicidal Rescue
Chapter 23
Life Nine. The Border
Chapter 24
Life Nine. Beautiful Way to Go
Chapter 25
Life Nine. Two Miles
Chapter 26
Life Nine. Thirst by the Numbers
Chapter 27
Life Nine. Silent Desolation
Chapter 28
Life Nine. More Confusion
Chapter 29
Life Nine. The Perfect Laxative
Chapter 30
Life Nine. Utter Tranquility.
Chapter 1
Life Seven. Old Friends
He yearned to eat, grinding his teeth as if they could become his sustenance, satiating his hunger at the expense of making his dental situation as misshapen as the ghoul’s.
The corpse looked terrible indeed. It had lost all clothing below the waist, back when it still “lived.” That was the only factor that allowed Cheater to determine the ghoul was a woman, and one that had avoided any sculpting of her copious amounts of bikini vegetation. But none of the rest of her body was in a healthy enough state to betray her femininity. Her zip-up top was torn so badly it might as well have been hit with several rounds from a shotgun. So much blood had spilled from her skull that her head was fully coated in its dried crust, and her hair had been torn out to the extent that Cheater had no idea what color it had been. The ghoul had lain dead on the pavement for several days, at least; crows and other scavengers had had their way with her, nabbing the parts they loved the most, including the eyes.
But most of her body was still intact. That was a good sign. Powerful infecteds were unlikely to be nearby—they hardly left the bones behind when they fed. But it was also a bad sign. Ghouls did not simply die on their own, and as he approached, the shotgun blasts he had imagined seemed more and more likely. The killers could be long gone, yes, but they could also be somewhere nearby, using the corpse as bait. This place was unsettling.
Despite March’s assurances that the area was safe, Cheater was in no rush to leave his place of observation in the bushes. Instinct demanded caution when an executed ghoul was lying in the open. In addition, there was not a single crow to be seen. The birds liked to stay in the vicinity of finds like this until nothing was left.
He made his move at last, careful not to disturb any branches as he retreated into the undergrowth and took cover, moving to circle around the dead-end railroad spur March had given him as their meeting place. The railway emerged from the forest, passing through immense gates of concrete. A spiral of thorns stretched over it, beyond which a crane and a lonely large building of incomprehensible purpose, but obviously not residential, loomed out. That was where he had to go.
But how could he escape notice? He had to at least avoid the train gate, where flies buzzed over the corpse.
The bushes gave him a way to reach the other side under cover. There he found an empty parking lot and another gate in the wall opposite, this one for cars. It was ajar, with no corpses in sight. In order to reach it, however, he would need to clear several dozen yards in the open.
Cheater messaged March in the chat.
Hi. I’m at the meeting place. And I don’t like it. Are you sure this place is clean?
Ten seconds later, March replied.
Only two things I used to be sure of: death and taxes. And that cold beer is better than warm beer. Here, there are no taxes and barely any cold beer. So death is what’s left. But three of the guys are waiting for you and they haven’t said anything. I could add you to the party, you know, and you could talk with them.
Cheater didn’t comment. His party situation was complicated. He couldn’t join March’s party. Not that it was technically difficult to do so. In order to join another party, he’d have to leave any current parties. And that meant leaving his party with Kitty, which he had no intention of doing. He could also accept March and give him control over the party, allowing him to add anyone. Yet that added the risk of his unpredictable companion removing Kitty.
So Cheater crawled out of the bushes, stumbling on his right leg, and hobbled across the parking lot to the gate like a wounded crab. Declining to linger, he rushed no less awkwardly towards the door of the only building in sight. His wound slowed him down even more this time. Standing was only possible thanks to the regenerative abilities of all Continentals and a black regeneration egg – a rare trophy he had been holding onto for a rainy day. It had been worth a few hundred spores, at least. Even though black was the lowest rank of regeneration egg, it could completely close up a small-caliber bullet wound in ten hours or less. More serious injuries took about a day to heal. Only the gravest of wounds could persist longer than that.
There was one unpleasant side effect, however. Effective accelerated regeneration demanded uninterrupted rest and impressive nutritional intake. Cheater had neither. March had given him too little time for that, and the struggle with the elite had taken nearly his last ounce of energy. He could hardly move, never mind cart along a bag of supplies. Not that he had any supplies. His boat had vanished, and his luck had soured, placing him in a large, uninhabited area with no sources of food. At last he had made it, but in such a poor state that he was about to take a bite out of his own flesh to stave off his pangs. Eyes blurry and stomach roaring he struggled on, every effort leaving him short of breath. His body was devouring itself in order to patch the hole the elite’s bone spine had made. Even though it seemed the spike had not punctured anything vital, it was still a respectable wound.
Cheater found nothing inside but gloom and silence. Countless windows stretched along the tops of the walls, covered with dust so thick he could hardly tell the sun was out. It was enough light, though, to perceive shelves filled with cardboard boxes of all sizes. These filled up half of the space in the room, at least, leaving nothing else visible but a small forklift near the locked gate.
“You move, you die!” a voice spoke out from ah
ead, low in pitch and high in confidence.
Craning his neck to see the speaker only provoked more insistence.
“I said you die!”
“Wait, that’s our man. Our Robin Hood,” a familiar voice rang out.
“Physic?” Cheater wondered.
“The same. You been following us?”
“The hell would I do that for? I’m here on business. Looks like you are, too.”
“What’s the password, then?” Georgy’s voice rang out from its dark corner.
“Crossing.”
Physic emerged from behind the shelves and lowered his machine gun, shaking his head.
“First thing out of your mouth should’ve been that you were on the team.”
“How was I supposed to know you were?”
Physic looked behind him as the others approached. “Calling this bunch a ‘team’ is generous. Here we are out on the edge of bot territory, and with a team made up of the other kind of bots. The noob kind.”
“So he’s one of ours?” a voice came down from above.
“Yeah, Fatso, he’s on our side. You remember Cheater, right? We told you about him.”
“You said he was level 17 or something like that. But this one’s level 21.”
Georgy raised an eyebrow. “Right. How the hell did you bump your numbers up so fast?”
“Just got lucky, that’s all,” Cheater shrugged. “Got anything to eat?”
“Oh, so you saw the restaurant sign,” Physic muttered as he sat on one of the crates. “No, every man brings his own provisions.”
“I’m out. No canteen to carry lifejuice in, even.”
Georgy extended a flask.
“Have a swig, brother. You really do look like shit, like you haven’t eaten for a month. Withered as a dead vine. What’s with all the blood on your clothes? It’s a wonder the bots didn’t smell you from here.”
“Maybe,” Cheater nodded as he took a gulp from the flask. “But I bet they’d smell you first. There’s a dead ghoul right by the gate.”
“Let him stay. He doesn’t come around begging for food like you do. Enough beating around the bush. What happened?”
“I just ran out of supplies. I’ve got money, but the strip malls on the way were closed. If they were ever open.”
“Pretty desolate out here,” Physic nodded sharply. “Not even a seedy village nearby. Not so much as an outpost. Just this dead-end building in the middle of a big empty field. Nothing to draw the crowds.”
Cheater sat down, too, before finally looking up at Fatso. He was up in the rafters running from one top of the dusty windows to the next. It was a superb crow’s nest. His nickname was clearly in jest, for the man was unhealthily skinny. A walking skeleton, you might say in the old world—though that description might cause him some trouble in this one. His shoulders, however, were abnormally broad, and his large hands held his machine gun with such ease that it seemed more like a plastic toy than a serious weapon.
Fatso looked at Cheater incredulously. “Your clothing is barely hanging onto you. You’ve suffered severe exhaustion.”
“That’s what I meant.”
“Grab a couple of cans of stew from my pack. You can even warm them up if you want.”
A few minutes later, Cheater was wolfing down the food, half-listening to the conversations of his new companions.
Physic was especially talkative.
“We abandoned the truck three miles back. He ordered us not to get it any closer than that. On the way here, we nearly ran right into a herd. Thankfully we noticed the signs in time, and it didn’t notice us. So those three miles took us seven hours, filled with all kinds of adventures. Fatso thought the whole mission was off, since the boss said we were nearly on site. So how did that happen?” Physic gestured to the half-healed hole.
“Bad trip for me, too. Got hit with a machine gun right at the start. Truck gave out and caught fire.”
“You walked the whole way from there?”
“Basically.”
“What got to you?”
Cheater was not about to reveal how he had killed an elite in a single blow, so he crafted a half-lie.
“I ran into one of them on the road. He tore me up good.”
“Pity you couldn’t find some new clothes. Your low level and the blood make you stand out like a sore thumb.”
“Is there anything else here I can wear?”
“Overalls in the corner. They’re not in the best of shape, but anything’s better than blood. They should have your size.”
“I’ll go take a look.”
“So why are you joining our crossing party?”
“Crossing party?”
“What, are you here by mistake? You know where we’re going, right?”
“Crossing the border.”
“Well, there you go. A crossing party, that’s what we are. But the boss said that level 25 was the minimum. And here you are at level 21. Something doesn’t add up.”
“Is this ‘boss’ March?”
“Yeah, he’s the one who put all of this together.”
“Well, in my case, March has decided to make an exception.”
“You’re a strange case, Cheater. I still can’t figure how you hit level 21 that fast. And you’re not telling me.”
“Talk shorter, live longer.”
“You’re right about that one.”
Cheater tried to change the subject.
“Look, guys, I’m not sure on some of the details here. My first time in a crossing party. What do I need to know?”
“I have no idea what you’re doing here,” Fatso condescended. “Do you know how people usually get across the border?”
“With a trade caravan.”
Physic nodded. “But there are random teams like us, too. Crossing parties.”
“This is my sixth crossing. And the last five ended in a shitstorm. We didn’t even get close enough to see the border in the distance.”
“So why keep at it? You could save up some spores and pay to join a caravan.”
“That’d cost me several hundred spores. And they don’t just take anyone along. I doubt they’d let me join.”
“Why, what’s wrong with you?”
“Well, why don’t you take that route, then? Pay up and they’ll ride you across.”
“That’s ... complicated.”
“You’re not the only one here with complications. But here, we don’t ask about things like that.”
“Got it.”
“The Spiders have us blacklisted,” Georgy admitted. “Bounties on our heads, clocks ticking. That’s the kind of thing it’s easier to run from than to fix.”
“Wait—” Cheater’s eyes narrowed slightly. “March just put together a bunch of people that needed to get across? Random people? How did he find you all?”
“Everyone wants to get across.”
“Everyone? Look, I have something important to do on the other side. Why does everyone else want to cross?”
“Were you spawned yesterday? Don’t you know what happens when you cross the border?”
“I thought I did. But I guess I’m missing something.”
“I think you’re missing everything. Crossing the border is an achievement. You know what that means?”
“Loot.”
“Right. The best loot. You can get an inventory cell, or even two or three. They say some people even get incredible new abilities.”
Georgy scoffed at that.
Physic shrugged. “Maybe that’s a lie, and maybe it’s not.”
“So you could just head to the border and cross back and forth? Or is there some kind of limit?”
“This is the Continent. There’s always a limit. Once you cross one border, that’s it. If you want more prizes, you’ll have to cross the region and find another border. Each new border is a new bonus. Some players do nothing else with their lives but move from region to region. That’s a dangerous game. Even if you have the money to pay the cara
vans, crossing with them is far from a sure thing. So why the hell are you crossing if you didn’t know about the loot?”
“I have my own reasons.”
“I don’t know what your reason is, but you’ll never get across.”
“I’m lucky.”
“Lucky people get through on their fifth try at the earliest. But even they usually never make it. Your level is just too low for this.”
“You’re not level 40 yourself, you know.”
“You’re right. Fatso’s the highest of us all, at 33. I don’t know about the boss, but I think he’s 40, or somewhere around there. His chances are pretty good. We’re just like the train cars hooked to his engine. If a problem comes up, he can cut us loose.”
“I see ghouls,” Fatso announced, without a hint of alarm.
Physic tense. “How many? They strong?”
“Couple of runners, wandering past. If they keep going straight, they’ll cross the tracks close to the gate. From there, they’ll probably smell the corpse.”
Physic relaxed. “Even Cheater here could handle a pair of runners.”
“Boss says three hours till we move out,” Fatso said.
“We’re still waiting on one more.”
“Boss says he’s gone dark in the chat.”
“Maybe he backed out.”
“Or he’s lying unconscious. Or he’s off to respawn. Or he’s sleeping. Or he’s under control.”
Cheater blinked. “Control?”
“Suppressed consciousness. Some of the baddies have abilities that can do that,” Fatso explained.
“Why would anyone need to control a noob?” Physic inquired.
“You’ve got a thing with the Spiders, right?” Fatso replied.
“I think everyone here has a thing with the Spiders.”
“Well, the Spiders aren’t stupid. If they find out about our crossing, they’ll try to cut us off.”
“Then why the hell are we waiting around for three more hours?! Let’s get going!”
“I’m in agreement with that.”
“But where? I don’t even know what general direction this assembly point is going to be in.”
“No one knows yet, Physic. The boss said he’ll tell us that in three hours, so we have to wait.”
Still half-listening, Cheat rose and relocated to a more comfortable crate. He leaned back against the shelves.
